Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

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Y, 5 y I Miss You I miss you in the morning, dear, Yvhen all the world is new, I know the day can bring no joy Because it brings not vou. I miss the well-loved voice of you, Your tender smile for me, The charm of you, the joy of your Unfailing sympathy. I miss you in the evening, dear, When daylight fades away, I miss the sheltering arms of you To rest me from the day, I try to think I see you yet There where the firelight gleams Weary at last I sleep, and still I miss you in my dreams. I. ia 1 1, If lx lu In Il V ,li 'l, rig t 1 l lr il ll ll il ll ll sl l ELIZABETH Poon '64 The Arrival Rustling of the new Blossoms . . . Bright warming sun . . . Show spring is coming soon. I LAURI A r I 1 , x l l rl I1 E CANEY '66 1 f LX , ,ll K X 6 nl V T K 1' EEF 0 0 L , IK l d, U lllllllrlmgl me w nl 1 7 I If ' 4 I0 f f n ll XII WW: A I on was I 6 alllllfflfwlwffrf ,QL 1 JV f Xvm x bmi' In . I I

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blackness, which seemed almost unreal against their starched white dresses and shirts. Windward was somewhat down the side of the hill, and I sighed thinking longingly of finally descending. How- ever, I was rudely awakened as the muscles in my legs, tightened for the climbing up, suddenly con- stricted as I listlessly walked down the hill. ' From the distance, Windward had a different air to it. As we got closer, the disparity between the two towns became apparent. Tiny houses looked doll-like in their perfection. The blue sea, now visible far below, made the whole town take on the appearance of a picture drawn by a small child, for children always seem to have a tendency to depict any blue background as though the sky and the sea were one. ' We walked into the town finding it deserted and strange. I somehow felt eyes upon me, and turning abruptly, I caught sight of several people peeking from behind buildings and doors. I had seen them long enough to observe that they were all white. The contrast between the two types of people in the two towns immediately struck me. Gradually, one by one, people began to appear. All of them were white, so unbelievably blanched. Their whiteness stood out strikingly. l couldn't believe that these people could actually live in the blazing sun of a Caribbean islandfand not be tanned by its penetrating rays. We sat down in the center square again, takinv out our thermoses of cold drinks. At first a brigade of small children, perfectly dressed and' spotlessfv clean, marched bv us, headed by their mother whose obvious self-consciousness made them all hasten away with only momentary backward glances. At this point we all wanted to go in different directions and so separated, planning to meet again in an hour to start back to the boat. I went towards an old woman who sat sewing outside her doll-like house. I approached her, and it wasn't until I'd sat down beside her that she seemed aware of my presence. She was ecstatic. .She began a tirade of questions, andl knew her inquisitive eyes would not miss a thing as they studied my somewhat flushed face. At long last she seemed to be satisfied enough to allow me to question her. She informed me that the people of Windward were of a Dutch descent and that they were, for the most part, women because the men were away at sea. Then I asked what the economic basis of the island is, and she replied that the men came home every three or four years and brought money back from the United States Merchant Marine. I assumed this must be the case because I hadn't seen any fields, animals, or any semblance of industry of any kind. VVhen I questioned her about the other town, she said nothing except that Bottom was down inside the volcano and the Windward people were up here and never the twain could meet. A small milk chocolate colored boy passed, assuring me, as nothing else could, that the twain did indeed meet. I saw my companions gathering in the square, and I thanked the woman. She smiled knowingly as I said I'd return someday, for she knew, as l did, that I would never return to this wierd island. ' Others in our party reported equally interesting experiences. The most welcome news of all was that someone had unearthed the only taxi cab on the island. It was badly marked tourist trans- port in faded lettering. What bliss to be driven rather than having to walk all the way back. Eventually the skipper in the boat'had been relieved to bring the boat around to a special harbor that only the islanders knew of. Some natives had volunteered to row us out to the boat. VVe found out later that several natives had gone down those endless steps and rowed our dinghy back to the Sequero and then directed her around to the new harbor. VVe drove back up the side and then down to Bottom. We stopped outside a church and tooted the horn. Two men came running out and went off to their houses to change their clothes. While we waited, the driver told us that the men were Gods followers and had to go to church for all of Easter Sunday. They apparently were never allowed to drink, smoke, or dance. I wondered what they did do on this island where they all awaited returning sailors and weren't allowed to dance. The giggles of the driver told us that he was not of the latter religious belief. Finally the two pious men returned. VVe drove down a road that ran back and forth in the same criss-cross manner as the ladder which we had climbed in our approach. When at last we stopped at the bottom near the water's edge, we could see the boat bobbing furiously in the hostile sea. The natives scrambled out of the car and over to their fishing boats, one of which they lifted across the white beach and made ready to jump into, as they lowered it into the pounding surf. VVe were motioned over to a stone jetty at the end of the beach. From there the men could really take two of us out at a time. As we were rowed out, I looked up at the tall native whose deep black skin and agile body glistened in the sun against the tourquoise sea and white beach, and the mysterious island looming high above us. I looked over my shoulder and felt warmth for the first time since early morning, as l could distinguish Sequro through the foaming spray. ALEXANDRA CANFIELD '64

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Transformation I walked across the cold, hard concrete and proceeded to ascend the long flight of stairs, somewhat hesitant to step into the chamber that had been the object of all my apprehensions of the preceding week. Fortified with a few books designed to alleviate the fear I would be experiencing in just a few minutes, I politely smiled, took my seat, and waited for that moment. ln front of my seat I noticed the paper bags to be used in case of an emergency, and spread an apron on my lap in order to be prepared for the feeling that might necessitate using the paper bags. I began to read a selection from Robert Benchley while awaiting the whining sound that would be the signal that my first plane trip was about to begin. Fasten your seat belts, please. We are now preparing to take off, said the stewardess, oozing charm, warmth, friendliness. I wondered if her radiant visage did not have a sinister appearance about it as if she were hiding what she knew to be the inevitable? The engines roared, the propellors spun around, the plane whizzed down the field, then up, up, up, and we were aloft. I looked out of the window and gazed through the nebulous whiteness which served as clouds at the earth below. The green and brown plowed fields seemed to form an intricate maze as we flew so rapidly over them. Then, trying to appear very nonchalant, I glanced around the cabin at my fellow passengers. ln ,front of me was an old man whose bald head had a rather rough, uneven surface which resembled a piece of cork. His head would slowly sink from my view for a few minutes as drowsiness overtook him, and then it would bob back up just as fast as it had gone under, invariably accompanied by snorts, sniffs, and clearings of the throat. My eyes left his interesting head to search for others which might hold my interest. There were no unusual people aboard, just businessmen, little old ladies, students, and a happy family. I decided to watch the happy family. Happy families usually prove to be interesting. In this family, the mother and father seemed impervious to the affairs of their offspring. Three of the little boys ran up and down the aisle playing rip up all the magazines and then pretend there is a raging blizzard inside, so we can scatter the pieces all over. The oozing stewardess came out and quietly spoke to the happy family, and calm once again prevailed. Since the enter.tainment was concluded, I amused myself by read- ing more of Benchley. A voice interrupted my imaginary world with the impressive and terrifying statistics of wind velocity, speed, and air pressure, followed by the terse announce- ment, Fasten your set belts, please, we are now preparing to land. I smiled at the stewardess, tripped gaily down the stairs, stepped onto the beautiful concrete, and walked away feeling very much a woman of the world. IUDITH H. ANDERSON '65