Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

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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

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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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Life Life- a passing glance a Heeting shadow a day here now but gone tomorrow. The Great Inquiry Where are we going? NANCY ROBINSON '64 Where can we find an ending to justify our beginning? Why must we struggle to hear silence where sound was, Stillness where movement was, death where life was? Why must we search for oblivion? NANCY ROBINSON '64