St Rose Academy - Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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GOLD AND WHITE Qc----4- ? Going For Ads By DOROTHY DILLON ULL of enthusiasm and bubbling over with spirit, you start out, confi- dent of returning with at least ten ads. You have been told that business men always seem on the brink of failure when about to part with a small sum for your cause, but this cannot daunt you. Anyway it is a privilege to advertise in your year book and those given the opportunity will realize how fortunate they are and will immediately demand an ad. Yes, of this you are certain. With a companion you set out, carrying last year's journal under your arm, with several subscription blanks, and with a well-filled fountain pen. Now the question arises as to how you shall go about soliciting the ads. What demeanor shall you assume? You determine to take upon yourself an air of importance-of one who demands something and expects to get it. This method will surely be successful. You come to the first place-the Central Bank. But who will do the talk- ing here, you or your companion? She ought to for she's bigger than you, but she refuses and you must make the best of it. Inwardly trembling, but with a bold exterior to coincide with the importance you must assume, you enter the bank. You ask to be admitted to the president. He is in conference. No matter, you will wait. Finally you are ushered into the great office where an important man is dictating to his secretary. Of course your business is im- portant. You state it, but he doesn't think it so and refuses an ad without further ado. Dejected you leave and set out for the lnsurance Company. Here your companion will talk. But she must present a different attitude: the other didn't work. Experiential docetf' She decides to adopt a pleading tone to endeavor to impress upon the subscriber the need of an ad. Together you enter the great establishment where many men+all men-are busily engaged. Several eyes turn toward you, docile little maids, and you almost melt before the icy stares. But seeing a door with Manager inscribed on it you knock and enter, only to interrupt a meeting. Another wait and finally when the gentleman is ready to hear you, your chum pleads her cause with genteel meek- ness. Alas, however, you learn that the company's quota for advertising has long since been used up but if you will return in July they'll be glad to help you. Your journal goes to press in April! You try the shops but the keepers tell you how great their overhead ex- penses are or they say that they have just subscribed to the Community Chest, which includes all other charities. Imagine considering advertising in your journal, charity! Eventually as a last hope you go to the doctors. Surely they will grasp the opportunity. You assume a dignified, superior or rather condescending air to impress the professional man that you are merely allowing him to sub- scribe. But alas! in every office you meet the same reply, lt is not ethical for doctors to advertise, l'm very sorry. The next day you go to school to be met by a haughty senior who says sardonically, Why dOn't you juniors get busy? Your class has the least ads. After all your trouble! Of course every cloud has a silver lining and you continue your efforts on Forty-Hue

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GoLD AND WHITE 132------dl greatest standbys in the world. I have thought from my earliest youth that my brother possessed not only these qualities to a far greater degree than any- one else's but also that he was the brightest and most intelligent person in all the world. Whenever I was confronted with a question I immediately took it to him and demanded an answer. No matter how absurd the answer was, I was always satisfied. It must be right, for Buddy had said it was so and so. Unfortunately for me I would always ask a question when he was busily occupied in the process of shaving or tying a tux tie. For instance, one day I softly opened the door, peeped in around the edge and asked, Buddy dear, who crossed the Delaware? There he was standing before the mirror, legs apart, his face heavily lathered and screwed in the most comical manner, his right hand holding his safety razor aloft, his left hand pulling his ear in the most ungainly position. I received no response but a grunt and change of position. A pause and once again, more impatiently this time, Buddy, who crossed the Delaware? Not until the left cheek was smoothly shaven did he ask, I-Iuhf What did you say? I said, 'Who crossed the Dela- ware?' most impatient this time. Oh, I don't know: don't bother me now. Yes, you do know, I coaxed confldently. Tell me, who crossed the Dela- ware? Seeing no other way to get rid of me than by answering he responded, Oh, Napoleon. Now go and let me shave in peace. Thank you, I mur- mured and left. The next day I argued and dared, yes actually dared Sister to say George Washington crossed the Delaware when my Buddy said it was Napoleon. Do you see how it is? Thus I went through grammar school, relying on my brother for puz- zling questions, receiving absurd answers, and defying anyone to doubt or con- tradict them. Then came graduation and high school. The work of high school held no fear for me for was I not armed with my brother's knowledge? I at least thought so, but soon found I was mistaken. In the first place he frankly ad- mitted that he could not answer all my questions, and in the second-and this is the worst of all--no one in high school cared to hear about him or what he said. When a discussion was going on and I wanted to add my opinion, if I began with, A'Well, my Buddy says or A'lVIy brother says, I was immedi- ately cut short by unanimous looks of scorn, of disgust and moans. Oh, for heaven's sake, is she going to talk about her brother again? Who cares what he has to say? or If you think I'm going to listen to you rave about your wonderful brother again you are mistaken. At first I was hurt and indignant. My brother, my dear brother, whom I had held to be the highest and finest thing on this earth for fourteen years, was the scorn of everyone! Then I began to see that I was to blame. Everyone didn't think the same of him as I did. They had fine brothers at home, too. Mine wasn't the only one on the earth, So by degrees I began to mention him less and less and now hardly at all. I don't ask him any more questions and I do not believe that Napoleon crossed the Delaware. But I still and always will think of him as the finest and brightest brother in all the world. lmrfmf :rr

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GOLD AND WHITE ygea----tl the ad drive until a few disappointments are turned into successes. You get a few ads, many promises and still more maybes . Your colleagues do like- wise until the year hook linally goes to press. And when you see the precious book you realize that going for ads wasn't so terrible since by your efforts you have helped produce the memorable volume and perhaps gained a little poise and self confidence, besides. Sisters And Lockers By MARGARET CAsAssA ISTERS generally enjoy one another's company -at a distance, but partnerships often prove disastrous-especially in a little two by four locker. It has always been a source of mystery to me how one can ex- pect two girls-sisters at that--to occupy the same locker and retain their mental equilibrium. My sister Katherine and I have occupied the same locker for a year and a half and we only hope that we can persevere until May, when we shall be released from our bondage. Our locker is in the darkest corner of the hall and it is only by feeling about and having everything fall out that we ever find what we are looking for. This is an example of what goes on in the morning: Katherine usually arrives at school first, gets her books from the locker and hangs up her coat and hat. When I arrive with about half a minute to spare, I open the locker and the first thing that greets me is a pile of books dropping out on the floor at my feet and her hat tumbling after. After gathering them up and trying to restore order I take off my coat and hat and hang them up. My hat bumps Kay's and then they both drop to the floor. This means picking them up and placing them in such a position that they won't topple out again-at least not while I'm looking. During all this procedure the bell has rung and I am no nearer answering it than when I first arrived at school. Just as I think I am about ready to close the locker, one of the coats, as if to mock me, pokes its nose out in the way of the door, which necessitates my pushing it back and shutting the door before the coat has a chance to dangle out again. You can imagine my em- barrassment when I walk into class three minutes late. To add to the confusion, two sisters have the locker next to ours, which means that four people are trying to occupy space that was originally intended for two. Two may be able to live as cheaply as one but they certainly can't live as comfortably. On Rumble Seats By LILLIAN ARATA Y BONES ache in every joint and my whole body is warped and bent. My hair hangs in straw-like wisps around my face. There are dark circles under my eyes and my once unblemished skin is a pasty mud-yellow. I-Iuge, brown freckles blaze forth in stark reality from my fore- head: my youth, my vitality are gone and I am a physical wreck. A physical wreck-and all because I tried to be agreeable. Forty-six