Stern College for Women - Kochaviah Yearbook (New York, NY)

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almost a romance by EVA DIER The boat tilted tantalizingly as Amy struggled at the oars. With each stroke her breath came in shorter puffs, but she flung her head back defiantly and fought on. She must not let the girls suspect that their glances at each other and affected giggles, accompanied by delib- erate rocking of the boat, disturbed her. She gazed across the dark green ripples of the lake to the rich, brown, muddy bank and freshly smelling woods beyond, and tried to forget the girls. Other boats glided past filled with couples and trios of her lighthearted classmates. A group of colorful mallards caught Amy ' s eye, the ducklings swimming noiselessly and obediently in a V shape behind their well-rounded mother. She drank in the invigorating air, and lelt like pulling rhythmically, healthfully at the oars, when she remembered. Anger welled up within her with the girls. Well she compre- hended their motives. She knew they were dying for the attention of the male members of the class. Of course, she also would have loved to. But it was not in her to behave as they did, and she could not forgive them. Why couldn ' t they be satisfied as she could be, languid- ly rowing on the calm, mirror lake? No! they must have romance. At least they could have concealed their motive a little better! But they were displaying tiieir most conspicuous behaviour, while- Amy sat silent. She wouldn ' t stoop to such open flirtation. If the boys wanted to come to them, well they would come themselves! But just the same she was embarrassed sitting among them. The girls sensed her mood and just to tease her, swung the boai dangerously to the side. Suddenly Amy was not going to be made a fool of anymore. Here, you want to row.- ' ' She handed the oars to one of the girls .t n immed- iately the boat rode evenly again in a determined search for some object ot interest. Amy lay back absently. For her there was only one such object hidden in the bottom of her heart. The splash tit watei playing against the boat ' s sides, the oc- casional caw-caw ot a now rending the air, the swish t a weeping willow slow- |y swaying in the breeze fell upon her ear like faraway music, There he rose before her eyes and filled her thoughts: tall, straight, athletic; a bright, fresh, young face; black eyes that could turn soft and velvety brown when she looked into them — eyes that laughed back into hers; and smooth black hair to match. Whenever Ronnie spoke to her, Amy ' s temperature rose a couple of de- grees. When he smiled to her all over his face, he seemed to be smiling just for her. Amy loved to be with him. They always found something to talk about. The fact that she was different from othet girls had interested him in her. He thought her a fine person, but — any- thing else? Amy wondered. She knew he liked her, but that knowledge alone wasn ' t enough. Amy longed for a real friendship with him. You couldn ' t just go up to a boy you liked, however, and ask him to be friends with you. For that reason, the school dance that had just passed turn into a failure for Amy. All the girls in the class had invited outside boys, but she was so taken up with Ronnie that she had asked no one. And he hadn ' t gone either. Why? Certainly not because he didn ' t want to. But she could not bring herself to ask hh)i. It seemed to her that she ' d known him for a lifetime. Her whole life revolved around him. And he didn ' t know it. Not a bit of it. Amy woke from her reverie with a start. Now was her chance to let him know, to get out of this dreaming and to translate it into reality. This will be a dream come true, on this lovely lake . . . but now she was interrupted from her resolutions by the outside world. They were heading straight for a collision. Didn ' t they know how to steer? Amy asked herself, annoyed once more. Or were they doing it purposely.- ' Well, she wouldn ' t warn them. They could see as well as she could. Amy helplessly scanned the occupants of the boat as they shot toward it. All that was visible was a broad white back, yet untouched by the mild June sun. Two heals were bending over something in- tently in the boat. Amy ' s pulse quickened. One of the heads was unmistakably black and sleek. RONNIE! Met heart spelled it otit in loud thumps. Somehow she didn ' t wish to Stop anymore. She wanted passionately to bump into them. Nearer and nearer the boat sped, and Amy. seated in the nose, would be the one to DUSh them tt Hei hand would be mi-

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BY ANNE ROSENBAUM One score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new college, conceived in Judaism, and dedicated to the proposition that all young men should be able to study for smicha and attend college classes in the same edifice. Now we are engaged in a great undertaking, testing whether this college, or any other college so conceived and so dedicated can long endure a co-ed division. We are met on a campus of that college. We have come to designate a portion of that college as a conference room for those who here give of their time so that the Student Council might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we cannot designate, — we cannot dedicate, — we cannot dominate, this college. The brave men, who donated of their time and money, have consecrated Stern College, far beyond our poor power to add or detract. Perhaps the University will little note, nor long remember what we do here, but it can never forget that we are here. It is for us, the student body, rather to be dedicated here to the started work which they who donated have thus far so nobly begun. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, — that from these honored men we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion, that we here highly resolve that these men shall not have donated in vain — that this college, under Doctor Belkin, shall have a new Student Council and that government of the students, by the students, for the students, shall not vanish from Lexington Avenue.

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believably close to Ronnie ' s. She held her breath, while the world stopped and she waited, conscious only of the tense- ness in her ears. But it was Ronnie who stuck out his hand firmly to ward them off, and then promptly bent his head again, as the girls ' boat drew up along-side the boys ' . Their unconcealed flirtation was directed to win Ronnie now. None of it, however evoked any response from him. They were acting disgracefully to Amy ' s mind, under these conditions. For the boys utterly ignored their pointed comments, acting as if they weren ' t there at all. Amy would hive immediately rowed away at such a re- ception if she could have. But these girls weren ' t to be outdone so easily. Such tactlessness! Their coy remarks clearly begged Ronnie for an answer. Not a stir from Ronie ' s stolid face, though. He remained unruffled. Amy ' s heart was playing leap frog within her all the while. She urgently yearned to say something clever. But what? Tell the girls to go off? She fidgeted uneasily, suddenly self-conscious and ashamed of the girls. How could she show Ronnie somerhing of herself? By now Ronnie evinced impatience. He looked menacingly, first to the right, then to the left, picked up his oars, and started to row toward the girls. That was enough. The girls fled like tats from a chasing hound, not because they were afraid, but because they realized it wasn ' t worth the trouble. No use to flirt with a stone wall. But Amy was burning red inside of her. She warched like a spectator, as if this were a play in which she had no part. Never had anything seemed so un- real to her. This meeting was everything really. She ought to have said something to impress him here. This was her chance and she had bungled horribly. This was more than a quick smile, or a passing conversation in the halls of school . . . A deep feeling of loneliness slowly crept through her. Her life was so dull: school, homework, house chores, sleep, girlfriends, gossip, school again, and so on in an endless round. No time for all the things she dreamed of. Where was that excitement she read about in books, saw in the movies? Where the thrills.- ' Would they ever come to her? And the fast widening expanse of water between the boats reflected its own an- swer in the gentle lilt of a thousand little waves dancing in the sunlight. on bodies of water by RENAH MESCHELOFF Bodies of water, even like people, are subject to moods, and each mood is de- pendent on the surroundings, colors, size. In my home, Miami Beach, the artificial, superficial, hypocritical city of the South, the ocean is real, genuine and it speaks to me of gayness, relaxation, calm. The golden sands reflect the sun whose beams dance on the shore, now blind-bold and now, as a cloudlet passes before the mother light, shy-soft. The ocean roars at the shore and finding it unfrightened, comes to caress its whiteness, bubbling and frothing in joy; soothing, musical to the ear and mind. People walk together and talk together, laughing in the heat; dipping their toes in the cooling water; pushing, splashing, swimming, diving like a school of porpoises; bouncing, bobbing among the rollicking waves. One summer the family unanimously decided to spend our summer in the Northern countryside. We rented a bungalow in a popular section of Upstate New York and moved in. Being infected with a spirit of adventure, 1 set our to explore my new surroundings. A green forest stretched otit behind our cabin and several entrances to its depths teased me until I could no longer resist entering this green mansion . My path was carpeted with soft, damp leaves whose continuity was de-