St Joseph Academy - Jomara Yearbook (Yakima, WA)

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Twenty-four T H E A U Rs O R A Elsie Koreski: I began my school life at S. J. A., but for the greater part, my schooling has been at Holy Rosary School in Moxee, for I live in that small, but thriving, me- tropolis. However, I'm not French! Marcella Ernsdorlfz CAlmost in tears.j Oh! I don't want to leave S. J. A.-because then I must part with Latin and Spanish, and Chemistry, and- Father Time: Cheer up! Cheer up! And what were your impressions of your school life here? CTurning to a girl at the windowj Mary Maher: I saw a terrible wall of books, and the only way out seemed to be through the pleasing door of history. But now, all my books are ready for the trunk in the attic. But-I can't quite remember the distinct date of my entrance, or my exact age-or- . Father Time: Age is of little importance. Perhaps no one will ever know your exact age. Next. Monaclaire Earl: I've spent my entire high school career at S. J. A., and during that time, the girls have told me, my red hair is the most characteristic part of me. But I do wish they'd rank my love for the past joys of Geometry, before my red hair, because- Father Time: Time is up. Who is next? Genevieve Fortier: Well, my history is about the same as all those who have joined present Seniors as Freshmen. But if you like, Father Time, you may say that my special pets have been Commercial subjects. Leona Champoux: Put my name down next, Father Time, and please say that I hated Geometry, but, like Jenny, I thoroughly enjoyed business work, especially Book- keeping, which was just like a play business- Lois Brandt: CCutting in abruptlyj And say for me, that when I first entered S. J. A. as a boarder in 1922, I had a terrible time becoming accustomed to the ringing of bells, the serving of meals at an exact time, the absolute silence of the study hours- Father Time: Don't get excited, Miss Brandt. Anyway, your time is up. , Pauline Doan: I came in the year of 1922, as a Sophomore, and oh! the honor of the high grades that fell my lot in Geometry. I was nearly overcome with joy on the day I received 92'Z in an exam. Father Time: That was a happy coincidence. Who is this? ' Ruth Howell: This is me, Father Time! I, also, came in 1922, and my arrival was singularily uneventful but extremely satisfying to myself, that is, until I became initiated into the sorrows of American History-- Father Time: CSternlyj This should be improvisation, but I fear you have memorized that. Ruth Howell: QQuicklyD But, Father Time, I must tell you about myself, and I can't dependupon my abilities at improvisation in a crisis like this. Father Time: Never mind, you have said enough already. Next. Ursula Donovan: It has been so long since I made my first appearance in this school, that I can scarcely remember it. But I know I was very bashful. And oh! how I hated Algebra! Father Time: I'm glad to see that you have discarded your bashfulness. Now, is that all? ' Yvonne Dulude: Oh! don't forget me, Father Time! I've spent twelve years at S. J. A. and history was the only thorn among my roses. Frances Berg: I remain yet, tool I've been here as long as Yvonne, and I wish that I could stay here longer. I liked school. Especially did I enjoy high school-and Father Time: There! All the space I can allow you, Seniors of 1924, is used up Father Time slowly closed the great book, and bade us adieu. p ALMA LANG, '24 ' ' RUTH HOWELL, '24. MARCELLA ERNSDORFF, '24.

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T H E A UVR O R A Twenty-three CLASS HISTORY Father Time is in the parlor. ' 'That mysterious phrase kept up a persistent drum- ming in the ears of the Seniors, as they slowly and fearfully descended the stairs in the direction of the room whence they had been bidden. Would that age-old Father prove a merciless extractor of time wasted in the halls of study? Come right in. The peculiarly hollow voice of Father Time echoed through the halls, and startled, the Seniors rushed to the parlor door, and then, pell-mell, scrambled into the room to their supposedly-approaching doom. , Father Time, with his long white hair and beard, sweeping the empty pages of an immense book before him, gazed at the number of breathless girls. Father Time: 'LAS Seniors of St. Josephis Academy, 1924, I suppose you are desirous that your names go down on the pages of History. Class of '24: Oh! Yes! Yes! Cthey chorusedj Father Time: Well, who are you, what are your favorite subjects, and where did you come from? COmnious silence! Father Time: CScrutinizing every Senior, in turn.J My! My! Who are those graduates with such doleful faces? Dorothy Ernsdorff: We are seven! Cstammeringlyj. A Father Time: What! Seven Seniors trying to impersonate a funeral procession at such a happy time as Commencement Day? Come! Come! What cause have you for sorrow? CSeven girls crowd forward, excitedlyj. Yvonne Dulude: We've spent twelve years at S. J. A., and- Ursula Donovan and Angela Massoth: We've had such a good time!- Alma Lang: Especially during recess! Marcella Ernsdorff: No! No! Always! Especially at Arithmetic time! Frances Berg: Oh! We can't leave, Father Time! ' Dorothy Ernsdorff: It's like pulling a tooth, or-or breaking up a family circle! Father Time: tsternlyj That does not furnish me with any the important particulars! Angela Massoth: Well, I left the grades in 1920, and took high school as a matter of course, that is, all but history which was nearly the death of me. Father Time: You're lucky to be here to tell the tale, then, aren't you? Alma Lang: I'm lucky, too, Father Time, School has always been my pet hobby-and the high school bug-a-boos, Latin and History-I didn't mind at all! Agnes O'Malley: Oh, dear! I wasn't lucky. In the grammar grades my one ambition was to surmount the difficulties of Arithmetic, but in high school, I found Arith- metic mere play in comparison with that horrid old Algebra and Geometry! Dorothy Ernsdorff: Count me in with Agnes against Algebra, Father Time! But Geometry was all right, and English was royal-but-deliver me from the fines of broken test-tubes in the Chemistry laboratory! Father Time: Ye fleeting hours! How can I record those statements as fast as you make them! Eleanor Wiedeman: Shall I go slower, Father Time? We-e-l-1, Jean LaMay, Mona- claire Earl, and myself came to S. J.,A. in the fall of 1920, and have continued here throughout high school. I, for one, have enjoyed every minute of the time. Jean LaMay: So have I! I have always tried to contibute to our school activities, and be diligent in school work, and thus, by developing pep, I have made my school life peppery! . Father Time: Keep up the quickness in after life. Next.

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T H E A U R o R A rwaty.fse CLASS PROPI-IECY N ow was the day departing: and the air, I mbrown'd with shadows, from their tolls released All animals on earth, and I alone Prepared myself the conflict to sustain, Both of sad pity and that perilous road, Which my unerrlng memory shall retrace. Just as I had read these lines of the f'Inferno, Mother's voice, chanting the age-old, and age-despised phrase, came Hitting down the stairway, Dorothy, hurry, and wash those dishes! I glanced at the despisable things, and my eyes blazed indignation. How I envy those sunbeamslll I thought as I watched them steal through the window, playing hide-and-seek among the curtains, behind the pictures, and even in the open cupboards. My glance wandered out-of-doors. The sun was high in the heavens, and snow-white, Heecy clouds were drifting around it. The shade under the big apple tree looked wonderfully inviting in the beautiful drowsiness of this first June afternoon. I stepped to the door. Ah! even the soft green grass, and the gayly colored flowers, looked lonesome. I wondered if they felt sad because there was no one out there to ap- preciate them, and tell them how beautiful they were. I decided to undertake this errand of mercy, and soon found myself lying in the shade of the old apple tree, I saw the Dream- master sailing above me on a great, white cloud, and I heard the gruff, soothing voice of the wily Mr. Sand-man, but I paid no heed. I wondered if any of my class-mates would experience stage fright during our Gradu- ating Exercises that night. Then I smiled, as the amused thought came, of how un- necessary our speeches, our songs, and our qualms of fear, would seem in forty years from now- Suddenly, a rough hand grasped my wrist, and the fingers seared my flesh like a red get coal. A glutteral voice hissed into my ear, and the breath was as hot as a tongue of re. Forty years from now? Ah! my fine young lady, probably then, and after I have finished with you today, you would welcome dishwashing with open arms! Wh-wh-who are y-you? Mines, Grim Judge of Hades, ever at your service! Then I experienced the most unusual and startling sensation. I was among the tribe who rest suspended. I glanced about me, and a spirit beckoned me. He moved onward, and I entered on a deep and woodyway. Then, I heard the howling wind, the noise of a hundred thunder-bolts, and the roaring of mighty waves. I closed my eyes, and covered my ears, and, in a few moments, after a terrible crash, I found myself in total darkness. Here we are, descended to the blind world, whispered my escort, and I became conscious of a suffocating heat. The Grim Judge pointed to the great stone Portal of Purgatory, and bade me enter. Fearfully, I stepped up the first stepg it was cold and slippery. I stepped up the second stepg it was hot and quivering, I stood on the third step, which was blood-red. I could go no farther, the great doors were clamped and barred. I was cold with fear and uncertainty. Then I heard a stern voice: Enter in, but also take good heed, . He ts cast forth who looks back as he goes. It was the Warden of the Gate. Slowly, the heavy-hinged gate swung wide. I stumbled in, looking to neither right nor left. 'Take notice, thundered Minos, and, trembling, I noticed a familiar figure of my school-days. Could this be Mary Maher in this terrible place? Terror stricken, I watched her. She was writing, writing, in blood-red letters. Forever must she write, said the Demon of Palmer Method by her side, Because, on earthyshe paid no heed to her script. A Minos gripped my wrist, and jerked me forward. In the distance I heard music. Soon, before my startled eyes, appeared a strange sight. Before the Ark of the Cove-