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

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AMERICA LEA ICZKOVITS, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL I had heard many admiring remarks about America as a country of beauty, of largeness, commercial development, etc. But about the high level of education and art I did not hear anything. When I finally arrived, I was impressed mainly by these aspects. I did not pay much attention to the beautiful places of this big city, because it appeared to be natural after hearing so many enthusiastic descriptions from people who had visited here. It surprised me much more that New York itself is such a big center of education and art. To be honest, I wasn ' t so happy to come here at first as everybody emphasized to me when they heard that I wanted to attend college here: If you want to enjoy your life; go to New York, but if you want to study seriously, go to England. As soon as I arrived here, I realized how much people can be mistaken. Wherever I turned, I saw adults as well as children anxious to study and progress. First, a very interesting thing caught my eye here, particularly because I never before saw anything similar to it, although I passed through many civilized countries. I never saw people who wanted to learn, read, and visit museums and all sorts of educational assemblies as here in New York. In the subways, in buses, people read even in standing position. After watching the material that those people devour like hungry wolves, I found out that many other beliefs of the people were wrong. The greatest percentage of citizens read good readings, and not those cheap stories that were attributed to them. As for musical development I learned that the U. S. A. is not filled only with cheap music. Even in Radio City Music Hall one can hear fine musical pieces played bv an outstanding orchestra. Even television helped me to learn much about the common American citizen ' s educational interest in various fields such as poetry, history, literature, music, paintings, etc. Quickly I destroyed the whole line of challenges about Americans. Another example would be the statement that people who were born here don ' t speak any other language except their own mother tongue. To disprove this, I found out after investigating thoroughly, that one who finished high school has to learn a foreign language at least for two years. Therefore, most people, at least the same percent as in other countries, know one or more foreign languages. When I attended school I was convinced completely that my attitude toward America was wrong. I imagined girls would have no educational interest and, instead, I met intelligent students, well-educated in various fields, who were willing to learn and succeed in their way. Two things I learned from this. First, never again will I take any one ' s word in advance. Second, to form an opinion it is not enough to hear and see from a distance, but one ought to investigate thoroughly and then to form an opinion and criticize. To apologize for my early thoughts I can only say that one can consider herself fortunate to come to the United States, get a balanced education and, have fun, especially at Stern College! The original flavor of the Israeli style has been retained in the writing of both Miss Iczkovits and Miss Fromer (on the following page). COLLECTORS SELMA STILLMAN The world is full of collectors — These things may interest some others, Of clippings and cameras and cars, But I have intangible hies Of miniature ships and old paper clips Of happiness sparks from witty remarks — And historical surgical scars. I ' m a collector of smiles . 20

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The next day she and her parents went to visit her uncle who lived in the country, and they spent Saturday and Sunday there. She felt a little sad when the weekend had finished, because that marked the end of summer for her. School would begin and she knew she might never get to see Fred again. Of course she could drop into the drugstore on the way back from school, but then perhaps he would leave town now that a new season had started — ■ and besides, he did know where she lived. It would be wonderful if he did stay in town and if he accompanied her to and from school every day. She would proudly stroll by and show off her handsome and wonderful friend. Monday morning she thought about her walk to school. Her two friends Jo Ann and Betty would come along giggling and skipping up to her door and tell her to hurry or they might be late to school. It would be so much nicer if Fred could walk with her. Somehow she wanted and needed that kind of companionship now. Her mother told her to stop daydreaming and to finish her breakfast. The girls arrived right on time . . . they always came on time, it seemed. Somehow the first day of school didn ' t seem quite so exciting as she had expected. She slipped into her jacket and picked up her books . . . then she saw him approaching the house. Oh joy! She could walk with him after all. Her mother wondered at the strange look on her daughter ' s face. What are you staring at, Daphne? It ' s Fred . . . Oh Mother, it ' s Fred. Isn ' t he handsome! Isn ' t he wonderful! Her two friends stopped short as the fleeting figure dashed up to Daphne and greeted her quite joyfully. Mother — Jo Ann — Betty . . . This is Fred! Fred happily acknowledged the greeting. So this is why you ' ve been acting so strangely lately! Daphne ' s mother exclaimed. Yes, Mother, Daphne answered. At last I ' ve found the one I want. The mother smiled and thought profoundly about the girls prancing gaily off to school together, and a third — her Daphne — entrancingly engrossed in her wonderful Fred, who furiously wagged his tail and barked in glee. THE SABBATH RHODA L. GLYN, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND The seventh day! The glorious Sabbath Queen Tiptoeing softly on the threshold of my home Bearing her gift from the Almighty above Our Sabbath most holy, a sign of His love. There ' s a present of rest and of thankfulness too. Of joy and remembrance of what ' s happened to you. All week under strain with the drudge of each day The thought of the Sabbath washes troubles away. Each Sabbath day the glory of G-d Sheds its light upon my house As the candles flicker, their flames so bright. Give us reason to bless this precious sight. Relaxed and composed from the tasks of the week. Renewed by the quiet and peace that we seek, The poor, the rich, the young, the old, Can share its glory, more worthy than gold. Happy are we who were chosen by G-d. To enjoy such a holy and precious day. V!

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THE BARREL-ORGAN TAMAR FROMER, TEL AVIV, ISRAEL On the Rue de Richelieu every day, one can meet a middle-aged gentleman, walking toward the Champs Elysees. In summer he dressed in a wonderful gray suit, from the best tailor, shoes shining like mirrors, and a worn out top-hat. The gentle- man ' s face had a ruddy complexion, grizzled side whiskers, and grayish gentle eyes. He walked bent over, keeping his hands in his pockets. In fine weather, he carried under his armpit a cane; on a cloudy day he bore a silk umbrella. He was alwavs deep in thought, and walked slowly. While walking, he gave the right of way to everybody, with a smiling face. When he noticed a beautiful woman, he put on his eye-glasses in order to admire her. Doing it phlegmatically, he always became disappointed. This gentleman was Monsieur Tomas. Monsieur Tomas had strolled for the past thirty years along the Rue de Richelieu, and sometimes he thought, How many things have changed here. As a young lawyer, he rushed as the wind; he was merry, talkative, straightforward, and had a crop of hair and a big mustache. While young, he was deeply attracted to art, but most of his time he devoted to women, which had been his biggest passion. He was very fortunate with them, but he could not find time to marry, being constantly busy with Fifi, Loulou, Mimi, and other beauties. Getting his Ph.D. as a lawyer, Monsieur Tomas rid himself o f his youthful fever, and his attitude to life became more serious, to the extent that he even considered marrying. He had a fortune, many possessions, and a reputation of an art lover. He even rented an apartment of six rooms, furniture made in the style of Louis XV, decorated the rooms magnificently and he looked for a wife. But it was hard for him to choose the right woman. This one was too young, the other he knew too long, the third was just perfect except that she lacked temperament, the fourth one who waited for Mon- sieur Tomas married someone else . . . Yet Monsieur Tomas did not mind, as he felt there remained a lot of other women in the world. He began to take more and more care of his apartment, changed the furniture, bought paintings, replaced the mirrors. His apartment became famous. Unintentionally, he created in his flat an art gallery, which was visited by his friends and acquaintances. Being a wonderful host, and known as a lover of art and music, he organized in his home concert-evenings, and the elite of the Parisian society gathered in his salon. Monsieur Tomas was at the peak of his social career and he dreamed only of a wife. Once at one of his famous parties a young Aphrodite, admiring the salon, exclaimed, What wonderful paintings! The wife of Monsieur Tomas will be very happy. If happiness for a wife are paintings, answered a friend of the host merrily. The salon vibrated with life. Monsieur Tomas smiled bitterly, and since then, whenever anyone mentioned marriage to him, he carelessly waved his hand, saying, Ahem, no! In this period of his life he shaved his mustache, and grew side burns. He talked respectfully of women, and even of their weaknesses he had much toleration. Not expecting much of life, he abandoned his practice and now he concentrated all his thoughts upon and devoted his tender feelings to art, which became the essence of his life. But as any mortal is not free from idiosyncracies, so Monsieur Tomas had his share. He had a strange hate for the barrel-organ and the organ grinders. When Monsieur Tomas occasionally heard a barrel-organ on the street, he quickened his pace, and lost his temper. He, a level-headed, gentle and quiet man, was driven insane upon the sound of the barrel-organ. He did not keep this weak point secret and explained: Music is the most tender emotion of the spirit and has eternal beauty. In the barrel-organ this subtle art changes into a vulgar technical machine, wirh ordinary sounds. These sounds madden me. I am living only one life and I shall not waste it for hearing his hideous music. Somebody malicious, knowing of this reluctance of the lawyer, played a very unpleasant joke, by sending two organ grinders to play under his window. Monsieur 21