Rye Neck High School - Scraps Yearbook (Mamaroneck, NY)

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out doubt, air traffic will have become one of the problems of the day. The speed of machinery will be increased 89W. The world will have become a wonderful region of fly' ing wheels, shuttling pistons, whirring machin- ery-an everfchanging maelstrom of motion. The age of leisure will have become as ex' tinct as the dodo. The world will be held in the powerful grip of the age of speed. Humanity will be borne along despite itself in the stream of progress. Nancy Reinke How to Amuse Yourself While Waiting for the Traffic Light to Change It has been estimated that the time wasted in one week by people waiting for traic lights to change, equals the time still to be served by the combined inmate population of all our jails, including those in for violating the prohibition act. There is no reason why every motorist should not have a set of Harvard Classics tucked away, ready whenever the opportunity presents itself. Besides he could start for downdown in the morning, get caught in a few traffic jams and arrive at the office quite well educated. Hornfhonking is another way some folks have of amusing themselves when the lights are against them. Like yawning, it is conf tagious and soon spreads. While a traffic serenade has never been known to have the slightest effect on an automatic lighting sys' tem, it sometimes proves effective on one operated by hand. Making faces or casting looks upon the driver who has just cut in front of you is another way to pass the time when you pull up to him at the stop light. It is even possible to exchange pleasantries. Pedestrians, too, can find ways of entertain' ing themselves while waiting on corners for a break in the traffic. Red Rover is about the best game, and the last one over is it. The idea is, not to get tagged by a passing taxicab. Lucille Frescella MAN EATING CORN-ON-COB Bold, dapper man enters crowded restaur' ant and orders cornfonfcob. Order arrives. He butters and salt in small portions, holds daintily by finger tips and takes small bite with success. He glances about for signs of approval. Adds more butter and salt-larger bite. Very uncomfortable feeling between two of front teeth. Familiar sensation be' tween nose and upper lip. Hastily removes butter around the region of nose and deftly tries to remove corn from teeth while with- drawing napkin, but fails. Pauses for com- posure. Observe no one looking, so starts in boldly again. Goes through with operation of buttering. Tighter grip on cob. Trys for nice fat kernels near end-butter runs over fingers and down wrist. Becomes self conf scious and bites thumb. Cob falls, spatters blue suit with butter, rolls over lap and down floor. Purple face. Wipes off hands and wrists. Tries to remove spots from coat with napkin-ghastly results. Goes through agony of waiting for ten cent check. Expires in front of restaurant. Irene Miralia SORROWS The heart is blind to its winningsg The soul is deaf to its song, When nothing is ever wanting When nothing is ever wrong. Gladness brings not glory When the soul is never sad, 'Cause nothing ever needs righting When nothing ever goes bad. just take the grief with the living, The joy is not always the best. To the heart that has known no sorrow, Laughter is but a jest! Virginia Skelling Page Twenty-three

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'Vt 1 'Lit era urs . THE AGE OF SPEED Once upon a time, an old man sat on the steps of a country courthouse, and when a stranger approached him and demanded what one did in his little town, he replied: Wal, Stranger, sometimes we sets and thinks, and thinks, and sometimes we jest sets. That old man dwelt in an age of relaxation and deliberationg an age of reflection and meditation, an age of leisure. Now the world has turned a complete somersault. We of the present generation, dwell in an age of haste and confusion, an age of energy and actiong an age of speed. We are indeed far removed from the age of the gracious lords and ladies, who, after a leisurely toilet of two hours, sat down to a twelve course meal, from which they arose, amply satisfied, several hours later. Their evenings were spent in quiet conversation by a cheerful fireside. Consider the average modern business man, who dashes from his office, perches on a stool at a drugfstore lunch counter, and proceeds to consume a hasty meal of cheese, crackers and malted milk. His evenings are usually spent at an amusement park or a Tom Thumb Golf Course. For the modern age demands canstant action. The leisurely toilet of the reflective age has been abolished as well. It has been effective' ly demonstrated that a modern girl may garb herself for the day with five gestures. Speed has left its traces also in our various means of conveyance. In place of the tranf quil old horse and buggy, we find the peace' destroying nhorseless carriage . The younger generation of today seems to delight in rushf ing madly hither and yon without regard for the sensations of the lower forms of humanity who come within their range. The antedeluvian railroad train of the ref flective age has been replaced by a powerful mass of iron and steel, driven by the force of electricity. In place of the picturesque paddle-wheel of former days, we find a monster oilfburner, which propels our ships at an awefinspiring rate of speed. Consider for example, our modern Europa which ploughs up the seas and crosses the ocean within a period of four days. The greatest strides of all have been taken by the aeroplane. The gracious lords and ladies of the age of leisure would indeed marvel could they view the air manoeuvres of today. For the pleasurefseeker too, Speed has a certain charm. Such terror-inspiring con' traptions as the rollerfcoaster, put to shame the mildlyfthrilling merryfgo-round. In aqua' planing too, modern youth has gratified its desire for speed. It is interesting to observe that even in the reflective age, the mania for speed had begun to pervade the human mind. For the thrilling horse races of today origin' ated in a lesser degree, in the age of leisure. Yesterday, as well as today, crowds thronged the race tracks and rooted for their favorites. The speed mania has assuredly taken a firm grasp upon humanity. Our imaginations know no bounds when we attempt to predict the marvels of a few decades will reveal. With' Page Twenty-two

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A DESERT MYSTERY Outlined against the sun, setting behind an Arizona desert scene, was the silhouette of a a man dressed in the picturesque Western garb. He had a dirty gray sombrero pulled over his eyes to protect them from the flying sand and the glare of the passing sun. His pants were torn, worn, and tucked into his high runfdown shoes. The handkerchief around his neck was of the same color as the sky surrounding the sun. He was leading a tired but patient burrow carrying a light pack with no prospecting tools, showing that the wanderer was not led on by a search for gold. He glanced about him, and seeing the un' usual deepness of the red sky, knew that he was to suffer another dreaded desert storm. He found a small valley betweeen two small dunes and proceeded to unload his pack and protect himself as best he could from the fly' ing sand. About a halffmile away, another wanderer saw him make camp and quickened his step in order to have company before the storm broke. In a few minutes he had arrived there and the usual, Howdy, Stranger , the calm salutation of the desert passed between them. The storm broke, and a beating, driving, cutting sand drove them closer to each other for protection. After six hours the storm continued with unabated fury. To keep up their courage, they began to talk guardedly at first, but as the conditions of their com' radeship continued, they spoke more freely. The first told his story, of why he had come into the desert. He told of a brother of his, mercilessly killed two years before. His brother, Godfrey, had been showing a friend of his, his African collection. He, reading in the other room, had heard a heated argument, a brief silence, a shot, a scream and a crash of breaking glass. He rushed into the room and the friend had fled, leaving his brother with a shot through his lung. He had never seen the friend, but had heard that he had gone West. He had come out here search' ing for him. During the telling of this tale, his voice had become low, husky, trying to hide his emotion. A look at the other showed him to be astonished, turned to stone and staring into the darkness. At the completion of the story, he leaped to his feet and paced up and down. After a terrific struggle with himself, he planted himself directly before the other and spoke: Stranger, he said, for the past two years, I have wandered through this desert, trying to escape the past. I've been seeing the face of the man I killed accidentally. Now is my chance to get it off my mind, and at least live in peace for the little time I have to live In this storm we can never escape. Albert Howe, I killed your brother! Howe gathered himself into a ball and leaped at his throat. A terrific struggle ensued with Howe having the advantage, because of his two years' desire for revenge. He had the other by the throat. The stranger tore his hands from his throat and shrieked, Don't, Howe, it was accidental. I tell you the gun went off without my knowing it. I was un' familiar with the old trading guns and I Ered it accidentally. It was an accident. Man, don't you see that one who is about to die can't lie? How slowly loosed his grip and stood up. He walked slowly away, and drawing a blanf ket over his head, sat still. The stranger slowly arose and taking his own blanket, sat beside him. The storm continued for fortyfeight hours and finally broke, leaving as it had comef suddenly. A beautiful desert moon shone down upon two bodies, side by side. Richard Gainey LOW TIDE Wet sands, where the silvery waves have dashed- Glistening rocks, and the cry of the gulls As they sweep o'er the glitt'ring expanse- The moan of the winds and the gentle swish Of the endlessly moving waves. Nancy Reinke Page Twenty-four