Schuylerville Central School - Schuyler Yearbook (Schuylerville, NY)

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(fttt £r tMug Jfrtrrs The most interesting feature of a man’s face is his eyes, but if you look closer you will find equal attraction in his mouth and chin. Some- times you will find that both mouth and eyes are soft, while in sharp contrast you will find a chin of opposite character. I have become accustomed to judging classmates and teachers by the expressions on their faces. Perhaps you have noticed a different type of person, say a young girl whom you have met on the street car. Have you noticed the wistful eyes that seem to tell you there is some- thing she longs for? Below the eyes you discover a small mouth slightly drooped at the corners; hut then weren’t you surprised to see a chin, very small, yet firm as Gihralter? It is very plain to see that this girl is wanting something badly and will not give up until she has it. Then too, a type of face one sees at an expensive club belongs to the person with a discontented air. Although lie may have money enough to buy a whole city, as he dances you notice a far-away look in his eyes. Money can’t always buy everything and one of those things is happiness. This is what you see in this man’s face. He talks politely to finely groomed ladies, lounges gracefully in his perfect clothes, yet in his eyes you see a longing for something simple. Very sharply in contrast with the latter type of person is the pretty brown-eyed girl of seventeen. In her warm, brown eyes, you can see love and honesty that some young man deserves. The red mouth with pearly teeth hidden behind it is her star attraction. I don’t know ot any face more attractive than this wholesome young damsel’s. MILDRED HAAS, ’32 Ehtft (Uuntgltts tit JLhtfr We have many and varied thoughts and ideas. It seems to me that noble ideas, in regard to our co-workers and strangers, are one of the most important for the happiness of most human beings. When a person’s mind is continually trying to respect his neighbor’s ideas and feelings, he is lead into doing little acts of kindness and courtesy. One ot the ways in which a person demonstrates his kind ideas is by guarding his tongue for unjust criticisms of others. There is always a pleasant side or aspect to all our characters. Why not speak of the good qualities of a person? It has been discovered that the most des- perate criminals somewhere had a few kind thoughts. Another manner of lessening unpleasantness and hard feelings is by just saying a pleasant greeting, a word of encouragement, or a word of benevolence. The following quotation explains the ideas I have tried to express: “Do all the good you can, To all the people you can, As long as ever you can, In every place you can.” Thirty ERNEST PROVOST, ’32

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said softly. “I thought it was too good to be true.” She put the note down and went upstairs. Taking the dress from her closet, she put it on and fixed her hair as she had planned to. Then, taking it off, she hung the dress in the closet. “I’ll take it back tomorrow.” And lying down on her bed, she sobbed bitterly. She lay there until the door bell rang and she remembered her mother bad gone out. She arose, hurriedly bathed her reddened eyes, and went down to the door. “Why Bob!” she gasped when she saw who was there. “Why Mary Lou, what’s the matter?” he asked. She handed him the note and, reading it, he said, “Mlary Lou, we’re going to the Prom Daphne wrote that.” He told her the whole story. Mary Lou’s heart sang as she went upstairs and dressed again. It wasn’t too good to be true, after all! BESSIE GALUSHA, ’33 Chr Art (Of Anpuriu Jtri'rkli's With the arrival of summer, some people develop a few pale tan spots about the region of the nose which they term “freckles.” Freckles they may be, but they are of a poor quality. They have nothing in com- mon with the high type “gingersnap” variety lentigines that I have. My freckles are one thing about which I am conceited. 1 think 1 have sufficient reason to be vain about my ability to acquire them, for 1 know few people who can do as well. Each year, without assistance other than that of the sun or wind, I can gain three or four hundred more genuine dark brown ones. I ask 5rou, could Sappho have done that? Or Jeanne D’Arc? Or Queen Elizabeth? I am unique! My freckles are superior in another way. The freckles of my— shall 1 say—competitors?—fade away and are no longer to be seen with Ihe arrival of winter. Not so with mine. The winter winds give me new energy, so it seems, to produce them, for they blossom out in Feb- ruary as freely as in August. They are guaranteed to be permanent and non-fading. Many people remove their freckles easily with var- ious creams and lotions, but you would not see mine disappear before so gentle an attack. Several times I have decided that I want to be rid of their com- pany, and have besieged them with doses of cosmetics, lemon juice, cucumber, buttermilk and countless other bleaches—recommended by solicitous friends. If I had 932,672,465 freckles when I began to use a bleach, I surely had 1,032,673,466 after using it for two weeks. Now I have given up and decided that they must remain with me always. I no longer encourage them to depart. Indeed, I sometimes pray that they may remain, for they are my only distinction. In my ten years of school life I have been designated as “that freckled kid” or that “freckled girl;” according to the age and relative position of the speaker. I have decided to retain my individuality. Let who will have the pearly teeth, the golden curls, the ruby lips; I have the biggest and best and most freckles of any girl in S. H. S. KATHLEEN COFFIN, '32 Twenty-nine

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tLhr fvtts' DEAR OLD S. II. S. THE HOLDEN GLEAM We shall not forget the days of pleasure. We shall always think of the days of fun, We .shall forget the «lays of sorrow. But never the deeds we’ve done. We have loved our high school colors And our happy high school days; We have loved our teachers, too. In many, many ways. Schuylerville High, we love her. As our school we would; May her colors always guide us. When all school colors should. This school we love and honor. First and foremost in each heart; It is here we’re bound to be Good children from the start. To our faculty we owe much praise. Just all that we can give. For they have understood our habits As onward we did tread. First we were Freshmen, Brought under the wing of Miss Klinkhart, Looking down upon the world below us And a pride within our hearts. Another year is past; Still up we go; Sophomores, do not jest! With Miss Shannahan to help us reach our goal. September and we’re Juniors With Miss Wallace in the prow; She had a lot of troubles. For we raised an awful row. Now the year of fun and folly. For the Washington trip’s to come And Mr. La Lone the jolly. Came forth with victory won. Now the time for leaving And we must say good-bye, But we’ll always keep our honor. Of dear old Schuyler High. BETTY V. HARVEY. ’32 One night as I sat by the fireside. A sound, quite well known met my ear. I stepped from the side of the fire Into the cold night air. Thru the sky. like a meteor, was flying A light, like the stars all around. It was. as I knew ere I started. The source of that vibrating sound. As I watched it, the sound and the “meteor’ Sped on in the cold, still air. And I wondered as I watched it, What it was like up there. The stars were so still and friendly. The moon was a tiny arc. The quiet of the night quite impressed me; ’Twas a picture, from earth set apart. By God’s own hand it was painted. This picture in blue mixed with gold. A picture that’s lasted thru ages. A picture that’s never been sold. All was silent around me Except that sound so low. All was still, unmoving. Except the golden glow. But soon the “meteor’’ departed. A stillness hung over the earth. To be broken only when sunshine Comes and brings with it mirth. E’en then there often is silence. Throughout the long, long day. And night falls once more, slowly, In its same old stealthy way. As it passes by it calls us. That sound so soft and low. Calls us to the darkness, and To the starlight glow. TRIALS FROM MATH I’m a dreamer; aren’t we all? I dream I live on a desert isle Where math was never heard of— The thought permits a smile. Triangles, squares and equations Parallelograms and rectangles too; They come creeping up the stairs to me And make me feel so blue. It is cram! cram! cram! Over the thought of the dreaded exam. The pleasures of math ar not for me; There is nothing I can do or see. MARY H. CUDAHY, ’32 Have you heard a call quite like this? A call that’s not to fear? If so. it’s not for others. But only for your ear. Answer it. I beg you. As only you can do; For sometime in the future You’ll need it to help you. It may be the call for training For some work to be done; It may be a call for working. For something to be won. Work on. my friend and neighbor. Follow the path of the light; ’Till someday you shall reach it After a long, hard fight. GRACE E. RUSSELL, '33 Thirty-one