South High School - Sohian Yearbook (Akron, OH)

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THE SOHgIANg1930 MY PET Bobby is. a pretty canary, with feathers gold as the sun and black as the night. In his cage, this happy little songster hops about from perch to perch the whole day through. VVhen I am about, Bobby refuses to sing much unless I talk to him. Sometimes I count for him. He sings when I say two or three after a series of numbers. On cloudy days, there is only one cure for Bobby's drowsiness. A few turns of the egg- beater makes him angry and then he sings. His singing is missed so much that I have worn out two egg-beaters in this way. Bobby takes up entirely too much time. Unless someone holds it for him, he refuses to eat lettuce or celery. Perhaps he has grown accustomed to this attention, or maybe it just pleases ,his vanity. Anyway it is hard to refuse the mute appeals of such a lovable creature. l I am sorry to say that Bobby does not have any manners. Even though he has been told it is impolite, he still persists in making a funny little noise in his throat when he eats. Scolding Bobby has no effect on him. Therefore I shall be forced to leave this one shadow to cast its dark reflection on Bobby's joyous little being.-Frieda Dodson. COMMENCEMENT IMPRESSIONS There was never such a night! This is the nnvarying opinion of all those who have ever participated in a high school commencement. Other experiences may be more glamorous, more successful, but the high school commencement is unique, in that it is an unrepeated incident in one's life. It is the formal exit from childhood to young womanhood and manhood. Of course, to the graduate there is no such serious interpretation of the event. Sentiments and serious contemplations, the code of youth decrees, must be hidden under a mask of hilarity and action. No detail of the exercises is deemed more important than the decoration of the stage. The class colors are generously exhibited in flowers and streaming ribbons of crepe paper, arranged by the boys of the decorating committee. After a wild rushing about for forgotten materials, and after arrangements, rearrangements, and disarrangements have been made, ac- cording to the dictum of each and every one present, the stage is ready. Careless bantering and joking stop for a moment as a last review is made. There is the motto proudly raised above the stage: the ferns and flowers across the front of the platform: the white ribboned basket for the diplomas. The basket seems quite elegantly conscious of its' importance. Is it not almost a tradition of the schools? Has not its ribboned splendor graced innumerable commencements? The boys at length shuffie out of the school. A last loud laugh echoes through the corridors and drifts back to the auditorium. Then, silence. A great, round, curious sun glances in at the interesting stage, enriching the colorful ribbons and flowers with a soft dancing light, and flickering across the backs of the waiting empty chairs. Graduation night, a counter display for assorted human emotions-mother love, repressing streaming eyes, fatherly pride, struggling to loose itself from controlg and school love, the union of teachers' and pupils' hearts, strengthened by struggles and triumphs in a com- mon cause. And now the ordeal. Some one hundred and six young hearts thump fiercely. The air be- comes stitling. A nervous hand for the thousandth time pokes the soft waves of a perfect marcel. A member of the board of education beams benediction on the youth of this gen- eration. A speaker rises, moves rather clumsily to the center of the platform, and, setting his chin determinedly forward, begins grimly. An old woman in the audience nods her head rhythmically as the frightened young speaker hurries on. Yaguely he realizes his voice had ended in a weak squeak in that last forceful question: that he could not gracefully use his handkerchief. Then he gropes for his chair again. The orchestra affords a few minutes respite. Now the precious diplomas are held fast in moist warm hands. The orchestra plays a concluding number, and the audience begins to disperse. Old friends linger, one or two of the girls cry. Reluctantly the graduates leave the school, with a haunting impression of blurred familiar faces, and the commencement becomes but an experience to be recalled in future reminiscences. -Irma Safflf, I2-xl. page lzzuzdrcd izmefcen

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I T I-IE SOI-IIAN1930 'AVJXLUESU I want to be an Indian! And, if please, should my soul be suffered transmigration, Do give it lodging in the heart of a youth- ful, strong, and carefree Indian. You know the kind-a Hiawatha. There must be Nokomis and the moon, The stars, the trees, and flowers, The birds, the deer, The rivers and lakes, and-lllinnehaha. Traitor! you cry. Then do you start a veritable eulogy Of life, and great and noble deeds, Of citizenship, of progressg Thence of knowledge-oh, oh, stop! That word progress, it overpowers the senses Like a hypodermic shot. The head a sinking meteor Severed, it leaps and bounds Through strange and heavy atmospheres. The breath comes hard in long and wheez- ing gasps. The eyes squint dully at a soiled and sooty Sky, A grimy, greased-up garden-was that Eden? Knowledge. Science. These the swords You dangle at my face while so you taunt, Petty dreamer, still you yearn for false ephemeral worlds? You seek for wonder, blind you are when Iron-sheathed giants that meet the sky XVith thousand gleaming eyes at night Do scorn and mock the Parthenon. Yet have you but begun. I shrink and shrivel, shamed. But I did want the clear blue sky, the God in Indian days, The deep, blue dimitied bosom of the heavens Bereft of haggled silken robes, You see 'twas but a dream, How dared I give it voice? Deep in my soul, a whisper, yet I want to be an Indian! A -IRENE SALAI, 12-A. SONGS The babbling brook is free again To travel on its way, And meadow larks are back again IYith songs so sweet and gay. I think if I could be a bird XVithin God's leafy world, I'd sing and sing of nothing else But spring and flowers unfurled. JAMES GREENLEE, ll,-A. THE RAG MAN He has a beard HIICI his clothes are old: His shoes are worn and full of holes, His wagon makes a lot of noise Like a gang of mischievous boys, His call is heard throughout the street Soft as sound of shuffling feet. -Pl-:TER PAKZTIS, 10-B. THE EARLY BIRD lYhen Father takes his spade to dig, Then Robin comes alongg He sits upon a little twig And sings a little song. Or, if the trees are rather far, He does not stay alone, But comes up close, where we are, And hops upon a stone. -MARGERY ZIGLER, IO-B. PERHAPS If I had been an Indian XYay back in '76, I would have had a camp-fire Made of many sticks. .-Xnd when the white man came with guns And billowy wagons white, I would have taught him how to Ilsh, And thought him quite all right. I would have sho-wn him how to hunt And swim: and when he felt That I was mild, perhaps I might Have tied his scalp to my belt. -IEYELYN Hoovrziz, I1-A. MY NYORLD NYhen skies are blue and balmy And soft the breezes blow, And the birds are warbling gaily- That is the world I know. I walk through fields enchanted Of beauty ever rare, Through wondrous miles of grass and leaf And know no woe or care. lYe have a thought to ponder On how this came to be. From the Keeper-of-all-things, far above, It seems quite clear to me. ILXNIHREXV REISINLQIQR, IO-B. I should love to be an artist, And have wings to Hy the air Until I found a pretty spot To paint a picture fair. There I would paint a masterpiece- ,-X masterpiece so rare That every one would marvel .Xt the colors glowing there. -F ER N1-: Sro M BA HGH, 10-B. page lzzmdrcd cfiglztccn

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-TH E e .... STO H IJ? N - ..1.9-.3e0. A DIARY OF EARLY AKRON K.-Iftvr the 'HIfI7ll1t'l'9 of John ll'1'11f1z1'0fv,.v JOIIVIIIII, 1630-16191 Dee. 1, 17'fl0PThe people gathered last night at Nr. T's house and went to a, new-found bee-tree. We made a great life, about which sat the children while we eut the tree down. There was enough of the new honey so that every one was loaded. Dee. 3-The corn being none too plentiful, and we being unwilling to butcher' the swine and sheep, we went to the river at nightfall, carrying a burning pine knot, and paddled to where the trees were thick. At onee two eyes shone out. I tired and paddled to the shore. Thus we were able to bring back two deer. which will be enough for the time. March 16-This day the men of the eo-untry around gathered to begin the new school-house. It is intended to have it ready for the summer term. March 23-Traded ten furs for a copper kettle from a settler who is going back Iiast. March 27-Hearing a pig squeal, I ran out of the house and found it lighting' a bear. I tired and the bear went back into the woods. April 3-A hunter of the forest killed a large bear last night, after an hour's fight with a knife. In the body were found my bullets as well as those of ten other farmers. April 7-The trapper-doctor took leave to-day as he is going XYest where it is not so crowded. April 11-A saehem, NYam-pe-tek, of the tribe on the shore of Turkeyfoot Lake disap- peared last year after a quarrel with a trapper. Last night his whoop was heard ring through the forest by a passing settler. April 17-I have finished cutting up the stumps. The ground is rich, but it is full of roots. April 22-A family from Connecticut arrived to-day by ox-team, and brought four sheep and three swine, the rest having died on the four months' trip. May 26MIndians are gathering at their villages and show signs of moving. May 30-Have brought the family and animals to the village. There we found the men strengthening the block-house and preparing, for an attack. May 31-More settlers have arrived. Captain ll. in command of the fort has sent out scouts to learn of the Indians. June 1-Scouts returned this morning. Unable to learn anything of plans. More preparations. June .2-The Indians have departed! -CARLYLE AMBIQLANG. XII YI' NI' page lzzmdrcd twenty