St Rose Academy - Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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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

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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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Gorn AND WHIT'E Little did I realize what I was saying when, finding that we were rather crowded as to seating space, I obligingly offered to sit in the rumble seat. 'AlVlother, I said sweetly to my somewhat surprised maternal parent, Hif there's not much room I'll sit in the rumble seat. I won't mind a bit. What inno- cent words, what an innocent intention-but what a final, hideous disillu- sionmentll Not even when I was rudely hoisted into the seat by my companion did I realize what I had freely condescended to undertake, I snuggled down and let the wind ruffle my hair and blow the color into my cheeks. I laughed and pronounced it 'Akeen funf And even later when my legs had a stiff, cramped feeling and I felt un- usually grimy all over I said it was all right and I managed to smile. I bore it all with patient endurance until we started to climb the moun- tains. Up and up we climbed, we skidded, we swerved, in and out, around and back, from side to side with a slow, steady, sickening motion. Lower and lower I sank while my head whirled with the movement of the rumble seat. And all the time my companion, who had a copious imagination and a continually empty stomach, talked unceasingly of food: Of nice juicy steak, oozing luscious gravy, of potatoes, of pie. On and on he raved while we swayed back and forth around the curves, slowly, swishingly, but surely. He reached the ice cream stage when my mistreated spirit would allow no more. Feebly I raised a hand in protest and murmured to him to stop, lest I should die on the spot. I closed my leaden eyes and for fifteen blessed minutes my weary body rested and I slept. I slept-and woke at the journey's end to find myself a wreck, a hideous, drab person, utterly devoid of beauty, with a broken spirit and an absolute horror of rumble seats. And even now, two days since my memorable ride, its traces are still upon me. I cower at the mere mention of them, a far-away look comes into my eyes and in a gasping breath I strangely murmur, 1 'Rumble seats, ah yes, rumble seats. On Getting Up In The Morning By GRETCHEN L1Ns DON'T mean Saturday morning, I tell you right now. I mean Mon- day, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. Even as I say this a picture comes to my mind. It is seven o'clock in the morning. The bed never was so comfortable before. I lie there so cozy: life is one vague happy dream. I feel like a cat that has just licked up a dish of cream. ThenF-brr--- brr---brr---brr---brr. My dream vanishes. Life in all its cold, stark reality faces me. Oh, that alarm clock! I gingerly stretch out one arm, grasp the alarm clock with an exclamation dangerously nearing profanity, and shut the annoying thing off. Peace. I try to delude myself into a state of happiness once again. 'APerhaps it's Saturday .... Why, yes, I'm quite sure it is. Didn't I fail in history yesterday and wasn't that Friday? Yes, it certainly must be Saturday. I know all the time that I'm just fooling myself but strangely enough it seems to comfort me. Pretty soon I feel happy again. Then-plump - bang - bump! The last vestige of my dream vanishes. I hear Mary-that's my sister-crawling out of lied. I lie there, trying to Forty-seven