Richardson High School - Eagle Yearbook (Richardson, TX)

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A, .:.. A '2' The 60 ofeto wondgne-tore Time is slowly fading Oh where did it all go. I m searching for a someone That I don t even know He put a spell within me And gave me new beliefs This life I slowly 'wander Seeking its relief. 6 6 X696 G 6 S063 XN6 ewan ues 5 e Y ce OX' xatesx woe? an so Kasxnxhe ndx 6 Of? get GW 609632 Qin 06 6 . KOQSX X-X30 V8 the WQ xnafiw e am me than 6 mow xatl W me Sa 6 X Gee man xo 6 QXBNS X QXN A li'- olexxwe XNOKX are no e , V,,.:,. - 'Q Q 3 .. , , ,, 34- Gee 9 xo G 8 U S 0 f- X XJ Y Oo 00X Sex OXN once ..:e. X need VG wx e X0 mags o I me GY S ew S XKXYNGX nee ev' Wan ax 096' Gee oge ,H X neiiggnok be QT 6 ff S 6 6 9,6 x 6 9 V 'G ,. 'T V e .I X edge: sm edu C5 m T 0 g 6 9 ak R A dm n ak m r ' Fi fi? Q63 t affll 6 X e a 0 . ' dmv XNTK Angel with a Broken Wing xp,s'lUX?0oYema ,,twt9 X His music it bewitched me And put me in a trance It draws me even closer To take a daring chance. This man he is so special His wisdom shows it all The secret to the universe He leaves us to enthrall. The light that shines upon his eyes Reveal the magic runes The message of the Druid Gods Lie within the moon. The answer it lies hanging In the shadows far beyond. The search is never ending From dusk until the dawn. I'm searching for an angel, With a broken wing To find this mystic wizard For whom, this song I sing. - Sheila Norman 116 f Esprit In the Woods I walk through the woods fallen leaves crunching under foot The sunlight streaming down between the majestic bows of ancient pines, creates odd patterns of light and dark on the forest's floor. Above my head an unseen lark graces the wood with his song. A tiny chipmunk pauses, to look at me with beady, black eyes. A little stream babbles as it flows over smooth stones. A sudden breeze sets the treetops alive, swaying and dancing in the wind. A single golden leaf flutters in my path. Delicate pink wild flowers poke their heads out around a fallen tree covered with lush, velvety, green moss. I close my eyes and smell the fresh, clean pine scent of the woods. and then, silence. - Marla Kusch

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i frr iw-iii twill ri il',1-GrEs12i'f'- 'lf'ff:5rerf--,:w- asia -Wirrlwrr rme'iiwiw'v r - rr f irw f g, r -xrrfr zfai i wr it me V. .iii r-A wrref it :wr fer-, Ji., rr rim. ,rr fe ,'fi,ri,ir- .u. ,Ii ii r iii' .Ir-w riiyliiirr 'w rr ,rt -vi-will -f -r' 'H t - hi ith. , 1 rw ,hg-t-ir,N-ameS'vM-i r- i w prongs, ,Tiiiwlrlfttiorrtrrrrrriirfi,id-tlwesm r.r,l-- i,,,,- i, .2 W, ,,ri,ii,.-i-- ri-,H wr rw l t--,oarfatf 1,,i,il,tt ,A ,rr ar im J.-rr r ,f.Je,r.r ri--r ir- esk to be typed, and threw two oys out of the library because Hey were smacking their gum loudly. , Miss Doomsbody went home her quiet little house, took two pirin, and lay down with an epack over her eyes. Finally, e got up and went to fix herself l meal. Upon opening the refri- erator door, there on the shelf sas a very large tiger lilly, orange sith vivid black spots, and, of -ourse, a note on bright blue aper. . ntr arp-L thalYOU dld . YY I m Sigur dayust wanted to l've got you now, Potato Chip Pervert! She yelled. But, she had lunged too quickly and had nothing to support herself but the carefully balanced paper towel display. The whole thing collapsed with Miss Doomsbody and Potato Chip Pervert surrounded and buried in Viva paper towels. After a moment, having recovered from her shock, Miss Doomsbody indignantly sat up, still holding the offending arm, and said, 'Klust who do you think you are? And why are you dropping things into my basket? You are invading the privacy of my grocery basket. Why I ought to . . But at that moment Miss Doomsbody caught enlotljt really l 1 sight ofthe offending body. 5 6 me tOO why you're John Pringle, me Say tygu tak nd mailman! mausly uid relax 3 . . Y y yes, he stuttered, seflo d you Sho That's me. Rain or snow, are be, yoifle sleet or sunshine . . he 'et :AH day 'OUQKS .ng trailed off. -ed lfl DOO-Ve 3YlYthl7 Why are you putting Dugan yOU Q' ShVlOOK9' Only, things in my basket? but Stern haljr On? grggndeed 'fwe-ll . . he hedged. YO A frien And why popcorn, can- Early the next morning Miss Dooms- ody went to do her weekly hopping. As she pushed the art down the aisles, she plaoed ne proper foods in her basket: read, chicken, orange juice, reen beans. But every time she ut something in, another item fould appear. On aisle 1 it was opcorn, aisle 2, candy. On aisle she was standing next to a irge paper towel display and ad just placed some carrots in er basket. Out of the side of her ye, she watched a bag of chips ome from the other side of the isplay to drop them in her asket. Miss Doomsbody wooped! She lunged though the aper towels and grabbed that ffending arm. dy, and potato chips? You always buy such serious stuff, he said straightening up a little. Serious? Serious food? How does one buy serious food? she asked. Green beans, hamburger meat, plain white bread They don't add any excitement, any spice to your life. Have you ever tried fet- tuchini, pink lemonade, or tutti frutti ice cream? Well, no, but. . You see, he exploded, And what about at the library? Every book has its place and no one can make a sound. Just once couldn't you have fun? Or smile at Maria? Why you don't even have a dog! A dog! By no means would l ever have a . . . Wait a second, she accused, 'tlt's you, isn't it? You are 'A Friend lndeed,' aren't you? John the mailman blushed terribly up to the tips of his ears. Well, yes ... So what if I aml lcan't stand to see someone bore themselves to death. He started to get up, shak- ing paper towels off of himself. You have to live life to its fullest, or you won't really be living at all! He finished and smiled smugly, as if proud at finally getting it all out. But my life is very full, said Miss Doomsbody, trying ungracefully to get up, There's my job, oh, and my needlepointf' lt sounded weak even to her. Well, so what if l'm not very happy. Lots of people aren't. That's just it, P.L. You can be if you try. You can be as happy as the next person, if you so much as smile. But l can't, she protested, What would people think? Who cares? he asked. Miss Doomsbody stood there uncertain- ly, surrounded by paper towels. She was thinking very hard, because somewhere inside, John Pringle was talking to her, to a part of herself that had been buried for a long time under rules, and regulations, and other people's opinions. That part of her wanted very much to have a friend, a family, and yes, even a dog. She looked up then cautiously to where he waited and slowly, almost timidly. . . she smiled. Esprit f 115

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'SQ fix ffm Ne Il E ., To l A iff X. W g g Time Men seldom notice that time stands still As they rush from work to rest, For when they pursue Iife's lost aim The centuries rush past. Below our feet are the graves of the ancients Whose world long ago expired, Soon our heads are below the feet of the future, And this world long since retired. We work and then stop. Then begin and succeed And feel as if in motion. We take care of business and then move on Without purpose, adrift in the ocean. When life becomes simple, magic amnesia And we forget that we are here. We think only of what's next on our busy agenda And to death become chained by tear. Time isn't the length between worldly transaction Or the days of our earthly stay. Only a fool would measure and gauge The gift of life in days. J. D. Harness Esprit! 117