Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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THE ENTERPRISE, ’15 through crowds and nightmare that we come back to the world of the morning. As we walk on, the sun gradually lowers and it gives us a feeling of rest and repose to look out across the smooth lagoon before the Pal¬ ace of Fine Arts. The slanting rays light the green foliage of the banks and cast an almost purplish hue over the long sem icircle of pillars that guard the entrance. There lurks in the long shadowy reflections in the water and the dignified symmetry of the great dome, a certain air of solemnity and satisfying beauty, that somehow sums up the spirit of the exposition and makes us depart, glowing with inspiration and a sense of the greatness of men’s achievements. FRANCES BROWN, T3. —19 —

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THE ENTERPRISE, ’15 winter, tlie spring and the summer are everywhere symbolized in statues and paintings, and most beautiful of all is the graceful statue of the goddess Ceres, looking out toward the little stretch of blue ahead of us. A soft breath of air is wafted through the long vistas of pillars and arches, giving more than ever the balmy atmosphere so fitting to our own California. Emerging, at length, from these shadowy recesses and walking briskly down the broad marina, we somehow feel a new spirit and vigor in the air that carries us away from our dreaminess and vague pictures of the past. Here the broad expanse of sunlit bay stretches out before us; the gulls swoop down here and there with something of both sea and sky in the dull grav-blue and white of their wings. Far above, sur¬ mounting the Pillar of Progress, we see the wonderful figure of the bowman, his arrow pointed straight out to sea and the west, the spirit of conquest and achievement in every line. Our eyes, too, follow up the inspiring prospect and rest with satisfaction upon the green Marin headlands and the dimmer successions of hills behind them. A long walk down the marina brings us to the startling realization that we have perfectly commonplace human appetites, after all. Lunch is suggested, but the suggestion is our only satisfaction for just one hour and a half. We realize that we never fully appreciate the fountain of energy until it is announced that its bountiful flow is cutting off the water supply. No coffee, no clean dishes! Nevertheless, it is quite exciting, even to a starving person, to watch the waiters tearing around with loaded trays, shedding lettuce leaves and bread crusts here and there with a thrilling carelessness. After a most hygienic luncheon of baked beans and peach pie, we drift into the Zone. The worst dreams we ever dreamt can’t come up to this. Winding in and out among the caverns, jaws of snakes and huge distorted figures more absurd than even the cubists could perpetrate, we tumble speedily from our lofty train of thought and giggle most foolishly for some three quarters of a mile. Dimes and quarters and even half dollars are tempted away by charming straw hatted spielers, who lure one and all into everything from bowls of joy to a pasteboard Germany. The squeals of the delighted multitude getting their money’s worth, added to the efforts of innumerable rather wabbly bands make all the confusion that the human soul could possibly desire. We are carried along in it all and it is only after a most exhausting struggle —18—

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JMnttn “Make no excuses , but deliver the goods.” (Class (Colors Green and, Gold. =§«= jflloutrr Daffodil.