Newtown High School - Newtowner Yearbook (Elmhurst, NY)

Page 22 text:

COMMUTING BY BUS naar ggi 521Mi9 ' 3' f fvim Q M! 'Mfr e fag gifffla fggki f I' k pl! A V G..D-.Nn-l.2u.. HAVING nrnnnn on the bus to and from Newtown many times, I feel I am qualified to acquaint those fortunate few who haven't, with the facts of a ride home from school. As the bus appears in the distance, the rush is on. The question of who will be the fortunate one to have the door open in front of him is quite evident as each tries desperately for this position. The bus comes to a halt and three or more find that only one body may occupy a given space at a given time. The lucky one jumps in as the other two hit the sides and bounce back. The few empty seats are soon occupied and then comes the fight for position, everyone refusing to move to the rear, each struggling for a place near the exit. Soon the last one is packed neatly in and the bus starts. We then come to the one and only advantage, provided you wish to classify it as such. You find, to your amazement, that falling is impossible without the cooperation of the other commuters or passengers. You finally adjust your breathing to the tempo of the majority and you realize your destination is nearing. Now the herculean task of getting off confronts you. You finally see an opening and dart towards it. You natural- ly knock a few of the unwary and unprepared off their feet, but that is just a matter of course. You finally reach the door and stagger out. After put- ting yourself together again and making sure you are still in one piece, you reach the decision that it would have been easier to walk. Ronnivr SN'nnxEn 20

Page 21 text:

Slash! Bang! Crash! Roars, growls, and yells filled the air. Blood flowed faster and thicker than Niagara Falls. Suddenly there was a crash louder than the rest. Believe it or not, that crash was my salvation, for I found myself on the iioor of my own room grappling with the pillow and holding my covers in my hands. Now dear reader, if your blood pressure is pounding, and your heart is throbbing, don't be afraid, because you too may have thrilling adventures like mine by just eating a mince pie or some similar dish before retiring. I Wish when you retire tonight that you have pleasant dreams. WILLIAM GREEN The Few PIERRE OPENED the drawer and lifted out the large black revolver. It had been used against them in 1914 and now it was to be used again. Yet this time it was not to be used by a proud young officer leading an army on the field of battle. Tonight its master would be a stealthy creature who darted from shadow to shadow, a creature more like an animal than a man, and who killed, only to slink back through those enveloping shadows to wait, and to pray that he would not be caught before he could kill again. For a moment a feeling of futility swept over the pale man. What good was all this? One army might defeat another and thereby win a war, but a handful of defeated men certainly could do no good by killing off a few unwary soldiers. He sat there for a while, staring at the flickering candle on the table. Suddenly he arose, opened the door and stepped out into the night air. The coolness of the wind seemed to lift him from his lethargy. In the East there wasa red glow in the sky and a dull rumbling could be heard.. The channel ports were being bombed again by the English flyers. Good luck to them! He turned about and walked towards the door, his mind filled with many thoughts. Suddenly, he stopped and turned again to the East. A certain phrase had leaped into his mind. Never have so many owed so much to so few. Yes, perhaps that was it, perhaps that was the reason he had searched for. Yes, France, too, will someday owe so much to so few ! Pierre opened the rusty gate and started slowly down the dark road. The weight of the revolver in his pocket was reassuring. He walked on, his eyes still on the glowing horizon in the East. SIDNEY KNowLEs 19

Page 23 text:

THE PACT IT WAS a picture that would have delighted Norman Rockwell's eye. The frilly feminine dressing table had never been in such disarrangement -its drawers open revealing very personal things of all different colors which must have been a mystery to the small dirty nine-year-old boy who was perched on the satin-covered stool, his legs twisted little-boy like around the rungs. But what was he so absorbed in . . . his face wreathed in delighted smiles? A little pink book, bulging, and spilling letters . . . oh-h-h a diary! The picture was suddenly charged with actiong a glimpse of long' blond hair, swing skirt and flashing eyes. A math and a French book went flying across the room-and J anie's voice, shrill with fury, Bobbie l After the dirty little boy had dashed from the room-dropping every- thing as he went, Janie sat down on the bed and forgetting her dignified sixteen-year-old front began to cry in angry sobs. She stared at all her secret dreams so nakedly revealed as they lay on the floor. Suddenly some- thing caught her eye, and she gasped. Jumping off the bed, she picked up a photograph and stared at it although she knew very well that it was a very bad shot, taken into the sun, of a boy in a football helmet, with freckles and a grin. Oh, he wouldn't-he wouldnft tell ! Janie whispered in anguish. Then she thought of the mischievous glint that Bobbie wore in his blue eyes, and to what lengths he would go to get the attention of his football hero. The look on J anie's face then, I will not attempt to describe. Bobbie had never grinned so engagingly across his plate at his sister before. His parents looked suspicious, and silently decided that something was a-brew. But Janie ate her supper in lumps that night, her heart sink- ing lower and lower. ' Her plaid skirt lacked some of its usual swing, the next day, as she turned away from the group of boys clustered about the steps of South Side High. Gosh, how they'd tease if they knew . . . knew that a silly little sopho- more has a lot of secret dreams about a football hero-a senior, too-who could have the cream of the crop. She looked down, not seeing the scuffed toes of her saddles, but seeing only her carefully built-up front cracking, smashed to bits. - Suddenly she stopped, staring across the street in unbelieving amaze- ment. She shaded her eyes against the sung sure enough, there was her brother walking with his usual swagger. But at his side was a small mite of 21