North Fort Myers High School - Lance Yearbook (North Fort Myers, FL)

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THE SHELL One summer when I was eleven, I met a kindly old man, whose obvious love for the adventurous ocean and intriguing tales were some that I shall never forget. It all started with the shell, for my brother and I had this little game about shells. We had spent the last three summers skimm- ing the beach for just the right one. It didn't have to be any certain color, shape, or size. I would know if it were right when I found it. I remember vaguely walking down the beach one day, farther than I had ever been. The sun was bright, the sky was clear, and the clouds were full of thoughts. It was that day that I met the old man. Venturing further down the beach than I had realized, I became award of the storm clouds above. Then I saw it - a small, pink canch. Plain to the eye, it captivated me at first glance, and I knew I had to have it. As I reached down to grab it, the old man's hand reached also. I was quicker and greedily snatched the shell from the sand. As I started to run home and show my prize to my brother, the expression of the old man's eyes stopped me. I saw sadness in his eyes and twinges of guilt agonized me. How greedy I was! Why, I had my entire life to look for my shell. He hadn't that advan- tage. Lowering my head, I placed the shell into his hand and my squeaky voice from within spoke: Here is the shell of my inner- most thoughts, please take it. The man remained silent and his eyes continued to bore into me. His face then broke into a smile, and he spoke. His town was kind and he told me a tale of the sea - the legend of the pink conch shell. Fascinated by the story, I urged him to continue. Stories of ships, mermaids, and sea serpents swirled around in my head. Then I realized it was late. Dismayed at the time, Mom, I cried with fear, is going to kill me. The man, whose name I found out later was Jim, walked meta his cottage where I telephoned Mom to come and get me. His cottage held fragments ofthe sea, little ships, starfish and, to my delight, another little pink conch. He told me to keep the shell, in memory and friendship of him, and to always remember to reach for the impossible. With that, I happily got into the car, holding fast to my little conch shell. The next day, Jim's picture was in the paper, showing he died at the age of seventy-five. Sorrowfully, I ran to his cottage, but it was no longer there. It had disappeared into thin air, leaving only a little pink conch shell on the sand. Picking it up, I put the shell to my ear, and I heard Jim's voice say to me, Reach for your dreams, girl! Inside the shell on a slip of paper was this pO9m: Come to the seashore to see the rippling waves, Come see the seagulls and their crazy ways, See the different colored fishes in the dark blue sea. By them always remember me. Cmflo lfxx 'iii- LAAQR 1:02375 rw-- T-FXS fsttl' gi ..r!4?-Em:-'I ' ' ' XTX HJ 1-:I -' : . 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TREES Trees are the kindest things I know. They do no harm, they simply grow. They spread to shade for sleepy cows And gather birds among their boughs. They give us fruit and leaves above And wood to make our houses of. And leaves to burn on Halloween, And in the spring new buds of green. They are the first when day's begun And touch the beams of morning sun. they are the last to hold the light When evening changes into night. When the moon floats in the sky Trees hum a drowsy lulloby. Trees are the kindest things I know. 'H . I A I. . .4 - T, X i' I' .I I if fy , 'g gl 1 5 3 1 J -I-.vs 1, 'Z .' - I I I L1 ' . a I . 1- fi I , - . . 1-f 1 I . U . I -- 4 'P ,Z I mf,-:,,q'-2333.5 ' , 'iiyi - zfziiif -F -. . -' : ..-S-I .1 15'- '- 1 1:21. f .-A. '-. ,-,- YI.-I . sdzp--,f ' . -f-. ' ,,f 15, ' -I Y -':'- .-,HZ-J ' ' -'r '-uw' 1, ,, , 5-SN -,z ' 1, 1 9 . if . ' 1-44 if ' 1-11-.-:L ' -of ' f V 7.3. ' , A 1.55.7-w -' 1. .::l -L l fi'-'H f-6 PF ay ., ' ' un, ' 1 . - in f- I ' I - -'il'13'L o-'1'tl1v1gYgg-. 'f: .'f5!. ,xq' J. F' ' .' . - , -- 'J '-'l r I .: ' EP .2E:'QP7Z'!i5ElEh::,Z'J'-,rw 1 - ., ,.:- -.Y,f. L.: Jr., 1. g ..' . 'I In .I 1- - - I., I 4 .. 1: '11, .w :gl,g!'-5,3-.-I-,--1..-T . ' - - Z2 wr- . ,. . vw fp - I - - . .. . - ,. .. M.-., , , ,.,,,.., , .. 'z' if ,L I x .,..: -,.- , :hz 5:-.gp .il L?-x 7.-If . . ' fl t ' 1 1 , . E V Q51 .Sk in :L ka. 4 ELIZABETH ABERSOLD ANTICIPATION I remember those long afternoons of raking our yard to the point of darkness, where the leaves were blended into an undistinguished blanket. My hands, as I recall, became so numb that even my fingernails ached. but it was a dull pain I would gladly experience again. I can still see the white sky threatening the first snow of the season. What anticipation I held during that time in my life. I would accept the blisters, strained muscles and chopping wind to rake my yard of leaves once more. A Y VW f Excalibur