Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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

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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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16 THE GOLDEN-ROD off the walls because she forgot to feed it. I threw it out. . . . While I was painting over my ruined masterpieces I ran out of red color, and so took some from the kind that the girl uses on her cheeks. She caught me, and called me a ‘dizzy nut a term meant ... to convey disrespect. August 31: Last night the terrible singer was at his post again, singing a bit shakily on two cylinders, so to speak, but nevertheless fairly persistently; tonight I (Here the MS. ends.) Glossary and Excuses Diplodoci and Cotylossauri —Prehis- toric mammoths. Jalcs —Approximately £4 nii. Kwaal '—A species of lizard. Entelodanti —We think that the cave-man is trying to fool us; we don’t know what he means anyway. Golpas —Probably the first golosh- es, or overshoes. Mon — i 2 lb. We really believe that the eminent pro- fessor is trying to ‘‘put something over” on the credulous public, so we would not advise anyone to use this data as infal- lible. Sincerely, Elinor Strickland, June, ’24. The Hidden Manuscript To this day I still wonder whether it was the handwriting upon the fly-leaf or the generally aged appearance about the book that made me buy it. Sometimes, when I wonder how I ever happened to secure the book, though its outward at- tractiveness played a small part in its purchase, I am strongly inclined to be- lieve that the bold, distinctive handwrit- ing, evidently a masculine hand, betraying a strong character, was what urged me to obtain it. As soon as I reached home, I hurried to my room and library combined, and with the true collector’s enthusiasm began carefully to examine it. It was in a remarkable state of preservation, the covers being faded dry-as-parchment leather, much worn at the corners. On the fly-leaf was written: “Paul Aubrey, his book, July 14, 1785.” As I was slowly turning the book around in my hand and glancing at the first few pages, in some manner it slipped from my fingers and fell to the floor, striking rather heavily on one corner. Stooping hastily, I picked it up. hoping that the binding was not loos - ened. But great was my amazement when I saw that the leather, much worn and aged at the corners, had split, and that through one of them projected a small packet of papers which really was two large sheets of paper folded many times to the size of about a quarter of the cover of the book. Curiosity leaping high within me, I drew them out carefully and hastily set about to unfold them and—but read for yourself: “My name is Paul Aubrey,” began the manuscript, “aide-de-camp to General W-----under the command of General Washington, commander-in-chief of the American armies. I know not what im- pels me to write this, for my nature is far from vain. But through some impulse I care not to analyze, I am placing this manuscript beneath the covers of this book, a curious place, indeed, hoping per- chance that it may some day be discov- ered, and thus reveal to the finder an interesting event hitherto unknown to anyone but myself. In the year 1774, I was riding for the town of M— with im- portant news for General R—, news I had been compelled to memorize, fearing to secrete it about me even though it were written in code, lest it might be discovered if I should chance to fall into the hands of the enemy. I had scarcely covered half of the way, for the ground was ex- ceedingly rough and I was forced to ride cautiously to avoid wandering parties of redcoats, when my horse cast a shoe and began to limp. Heartily cursing fate at this unexpected delay, I made as fast as possible for a group of houses which I saw at a distance off on the right. The accident must have made me forget my