Rogers Hall School - Splinters Yearbook (Lowell, MA)

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Advice to Those on the Brink Preserve your sanity-Build a defense mechanism-Watch it, kid- HE wants you! Lunacy can creep up in those soft treading PF Flyers if you don't devise that protective barrier. The symptoms are obvious: paranoia, one-way conversations, and bliss in oblivion-all seek you out. Retaliatel Retort, if you've got the stamina. First, admit to yourself that a battle exists. Don't deceive yourself, acknowledge the challenge, face it! This major step taken, the next few are not as hard on your pride. Keep occupied. This shield won't dent and let those unrelated fantasies infil- trate. By becoming involved with those stable people around you, you have no time to lose control of the senses. Don't slip-HE's watching. Leave no time for the real subconscious to peer through the surface. Flank your soundness or lose it completely. There is no medium! The daily groove is retraced. The needle of existence begins to wear. Substitute a new needle. Extract yourself from that worn environment. A new kind of monotony will help, then again . . . but hesitation may prove fatal. Move quickly. Don't worry about the rear view. Don't turn back. HE will be following you. ToN1 POLLAK '69 A Plea A La Vis-Ed My thoughts are sordid . . . Evil lurks in my mind . . . a lucid reverie Black on white . . . superimposed . . . trepidation always malignant . . . no illumination . . . despicable. This is the zenith . . . we need light I plead to you . . . this is not a figment We exist . . . darkened. Search now . . . before we attend our own obsequies. LYNNE TAHAN '69 12

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A Flying Thing Blood relations had become confused in the old man's memory. I-Ie wasn't sure if the woman was his greatniece or granddaughter. She called him Grandpa, but he didn't think so. She was holding a boy by the arm. Didn't you get the letter? she asked, It will be good for both of you, he'll be company. It's all right, the old man says. She looked at him, then bent to hug the boy. I-Ie turned rigid as a stake. Oh, Prob, she said, then drove off. Rob, the old man said. It was familiar. He realized, with pleasure, that it had been his own name once. I'm a problem, I'm bad, I'll scream! Scream, how loud is it? The boy opened his mouth. It is all right. Listen to this. It was a much better scream. You're a lot older than I, the boy said defensively. I-Iow old are you? Nine, the boy answered. I-Iow old are you? I-Ie stood for a while. Ninety-one. Who are you to me? the old man said. Somebody But the old man couldn't be fooled. Have you ever been anything besides yourself? I was a bug once but my mother stepped on me. Try to be a flying thing, free. An eagle? Perhaps, I'm a mallard, just taking off, climbing at a slant. I-low about hunters and guns? That is a risk that has to be, but -I'm always ahead of them, and they always miss. In his own youth he had been a stand-offer. Now at ninety odd years he began to see the error in it. Now he began to catch on. You're something to me all right. Come I want to show you something. I-Ie took the boy out to a furrowed field. With his finger he brought forth a sprouting seed. Eighty years of this and I still don't know what a seed is. But I know what I am to it. What, What are you to it? Bring the hoe. I'm not going to work here, the boy said. Of course you're not! What are you to the seed? the boy asked. Bring the hoe here, the old man said. They chopped weeds for the rest of the afternoon. I think I know, you are the seed guarderf' As dusk approached the old man shouldered his hoe. The milk rang out sharply against the bottom of the pail and the level mounted. 14 g.