St Marys Academy - Sesame Yearbook (Champlain, NY)

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 -$nnua (Staff Editor-in-Chief Jean Filion Assistant Editors June Cloven Helen L fount lne Agnes Brown Advertising Editor Audrey Babbie Circulation Manager Aurlarme Bechard Advertising Conaiittee George Hinerth Eleanor Chevalier Claire Bedard Gerry Boire Loretta Coache James Barbeau

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A River I Know A river I know flows ever onward on its never-ending journey, un- noticed by those who walk by it day after day. These people know the river is there and yet they do not really know. If suddenly the river were to reverse its course, only then would they actually notice it. I know that somewhere this willow-bordered stream is darting into nooks and crannies, playfully tugging at the moss and weeds that grow there hanging over its brim. Somewhere it is talking its bubbly talk to the little woodland folk that comes to refresh itself at its edge and is embracing the vari-colored fish that swim within its bosom. I have known this river in its ever-changing moods. It can be friendly as it envelopes me in its soothing folds of liquidity. It can look treacherous and menacing when it has broken up into an irregular line of broken, jagged mass of ice. I remember one year when it reached the highest point of its wrath. The broken ice jammed, and the river rose higher and higher until it overflowed its banks. It swelled into the streets and even broke into the stores and houses in its path. It was the worst flood the town had ever seen. Although it can be cold and unfriendly, it has a familiar attrac- tion for me which I cannot explain. I like to meditate on its boundless wisdom and age. It existed so very long ago this same river I gaze upon everyday. It knew explorers that I do not know. It knew a different scenery and woodland folk that I do not know, and perhaps it was deeper and wider than it is now, but I will never know because it will never deign to tell me. As it sometimes goes on its bubbling, merry way, it laughs at my lack of knowledge. And at other times it grumbles at my stupidity and threatens me as it goes on its menacing journey. I wonder where it goes, and where it comes from, and why it groans and why it laughs, but I will never know and neither will the multitude of people who pass it every day ever know. This river is the Great Chazy River that I can never fully know for its secrets are kept Inviolate. Jean Filion, '52