Shortridge High School - Annual Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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---r' MT. LE CONTE MARY VANCE TRENT s ROM afar on Easter morning I saw your proud head lifted high above me in silent majesty, the great- est of the Smokies, the grandest of the range, 6' blue, blue mist like a lovely veil partly covering your face. Coming closer and beginning to climb your sides, seamed and wrinkled with age, I found you W 5' beautiful, not barren. Every rock, every tree was softened with a kindly cloak of deep green moss 1, and lichens. Your mood changedg no longer were 513 1 - 9 -. 1 . Vw aai w you awe-inspiring, but friendly and comforting. nilkh D Giant spruces and hemlocks pointed long verdant needles at the sky. Gentle showers fell to cool you and slake your thirst. Soon misty clouds en- veloped both you and me as I climbed higher- your lacy cap was enfolding us. Between glossy banks of rhododendron and mountain laurel a turbulent stream tumbled boisterously over the stones. Tiny flowers peeped at me from secluded nooks. Everywhere I felt the Easter sermon of Life. But, on top, the giant balsams had shrunk to mere scrubby bushes. The larger trees, gone down in their efforts to combat the tempests, lay in fallen wreckage across my path. At night I felt the sting of rain, the roar of wind, and the sweep of sleet in a great blizzard. Then morning came, and the glorious sun from an azure kingdom cast dancing beams on your snowy breast, making you more sparkling than diamonds, more lovely than pearls. Every branch bowed low with frozen mistg the trees were draped in silver lace. Oh, mountain, for hundreds of thousands of years you have battled with the elements and withstood the storms. You have given inspiration to sage and savage alike. As I was leaving you, I looked back to say farewell. Smaller moun- tains nestled close to you like loving children to a mother. There rose your proud peak-blue as the heaven above you, everlasting as the God that made you-a symbol of the might and majesty of the universe. , - lf.. H fe-.Q fr-is s .mmflfizf ,, .X , -. V 44 lv ' - f -. ' -1 V 4 , I -Q . ... -- f lb 2 C L 5 . . - 1 ,bg . ' 'ki' 1 ' . , '3:3.? l i ' - -LN, - T- .'-, 1. 1 9 ? giifif .,.. . ' -4: 1 -2 -I .V 1.1 4-,iQs::L.ef:'f: 1---,-. S - - .. 5,5331-,5 - fr . -rl X .. h ' 55' . 7, gy: ' .-fa 't .4 :X .X fr- 1' Fr xi.: 1 N 5 x '5' . xg, P V? ,ML NJ f us.-w-My .5 , xv, b 'rl-S Morning The day is born! The sun, Peeping across the horizon, Casts lovely hues Over the azure sky. Gentle breezes Awake the leaves. The morning song Of a thrush Welcomes the light. Dew sparkles Like tiny diamonds On the grass. Nature livesg It is morning- A new day! -Mary Ella Julian

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FROM THE OLD SOUTH The old negress fairly bristled when she told how the hated Yanks came marching down the same Rue Royale when the Union commander, General Butler, seized New Orleans. Them very soldiehs that killed mah two boys in the wah, them thievin' scoundrels ma'ched right pas' ol' Massa Beauregard's home j eerin' and yellin' when they passed. Ah had to sell fried apple turn-oveh pies fo' ma livin' after Massa left, but ah sho' didn't sell none to dem 'Yanks' No ma'am! Mammy Jackson was indignantly aroused by her own heated descrip- tion of General Butler's seizure of New Orleans and the seemingly insult- ing behavior of the Union so-ldiers. Suddenly she said, You all are from theiSouth, a'n't you? turning rather startled eyes upon me. No, I'm a Northernerj' I replied, but everyone is privileged to believe in his own traditions and ideals. Oh Lawdy, missy, ah didn't mean to hu't you all, but ah guess I jes' cain't fo'get mah old Massa Beauregard and mah two boys who died fo' the South. As Mammy Jackson talked of her youth, I thought of the long event- ful life that she had lived. She was a true child of the South and repre- sented the last of the old Southern slaves, who had been part of the fami- lies they served and remained devoted to them even after the Emancipa- tion Proclamation. Now she was living in the past with the ghosts of her younger days, the gallant Southern gentlemen and the fair young belles of the South. That was her lifeg she did not belong to this modern world. I reluctantly left Mammy Jackson and the quaint Rue Royale to start back towards Canal Street and the modern New Orleans. As I turned for a last glimpse of Mammy Jackson, I saw her, a perfect personification of three types. 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THE if. .,3:.'1- 1 lx FARMERS BOY ,ill . N lm'1'f4 X l 1 w , l 1 W , N ,-, ls, ,i I . ,. . ... .... .. Q.. s .. .. .-l.-.'g A.. ........4'-., .gf ,',f.u.:. . .-,Q-. V' 1 I ' l A - ' ' A 'J 1 ' .3 ' xlf' N AW. ,- ,' ':.l..fg 'fy 9 N Q M j if in NNE !N! 'f i'lf--' 'JJ LM'-'il M wif 1Wlrl'li'w'l5llill1 W gf- 1 if - N 'limi ywlllxll 'IM ,Inv -Mm W I l ' V- 'X l f V, N Ixfxr will li M! 3 fi ly, H xl, f.fJQlilW.'vJa,N J gf' 4',W,4lv 161l1ix,lWfl Llysxgt -. X ill mf? 'f4 MW9lr1i iw :IIA X N' KW Nl' Xt 'fl W it Mitlxylqx Mfwfl Y in li fsfllWl'g l' if - ' iz., ,.,. wwf' IW!! Ji Wim' X -I ::,r.r,lNli1g'lq5 H, f lfl 4' 1' 4 qw:-wp. 1 -,r: I -,1, My wir .f 1 Wi X 1 will A Z-iiiiiiffllfffiq'lm nl 14 y'Nl 5m,. 4 , I X I-'ff5J'13:.ii5.5,'.1 :f 1 1: f.-flgl .3 2- 1':j.P. '1'I.g'.f'Q-J 3-.4 ini I hid behind a large oak tree, Then 'round it I did peekg And lo! I saw the farmer's boy, A Hshing in the creek. The shabby hat of straw he wore, Sat far back on his heady And several strands of unkempt hair I saw, and oh, how red! A sea of freckles had the lad, And large clear eyes of blue. He grinned whene'er he caught a fishg Then three teeth came in view. X His shirt was open at the neckg Rolled sleeves showed arms of brown. His pants had patches in the seat 5 One leg was upg one, downg No shoes, no socks did this boy wear, And dirty were his toes. But oh! my picture here must stop, For up the road he goes. -Mary Louise Woodard