Richmond High School - Shield Yearbook (Richmond, CA)

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From morn ’till night, I’ve tried to write Of silver drops of dew, Enchanting Spring, Or anything; But, still ’twould not be new! It’s all been told By bards of old Who had it all their way. Old was rhyme Before my time. “So what’s the use,” I say! —Cecil E. Rhodes ’24. The Honor Society Something to strive for, that’s what we need Something to urge us on. The philosopher said, ‘‘Incentive’s the seed From which ambitions come.” By lots of hard work for a glorious goal, Our ambitions we ceek to fulfill, And by steadily striving onward we go “Til we reach the top of the hill. Some say it is hard to work and to learn; It is easy, we know, just to dream. But, after all, life’s only a churn, And the one who works gets the cream. After the churning is done, And the skim-milk’s all thrown away, I’m sure you’ll be glad you’re not one Who did nothing but dream all day. —Norman Silva ’23. Blue and Rea wenty-nine

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With tireless efforts, he cautiously sawed off slice after slice until the top fitted. This was then tightly, if not neatly, hammered into place between the four legs which projected upward like the legs of an over-turned chair. Johnny then stood off at a distance and surveyed his handiwork. Gee, it sure looked pretty good. (Guess she’d sure like that, all right. Why, if he could do that good with just those old boards an’ stuff, well, he guessed he’d make a pretty good carpenter. He walked round and round, his pride increasing at every step. ‘True, the lower shelf sloped to such a degree that only a leech or growing moss could have stayed on without slipping; and the legs were sawed in a jagged design resembling claws; and the top shelf shrieked in blue letters, “Crystal White.”’ But this did not detract from its beauty in Johnny’s eyes. Io him, it excelled any piece ever made by Heppelwhite. Now, if he could just find a little paint. Just then the sound of footsteps on the gravel outside the shed attracted his attention. He hastily pushed the fern-stand behind the coal-bin, just in time to see his mother open the door. “What on earth are you doing, John?” she queried, suspiciously. ‘Nothin’. I—I was just lookin’ for somethun? Guess it ain’t here.” He strolled out the door and went into the house, his heart beating so fast that the beats seemed to merge. He waited breathlessly behind the screen door to ascertain the actions of his mother. Very soon he heard the sound of chopping. Presently his mother emerged and Johnny. beat a hasty retreat to the parlor. After a few minutes, he returned to the kitchen on the pretext of getting a drink. He’s eyes wandered to the wood-box. He gulped and nearly choked. In the wood box were four sticks of kindling, very round in shape, that appeared as if they might have been parts of a rake handle. Beside these were two boards, broad and flat, that had once functioned as the ends of a Crystal White soap box. —Helen Carpenter ’24. Futility With aching head And eye-lids, red, I’ve sat through weary hours. With main and might, I’ve tried to write Of birds or bees or flowers. I’ve racked my brain, But all in vain ‘To write some words in rhyme Of trees and brooks And shady nooks Or Nature’s charms, divine. Twenty-eight Blue and. Red

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Retired Abner Matthews sat by the kitchen window in the squeaky, old-fashioned rocking chair that his father had sat in before him. He watched the smoke-like clouds of snow that the wind was chasing over the already deep drifts. Huge icicles hung from the pump and from the roof of the little barn just beyond. It was cold, so cold that Akner felt a draft through the window and moved his chair over nearer the stove. “Tt’s a cold one,” he remarked to his wife Martha who was washing dishes on the stove. “Twenty below, Abner, but I don’t mind the bad days this winter. It seems so good you don’t have to make them cold trips. I’m glad Jule’ll take the team and pay eighty dollars for it. ‘That’ll pay for the sink and tubs and a little left over.” For twenty-five years, Abner Matthews had carried mail on the single route that ran out from the village, and for fifteen years a little roan team of ponies had made every trip. But the government retirement law had come into operation the previous year and the employees sixty-five or over were replaced by younger men. ‘There was a pension of course, but forty dollars a month was hardly enough to live on. At that time Abner had resented the enforced retirement. He had never missed a trip for illness and sixty-six wasn’t old, but now he was glad. His rheumatism had been much worse than usual this year and it was good to sit by the fire. Martha stepped to the end of the porch and threw out the dishwater, remarking as she had almost every time since a sink had been in prospect: “I won’t have to do this much longer.” “T wish it was someone else who wanted the team,’ Abner broke in. “Jule’s awful hard on horses. He won’t feed ‘em enough and drives ‘em too hard. Dick and Dolly are gritty little beasts, but they’re getting pretty old now.” “But we couldn’t afford to keep ’em, Abner, and eighty dollars is a lot of money.” “Who’s said anything about wanting to keep em?” Abner responded quickly. Martha went upstairs, and Abner rocked backward and forward. ‘The wind howled outside, but the old man closed his eves, and rocked on. It seemed to him that the motion of the chair was like the motion of his old sleigh. He was nearing the ravine and the ponies were pushing through the drifted banks. Now Dick was going down—down, and there was a fence. Oh! He would be cut to pieces. “Whoa, Dick! Steady:” Abner shouted in a trembling voice. “Abner! Abner!” a far away voice was calling. The old man awoke with a start to find his wife standing before him. “Guess I must a-dropped to sleep, Mathy. Funny thing, too, I dreamed Dick was astride that fence just as he was the time he got that cut on his leg. ‘That hain’t never healed just right neither. I noticed yesterday he limped on it. Might be Jule wouldn’t want a lame horse. “He'll get over it in a day or two as he always has, Abner. You could tell Jule atout it so there wouldn’t te any deceit about it, and he might be a little mite careful of him.” “T guess you hain’t never wanted anything so much as that sink, have you, Marthy ?” Thirty Blue and Red