New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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UNKNOWN WOMAN While visting a friend one afternoon A handsome gentleman dropped in One moment strangers, the next moment lovers. We were married and the years brought us eight children All still alive, but for one dead in Germany Dead mentally T For if you are now in Germany ' You are as good as dead. When they were growing up I kept house, sewed, cooked, and nursed them when sick. Until they grew up and had families of their own. Then l just sat and prayed all day For my beloved husband had passed away. l sat thinking of my full life in the days gone by Wishing I could live it over again. Until one night l felt very sick And ere the morning had begun l passed into a different world. l had loved life But l had lived it too long Lived too long to see Men take over Europe And threaten the land of the free. By Icmet Kaiser OUR LIFE W'e two were very young once We loved our fields, our work, and our crops. Living for each other and later our young ones-We enjoyed a simple life. Our work was our play, And the happy sun smiled With us constantly. Years ripened our life And sent our children To their own happy roads. lt has separated Paul and me But only for a brief time. Now as l sit alone The dreary night is enlightened With the thoughts of our youth, And our fields, and our children. Tomorrow that same sun of yesteryear Will shine down on me alone lt will smile with me too, By Norma Mottolcr Seventeen

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and said he would not stay here as his father had and his father's iatlief before him. l'Did ya' hear that? bellowed one of the fishermen. Ult was good enough for his father, but not good enough for him! The group beqdfl to laugh, but then Sally refuted. - ul-le had brains, he wasn't like you, their smiles faded, and they looked at one another guiltily. lt was shameful, Sally continued, that the poor laddie was so deformed. You know, they told me that his father ran away to the city when he was a baby. l suppose he tired of it, we folks down here usually do, you know. At any rate, he married, and when he came back, he brought the. little lad with him. None of the children here ever played with the little boy, they were afraid of him. l was about the only friend he had. You know, he used to tell me about the thousands of little folks he had for friends. l often asked him where they lived, but he only smiled at me and then ran down to the water's edge and sifted the sand through his fingers. l-le was a silly lad to be wanting to play in the sand all day. And he never went fishing. He said it hurt him to see the fishes' eyes popping out and the blood dripping all over their mouths when they were hooked. f'What a tender, delicate boy! gushed one of the group. Sally looked at the fisherman angrily, and he quickly withdrew from the crowd. 'll think that if it were up to the laddie, there'd never be any fishing. lmagine the world without fish, and she paused to laugh. lt's a silly thing though, isn't it? But what could you expect from a little lad? Once he did a very queer thing. l-le waded into the water up to his knees, and when I told him he'd be catching his deaths' cold, he just starred at me and laughed and laughed. Sally stopped talking to view the effect of her story upon her audience. She appeared satisfied, for she continued, almost confidingly. Once he told me that he would go far away. When l asked him where he would be gone to, he looked at me in that queer way of his, and said that only his sand friends knew where it would go. l-le said that it was a secret between them and that he couldn't tell a soul about it. Mind you now, a secret! A funny child he was. You know, l was afraid of his cough and his catching cold in the morning air. On the day that he didn't come to see me, l thought that maybe he had gone away with his little friends who live in the sand. But l knew the laddie would have said good-bye to me. Sally started to cry. She blew her nose loudly and brushed her tears away on the sleeve of her weathered sweater. f'Away with ya' now. All of you. Go on-away! and she shooed her audience away. When the crowd did not disperse, she turned and walked hurriedly back through the garden from which she had come. l watched her open the cellar door of the house, and as she descended, one of the fishermen remarked. 'Sally must be losing her mind worshipping the little boy like this. Yes, agreed the others and shook their heads sadly. Sixteen

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Golly, you'd kinda get the idea it was all his fault. The way she stamped her foot, turned around, just in time for him to see a tear trickle down her freckled face. What was that his dad once said, Yeah, women will always resort to tears once all their other wiles are exhausted. His especially a red-headed onef' His motto was, Never trust a woman, but that was the last time she got angry at him. And now, now here he was a fellow his age sitting on her stoop and being mopey about a girl. Not even a really pretty girl but one with the funniest color red hair. He tugged at his belt-as if to replace the tugging at his heart or better still he hoisted his pants-cause maybe that would sort of hoist his spirits. Well anyway, there he was on her stoop, waiting. lf she would only stop acting like an infant! lf she would only peek out of the curtain, wave to him or something. Anything. Ah, what's the use! She can't help it at all, she can't help anything-it was all her rnother's fault, always buttin in. Gee! Things have come to a pretty pass when a feller can't take the girl he loves for a drive. Golly that was harmless enough driving! He didn't care. He didn't care at all. There were plenty of fish in the seal Plenty of other girlsl-Girls who would be mighty proud to ride around with a fellow who had a nice new red kiddie car. By MARCELLA MARKSAMER ima ' By ELLEN MANDEL Scene: The prescription department of a drug store. lt is Christmas Eve and the druggist prepares to spend his usually quiet evening listening to the radio. He turns on the radio and a voice announces the fact that a message of peace on the Christmas Eve is about to be given. Voice: ln many parts of this stricken world, the tears of long, long files of men and women, driven from their homes by blind hatred, wandering from country to country in misery and want, are quenching the Light of God which for thousands of years has guided the footsteps of your fathers and mine. The cries of war are drowning the sound of Gods voice . . . A thief enters the store and with gun in hand, in- dicates what he wants. Policeman comes. Policeman and gunman are severely wounded. Voice: l' . . . Long ago, it was prophesied that 'men shall beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into priming forks'g men shall not lift up sword against man, neither shall they learn war and . . . More policemen enter: they help carry out the wounded policeman, the injured druggist and the insensibly beaten gunman. . . . When man's hand shall be outstretched, it shall be in the nature of help, not harm, in the nature of service, not in injury, in the nature Qt goodfellowship, not in enemity. God grant the men may live in peace and harmonyg all for one and one for all. Eighteen