Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

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Milestones I had finally realized the impossibility of a suspended sleigh flying over massive continents and bearing a bearded fat man whose image had once seemed to be as powerful as the Almightys I also discovered that giving a pathetic, dissipated old man a Father's day card would be more dangerous than anything else. This experience is not over. It's still with me. Today, however, my meditation concerning the unveiling of new knowledge takes more dehned patterns of research. Life was once so clear and simple. The new-born were angels who winged themselves into hospital windows, grown-ups' drinks were for their health, heaven was at least Hve miles up, and hell was under the streets, a labyrinth of dirty water pipes. I remember my first experience with death. It was the passing of hlrs. Underwood, a white-haired dear who reeked of the therapeutic foam rubber from which the aged seek comfort when sitting on those crusty chairs that have aged with them. Mrs. Underwood made a deep impression on me, and I still remember vividly the wise tales she told-tales that had engulfed my sisters and me. And then she was gone . . . Growing-up also involved the developing of everyday tactics for dealing with adults. How refreshing it was to conquer, Finally, the urgent request to eat my stewed tomatoes by thinking of the famished citizens of China, for up until then it seemed, to me, a seliish act to gorge down nourishing food while keeping the poor Chinese in mind. I had crossed over the nursery threshold fa room Filled with blinding fantasyD into self-discoverv, rewarding meditation, and the happiness of head in hands and the thinking of lovely thoughts . . . in cherished quiet moments. SUQANNAH OSBORN '65 November 22nd It's hard to know what to say, Facing the tragedy of today. Is this the prelude to an end, Cr just a loss which we can mend? SUSANNAH OSBORN '65 lf' f 5, f Xa I-jf ' ul ' , , I is , ,, A si. 1 Q? lv it f an 3 Q V Ifyp ,in

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propped the other bundle under her arm. She looked into her bucket of fish and poured some stav- C! nant water from it. She picked up the pail, carefully maintaininv her balance and once aoain she , C D assumed her regal role. I had been so captivated b y this woman that I'd completely forgotten about the canvas I had in front of me. Des eratelv I attem ted to sk t h ' p 1, p ec in some sort of likeness. She walked by in front of me. I madly tried to depict her arrogant manner. Once again she walked by. Now, at last, I had caught some vague likeness. She returned and walked by again. This time she came much closer. I felt a panic stirring inside me, as I turned away. The calypso singer began to sing again, Oh island in the sun . . . I was aware of someone standing verv close to me A bucket of dead fish seemed to contaminate the air. I gathered mv paints, closed my pad of paper and rose to leave. The native woman confronted me and said, Two dollars, I pose, you pay two dollars. ALEXANDRA CANFIELD '64 Progression Life Thus, death. Smiles Thus, tears. Love Yet, hate. NANCY ROBINSON '64

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The lncorrigible David Two years ago I penned my first observations of my brother David, wherein I described him as a crafty, quick-witted, weedy sort of character: a noble youth with delusions of grandeur. Since then, despite the help of many, he has changed little. As the Black Sheep of the Hinsdale Regnerys, David quickly distinguished himself from the other boys at prep school by purchasing the students' souls, doing original Freudian impersonations, and becoming involved in several business endeavors including plans to revolutionize the army's entire grenade program and personal expeditions in search of valuable mineral-bearing rock. Unfortunately, David became better known to the school doctor than to any other faculty member, all were warned to approach with caution this seemingly professional Lucifer. Realizing that he was too young to be tied down to anything on a permanent basis, David left college hoping to Hnd a life of adventure away from the college campus. Having been rejected from the armed forces, he headed for Germany with stein held high and the fate of the Fatherland in his hands, for, in all probability, he had become the Devil's advocate. No ordinary prepster, David has, however, accomplished some outstanding feats for a mere boy of nineteen years. He has already written two books, as yet unavailable, one a daring expose of suburban Hinsdale, a veritable hometown Peyton Place. The other is a true-life adventure of a slovenly flag-maker and his feeble but brilliant attempt to incite an insurrection in an American community. He is also somewhat of a cartoonist, a self-styled critic of civilization and an excellent raconteur of tales. At last report, this veritable Da Vinci, aided by United Nation funds, has been gathering a small force in Northern Germany with hopes of conquest and dreams of immortalization. ANNE REGNERX' '64 Reality Blackness invaded the earth, Grabbing those afraid of the dark And leaving the immortal. Loursis Brrooxs '64 The Search She emerged from a fog Entered the misty haze And eventually found light. Louise Braooics '64