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Page 28 text:
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18 ®lhSiMe§ Ella Kerr Cornelia Leith, ' 41 LLA KERR was eating her lunch alone on the kitchen tahle, as she had eaten it each day for almost a year. She quietly peeled a hoiled potato and stirred her coffee in its chipped china cup, as if she enjoyed the silence of the empty house. There is no denying that she found the quiet restful after the roar of the vacuum cleaner that had filled her ears all the morning. Ella was often tired nowadays and her regular Saturday morning ' s cleaning had left her exhausted. The mid-day sun shone through the window where her house-plants stood. With weariness she saw that a few dead geranium flowers had fallen upon the worn linoleum. It can wait, she thought, but her inner soul cried out against such sloven- liness. She placed her arm along the cool sur- face of the enamel table and bent over her coffee cup. But she saw again those flowers on the floor, and with a sigh she pushed back her chair and went for the broom. Ella Kerr was, when she stood up, not very tall, barely five feet. She had bobbed grey hair which was continually falling into her eyes. She was wearing a flimsy, sleeveless dress, and it showed her flabby arms with the flesh hanging upon her bones. Her face was still smooth, but her features had changed in the last twenty years and she looked almost grotesque, in a kindly sort of way. Since her youngest son. Tommy, had left, Mrs. Kerr had lived alone, rarely going out. Her lonely existence would have made many another woman melancholy, but Ella seemed to have some unfailing faith that relieved her boredom. Her husband, Willie, had died five years ago, leaving her a steady income from the insurance, and Mary, her eldest daughter, sent her money from Chicago. Ella never had to go without any- thing money could buy. But there were things money could not buy, and some of these things were companionship and the happiness of the past. For Ella had been happy in the past. She had watched and cared for her five children as they romped in and out of the years. Then they had left her, one by one, and each departure had made her life less happy. First it was Mary, the career girl, and then George, answering the call of aviation. It had almost killed her when Jane had married. Willie and Ella had forbidden Jane to marry, but Jane had taken matters in her own hands and had run off with the fellow. Six months after her marriage, Matthew had been killed in an automobile accident. It was the shock of his death that had killed Willie, for Matthew had been Willie ' s favorite son, destined to be his successor in the grocery business. The two deaths had saddened Ella. There was only Tommy left to her and she was determined that he should never leave her. Then one autumn he did leave, for the university. I got to get an education. Ma, he said, pinch- ing her tear-stained cheeks, if Fm to run Pa ' s grocery business. She had smiled then and sat down to wait for two years. Perhaps she was thinking about Tommy or perhaps it was the crick she had got in her back bending over to pick up the dead flowers that made her face so pitiful when she came back to her lunch. Whichever it was, it must have been quite a few minutes before she realized that someone was blowing the horn an automobile outside. She went out onto the porch, slamming the screen-door behind her. It was as if she had walked into a flood of sunlight. Sunshine streamed about her; the hot sun blinded her. She shaded her eyes and looked out across the dusty lawn to the stunted ma|)les at the head of the driveway. Tommy! she cried. Tom! Sobbing, she ran across to her son. Gee, Ma! Gee, you haven ' t changed a bit! Tommy was tall and blond, and the sunlight made him a young god. Ma, do you know what? I quit the university. Do )ou know why? Ma, do you know why? No, Tommy. Why? But she did know why. He was coming home now, for good. I ' ve got a job. He stopped and looked at her. Out at the West Coast. It ' s a swell job with an insurance company. Of course, I ' m only a sales- man, but I can work my way up. Lots of people have — Ma. Ma, you don ' t mind; do you? What about the grocery business, Tom? But, Ma, what could I do in this small town? Anyway Jack Crandell ' s running the business better than 1 could. Isn ' t he. Ma? Ella said nothing. Gee, Ma, I got to go get washed up. I got to leave in the morning.
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Page 27 text:
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17 Prize Winning Poem A SAIL WITH A LOBSTERMAN By James Welch, ' 41 Out from Scituate Harbor, Past the lighthouse tall and grim We head her nose for the open sea, For a sail with Skipper Jim. We pull the pots under Third Cliff, As the white-toothed combers break; And a high line haul as we shift, Ten bobbin ' buoys in our wake. Full speed ahead to Shaugnissy ' s ledge. As a lubber to starboard clings; While white mists veil a peaceful shore And the skipper a chanty sings. It ' s a heave and pitch to port, Sir, Where the bubbles break to foam; To a tearing wind from the open sea, The captain heads her home. Oh, you may have logged the briny, From old Spain to Yucatan; Avast me hearty, you ' re a lubber until You ' ve shipped with a lobsterman. ALWAYS FIGHTING Gordon Page, ' 43 Dogs, cats, lions, elephants, humans, and all forms of living animals fight. You walk down the road and see a large dog forcing a small one back by sheer size and strength. Most people think little of this; but, after all, isn ' t that ex- actly what is happening to the weaker nations to-day? There are many revolutions in the world. These are similar to family quarrels. Each group thinks it ' s abused or that it needs more power, and so people kill one another. A dog fight can be stopped by water, but war stops at nothing. Men are killed by thousands, and people won- der if the world will ever be ruled by peace. This is a question which concerns everyone, for if each person in a country could be educated into believing war is wrong, the world would be like one big, happy family. First, like a young boy, the world has got to take its spankings and learn from experience. If everyone, in the meantime, would take to heart the saying from the Bible: Thou shalt not kill, the world would become a happier place in which to live. Until this point is reached, fighting, killing, and m.ourning will march on. THE SWING CRAZY ERA Jeanne Heudricksou, ' 40 The present day has been called the Swing Crazy Era because of the great popularity of this type of music. There are few places fre- quented that one doesn ' t hear the shrieking mes- sage of the saxophone. At this moment, swing seems to be rather a fixed feature, but where will it be one hundred years from now? We wonder! Perhaps it has the rhythm that makes our feet tap, but it lacks the depth and the beauty of the old masters. Do the swing melodies survive? Only once in a great while. Usually a new song is made each hour to take the place of another syncopated tune that has passed on. People must at heart really prefer the folk songs, ballads and the classics, to these empty swing songs. We all can hear the true beauty in the melodies of Schubert, Brahms and Schumann; and what is more tantalizingly lovely than the strains from Gounod ' s Faust ? But even on the great master- pieces, swing has been at work. For me, their beauty is spoiled when they are made into swing creations. Music lovers have predicted that this modern form of music can not last, because it has none of the qualities which they associate with the finer types of music. Of course time will show; but I believe that, although at present it is in favor, its popularity can not last long. Although our generation may be very matter-of-fact, qual- ity always counts more than quantity; and the world does recognize true beauty. THE MOON Douglas Willett, ' 41 As the moon rose high in the sky. The trees in the forest wilds Cast lengthy shadows on the ground. Like ghastly figures moving round; While animals searching for food close by Soon left for their hidden homes. Pausing and glancing with delight To look at this strange and beautiful sight. This queenly moon continued its ride Up over the vast and starlit sky, Not halting to rest in the heavens so gay As it pursued its lone but destined way. And floating down through the scattered clouds It calmly bowed to the approaching day.
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Page 29 text:
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lies 19 Ella wanted to cry, but for Tom ' s sake she didn ' t. She just folded up her handkerchief and went into the kitchen. On the table lay her lunch dishes. She picked them up and stacked them in the sink. Then she walked over to her plants and picked up another dead geranium flower that had fallen to the floor. The next morning Tomm left. Ella watched him go silently, not daring to hope. And when Tommy laughed and kidded her as he always had done, she told herself that he didn ' t know what he was doing, how he was hurting her. But why did he turn away so quickly after kissing her goodbye? He seemed almost embarrassed. She stood on the porch, looking toward the road long after his car had disappeared. She should have been crying, but she couldn ' t cry. The numbness in her heart was unexplainable. The house only echoed her feeling. She heard for the first time her footsteps, and how they rang through the house. She felt her heart jump each time she entered a room and saw no one in it. She ran up the stairs to her bedroom as if to escape although the doctor had warned her and she knew she should not run. But the cool- ness of her room welcomed her. She lay down on her bed and began to sob. REVELATION Polly Soule, ' 40 A CLOUD of dust hung about the area of the camp-fire as thirty sleepy girls left to jump into their beds and drift off into peaceful oblivion. Two of the counselors lingered under the pre- tence of putting out the fire. Let ' s wait a bit, said Sally, holding the water-bucket but not displaying any intention of using it. I was just about to say the same thing, re- marked her friend Ann. It is too nice a night to go down to the camp- house; so why not stay here for awhile and just talk? Excellent idea, returned Sally and, putting the bucket down, she joined her friend on the log near by. For awhile the two girls sat side by side star- ing into the fire, carried away by their own thoughts. Soon the familiar notes of Taps floated down to them, and the girls came back to earth. It is a strange world we live in, Sally. Those same notes that bring the end of our day into actuality have sounded countless times for thou- sands of soldiers who died thinking that they were fighting the last great fight, and that peace and democracy would be preserved for their sons and daughters. It is hard to realize that a few thousand miles away from us another bit of gruesome history is in the making. I wonder what those poor men are fighting for this time. Let ' s hope the leaders of this war aren ' t cruel enough to tell them they are fighting the last great fight to save mankind. Something ought to be done to bring about peace through different means than this uncivilized way of taking human lives. You are perfectly right, Ann, but don ' t you think affairs in the world today are in such a condition that it would be impossible for an agreement to be made without some bloodshed? This Twentieth Century of ours, the great age of mechanism, is fine, but when it comes to making machines out of human beings, I begin to wonder about it all. Living in a democracy as we do, we don ' t come in close contact with this ruthless machine they have developed across the waters. Communism, fascism, and all the other ' isms ' have been making human beings into mecha- nisins. People can no longer think for them- selves over there. It is miraculous as well as horrible to know that thought can be so con- trolled that one person can have complete power over the masses. If thought is so governed, it is easy enough to see how war can be started. Those people don ' t know what is really happening. They think only what their leaders want them to think. We can ' t put our finger on the reasons why this war is going on. Of course there are the di- rect ones that are perfectly obvious, but that isn ' t what really counts. In order to prevent another war in the next quarter century, we must find out all the factors which brought about this one. But even then, probably new ones will crop up as in this case. The only thing that will save another war is an understanding among all na- tions. Not only that, but people have got to have enough foresight to talk over things reasonably with one another and bend over backwards once in a while to help the other fellow out. That is something that is really worth think- ing about. Not only is that true in the case of wars, but we can put it to a more practical use right here and now. If we can only realize how much better things work out if we consider the other ])eople involved as well as ourselves, we will find our own lives going more smoothly. Things like that will spread. If people see our lives so happy and peaceful, they will investi- gate; and in that way there is hope of bettering ourselves and others. {Continued on page 27)
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