Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

Page 13 text:

'E ibm Nw. KX h .1 N, iw' M,,,wb..vuw.. M- V mfr . ..,..' - ffm - A f '--..,,,,. ,, . m.. . I 'f,3 . ,Q ,im .1 ,. 4. .gy , X ,,.,,ak . . M 4,,,k . W . K. ik I gen. x ' Q -113-Q.-.. 4, Wg, , , .x,'i,l. 132, at -. K' 4 -,jx if , Kggri . , Q 'Fi A. 'fr q1e..?a, ' p ' 1 W K f? 'f3? . 3 f 'A , if '- A iff '44, . L Mgt . -fa, .2 , . .f J., g Q-1 gf, A 1:45 A :mg :5e5,gf,f'5, 1hiv,:.v5.,5 ' 1 3 f. , J , .g!yf,fj3,!,fi ir.,, ,wx X' N ', 1' . H .34 ' -' 51 rx '- - -, . 'nz-:fw ' 4ag.,4x-::5- ,Nj Ln W ,J Eff fin. 4 '-TNR .. W . 1 1,412 A 1 ,Z .5 N 'gfefx A A W 1 . ,. T gy' r I viii- 1 flfff A V ' , i ,, '.gT'f.5S..-,,:f. 'lv ' + x l .. h ,ggi , ,,m,,Tf - RW? .4 .fx , . 13 5 ' - ' 1 Esf Q mx., V .wp . V . ' krmgj-H-.' .ww ' ' YQ f -,,.-.-f'kff2 'Ei .' -'QYUX W., N f- X . - Y - A -fpq., .i.5:,1Q, ' 'ff-1 Q 'mul 'ff' ' N. N ' ' ' 1 - ' we W , , .. X' A: ' 1 .ii V 44Pl.:'A : - sf 'x h ' 42' V f , Yfff' 1. 1 . 'K 1, ., 4,6 I If ' S355 N '4 f 'ffTp 5 ' my '- L: , L, ' 1 fi ' wfg ri? A - f X+,x.. yi 5z'.,.4- ' ,f lf . ., A 535 x Q Y -7' -5 I - Qs mrs!-px A Q, , -xg 2. Q Q 1- vi -. 4-31.4 239'-mi 3A 'fm Y f::-MV' 2 . :iq A 7 'V H 4 W 515: 'ai' A E . L. ' ., 3,, fQ!I L ' Y L ., , 4 Nz- . ,,-f ...E wavy ., fry:-. ' ii ,A U V .. 'SQL' 5 r Q W V Q ,Xwyn ' ,. ,A wwf' 5. if ' ,, ,mf ' ...i ' A , Q .. ,1 M.. 5 .V 2 , . , , Q ' 53 H.. . . A awk. f if - K, ff' I-,yn ...Q Q.:- ,f N. f ' ff 5 . ' 1 'fiii'T,Q1' 1j'.'miH-'? Ulm ,, ' , ' T551 mn Ng ..-v'f'f 'n'l-MZNVN K YQ, ..'44,':-.Nw 5. -r W 9 'W'-., ' r, V M ' N ' ' f Fm Q., . 2 gk 5 lv MQ rf , W-.1 SPH' N' X. ' . -'N -, '-g11,.4 N' ' 'Ex 1 -ad? , ' A Q HTH, In f 4: - . 'Ax x ' f- N , Dbvilvivff Max 1 -'T 'A 1 J' W 7. Rasa... . . x M., - 4 3. - I .f ' AQ! f 2 My . -. ,1. A . yay, ,, , . V ' fr...-M., ' .fx- : 5f'7L3:, .- .1 .A ,, - H v, , .1 f

Page 12 text:

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

Page 14 text:

1' The Price of Paints H ,,,,.f.-,ji f-AV There I was on a tropical island far ,gags f-,- Syn: -gl 4:-goxfe ' . ,,ff5fS,tfz5I it removed from the worries of the world. iiljiilsqiijf ,jmwjgg Everything seemed completely untouched ., bv any form of commercialism. The 5' 11,4 f f'f't. -3 ' X '. ' . ' . . . r?. t'if,-it I, natives, who knew little of avaricious ll' ig ' ' people and summit meetings, had enticed A iff me to get 'out my paints. . D 1, ' A divine happiness swelled inside of me as I sat with my canvas propped up in .1 . f b QW front of me. As the sun poured down upon gg, p me, I could feel sweat dripping from my 3. fi jf, c forehead, but such trivialities could never Y 5 compensate for the marvelous, fascinating j ,f,j-Eg ? ' ' 'i' 'V subjects that lay before me. The brilliant A , U. turquoise sea illuminated the background. ..f i.-' .urew - .N .. -.-. Qfiwwl-Vi 1 b b k h. , . . . 1 ..-.-,c, we egan y s etc ing two vivacious girs who stood together by the fishing boats. They dressed with the air and taste of Parisians. The blackness of their skin contrasted sharply-with their vividly colored clothing. One had a tiny straw hat perched forward on her head, and the gold loop earrings of the other sparkled as she giggled mischievously at a senile woman who was cack- ling in a corner by the steps. She was another enticing subject, with her mangoes and guavas spread on a burlap bag in front of her. She seemed only half-heartedly to be trying to sell her fruitibut rather she puffed conscientiously on an old corn cob pipe. A lone calypso singer on one of the boats began strumming a catchy tune on his guitar. I whirled around madly and was beginning to get a likeness of him when someone new obstructed my thoughts. I was completely obsessed as I watched this woman walk across the market square. Cn her head she balanced a huge bundle of clothes wrapped in a piece of faded blue cloth, which seemed to just keep the clothes from bursting out. Under one arm and on that hip she supported another bundle. In the other hand she carried a bucket full of fish. She held her head high in such an arrogant manner that I could not but wonder if she wasn't, in reality, a queen whom some evil witch had transformed. Her cheekbones protruded from her native features. As I attempted to draw her, I noticed she was, in some way, out of proportion. Her long legs seemed to contradict her enormous bosom. I watched her carefully as she walked confi- dently nearer. Now, in her eyes I could see an almost hateful stare that made me look down at my meager efforts. They seemed so insignificant now. Something forced me to look up again. She was gone. No, she couldn't be gone . . . I could feel her near me. I turned and looked behind me. Across the street she sat on the curb. She had lifted the bundle down from her head and set it down close beside her. The other bundle she put down on top of her bucket of fish to keep the flies from infesting it. She sat majestically in an almost man-like manner with her legs apart and her skirt between. She stared at me again, and I looked away. Everyone seemed to be aware of her presence: the Calypso singer stopped singing, the old woman worked diligently arranging her fruit, the two girls no longer giggled but rather hung their heads and walked slowly away. I looked out of the corner of my eye' at the woman on the curb. She gulped down her beer, wiped her mouth on her sleeve and let out a sigh of relief. It was then that I noticed a row of new things that she hadn't had before. A box of Fab, a bottle of Clorox, another bottle of beer, a ball of string, and a new pile of clothes were all lined up in a row beside her. By her feet she'd piled three ripe mangoes in a little pyramid. After she had finished her bottle of beer, she tossed it into the bushes behind her. Now she proceeded to put the new bundle of clothes in the bosom of her dress. On top of these she put the bottle of Clorox, the ball of string, the box of Fab, one bottle of beer, and two of the three mangoes. She must have found them uncomfortable because she took them all out again, one by one, and readjusted them. Once she had become satisfactorily settled, she picked up the third mango from the road and savagely began to eat it. As she tore at it with her teeth, the yellow-orange juice dribbled down the corner of her mouth. Again and again she wiped the juice off on her sleeve. When finally, she finished, she heaved the mango stone into the bushes along with her beer bottle. Now she stood tall and erect. .She bent over and picked up her huge bundle for her head. She