Seven Hills High School - Yearbook (Cincinnati, OH)

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Milestone 7 ON TRAVELINC1 ON A DAY COACH How fortunate are those people who live in places obscure and uncivilized. who know nothing of the electric toaster, the steam-boat, or the railroad coach! I-low peaceful their lives: yet how barren! They could never experience the triumph the train traveler experiencs at that victorious moment when he has successfully tripped, stepped upon, and outrun at least three peace-loving individuals in a race for a seat. They could never know the pride a qualified traveler feels as he walks the length of the car with firm, deliberate steps, never once grasping desperately at the nearest arm, or tottering unbecomingly into some- body's lap. Perhaps you, as the traveler, have overlooked these little triumphs and successes, taking it all for granted-that is, a trip as a thing to be endured but not loved, void of all humor and experience. This theory is not true. Let us start from the beginning of the journey of enlightenment. You have known the mad rush for the last reservation on an airplane, then the hours standing in line at the Pullman office, only to find that the last seat is taken by the man directly in front of you, short, bald, and fatigued, who looks as though he should stay at home with his wife and ten kiddies, anyhow. There is, however, always the coach, and your friend in a not-too-distant city is expecting you. The day arrives for the trip. It is about five in the morning, and pitch black. You are sleepy and want to go back to bed. and the taxi hasn't come yet. Members of your family are clinging to you tearfully, but really anxious to get you out of the house and return to a semi- peaceful existence, without flying suitcases and ringing telephones. At last the taxi, minutes late, comes roaring down the street, to everyone's relief, It resembles a thing obviously thrown together by a disinterested car builder, with noticeably bad aim. No matter, it is a vehicle which will convey you to the station in Hfteen minutes, you hope. The station, a madhouse for millions, all hurrying, shoving, pushing, and yet all looking remarkably sanel The tide carries you to a gate where a man, obviously bored with the whole thing. calls out places in an unintelligible tongue. You stand with hundreds of people at the gate, scheming ways to get through Hrst, but as it happens, you are always last through. I have found though, that a sturdy suitcase held by the teeth, and a cumbersome golf bag over the shoulder helps a great deal in dividing the crowd for yourself. Once you are through, it is fairly easy to sprint ahead. You may make enemies for life, but a seat is practically assured for you. If sprinting is impossible, you'll just have to fight. I have already described the struggle for a seat. I shall presume that you are seated as comfortably as possible, and are heartily gloating at the numerous people you have upset in your flight down the length of the aisle. You are sitting, anxiously awaiting your companion. Dozens of people come straggling by before that one sits down next to you. Will it be a man or woman? XVill he be young and attractive? Will she be pleasant? Awaiting your companion is like opening a Christmas package, but the results aren't always the same. It is easy to strike up a conversation once your companion is seated. After a while he will undoubtedly say, Are you going far? The usual reply is Yes, I'm page 90

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4 i Milestone THEN WE SHALL KNOW Do you ever wonder- just wonder, What it is that lies beyond? Beyond the stars, beyond the blue, Beyond the bright, beyond the dark? Do you ever ponder on what you cannot know? What lies between the mists and winds? Why Time will never turn or stop? Why Life won't change to nothingness? Do you ever dream of what may be someday? Will l remember then this hour? Will l know then what lies beyond, And what are joy and sadness? Do you ever wonder what Fear can be? Wonder if gladness is real and alive? lf there truly is a life beyond? Wonder if we really live and die? Do you ever think that earth may crumble, And sky and all above may disappear? It is then that we shall know at last What lies beyond, what is life we and death. LONSDALE GREEN, '46 V, in, H gr - ff fx at

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Milestone going all the way to - - -. How about you? The rest of the conver- sation differs, according to whether your companion likes the scenery, symphonies, or smorgasbord. Time passes quickly when there is someone with whom to talk, and soon you get that old feeling which means a meal is in order. Where is the diner? You ask the conductor. who bursts rudely into hysterics, to your embarrassment. Obviously there isn't one. There is, however, always the little man with the liver sandwiches and salted peanuts. Sometimes the menu varies, and you have a choice between sausage and liver. Sometimes he has coffee, or tomato juice, or such luxuries as juicy apples and rich, creamy chocolate bars. If you have an especially de luxe coach, you may even get literature with your meal- Cowboy Stories or The Holy Roller Weekly. A wise person will bring his own lunch, or at least campaign to sit next to someone who has brought his. Sometimes you can wheedle a sandwich: sometimes, only a tomato seed in the eye, but at least you won't starve to death. Ho, hum: No matter where you are, your eyelids have a way of drooping after a meal: so a short nap is necessary. lt is one of the hardest things for a girl to look her best while slouching against a crumpled coat piled in the corner, trying to get some sleep. It is the best policy to remove all excess hats, gloves, and other articles while napping, because it doesn't look then as if you fell into such a comical state accidentally. When your mouth drops open ridiculously, people may think you wanted it that way on purpose. You can even look fairly attractive if you droop yourself correctly over the arm of the seat. People might look at you and say, A charming sylph who is unused to trains and wishes to be back among the woodlands. Such a thing has never happened to me, but I feel that there must be some type of girl who looks attractive on a coach seat. All good things must come to an end, including naps. You awaken when your companion accidently drops his suitcase on your head, just as the train is pulling into the station. In two minutes, you are standing in the aisle ready to hop off the train. A sudden stop sends you flying boldly forwards into the back of a chagrined, but more stable passen- ger, You are pushed off the train and up the ramp to the station, looking for a familiar face among thousands. Sometimes a pathetic expression on your face brings a redcap or Traveler's Aid attendant, a person who is always helpful. No familiar face is waiting, principally because the train is two hours late, but there is always a taxi, Within two hours, at least, you will be soaking languidly in a bubble bath, babbling delightedly to your friend, ready for any kind of evening. Even after a train trip, life goes on as usual. It wasn't so bad, was it? At least it was enlightening, you keep telling yourself. ANN VAIL, '46 em