Sarah Dix Hamlin School - Epilogue Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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a. alight at the catnteetn, I ltavett't seett a wltite girl in a wltole year. said tlte corporal witlt wltont I was dancing. Tlte remark was ratlter unexpected. attd I wondered ltow to ttteet this new line. However. I was beginning to get ttsed to tlte ttnttsttal cottversatiott with tltese sol- tliers and sailors. They certainly ntade tlte war closer attd tttore realistic to ttte, Matty of tltettt ltatl already seen plettty ol' acliott. attd although no otte talked about it. ytttt cnttld see tlte resttlts in their faces: sottte ltatl even aged years. Time Olll now while we clear tlte floor for action. The Navy takes over, as tlte joke box swings ittto Glenn Miller's uKlll1llllIll00,h and tlte Navy certainly needs roottt. The gohs ltave their owtt exclusive style of jitterbttggittg. which tttost likely developetl front getting tlte kinks out of their sea legs. Why any girl tltittks herself a tuartyr for spending att evening like this I sltall never know, because everyone ltas fun. Tlte refreslttttettt cottnter is att especially good place to talk. attd tttttttlt titne is spent in porittg over snapshots of his fantily back ltottte, attd itt argtttnents about wlty his State is tlte ltest. Al twelve o'clock tlte tnttsic stops, attd tlte service tttett dash for tlteir coats to get back to their' bases before their valued leave is over. lVe ltope tltat tlte last few short hours have relieved a little of tlte strain and tettsiott tltat tlte tttett pttt up with. and tltat tltey will have something pleasant to retttetttber in tlte tttidst of tlte ltorrors of war. ll.-ttttt.-tim Ststrktttttta '43 the ttttttt in the rctatcl I-'rothy pink and white bttds burst into bloont: robitts, singing tttelodiotts songs, start building their nests: new blades of green grass push tltetttselves ottt of tlte dark riclt soil: and it is spring again. Yet to many it is at different springtittte than ever before. Even to tts, tlte thirty- eigltt seniors in tlte Hatttlitt school attd in ottr own stttall worlds. it is especially dif- ferent. because to tts it tttarks an end attd a beginning. Matty of tts have spent our high school years ltere, others tttore, and a few of us have ttaveled up tlte familiar steps sittce ottr first days in kindergartett. Every spring ltas marked tlte cotttpletiott of a year's work: trying tttontlts in algebra, history attd other subjects which have helped and will help to mold ottr future, a fottttdatiott that with each successive spring becattte firttter and sttrer. Each fall we returned a year older and ready for tlte next year wlticlt would leave its mark in experience gained. This june will be the last tittte we shall walk tlowtt tlte fatttiliar steps with a feeling tltat we belong, attd tltat we are a part of what we are leavittg. The door will close with solemn finality, and there will be tto returning for forgotten books. Matty of tts will attettd college, bttt most of tts will never finish. It will be tlte precious years we ltave obtaitted here tltat will be ottr ottly fortihcation against the otttside worltl. So we bid adiett to Hatttlin's and the life we ltave kttown here, tlte end of an era. And witlt this spring we go alone to face tlte new life that lies arottntl tlte ttext llll'l1 in tlte road. I.ot.a juNortt.tt'r '43

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