Seven Hills High School - Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

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Milestone WINTERS CAN'T LAST FOREVER -The morning seemed endless. It was a hot August day, anyway, and sitting there in the dust weeding the hard gravel tennis court, breaking off all my beautifully cultured nails, was not my idea of a good time. I was anxious to get down to the dock for the noon swim, because I knew it meant that I should see Barney, and I had been waiting to see him for three years. Every time I thought of him, which was all morning, I had to sit back and gaze contentedly into space. Consequently, Mother began to get angry at my indolence, and demanded caustically how I expected to play on the court if I didn't work on it. So I had to do my dreaming and remembering secretly. It seemed like just yesterday that we had said goodbye on our dock, I, in my pigtails and faded blue shorts stained with red canoe paint, and Barney, in his colorful plaid shirt which it has since been my main ambition to possess. The sun was catching the light in his hair, and making his eyes more blue, and he was saying, So long, Susie. Be good, and remember your Uncle Barney. I'll see you next year. I could also remember the way he turned and stepped into his boat and sailed off, with one last wave of his hand, one last grin, leaving me alone on the dock, He had said that we would see each other the next year, but every- thing had gone wrong. I-Ie went into the Navy right after his graduation from school, and I suffered through those intervening summers in a hot, sticky Indiana town. Now, at last, things were the same as ever, and I was going to see him again, if the dreadful morning would ever end. I pulled the nasty weeds with greater vigor, as if the more I pulled, and the more irritated I got, the faster the time would gop I was soon one big dust heap. I actually loved my brother when he sauntered over towards the corner where I was working, and in a drawling voice announced that I could stop, that Mother had taken compassion on me since I was unused to such hard labor. I broke speed records as I changed into my bathing suit and raced down to the dock. I was as nervous as an actress making her debut, because I was so afraid that Barney would not remember me or the good times we had had together! After all, it had been three years, and both of us had changed, I knew. When I reached the dock, I had to look nonchalant and calm as I stretched out for a sun bath, because my family always seem to know what is going on in my mind, and they would not have let me live in peace if they had known I was so excited about seeing Barney, who was four years older than I. The whole situation had seemed, and still would seem, incongruous to them. I stretched out luxuriously on my stomach, feeling the sun hot on my back and legs. If I looked to the left, I could see a white sail about a half-mile away. Although it was too far for me to distinguish his face, I felt it was Barney. I-Ie was coming closer to the dock, while I chattered wildly to my family, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. Finally at the proper moment, I sat up suddenly, and, in a surprised page 71

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Milestone threw the long, weird shadows of moulding armour from one end of the gallery to the other, the people came and went, some hurrying through for a hasty look at more well-known pictures, others moving slowly, intently, through the halls, with studied observation of every work, large or small. Whatever it may have been that brought him there, each Iinally found himself looking at a certain picture. Sooner or later, each one saw it. It was not a startling thing. It was no jewel by Rommey, Rembrandt, or Van Gogh, It had no heavy, ornate frame: but before it, every footstep halted. Some people stopped and studied as if trying to discover the secret of its tremendous power: others looked: then looked away. Perhaps each was afraid that someone might read what was in his face. A young woman, guide-book in hand, dropped her dime in the turnstyle and entered the gallery. She stood still for a moment, watching the shadows on the floor, and then, whimsically, she followed a long, thin shadow, formed by the bright green feather on her hat. At the end of Gallery B. she stopped, and, opening her guide-book, she read, Number 372 - Evening near Rockwell - a contemporary American painting in oil by Henry C. Evans. This picture represents the culmination of years of study at home and abroad. Through the harmonious combining of human study and landscape technique, a remarkable impression is obtained. It seems to show impending disaster. The girl's hands fell to her sides as she lifted her eyes to the picture before her. There it was, lt was just as she had seen it before: not as she had really seen it, but as she had often imagined it. She knew without looking closely that the figure beneath the tree had her blond hair and graceful figure. Eagerly she examined every tree and meadow. The picture, itself. was the same, but the sunshine which had made it bright for her was not there. Her heart and mind had been her light when her eyes were closed. Every leaf had been drawn for her with words even as it was placed on canvas: and this picture had been her hold on hope, through months of pain and waiting, until, Hnally, light came to her not only from within, but also from the sun, Suddenly she realized that what had been described in love's brightness to give her hope, had been painted in despair, It had been as promised: no correspondence or contact until the long months were over and she would see him with her eyesg but what did the picture mean? She hurried back to the information desk where postcards and reproductions were sold: and. putting the guide-book on the desk she pointed to the name of the painter of No. 372. Could you tell me where I could ind Mr. Evans? she asked, I understand that most of the artists are in town for the exhibit. The Clerk stopped counting a stack of Renoir prints and, reaching under the desk, handed her a folded, two-day-old newspaper. 'Tm surprised that you haven't heard, he said, Mr. Evans died two days ago. Had some kind of unusual sickness. They say that he knew that he was going to die when he painted that picture. Queer looking sort of thing, isn't it? It gives me the creeps-. HARRIET BIERY, '46 page 70

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Milestone tone which I had spent all morning practising, said I believed it was Barney. My brother, who at times seems unbearably wise, replied sarcastically, I-low amazing! I bet you had forgotten all about him. I blushed to the roots of my hair, mumbling about the nastiness of little brothers, as Barney called a greeting and waved, all the while coming closer to the dock. I-Ialf of me wanted to hide, the other half, to jump up and down. All I did was sit there perfectly still, not daring to speak. He had landed expertly at the dock now, and was talking enthus- iastically to my family. At last he looked at me, making me glad I had put on my prettiest bathing suit and that there was still some curl in my hair. Aren't you even going to speak to your best beau, Susie? I must have said the right thing because he laughed and pulled me to my feet, dragging me towards his boat, but all the time my mind was a perfect blank: it was a wonderful blank, though, and I didn't care. Before we had been out sailing Hve minutes, I had lost my shyness, and he was teasing me and I was liking it, just as it had been before. I-Ie hadn't changed much, except that he was a little more serious than I remembered him to be, I-le no longer called me Susie. I was so happy in such peaceful and pleasant surroundings that I wanted the gorgeous morning to last forever. When Barney nnally brought me back. I was a half-hour late for lunch, but all I could think about was the afternoon, when Barney and I were going sailing again, and I pirouetted gracefully into the dining room, much to the disgust of my family, We were sitting on the porch when Barney came, and of course the whole family had to talk to him, while I sat there twiddling my thumbs, anxious to get started. All of a sudden Dad said, How long a leave do you have, Barney? I hope we'll be seeing you around a while, I'm afraid not, sir. My leave is up in a few days. I have to take the early train for Chicago tomorrow. Tomorrow! As if by magic a cold wind blew up from the lake, and the sun, just a moment before so warm and friendly, was now hidden behind a cloud, its rays bleak and depressing to my spirit. We were both silent as we cast off, for I was angry at being taken by surprise, and depressed because the things I had wanted would never be. Barney must have read my mind because he very quietly said, Mkt least we have today, Susan. Let's not ruin that, And I knew that he was right. We sailed for hours, while Barney told me about the Navy, about his hopes for the future, and too soon the sun was sinking, the sky was all purples and pinksg the night breezes were coming up, and we had to start for home, It's been a wonderful day, Susan, he said as we reached the dock. I only wish more than anything that I didn't have to leave. We've hardly had time to get reacquaintedf' No, Barney, it hasn't been really fair. I had looked forward to seeing you so muchl page 72