Siskiyou Union High School - White and Gold Yearbook (Weed, CA)

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THE ONLY ONE Ta-ru-tu-tu-tu-tu-tu-romancin'-dancin' to the Cornbelt Symphony. Then, with Q'Symphony,,' crisp stern shouts come tumbling from the kitchen, Sunnie, for heaven's sake turn that radio down or off! Your father is trying to sleep! But Mother, it's Dick Jergens. I've just got to hear it or I'11 die, 1,11 positively die! Sunnie! then a brief pause, Q'Allison Hathaway, you heard me! Oh, what a life! I can't have or do anything, not anythingli' Then with a quick toss of her short blonde hair, Sunnie snaps the radio off and starts bumping up the stairs. Allison, please, at least leave my staircase. I'm sure I donit see where you got the nick- name, Sunnie, with your dispositionf' Well, some people like me and a few even think I'm nice. Not that any of this family does. Allison, sometimes you are so ungrateful! Here, we've let you go out every night for the past week and just because we ask you to stay home from a game in Centerville, forty- five miles from here, to take care of your own little sister Tammie while your father and I go to a lodge meeting, you have a fit. I don't think that is being a bit nice. Besides, dear, you know how slick the roads are from here to Centerville. But, mother, I'11 be the only one-the only one in Terrytown High, that doesn't go to that game. It'll be the best of the season. Oh, well, don't bother yourself. Let me just waste away to an old maid that always stays homef' With this Sunnie slams her bedroom door. The only one, murmurs Mrs. Hathaway, Ah, life is so tragic for my poor little daughterf' Then, smiling to herself, she goes back to her work, humming a little tune. B-r-r-r-ing! The telephone rings! g 'lYes, comes Mrs. Hathaway's quiet voice. l'Yes, I'll tell her. Thank you. Goodbye, Beverly. Sunnie-Sunnie!,' she calls. H 'tWhat do you want?', Sunnie answers curtly. Bev just called to say that she won't be able to take the car in this weather, so she and Sue-Ann are going to stay home! ' Not a sound comes from upstairs so the mother again retires to the kitchen. B-r-r-r-ing! Again the telephone rings. Tammie, will you answer it, please? calls the mother. My hands are wet. A few minutes later Tammie knocks on her sisteris door and sa s, '4Sunnie Bud sa s Y 2 Y that the co-aches pos-poned th' game ,tause itis snowin' ou' si'! Still no sound. 'QTammie, calls her mother, come, run over to Beverley's and tell her that Sunnie wants her and Sue-Ann to come over and make candy with you two tonight. She puts a cake in the oven and shuts the oven door. My poor little daughter. The only one. SHIRLEY HICKEY '51, Weed High School. 27

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Don really didn't like to think about the quarrel, so he started thinking about the bike. There ought to be a way to manage, thought Don. Maybe Mr. Jones would let him work a week or two without a bike. He went into the Jones newspaper oHice and found him busy at his desk. Oh, hello, Don. Did you get the bike? No, I haven't yet, Mr. Jones. Couldn't I distribute the papers by foot for a week? suggested Don. Then I'd have enough money to pay down on it. No, I'm sorry, Don. You' couldn't get the papers delivered fast enough, walking. By the time you got to the last few houses it would be late and I'd have too many com- plaints. I'11 tell you what I'll do-today is Wednesday. I'1l hold the job for you until Sat- urday, then if you can't get a bike I'll have to hire a boy that has one. O.K., Mr. Jones. I'11 see what I can dof' That evening from Don's window he could see John and Bill talking on the porch of John's home next door. He supposed they were planning an excursion, and sure enough, next he saw them riding their bikes toward the lake. Don had several errands to do after school, so it. was growing late when he reached home. His mother called to him from the kitchen window, I see that Mrs. Young is hav- ing trouble with the chimney. Won't you run over and see if you can help her? Ordinarily Don would have responded immediately, but it was different now. If he helped Mrs. Young he would be doing John's work, and he didn't want to do anything for John. Before he had time to explain, he heard a slight commotion.. Then he saw John riding into the yard. i'John's there now, he answered his mother, he can fix the chimney. Their ladder is broken,', said his mother. John is trying to repair it but I heard his mother say they hadn't any suitable nails. Without any further comment, Don ran to the garage and got the ladder his father had made. With the aid of the good ladder, the two boys soon had the chimney repaired. As Don started home with the ladder, John said, Come over after supper. I have something to show you. It's pretty importantf' Working on the roof with John had brought them together. It seemed to Don that nothing was wrong between them. Note or no note, he still liked John, who had stood by his side from kindergarten days to his sophomore year. When supper was over he went over to John's house. Don waited for him to show him whatever it was that was so important, but as John didn't bring anything out, he soon forgot about it, and they visited as of old over a pan of popcorn. Don soon found himself telling John about the job he could get if he had a bike. Gosh, said John, do you mean if you had a bike for just a week you could get the job? And buy 'Silver Lightningf too? Yep, that's rightf' Well, holy smoke, you can use my bike next weekf' I Don gasped, I couldn't do that, John! You wouldn't want to spare your bike for an hour and a half each day for a whole week, would you? Oh, yes, I would! I'd do anything to help you get your bike AND the job. Iill go with you the first thing in the morning to see Mr. Blake and Mr. Jones,', John promised. As Don was leaving, his friend took from his pocket a paper, damp and soiled. This is the note we wrote you that Saturday. I guess it didn't show up much. The rock was almost the color of the paper, and the weight was also the same color, but we thought you'd find it. I shouldn't have doubted your word, anyway, said Don. 'Tm terribly sorry. John escorted his friend to the door and said goodnight. A week passed and Don had his bike, thanks to John. Now they are the best of friends again and since they both have bikes, they are planning far distant trips together, and Bill is included in some of their plans, too. ' ALICE CARTER 'S 1, Butte Valley High School. 26

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MY GRANDMOTI-IER BEST POEM Standing in the doorway of her cabin in With her face turned to the Eastward Grandma greets each coming morn, And the shining morning sunbeams Creeping o'er the prairies there, Are no brighter than the sunbeams Nestling in her auburn hair. She is standing in the doorway When the sun rides high at noon, With her eyes filled with the lovelight Wives and mother get so soon. And the bright hot rays of noontime Beating down upon her there, Shine upon the silver Hiding in her auburn hair. Sitting in her chair at evening When the long day's work is done. Grandma rests among the shadows As they lengthen one by one. And the slanting rays of evening As they touch her silver hair, Touch, and linger, and caress it Make a last bright halo there. the dawn . H O M E SECOND PLACE POEM Home is where the heart isn The poets say, and so, That's just the way it is with me, No matter where I go. It isn't just the flowers around, Or windows polished bright, But smoke from out the chimney curls And lights that gleam at night. At school, at play, on summer trips, We're glad to leave the nest, But when at last the fun is o'er, We find that home is best. I think it isn,t just the heart That centers in the home, But lots of other little things That make our house a home. KAY KERsEY J52, Weed High School. GORDON DE Rose, Yreka High School. MY WORLD HONORABLE MENTION Oh, I wish that I might go to see The lands of myth and mystery! If a magic carpet were given me, No time I'd waste, but merrily I'd begin my journey, long, Within my heart a happy song. Thoughts must be my carpet though To take me where I wish to go My history book I'll open then And visit the lands of ancient men. I'll view the pictures and read each line And make believe the world is mine. BILL INABNIT, . McCloud High School