Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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14 THE GOLDEN-ROD were these for Sui San. Her only joy was Kasui, a small, bright-eyed boy, one of the refugees, who had been in the bus with her on the way to Karuizawa, and who had, in the melee, been separated from his parents. Little Kasui had clung to her and she had taken him in and given him the mother-love of her heart. And Sui San and Kasui lived together, mother and son, in the little home by the sea. Months went by in which there was hard- ly a day that Sui San did not look and listen in the hope of hearing of her hus- band. Stories she told to her little three- year-old Kasui, who knew no other mother than her, of his father Wakasa. Sweet stories they were, revealing her un- dying love for him. Little Kasui came to believe that some day he should see his father, and, indeed, comforted his mother by telling her so. Always at dusk did Sui San take her small son, upon whom she lavished so much mother-love, and walk through the tiny garden and down toward the sea. Sometimes she took him down by the wall, and there, holding him close to her heart, she watched the sunsets,— sunsets which were not so glorious as the one which she had watched so long ago with Wakasa. But not often did she stay for the sunset, for there always came that terrible feeling of loneliness, born of her love for Wakasa. And then the great tears, which she could not hold back, would drop from her eyes upon Kasui as he lay in her arms. He would sit up very quickly, and looking at her with great, adoring eyes, would say: “I know why you cry, Okasan, Mother; it is for Father, but don’t you know you have Kasui?” And so it was not often that she staved for the sunset. One night, almost two years after her return from Karuizawa, Sui San took her small son’s hand and walked with him through the garden, stopping at each tiny lake to watch the goldfish, which were not yet asleep. The day had been a very lonely one for Sui San, because it was the day before her wedding anniversary. And as she sat by the tiny bridge and watched Kasui as he lay face downward, watching the shining bodies of the goldfish as they darted about the clear water, suddenly he looked up and said: “Okasan, Mother, you have not taken Kasui down to the wall for ever so long. Will you take me tonight?” “Not tonight, my son; Mother does not wish to.” “But, Okasan, please take Kasui down to the sea and hold him close to your heart and tell him all about Daddy.” So, with his little hand in hers, Sui San slowly and sadly wandered toward the wall, and found the spot where she and Wakasa had watched that wonderful sun- set of long ago and had planned together for their trip to America. She lifted Kasui to her heart and painted for him the pic- ture of Wakasa and his bride-to-be as they sat by the wall and watched the old Japanese junk sail so slowly past the sun- set. The sun, in his journey downward, scarcely paused to touch the horizon. Its colors changed more quickly from beauti- ful rose and gold to lavender and pink and then to a purplish gray which proclaimed the twilight. And as the golden disk slowly, so slowly, settled into the wide sea, a junk came sailing from the west, swiftly pushed along as though by a stiff breeze, its ribbed sail filled and driving it along on the breast of the-ocean. “And he has not come back to me,” softly and wistfully breathed Sui San, and then she started, for there was a deep intake of breath behind her. “Ah, I have come back to you, Sui San, my Sui San, my wife!” And as she looked around, out of the shadows stepped Wakasa, her Wakasa. come back to watch the sunset again with her. Betty Morgan, June, ’24.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 18 around her in amazement. People were pouring out of the shops and fleeing in all directions. Cries and shouts of “Earth- quake!” filled the air. Clutches which she made to hold onto posts, the window ledges, or walls were in vain, for the very buildings were rocking and cracking. Sui San was speechless with fright. Her small, dark eyes were opened wide; her face was colorless. She felt as if she were in a very small boat on a rough and choppy sea. “Wakasa, Wa—” but she said no more, for she was pushed into a waiting bus by a hurrying official and was rushed through streets where houses were falling, walls were tumbling, and worst of all, where flames were eating their way from one house to another. Eire gongs pealed, while engines rushed by, shrieking their awful message. Poor Sui San covered her eyes and tried to think. W hat was hap- oening? W here was Wakasa? Was he hurt: But there was little time to think, for they were being driven at a terrific speed across the city, away from the flames and over rough and cracked ground. After several hours of such rid- ing, she and her companions were hurried out of the bus and into various halls and houses in a town called Karuizawa, among the hills. To Sui San came the realiza- tion that, as she was unhurt, she might do something to help, so she ran to a woman who seemed to be in charge. Her services were gladly accepted, and for hours fol- lowing little Sui San was busy cheering the homeless, hushing crying babies, ban- daging the wounded, and running about on errands of mercy which she gladly performed. When at last she did have a minute’s rest, she incoherently put into expression the thoughts which had been foremost in her mind for the past forty- eight hours. Where was Wakasa? Should she ever see him again? And to Wakasa came the realization that Sui San was lost only after he had been rushed aboard the “Empress of Japan,” which was now anchored in Yo- kohama Bay. The official to whom he had been talking when the earthquake had come had taken him by the arm, hurried him into his own private car, gone toward the docks and, in spite of Wakasa’s pro- test and cries of opposition, had pushed him aboard the ship. Now, as he watched the lurid sky with the large moon, which stood out against the red so plainly, and saw the puffs of smoke from the city, he was nearly frantic with anxiety for the safety of Sui San. For him there seemed to be no hope of ever seeing her again, his bride of only an hour! With the flames which were sweeping the city, leaving de- struction and death in their wake, there was no possible chance of searching for her. Sampans were plying back and forth, loading the ship with all the refugees which she could hold. For the following two days, Wakasa went back and forth in one of these sampans, assisting wherever he could, and each time wandering as far inland as he dared, in the hope of finding someone who knew of Sui Sap. During these two days the sun was blood-red when it rose and lemon color when it set. Messages came to him that Tokyo and Yokohama were dead cities. He had only to look to see the devastation wrought in the latter. And then, the “Empress of Japan” pulled up her anchor and sped across the great Pacific to America. On the morning of a week later, she docked at San Francisco, and emptied herself of the great load of homeless refugees from the stricken country. Many of these found friends in “Little Japan,” and others were enred for in hospitals and homes. For Wakasa, there seemed only one way to pursue. Consequently he journeyed alone across the vast country which he and Sui San had planned to visit together. He established himself in the eastern univer- sitv to which he had planned to come and occupied himself with his studies. All his time outside of school was spent in trac- ing. in any feeble way he could, his wife. After months of helping in Karuizawa, Sui San had decided to return to Aoyama. if possible, and find whether her home and any of her friends remained. She soon journeyed over devastated areas, back to the city of Yokohama, which already was in the slow process of rebuilding; thence to Tokyo, and at last to Aoyama. She found by some miracle her own portion of the citv safe and her own little home unharmed. To her friends she told the sad story of her loss, and was gratefully welcomed home again. Sad, sad days

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 15 Extracts from the Diary of a Cave-Man Foreword: As each year goes by, the modern world becomes more and more acquainted with the habits and life and customs of our prehistoric forefathers. The most recent of these discoveries was unearthed in the palisades of the Hudson not long ago by a noted professor of one of our leading universities. The script was not easily decipherable, as the stone upon which the characters were carved had apparently been exposed to the rav- ages of wind and rain for well on to a million years, and the manuscript is, at best, very sketchy and incomplete. The following is an exact copy of the MS. pre- pared by the professor who unearthed the inscriptions: “March 30: Weather very cold; cave smoky. Fire went out. Did some wall- painting, but was forced to quit, owing to remarks from the Wife. April 1: This morning the boy woke me at an unearthly hour, reporting a herd of diplcdoci and cotylosauri bearing down upon the tribe. I called the war- riors and, heavily armed, we went to hunt them, the bey running gleefully by my side. After a march of nearly fifty jalcs the boy stopped, laughed, and said, “Tee hee, April fool—there ain’t no herd!” I took him by . . . New Entry: . . . and skinned four pterodactyls and six kwaals . Directed the tribesmen to secure a fresh supply of cntclcdanti , as the store is getting low. Domestic troubles increasing; the Wife will not stay at home, but spends most of the time at the “Tribes-ladics’ Betterment League,” where the women play with painted slivers of ivory a game of some skill. I must learn—many arc trying the club method. Buried a few fake fossils this morning to fool the arch- aeologists in years to come. April 15: Stone hatchet season. I have .offered a premium of six fine tiger skins to the tribesman making the best hatchet. The girl is becoming more and more un- reasonable, and will not work at all, or even sweep out the cave when I order it. She calls me . . . April 29: The girl took four of my best pithecanthropus skins to make gol- pas for herself and two of her friends, on account of the mud, she says. Made out my income tax report. It has taken ten days to complete tile computa- tion, but I think it is right. Tamed an- other ncohipparion this morning. April 30: The Wife found sixteen mis- takes in my report, so, instead of getting off with eighty mons of buffalo meat, twelve uintathere skins, six hatchets, and three flints, I -find I have two dozen en- telodont hides—contribute before the first of the month. May 6: Out all night hunting for the boy, and found him at last in a cave overlooking the river, where he and his “gang” hang out. He seemed very sleepy, and could not walk, so I had to lug him home. In the cave was a queer appar- atus that they make . . . New Entry: . . . she spoiled six hatch- ets making little cubes out of ivory, and then took some of my colors to make dots on them. Not that I object to her becom- ing artistic, but she spilt the entire . . . over into the gorge below the cave. New Entry: ... he comes every night that there is a moon, and sits down on the rocks under the ledge ... a one- stringed musical instrument, so-called, that has a single tune, and he howls down there in a shrill monotone until the dawn breaks. I am going mad rapidly from lack of sleep and nervous exhaustion. It is . . . Middle of July: Have been able to sleep now for nearly a week, having par- tially disabled the would-be wooer by starting a landslide while he sat below the ledge. . . . Yesterday the girl took my six hatchet prizes to make a coat, though what she can do with it at this season has . . . August 1: Yesterday the girl brought home a tyrannosaurus for a pet, and put it in the cave. She named it ‘Whiskers,’ after me, she said. I had to sleep out in the rain because it filled the cave, and the . . . licked all the paintings I had done