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17 TRAGIC DAWNING Patricia McLean, ' 43 X ||T WAS a dilapidated street; census- Ipl takers described it as Hoodlum Center, and its appearance more than upheld J . title. Never was there a busier little EIbSto ' thoroughfare, with trucks, wagons, and horse-carts, ancient automobiles and bicycles perpetually bumping a long up and down the narrow space between the untidy side- walks. Papers, cans, garbage, and all manner of filth stopped up the gutters and lay strewn over the tiny spaces of lawn in front of the tumble- down, three-storied houses. The broken steps and shattered windows, the grimy, scanty washes on the lines, the dirty, tattered curtains, if the inhabitants were fortunate enough to afford this luxury — all shrieked aloud of poverty in its most pathetic form. Nothing but a dead-end road, but it wasn ' t so dead that the city folks didn ' t rise up and demand of the mayor that something be done about the condition existing there. The little urchins who inhabited the crowded, dirty flats were unsafe even on the sidewalks. The cause of the hustle in this insignificant alley was the dump a little to the left at the foot of the street. This was the destination of nearly every truck, wagon, and car that turned off the main road down this dusty way. As a mere matter of duty, the mayor had ridden past the-street-without-a- naine. glanced at the rows of forlorn-looking buildings standing like veterans of the last war, and gone on his way with barely a second thought about it. Three weeks later the only improvement was a shiny new sign at the en- trance reading: Not a through street. Many an accident had been witnessed here. Just because the people were poor, the drivers seemed to care little whether or not they ran them down. At the dump where the little boys went to watch the big trucks emptying their loads, many a little fellow left, half-blinded by dirt which flew in all directions from the spin- ning, skidding wheels as the trucks backed up and turned around. On that |}articular spring day, for spring dared to venture even into this foul place to try to brighten it up, a Sun-kissed Orange crate, rolling along on four baby-carriage wheels, mingled with the rest of the scurrying traffic. It dodged in and out among trucks and cars, missing each pair of wheels so closely it made one gasp, and yet ignoring the honking horns and curses of the motorists. There were two men in this unusual contrap- tion. You ' re wondering what two men were do- ing in an orange crate cart? Well, perhaps they weren ' t quite men yet. for the elder one had just recently arrived at the ripe old age of nine years. His face, however, appeared to be wrinkled and careworn by the furrows of dirt turned over by tears which had definitely not occurred within the past hour, for there was no trace of melan- choly in his face at that moment. He had blond hair which looked as though it were comb-shy, and blue, determined eyes whose resoluteness didn ' t quite conceal the boyish humor and dev- iltry in them. His mouth was set in a tight, thin line, intent on steering, and when his lips parted in a too-infrequent smile, a perfect set of teeth was revealed. Despite his wishes to the con- trary, a very pronounced dimple was visible in each thin cheek. Although he was scarcely more than a mass of skin and bones, defiance was stamped in every feature, and every movement of his skinny little body appeared to be a chal- lenge to the world. This isn ' t a customary or a pleasant thing to see in such a little lad, but Laurie lived in a world where he had always been pushed around, and he had learned, even at this tender age, that the only way to get along was to push back. Laurie ' s companion on this ride was a boy two years his junior, a fact which automatically appointed Laurie chief order-giver and manipulator of the wagon. Their destina- tion, along with that of all the others, was the dump, where they were going to make their daily haul. It was wonderful, all the interesting stuff little boys could fish out of the pile at the end of each day. Having arrived at the dump. Laurie pro- ceeded to back up. while his partner stood in back of him, frantically waving his arms and shouting directions. It was very realistic. With a little stretching of the imagination, one could almost see two rough men matieuvering a huge truck up the banking. This laborious task ac- complished, the boys passed a solid hour rooting among the trash and selecting the choice articles. They loaded the cart with their treasures and started down the banking again. Not q uite at- tentive to his driving now, Laurie turned his head to exclaim. Chee. ain ' t that a classy gun! And in that fraction of a second, four gigantic wheels, speeding backwards with murderous in- tent, crushed the sturdy little cart as if it were
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16 ratlliiig them as he passed. Since the sound of leaves pushing and scraping against one another is as dear to me as is the sound of Take Off Your Shoes, Baby, and Start Running Throuuli My Mind by Artie Shaw, I started to make my way toward the crest of the hill. Pausing a moment on the va up. I looked hack and surveyed my irregular path, which 1 had fondh imagined was straight as any Iro- quois ' . 1 had passed thickets of beautiful shinv thorns, which had emitted pleasant crunching noises as I struggled through, two patches of pine trees, which have a fond way of putting sharp, dry little twigs in your eye. and one delightfullv moist, little swamp, which made pleasant sucking noises as I alternately put in and drew out my feet. Continuing my trip up to the top of the hill, my feet squished and gurgled in my wet sneak- ers. Finally, reaching my goal. I sat down and looked out over the surrounding countryside. Sitting there. 1 was regaled by the melodious sound of mv father, who had found out that someone had lost the keys to the car and who was exclaiming over how he was going to use the car if there weren ' t any keys - !? Ah, what delightful sounds! I jumped to my feet and raced back to the house, eager to learn new and interesting phrases. Arriving at the house. I heard the arresting but not unusual sounds of a family in an up- roar. — drawers banging on the floor in search of the lost keys: a male parent ranting u]) and down looking frantically: the radio going full blast with ' The Shadow as a main attraction: the dog. who had forgotten the squirrel flving hysterically between everyone ' s legs looking for the shortest route between himself and a belea- guered rat — it sounded like home! PRIVATE U. S. AMERICA Rocco Foniri. ' 43 Why am I riding on this Iraiii ' . ' ' A voice from somewhere answers. ou re riding to a l)etter land, you know, to protect the rigiits of mankind. ou left home to join the fighting forces of freedt)m. Riding on the train I fall asleep. Sic p. a deej) sleep — and I dream of the past. 1 dream of the davs when I was in my teens. 1 dream of the hills, of the fields I used to roam. I dream of the friends I left behind me. I dream of the days when I played baseball, football, tennis — when I was young. In w inter I used to skate on the ponds that God gave man. In sum- mer I swam the ocean, where the waters we e its blue as the skv . All this I dream of the past. As I awake, I see men my age about me — I ding to destinations unknown. In their faces I see their hunger for freedom — the w ill to live, the will to die for the right we adore. Their eyes are filled with tears — memories of iiome. We lidc on and on. We see treeless. rreen alleys, large-acred farms, tilled for man ' s use. I get restless seeing land. sky. and field. My eyes get tired. As I ' m about to close them once more. I see a large enclosed area, a well-built fort. I become wide-eyed. I now get off the train. I rush to the truck filled with young men like me. We are taken to the fort that is to teach us of destruction, and the guards close the gates upon us. A group of men come over to the truck. The leader has a large tanned face. With grim determination I stand at attention, my heart beating fast. He tells us to go to be fitted for uniforms. At last my ambition has come true. I shall be a soldier. — not to fight to destrov the right of living, but to preserve and protect the demo- cratic ideals of the United States of America. FLOWERS Maijoric Hat tin. t ' i 01 all the wonderous things there are I he (lower surpasses all b far. 1 he lose that grows on bush and vine .Svinbolizes beauty divine. Daffodils in sunnv arrav Bloom at the dawn of each Mav dav. I licn there are asters bloomitig in fall Flowers thai stand dark, handsome and tall. The lilv conl(- - forth in purest while To give ilscif for onr delight. Of the manv olhiMs thai we know All give happiness uherevcr ihev grow. Dinner durst to Mi. All.insoii: Will (ni pas;, ih ' mils ' . ' ' Mr. Atkinson: es. 1 -upposc so. but I rcalh should flunk liiem. Boy: 1 think I ' ve got a flat tire. Latest Girl: ] think that makes us even.
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a niatthbox. The younger fellow, terror in his innocenl eves, tugged at Laurie ' s arm and suc- ceeded in puUiiis; him hack oxer the edge of the crate, hut he was onh a little hoy. and Laurie was too much for his baby strength, so he fled from danger. What followed next happened too swiftly for anyone to take in the gruesome de- tails, but no one cared for details when they saw the man lift the crumpled, broken little hod . l ing so horribly motionless. The wasted, emaciated bones were crushed like so many sticks, and the dirt was covered with sickening blood. There was no longer a challenge in the blue eyes; they only stared blankly at nothing. The look of defiance was gone forever, leaving in its place a helpless, twisted grin, dimples refusing to vanish even in death. Death! Somewhere a hysterical woman screamed and the awful silence was broken. Sick at heart, the man slowly wended his way through the gather- ing crowd, the tin) wrecked form pressed to his aching chest. The next week a new sign stood at the en- trance to the dusty, busy alley. It read: Road under repair. ' Yes. the maxor had at last decided that this sort of thing couldn ' t continue, but it took the miserable death of the nine-year-old son of some wretched mother to make him realize this. Ex- perience is a wonderful, though hard teacher, for with every lesson she brings a hitler dawning. AS I SEE IT William H. Aver. ' 42 EviiHYONE from leading diplomats to drug- store cowboys has had a crack at prophesying the state of the world as it will exist after this war. Therefore. I am going to put down a few predictions as they ajjpear to me. In these da s of attacks and counter-attacks, many of us live from day to day. hardly daring to think of the post-war world. A brief look at what we may expect in the ears to come may help us. how- e er. to fight with a more definite jiurpose in mind. As I see it, the peace following World War II will not be an era of disarmament and reductions in naval strength as it was after the last war. Instead, the world will be dominated by one or two large powers who will keep the sea lanes open to ever one and insure peace to all. There isn ' t a doubt in my mind that the Lnited States will be victorious in this war. I think we shall emerge as the most powerful nation in the world. Our navy will be unsurpassed: our army, the l)est trained and best equipped anywhere: and our ships free to sail the se en seas, trading with all countries on all continents. Oil the other hand. I believe that England will lose a great deal of her power and prestige. India. Australia, and Cans da are becoming more inde|)endenl both in thought and action every (la . hen this war is over, one. and possiblv all three, may break awa from their mother countrv and become separate nations. The class distinction in England, and. in fact, in all of Europe, will probably disappear. This will be one big ad antage that will be derived from the war. On the continent, there will definitely be some changes made. German) will prohahh disap- pear as a nation. The German race will not vanish, of course, but I do believe that it will never again be able to threaten our peace and security. If Russia. England, and the other nations of Europe don ' t see to this, we will. As for the small countries of Europe. I think the) will at least partiall) regain their former status. Thi3 does not, of course, apply to Italy i.nd Austria, which will probably be greatly re- duced in strength, if it is possible to weaken them an more. The Japanese. I believe, will suffer a fate worse than that of any other nation. According to all rules of human behavior and decency, they certainlv deserve neither mercy nor pity from an N one. The) must be taught a lesson that they will iie er forget. How and b) whom this is to be done makes er) little difference, as long as it is done thoroughl) and completely. The Chinese are the logical people to assume the leadership of this part of the world. I hope to see them take on that task after this war is won. That is the post-war world as I see it. Domi- nated b) the greatest go ernment ever created h man. it will. I believe, be able to shake off the effects of this war and mo e on to new heights of freedom and |)eace. « Miss J ines to Ancient History Class: ho was the smallest man in history? au hn Deal: The Roman soldier wlio sh pl on his walcii. •s s » 1 ;-. Sleuait: aughn. Icll me what the prefix mag ' means. .limmie J aughn: Big. Mr. Steiiarf: Then gi e me an illustration. .1. I aiiiilui: I like magpies.
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