Rollins College - Tomokan Yearbook (Winter Park, FL)

Page 11 text:

EX-BASKETBALL PLAYER Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot, Bends with the trolley trac s, and stops, cut off Before it has a chance to go two bloc s, At Colonel McComs y Plaza. Berths Garage Is on the corner facing west, and there, Most days, you ' ll find Flic Webb, who helps Berth out. Flic stands tall among the idiot pumps- Five on a side, the old bubble-head style, Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low. One ' s nostrils are two S ' s, and his eyes And E and O. And one is squat, without A head at all — more of a football type. Once Flic played for the high-school team, the Wizards. He was good: in fact, the best. In ' 46 He buc eted three hundred ninety points, A county record still. The ball loved Flic . I saw him rac up thirty-eight or forty In one home game. His hands were li e wild birds. He never learned a trade, he just sells gas, Chec s oil, and changes flats. Once in a while, As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube, But most of us remember anyway. His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench. It ma es no difference to the lug wrench, though. Off wor , he hangs around Mae ' s luncheonette. Grease-gray and ind of coiled, he plays pinball, Smo es thin cigars, and nurses lemon phosphates. Flic s eldom says a word to Mae, just nods Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers Of Njzcco Wafers, 7 [ibs, and Juju Beads. John Updi e 7

Page 13 text:

MHEMOSTHE It ' s autumn in the country I remember. How warm a wind blew here about the ways! And shadows on the hillside lay to slumber During the long sunsweetened summer days. It ' s cold abroad the country I remember. The swallows veering skimmed the golden grain At midday with a wing aslant and limber; And yellow cattle browsed upon the plain. It ' s empty down the country I remember. I had a sister lovely in my sight: Her hair was dar , her eyes were very sombre; We sang together in the woods at night. It ' s lonely in the country I remember. The babble of our children fills my ears, And on our hearth I stare the perished ember To flames that show all starry thro ' my tears. It ' s dar about the country I remember. There are mountains where I lived. The path Is slushed with cattle-trac s and fallen timber, The stumps are twisted by the tempests ' wrath. But that I new these places are my own, I ' d as how came such wretchedness to cumber The earth, and I to people it alone. It rains across the country I remember. Trumbull Stic ney