Santa Teresa High School - Compendium Yearbook (San Jose, CA)

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he infamous Matt. It is not un- mmon for the boy campers to icome very attached to the girl aders, thus was the case with att. My little “born-to-bea- amatic-actor” camper had been clinging vine all day, and when it ime time for all the campers to averse to the opposite side of e playground for an exciting iw game, I was overjoyed; I Duld be able to breathe. My little end, however, did not view the situation similarly and did not want to leave me. After he was told that Battle for a Baked Potato” was probably the funnest game he'd ever play, or he’d ever hope to play, he replied that he’d leave my side, But only after a kiss!” I told him no. All of a sud- den his face contorted, his walk turned to a limp, and he said with a deep throaty goran, “But Heather, I’m going off ... to WAR! Legerdemain 245

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ON TUPPERWARE: Angela D'Agostino What is our great nation com- ing to when the youth of America are subjected to the tauntings and temptations of local Tupperware representatives? As a rule, I try to avoid Tupperware whenever possible. Recently, though, I was invited to a Tupperware Party and, hungry for adventure on a dull Friday night, my curiosity got the better of me and I naively resigned myself to go. I was not aware of the horrors that would take place that night. I, and the friend” who brought me, were the first to arrive. Accor- ding to ancient Tupperware tradi- tion the first person to arrive gets the Early Bird” prize. My friend Miss —received a key ring shoehorn, and a hook to hang it on, I got zilch. After a while the other guests arrived. One usually thinks of a Tupperware party as being attend- ed by old ladies — maybe a few newlyweds or young mothers, but not in this case. All the guests were still in high school. It frightened me to think that Tup- perware had gained control over the next generation — the future of our nation. It thought No, these young people would never be taken in by this Tupperware sham. Remember the ’60’s? These kids will surely rebel.” Little did I know how wrong I was. After the Tupperware spokesperson gave out her bag of useless items to us all (I got a sew- ing kit, egg separator, key chain, and back scratcher), she started in on her pitch. She was smooth all right. She loosened us up with a few games first (that’s the party part of the Tupperware Party.) After the first ten minutes, An accounting of a living nightmare though, it was all business. We were bombarded with slogans: locks in freshness, great gift items, and burp seal.” In minutes she had all the teens in the room reduced to a bunch of mindless zombies, ready to buy anything. The lady almost had me convinced that I really needed a green, plastic jello mold. The represtnative paused for a second and in that moment I had time to remove myself from my stupor and look around me. The sight I saw turned the darkest dep- ths of my soul to ice. Here was a group of high school students sit- ting, entranced, nodding their heads in time with that soft- spoken sorceresses sales pitch. The venim-tongued representative went on about the wonders of plastic cookie bowls in the all new colors.” The look of utter devotion to Tupperware in the eyes of these young people sent shivers up and down my spine. I felt like screaming, You guys are worse than those dang Moonies!! but, I knew it wouldn’t do any good — they were hooked. Even though I didn’t fall for any of the woman's sales pitch, I still felt guilty as I walked out the door with all those free gifts. I was hav- ing second thought — maybe I could use a set of plastic measur- ing cups — no, no, I must be strong. I barely got out that night with my conscience intact. I had taken their gifts, eaten their food and not ordered a thing, but when would ever use a plastic jello mold? •Name withheld on request from lawyer. Day Camp Kids Heather Dillon I have often heard people s that all children are the sam however, this insinuation is f from the truth. Kids come in variety of shapes, sizes, and c ors, and especially personalitie each distinctly unique. Daycan seems to attract at least one every type of child. Two of the groups are: the cute innocer seemingly-cherubic-blond” ki and the “going-for-an-ac demy-kid. The most common type seen to be the cute-innocent-seeminj cherubic-blond.” I use the ter seemingly” because often tho little blond dolls are actually w animals in disguise. Take for stance J-J, a three-foo California-tanned, fawn-eye blond-haired, six-year-old. J- which is actually his nickname, in the true sense of the phrase, little blond doll. He knows th when he gazes up with his hue luminous, chocolate-colored ey that he is irresistible and, con; quently, can get away with ji about anything, even if that eludes acting like a cannibal wl has just returned from a tv month imprisonment in vegetable garden. I can rememb numerous times when J-J woi run around the playground, flap ing his arms yelling, “I’m chicken! Bach, bach, bachaaac I’m a chicken! All the while bot ing his head. He would fly ov anything and everything that w in his way, including: (and this w just one incident) a bologna sar wich, a St. Bernard named Tui two garbage cans, the camp din tor, five skateboards, and three tie girls who had been playi jacks. Everyone at camp, eluding the disillusioned car director, said nothing but, Is that precious? The other kind of child is t going-for-an-academy-kid. could not hope for a more lustrative example than that Matt an, inevitably, seeminc cherubic-blond. At one particu camp last summer I was assign to five campers, one of which v 244 Legerdemain

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The New World Audrey J. Sadler A gentle gray haired man stood in front of a small passageway check- ing off peoples’ names as the guests made their way through. No one was allowed to bring anything along with him, 'only the clothes on their back.’ Hello Mike, what’s all this about?’’ one of the young guests politely asked the gentleman as he was checking for that person’s name on the computer read out sheet. The seemingly kind souled man graceful- ly flipped the pages with his very wrinkled hands. On his left hand he wore a very simple gold band — a long lost symbol of an outdated tradition that had started before computers recorded history. Under artificial lights, the ring did not shine as brightly as it should have. Well, David, you will find out soon enough. You will come to realize that you are a very lucky man. The gentleman checked off his name and asked him to go into the auditorium. Somehow all the guests had the impression that they were attending a seminar or maybe a day lecture. Mike had tried to prepare himself for this day and felt that he was handling the situation very well. After he checked in almost all of their chosen guests, Mike had a sud- den surge of panic. 'Am I the only person checking in people. Did I have the whole list — or just half?’ Mr. Thomas, take over for me, I have to make a phone call!” Who can I call, who would know? His thoughts raced. He found a phone and called the President. Sir, this is Mike Conley. Was I the only person checking in the elected guests? Why, what’s the problem?” “Sir... Mr. Conley had a feeling of great failure; he had such loss in his heart. Sir, who was in charge of the computer selection? There was a long silence. The president put him on hold and went to find the name that was in such great need. Why hadn’t I checked it myself. I should have called my wife. The day that Mike had decided not to tell his wife made him disgusted with himself. Because of the conversation with the President, it appeared as if it had been a good choice. Now he was positive that he had made the wrong decision. He had been checking over his figures when the president had entered. Even though he had been selected, he still turned his voice to say — Mr. President, production will be finished next week. The computer has elected the persons to .. . ’’ Yes, the President cut him off, very good. How much time is left before the ozone layer is completely diminished?” Mike’s gentle nature was very ap- parent. He got up from the leather chair and somberly walked toward the book case. While facing the shelves, he dropped his head and rubbed his face. His face was filled with lines that had only come with time and experience. The gold band on his left finger was bright; Mike pulled his hands away and with his left thumb he fingered the ring. The scientist said at the most three days. He let out a large sigh. Minutes seemed to go by like days. Sir, may I ask you something . .. Something personal? He did not give the President time to answer. How did you keep the world's sad ending from your wife and son? How can you look them in the eye and know that they are not of the chosen? He turned slowly to face him. Mike’s facial expression showed great despair; one could tell that he was not worried about the Presi- dent’s wife and child — but about his own. Mr. Conley, I won't allow it to af- fect me, I have to make decisions. You may not agree with my manner or my method but I am doing what I believe is best. Let me make one thing perfectly clear, the President went on to say that he loved his son and his wife. He had no compassion in his voice. His explanation left Mr. Conley numb. The President interrupted Mike’s thoughts with the name of the computer programmer. “By the way Mr. President, you’ll need to address the elected in 45 minutes. Mr. Conley found himself lost in the dome city, frantically trying to find the programmer. There seemed to be many people in the halls, which made Mr. Conley’s lost feeling deepen. He recognized Mr. Tomas, the man who took over while he made the phone call. Is everyone in? Mr. Conley asked. Yes sir, Davis almost missed out, but he made it — the doors are sealed right on time. There was a cheerful note in his voice. Mike thanked him and asked for directions to the restroom. Once there Mr. Conley got sick. What will become of this city — our New World? All of the elected members were led into the auditorium. The President walked up to the microphone. “None of you know why you are here, but you will all serve as a vital unit for this city’s survival. We have shocking news, more shocking than you can imagine. He took a deep breath, The Earth’s ozone layer, which pro- tects us from the sun’s destructive rays has been destroyed — the dome city started construction Mr. Conley sat in the audience only half listening to the Presi- dent’s speech and half suffering with the obvious fact that he seemed to be the only one who had noticed. He looked down at the dulled ring, and began to weep. The man who programmed the computer had failed. The most valuable, necessary ingredient was missing — females. Legerdemain