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Page 31 text:
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HONORABLE MENTION WARREN GAUBATZ Yreka High School TAP E STRY FIRST PLACE POEM I gazed upward and there beheld, Hanging from the wall, a tapestry. Its pattern was varied, Fascinating me. I trailed the path of interwoven threads Following their myriad hues. Life is a tapestry, We weave the paths We choose. There, too, exists a pattern. Incessantly we weave the thread, Multi-colored with experiences, Over the design we tread. Life has its snarls and knots That patient fingers must untie, Mistakes to be unraveled, The fabric more beautiful to be. Now our thread runs out. Our weaving eases. The dyes are dried. And the pattern ceases. The design is fulfilled. ' Each thread in its place. It is hanging on the wall For Others to See. JUNE HILDEBRAND, Mount Shasta High School 27
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Page 30 text:
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SCHOOL DESKS HONORABLE MENTION STORY The schools of today are beautiful buildings made more and more attractive to youth. The bookshelves contain not only classics, but books on many modern subjects, such as atomic energy and aeronautics. There are all kinds of laboratory equipment, typewriters for commercial training, and machines for shop. But still the most fascinating equipment are the desks. What is there unusual about our school desks, which happen to be long tables? They are only desks? True, most of them are of a certain height and width, and the varnish has brought out the natural golden color of the wood. The color scheme of the rooms makes the place cheery, what with the golden tone of the desks in harmony with the green black- boardsf' Most of these desks at one time were quite new looking, plain and smooth. That was when they were put to the use for which they were intended. But now! How different! They are far from plain and smooth. There are notches, lines, and holes on the tops and even the sides of the tables. It is very irritating to try to write without a heavy notebook beneath your paper. Why, your paper would be just full of holes from where your pen would go through, without the notebook or a pad. One gets very disgusted with the pitfalls. Oh, that awful desk! you think. I'd even burn the schoolhouse down to get some new desks! But when you look more closely at the tables to see what is carved there, you brighten up and giggle. Across the desk in big, deep letters is scratched, Kilroy Was Here. Well, he must have been a pretty conceited guy to broadcast it like that. I-Iere's another one that says, Open the Door, Richard. Evidently someone likes plenty of ventilation, because that sign is followed by Open the Window, Mack! What really interests me is the gossip that is scrawled on the tables. I find that Tuesf day morning is the best time to do the Snooper sleuthingf' Monday has passed, and the tables have recorded the dates and current love affairs of the weekend. Even Frank Sinatra and Van Johnson make table headlines under Crushes. A line, two notches, or a Kilroy usually separates the couples' names or initials, for instance, B. P. plus R. L. or Dave loves Kathy. It's a little confusing at times to be under the impression that Sally is Bob's girl and by Monday,s she's John's. Oh well, as they say, l'It's love that makes the world go 'round. There is always an amazing amount of talented artists wandering through the class- rooms. A few of these modest creatures do sign their names to their drawings. A popular guy that people enjoy drawing is Smoe. Did you ever hear of him? Well, he's Kilroy,s cousin, and he has a big nose, big ears, cue-ball head, and two little button eyes. You'll probably recognize him by this final description: He,s always looking over a wall and watching you! A recent favorite scene by the artists is the picture of a door with a hand pounding on it. It seems that someone Wants to see Richard, who is on the other side. So far the caller hasn't had much luck about getting in. A few of the things written on these tables are quite old. Some concerns people as far back as ten years. It's quite a joke to see whom the alumni were going with at the time, and to see whom they ended up marrying. In about ten years I should like to make a special trip through my school and mainly direct my interest at the desks. Clf there's anything left of them by then.j It would bring back many fond memories of high school. Yet, I would feel that I had aged to see, on the tables, names of those who were infants when I was in high school. But time will march on for them, too. However, the fascinating desks will be there with their ever-permanent and ever-changing legends. DONNA EBBE '48, McCloud High School. 26
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Page 32 text:
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THE LONE PINE SECOND PLACE POEM High up on a peak Over East Indian Creek, A stately pine tree stood. He could look far below Where dense forests grew, And see all the trees in the wood. They swayed with such ease In the gentle breeze- He'd nod and beckon and wave. Then the loggers came in, Amid clamour and din, And his brothers and sisters fell. They Went down one by one In the heat of the sun, And were loaded on fast moving trucks. Ho, ho, said he, They will never get me!,' But alas, one bright day A great log he lay, On the carriage of Applegate's mill. Now instead of a hill, He is standing so still- A little white house in the valley. ILENE SUTCLIFFE '49, Happy Camp High School SPRING HONORABLE MENTION POEM Spring is here, I am told. Look about you, Young and old. Susie Smith is starry eyed. Lessons are neglected. Dreaming, sighing, passing notes, That's how she's affected. Johnny Jones is writing poems About his heart's desire, And though his head is in the clouds, His heart is all on fire. The pussy willows peeping out, See the lovers all about. 'Daisies, violets, snow drops too Lift their heads to a sky of blue. The snow is goneg The day is clear. Yes! we know that Spring is here! CAROL WHITLOW '48, McCloud High School. 28
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