Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

 - Class of 1948

Page 1 of 84

 

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1948 Edition, Cover
Cover



Page 6, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 7, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 6 - 7

Page 10, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 11, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 10 - 11

Page 14, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 15, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 14 - 15

Page 8, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 9, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 8 - 9
Page 12, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 13, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 12 - 13
Page 16, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collectionPage 17, 1948 Edition, Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection
Pages 16 - 17

Text from Pages 1 - 84 of the 1948 volume:

'v A THE Omicau ipEOI'iC3 of THE SUNFIIT SCHOGL By its students Newly imprinted anal enlarged to 311110132 i cl as much aoaiue asi was, accor inc' S , 5 1:0 Juke, 'tI'l1C ami Per!-seclz Comme. ig?b x ff, cg 4-1,2 vw Kiwi 29, W h.. ,milf 'X P94 mi? AT SAINT PAUL, , IVUNNESUTA June , 1943 Gfaalness is sown for the upvigfzt in heart. T H E F LA M E -L,-,,,,,..J In grateful recognition of all she has done for them, the senior class of 1948 ciedicates this Flame to Helen Busyn. THE FLAME THE FACULTY SARAH CONVERSE Ileadmistfess V THE FLAME mmm Nlwr-.R Ru' Cl 1 1'lxc: AXNN1- H1JLLl'.R -QM. , - -. .www Ii.X'1'HLEl'.N Lm'1,'1 1' NIILDRMJ lilmwx ,-XR1,1x1L Xn.'1 1'1-,14m'1x h:LlPll.Xl. Nuixmm NfILlJRl:lJ l'1Pl.l: jxm-fl' IDIIILMAN 'SLP' 'wasp- ,M IRNA FRA51-.14 Q,L.x1u-. I',x1s1.1la BIFRII-.l. LI-.llill lfumlu-.xc:1, CHNYII4. RI I'II ,I-Illl-,llli Px'1'1c1ni1,x Slzllilikl 'T fd 23? fi k . X 4 J my 4: ffejm .W is NW l n ,.,..1 ..,A, A,v.. I A 2 In ii. ,.., I W IN, 4 . ...rf ' ' ggf5'?4N4,, N x kefgfrfigggpmg, -f AP' i13 wb,-'Ni-fwfr' 'Ns .f fi N X1 y 4fi?flew'rN ff' We zfwlii, , V , Wa, he D ...Q ,gc f M... M 5 .M 5 gi 136 1 . W X N555 :ww f 5 A V. , lf' 'ff if p----'-T-- .5 I I i x T 5 T FRANCES Homiris, LUCY l.XC1KSUN...,, RTARTIIA IIu1.1x1.xN,. , LXNXE 14.XR'I'LEY.. . P1-IYLLIS L.x1DL.m STUDENT GOVERNMENT OFFICERS Thw'e'5 no fc'ttf'1'f11g of cmlhorfly FIRST SEMESTER fr ILAN C.xRL'1'0N ,,,,,,,,,,,,, LXLEETA ENC 1-QLHI-.R'I' ANNE SE.xBL'1n',, JUDY N'IACIcQIlliClOIl IQITTY XVoL1f14, Lrcx' I.xc:KsoN ,,,,, SFSAN C.XNlXI.XCZK ,, IOAN IXDABIS ,,,,, ,..., PHYLLIS I..x1D1..xw, NANCY Nlalxll-,YI-,1:.. ELIZABETH SLAIJEU QS.-XTHERINE Mymzs SECOND SEMESTER Hd 1'to1'-1'J1fCl1in'f of The FEIINC ., ..,,,,,,,.,,F1'1'xt If l.l'C'-Pl't'5flft'l1l ,,,,Sl'l'Ol7lj Iliff'-IJ14CfXI.lfl'l1f ,,H,....,,....,,....,,TI't'tI.VZ1I'l'I' lfxcczzlfzfr SC'6'I'ClLII'y ,,,,,,,,,,,, CO-TI'L'LI,K'ltl't'I' ,,,,,,,,,,,,Rw01'd1,1zg Sc'61'c'tL1l'y '1'!1i1'fl f'x0l'f7'Z R6p1'c'xc1zt41tfz'c lid ,,,...,,,,....,,....,,....,,,...Pre51'r1'c111 IVIOI'-I-Ilfcfifff of The Flame .,,..,.,,Ff11ft Ifvllff-P7'l',Vl.liL'llf THE FLAME X ,,,,,,,Sl'l'0I1lf I'II'C't?-Pl'C'5I'lI'C'lIf ..,......,,..,..A,,...,...Trca5m'w' ,,,,,,,,,,,'1'l1I'l'd Vffc'-P1'a'.f1'dw1I ,,,..,A,,.A,, 1fl'L'0I'dl.7Ig Sl't'1'L'ftII'y Tlzird Form Rc'p1'f'sz'nZuziL'c 9 T0 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ln the 1948 Flame We offer both our apologies and our tribute to you. LUCY Iaciasox Editor THE SEVEN AGES OF A SUMMIT GIRL All our school's a stage, And all the girlish students merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, And one girl in her time plays many parts, Her acts being seven stages. First the five year old, Playing and resting in the nursery school. And then the noisy school-girl, with her satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. Then the junior high, Roaring like a furnace, or with a woeful story Tormenting all her teachers. Then the freshman, Full of strange loves and treated like a dog, Iealous of friendships, lively and warm in spirit, Seeking a grown-up reputation Even in the high school's eyes. And then the senior, In fair green jacket, with great knowledge stuffed, With look severe and clothes of latest cut, Full of Shakespeare and modern politics, And so she runs our school. The sixth age shifts Into the sad but happy graduate, With happiness on face and tear in eye, Her lovely dress, well made, almost too White For this great day. Then the last scene of all That ends this strange eventful history, Is college girl's return, mere looker on, Sans books, sans blouse, sns socks, sans everything. HELEN LUCAS T H E F LA IVI E SUSAN POPE CAMMACK NEITA COUNTRYMA . N PRESIDENT OF THE SENIOR CLASS, FIRST SENIESTER would be friends with you and have your love. I PRESIDENT OF THE SENIOR CLASS, SECOND SEINIESTER ExjJerierzce is by industry achieved. FRANCES SPARKS HOLMES CATHERINE BOWES NV I OLFF PRESIDENT OF THE STUDENTS, ASSOCIATIOI FIRST SEMESTER H'Tl167'6,S nothing ill can dwell in such a temple. THE FLAME V, PRESIDENT OF THE STUDENTS' ASSOCIATION SECOND SEMESTER The glass of fashion and the mould of form l 1 I JOAN AADATWS The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. SALLY ANN BRONSTIEN o sweet and voluble is her discourse. 12 LORENA AYERS I love . . . people. DEBORAH ELIZABETH BUTLER As merry as the day is long. THE FLAME CHARI,0'l l'l'1 Ii1.lzABE'1'11 Coma PA'nuc:lA SHARP141 CUUIQTNEY I nY'lll'1'r'fY.S a lllllgllllgl? in her eye, I, 111145 negleclirzg worldly ends, all rlmlicalef To closeness and the lmtleriazg of my mimi. 3 54' ELIAI-IN SALISBURY IDAcQc1c'1 r llm' cheek, hm' lipf! f M' SARA ANN Fl'1'zl',x'1'1uc:14 HHUU, How, wjlj U j,j,1,g,f U1nHflf1,'y0ll?U I slmll zzzfm' he iL'fll'l' of mine own wit I Izrmk my slzzns flgauzsl it. THE FLAME 13 CHARLOTTE LOUISE GARBRECHT NANCY fD'1'TlS HAIIRIS Small cheer and greg: ufeleome make Young in limbs, in judgment old. a m e1 1'y feast . ANNE HAR'1'1.EY RIARTHA CLARK HOLMAN Thou sjmakest wisev' than thou art ware of. Aly crown is in my heart, not on my head 111+ THE FLAME LUCY NORRIS JACKSON BONNIE I':I,lZABE'l'H LANGFORD 'l'l1ou has a mind that suits A nzerry 1161111 goes all the day. WIII1 llzis llzy fair and ozlfzuzlwl lff1ll'N1Cfc'fT.U Hl41I,P2N AIEANNE LUCAS MUNA RHo11EslA LUYTEN All llzings are ready, if our minds be sof' Give every man llzizm ear, 11 uf few thy voife ' THE FLAME 15 ,v...., ALICE ANN Nl'1I.SON JEAN NICLEOD MAIRS There was a star danced, That we would do, We should do when we would. and under that I was Ilowz. NIARCIA STEVENS RUSSELL CARQI. VICTORIA PEE1' Be just and fear not. I count myself in nothing else so happy, As in the soul rememlfofing my good friends. 16 THE FLAME BIOLLY SIBIPSON Dffvise, will I'VT1'l6, pen. ' NINA Momuc S'rm1Fr:1. 1x'nfmflfffIg1f the wing ZUllCT6IL'if1l we fly to lzeavcnf' c mx NIARI Ii S'1'0R141iRc: -IANXC S'l'lr:14NEY 1.mff' smlglzl is good, Ami as Ihr' lzrftqlzl .wuz glrwifies 1116 sky lful gj'ifK'Il IlHS0llglZf is Izcfllffrf' .So is lim fan' ffllllllfllyff zuiflz lim' PW THE FLAME IT VIRGINIA PERIN STRYKER MARY OAKLAND FFEASDALE 21 H 1: Let gerltlerless my SfTOHg enforcement 56. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on MILLICIQNT CANBY THOMPSON SARAH ANN XVII,I,IUs She looks as clear Kindness in women, not their As morning roses wash'd with dew. beauteous looks, shall win 'my love. 18 THE FLAME J was Q N..- We LA fx H wmiui Juniors Chosen by the Senior Class for Places of Honor in the Processional PHYLLIS LAIDLAW Senior Marshal ROXAN NE PAP 1111 Flag Bearers AUDRAE Noluus T H E F L A M E Franz row, left to righl: Scfwzzf row, Zcfl to rigfzfi link row, left I0 right: FORM V NANCY NlilBl1iX'l1Il IXUDRAE NKJIKIQIS PEGGY Hxmm :XLEETA FNcz1.1.ma1a'1 IEAN C.XIiLTl7N fYRIiTCl-ULN Rll1ll'l'IYR QiYNTHI.X lin-.R NANCX' RAM 1-.14 ANN Huuxiux LLSSER S'I'UI.'I'XIi Roxxxxh Pwlau BI.-XllG.XRl,'1' NllzTlTXI. PHYLLIS 1..'xIIJI.,XXV IVLIANY CSIKIIQUS li Fl.,-X NIE Pl FORM IV Front row, lvfl to right: Second row, left zo right: Back row, Zefz zo right: ANNE SEABURY BETH HE.LXDLEY PHYLLIS STORBIZRG IOM1 LANGFORD ELIZABETH SLADE ELEANOR BRATNOBER KATHRYN COMFORT IXAARLY DEUTSCH IUDY MOORE LYDIA AI1EIiN IERRIE CHRISTENSON CLARISSA BOCKSTRUCK POLLY BANCROFT DOROTHY fTR11fF1TH HELEN HARTFIEL ELIZABETH VON DER NIARLENE SHAPIRA ROXANNA FREFSE VVEYER THE FLAME 5 I A A . ,M 3 N M FK .5 '-. av 5 ' S X, ,l,Rg.TW., S, R If A I M X ug, ,,,, bg 3' IZ IIE A Z 3 . , Q FORM III JANE AIDTQBIS DOROTHY B151-,K NIARY ELLA QIARPLNTER CYNTHIA CLARK SALLY COOK IUDY IDAGKJI-Q'I'T IRAN IEOIYGLAS BECKY DR1scO1.1. BARBARA IIIIZLIJ PIIYLIS F1TzPA'1'R1c:K NIARY WIAQLLS Gklczczs HENIiIET'I'A IMQRSON THE FLAME LESLEE IQAPLAN CIEORGIANA IJEVVIS ICDY NIACCIREGOR IOSEPHINL IXIILL.-XRD PETLR Mouzs C.XTIIhIilNl2 NIYERS DONNA PhRL'I' BETSY ROTusc:111Ln CAROLYN RIiR1RAL'c: IENNTFLR STATS IUNTE STRINCRR NIARGARET VVINTER H FORM II DOROTHX' IXNDERSON GYKIL ANDERSON IVIARY BANCROFT SALLY BXNGHALI IANE DUNNING CH'NTHlA HOLT IIJLIANNE IQALIMAN BABB113 LANOFORD HIQLLN MCGOVERN SUSAN METZINIJEIQ ELINOIQ NIILLS CLARE MOOA SALLY MOORE CSIIARLAINIZ NlifXIiING DUSTIN PLATT SANDRA QUINN ANN SIBIPSON IANIEY WYXSIIBUIQN IUDY xVOLFF 24 T H F F IQ A as FORM I NICKY BENZ IUDITH BLAKE CYNTHIA BRACRETT NAXCY BRIZCKENRIDGE CARLA BRYCE CAROL DANlEl.S NIARY DOSDALL LAIKRA FLOAN KIRKIE Fosns QEAIL VICTOR SALLY KAT2 ANN LUYTEN CAROLINI5 MYEIQS fIlikTRUDE PEILT BETSY RAINISEY SI7sAN READ SANDRA SCIIAUII KAY STODDARD RUTH STOMS THE FLAME A FLAME BOARD 1 tznz nothing if not L'l'fZl'C'LI!.U LUCY IACKSON, Editor-in-Clzfcf Lftcrtzry Editorx, Firxt Sfmefter IDEBORAH BUTLER NANCY NEIBI1iX'llR MARCIA RUSSELL ELIZABETH SLADE MOLLY TEASDALE PHYLLIS STORBERG ILLICENT THOMPSON P1-TYLIS FITZPATRICK IXNN H.fXRbION Literary Editors, Second Sczncflfr DEBORAH BUTLER LESSER STOLTZE IOAN STORBIZRG ELEANOR BRATNOBILR IVIOLLY 'TILASDALE HELEN I'IARTFIliL PEGGY I-IAMM ILNNIFIER STATS ,ANN I'IARINION NIOLLY TEASDALE, Art Editor IOAN STORBERG, Snapshot Editor FRANCES HOLMES, Business Manager MARGARET SPICER, Faculty Ad'zf1'sc'r BETTY LOU IONES, Faculty Art Adviser THE FLAME ' 1121 HARVEY'S SKATING RINK HE familiar neighborhood had been presented with a coat of ermine whiteness, and the snow still tumbled down like a heavy cascade of soap chips. In the vacant lot across the street I could see two dark figures, barely visible through the mist of swirling snowflakes, but I knew that the figures were those of Harvey Anderson and his dog. Harvey was somewhat older than most of the kids in the block, and he didn't have any friends except his dog. As the neighborhood boys would say, tapping their heads significantly, 'KHarvey's cm-zyf' I don't suppose he was really crazy. He just didnlt do things the way most people did. In the summertime Harvey kept a tulip bed for his crippled mother, and he used to sit in the garden for hours, just talking with her. Once he made a lemonade stand in front of his house, but Rex Markham came and put salt in the lemonade. Harvey's dog was an old black chow named Paul. His eyes were dim and half blind, and one of his legs was withered and useless. He was shunned by the other dogs in the vicinity-just another outcast and well suited to his master. The snowflakes swirled in front of my eyes. I waded through the deep white drifts and crossed over to the vacant lot. Harvey was busily shoveling the snow off the ground, although it almost seemed as if it fell as fast as he shoveled. 'AWhat're ya doing?,' I demanded somewhat scornfully. Harvey stared at me out of small, deep set eyes, and then he said slowly, 'KI am making a skating rinkf, His voice was a hoarse, half whisper as if speaking the words hurt his throat. What for?,' He pushed a profusion of black hair from his forehead and leaned against the shovel to think it over. As he stood there, I noticed the safety pins on his overcoat where the buttons were missing. VVhat for?'7 he replied presently. Why, so's I can learn to skate, of course! Huhl You'll never learn to skate! You're too .... 5' YVithout finishing the sentence I turned my back on him and trundled off to join a group of my little play- mates. Harvey picked up the shovel and renewed his work. Every day Harvey labored on his skating rink. First, he cleared away all the snow within a certain area, and then he built a wall of packed ice around his clearing. Sometimes Mrs. Anderson would watch him from the window, and sometimes the boys THE FLAME 27 would come over to taunt Harvey while he worked, but mostly they didn't bother him much. Then at last it was time to begin the Hooding of the rink. This was a tedious job, but Harvey had more patience than most boys of his age. Every evening he would drag out a long hose and give the rink a coat of water, and then the next day when it was frozen, he would sprinkle it again. It was a job that required nearly a Week to Hnish, but Harvey kept at it diligently. And then one morning it was done! It had snowed daintily the night before. The trees had slipped their fingers into sparkling gloves of snow, and every house wore a white cap. Pulling my scarf up around my face, I galloped over to the vacant lot where Harvey was sitting with one arm around Paul. Hello Moll-eee,', he said, without looking at me. Hi! Gee, your rink is swell, Harveyli' Perhaps my friendliness was prompted by the fact that I liked to skate. Do you really think it's good?,' he whispered eagerly as he buckled one of his large overshoes. Yeah, It was a nice rink. Harvey had swept it clean and piled the snow neatly around the edge. It was as smooth as glass, and you could see a vague reflection of the chimney tops with wisps of lazy smoke curling skyward over the white landscape. lt's neatf' I aliirmed. Harvey sighed happily and smiled at his mother in the window. as as as as as A moment ago we had been alone in the lot, but now there was a troop of noisy boys mussing up the clean snow. That's a nice skating rink you've got there,', taunted Rex Markham. Rex was the ringleader of this little group, and although he was somewhat younger than Harvey, he spoke as one who deemed himself superior. Harvey only blinked stupidly without replying, so I volunteered hopefully, Harvey says we can all skate on it! That's nice! snapped Rex, still staring scornfully at Harvey. Then I noticed that all the boys were armed with shovels and pickaxes. Suddenly Harvey was brushed impatiently aside, and the boys swarmed upon the rink. It was horrible to see. Screaming derisively at their victim, they chopped the ice Hercely, utterly ruining all that Harvey had worked so hard to make. Harvey did not say a word, he just stood and watched them, staring blankly. The ice crunched and cracked, and the boys yelled shrilly with vicious delight. Once Paul made an effort to stop the destruction, but Rex kicked him hard and the poor dog limped away with his tail between his legs. I sobbed loudly and then turned and Hed home. The snow came silently and heavily that night, and by morning a soft white blanket covered completely all that remained of Harveyis skating rink. It was just as well. MOLLY SIMPSON Form VI THE FIRE The Hreis fingers reach up and greedily grab. They clutch and grasp at nothing. You feed it, and it becomes more hungry. It sizzles and crackles like some fierce demon. Lights of all colors dance up and down. Then slowly it Withers and dies away to red-hot embers And fades into lifeless ashes. IUDY BLAKE Form I 28 THE FLAME K 0 THE LAKE J The lake grows impatient -. v 1 , 7409? When strong winds blow J W' A And angrily, madly, pulls up A Seaweed, and tosses it about, ii Until, pulled by the white-topped waves, Q It tosses them onto the shore. ' The lake is quiet I J ' if . When no winds blow, . And stares up peacefully, quietly, ' A H' At the deep, velvety blue, serene sky. 4 fy Then silently, lazily, the seaweed drifts '91 Back, and the fishes sleep. :NVQ GERTRUDE PEET Form 1 OUR FAVORITE PLACE S MY horse plodded along the deserted road, I assured myself that there was nothing comparable to summer in New York State. We turned on to another country road, revealing a well kept little farmhouse shaded by maples and elms and sur- rounded by a sturdy, white-washed fence. On this special day my great-uncle's house was not our destination, so, waving to anyone who may have been watching, I went on down the winding path to the milk house. VVe stopped, and I led my horse to drink at the trough and rushed into the small milk house. The dipper as usual hung by the door, and I knelt on the damp cement floor to drink from the icy cold water. At length we continued our journey past the barn, empty now but for a mooing cow and her young calf. By the drone of the tractor in the distance, I could tell that the first cauliflower seeds of the season were being planted. The cows were at pasture, and I reminded myself of the fun there would be if I returned in time to help call them in. Leisurely we went on, leaving the buildings behind and coming to that part of the farm I remembered to be best of all, the low moving brook with its bridge that made strange noises when it was crossed. We stopped again. Nothing could hurry us today with a whole delicious afternoon ahead. I slid down the banks to the lively stream, remembering as I did so all the picnics we used to have in that very same spot. Laugh- ingly I recalled our attempts at swimming in the ankle-deep water with swim suits that made our parents smile. By now I had discarded my boots and was wiggling my toes about in the refreshing water, feeling happy as I had never felt before. A spritely sandpiper was Hitting from rock to pebble on the opposite edge of the brook. The watching of these daring hops kept my dosing horse awake. Again we started down the road. We jumped fence after fence and at length were ascending the hill. Soon I would catch my first glimpse of my father's favorite place. Yes, there it was, the enormous elm tree in front just as it had been described to me. I remembered the snapshot of my father as a little boy, sitting under that same tree sur- rounded by five or six romping puppies. From what I could see now of the friendly looking, solid old white colonial house, I could understand perfectly why my father had spent many of his younger days up at his grandfather's home. VVQ circled the empty house and found behind it another rail fence which led on up THE FLAME 29 Q. 1 into the higher fields and pastures. I had soon opened the gate, and we cantered through, eager to reach the highest point. Next there was an orchard, and as I was stuffing my jacket pockets with apples, I turned around intending to look back over the valley at the sights which I had been told about time and time again. I stopped myself quickly. Not until we had climbed to the very top, must I look at the beautiful scene. Finally we were jumping the last fence. Rail fences by this time were far behind, and stone ones, tumbling in their age but adding to the rusticness of the land, were to be found everywhere. After galloping ,round and 'round the last field, we stopped in a far corner to rest. I looked down toward the valley and caught my breath at the sight. The little village was so completely covered with trees that the tall white Steeple of the church alone rose through acres of Huffy tree tops. The sun's reflection on the surrounding hilltops and farmhouses made everything bright and cheerful. The only sounds were those indis- cernible ones of a late summer afternoon in the country. Bees were humming, and an occasional car motor could be heard in the distance. My father had been right when he had suggested this trip up to the old farm alone. It had quickly become my favorite place, too. I arose, rolled my overalls to my knees and walked about. For a long time I must have stayed and rested there. I noticed that the golden windows had faded, and I heard the church bell call the villagers to evening services. I watched the golden hills and farms slowly become rosy, as dusk fell over the loveliest place in my world. PHYLLIS LAIDLAW Form V AFTER THOUGHTS HE day was starting, a typical early summer day in Virginia. The sky was as blue as the back of the bluebird which perched on the Mountain Laurel bush outside my bed- room window. The air was heavy with the scent of magnolia, and a hint of night bloom- ing jasmine could be detected. Far down the street I heard the chant of the Negro fruit seller, I got oranges, fresh sweet orangesln In our front yard a hawker had stopped to strip the wrapping of wet plantain leaves from his large watermelons. He picked up a long knife and slit one of the plump green melons in half. He held the dripping slice of shocking pink high in the air for all the wide-eyed children to see, and then, with deft slash of the knife, portioned it out to the wistful spectators. I ran out of the house and across the lawn, the dew-kissed blades of grass tickling my bare feet as I ran. I climbed the hill which rose behind our house and there I sat to Watch the day go on. Far down the hill on the other side lay a field of rich purple clover and beyond that a green forest. It was just a small clump of trees with a stream running through it, but I loved it. Beyond that, I knew, was a white highway and a bridge stretching over the Potomac River leading into Washington, D. C. But I didn't want to think of that, not today. I got up and went into the house, slowly up the stairs into my room. I closed the doors and the windows trying to shut out the smell of magnolia and the cries of the children. I had to pack. We were leaving Virginia that afternoon. JENNIFER STATS Form Ill 30 THE FLAME XX THE PLACE WALKED as swiftly as I possibly could through the path that turned farther and farther away from our cottage. I could barely see the newly-painted white cottage with its red roof and trimming, and at that moment I didnit particularly care. I was being a 'iprima donnaf, Thatis what my father calls me when I go off on a rampage. The only person I want to be with, then, is myself. It all started when Mom and Dad kept referring to me as their Hlittle adolescentfi I hate that word and they knew it. It seemed silly now, here in the place.', Trifles seem even more so in the face of some- thing simple yet important. The 'Kplacen was just that-something simple yet you had the feeling that it was very, very important. My conscience protested even more when I recalled how I had refused to let Mitzi follow me. Being a dog, she was the easiest object for me to prove my supremacy over, and I took advantage of her by locking her up. I wished that she were here now so that the Hplacen might be shared with her. She would have loved to poke her nose into every hole and corner, barking at every beetle and bug that came her way. The uplacei' was a special clearing in the woods which was invisible except for the now well-worn path. Its trees were a little smaller than all the rest, and they seemed to beckon to the sun which streamed through their green branches. There were many different kinds of woods, and the fragrance varied from that of a cedar chest to the fresh, tingling smell of the pine. The ground was covered with cones and leaves which crackled at every step. An old tree stump stood in the very center of the clearing, and all around it grew tiny little mushrooms. As I sat in the warmth of the sun, I could feel the heat penetrating through my body. The sun welcomed me into its rays, and I gladly accepted its welcome. I felt completely oblivious to everything but the 'Lplacef' I had no parents, no dog, nor a home in the city. I had never heard of the word adolescent. I had reached the 'Kplacef' and nothing could ever convince me to leave it. AUDRAE NORRIS Form V FROM MY WINDOW S I look out of the window from the upper bunk in the guest cabin at the lake, I can see the mist slowly rising from the crystal clear water. On the right, the island is Haming with the brilliant colors of Indian Summer. I know it is early because I can hear the deer rustling through the blanket of crimson leaves covering the ground. When I shift my gaze to the left, I can see the lazy curls of smoke slowly drifting skyward. The fire in the fireplace of the main cabin is burning away at a lusty rate. I now hear the patter of the chipmunk's tiny feet. As he leaves his perch in the oak tree outside my window, he lands on the roof and starts off in search of breakfast. In the distance I hear the mournful wails of the racoons as they too look for food. Now, as the mist clears, the sparkling water starts to ripple on its way. Visible through the branches of the somber pine trees is the sun slowly rising in the East. As it rises, it spreads its warm glow over the whole lake. Now a neighbor starts his motor boat and chugs down the lake to the sunfish hole. On the way past our cabin he scares a blue heron, who has been standing near the shore. Suddenly the heron rises and takes off and glides over the dazzling water for parts un- known. The lake and surrounding territory come to life all at once. I slowly get up and start for the main cabin, thinking of the good breakfast awaiting me. DOROTHY BEEK Form III 32 THE FLAME L'ETE En ete, nous avons les vacances. Clest le meilleur temps, je pense! Alors je nage dans la fraicbe eau, Ou je vais dans un grand bateau. A A , . . , xx 'Sl xxx ,A Iaime aussi monter a Cheval, ilzyixyg X Et quelque fois jouer 51 la balie. 1 pg -,g 71 W9 Ie m'amuse tres tres bien, K x X I Et je suis triste quand c'est la Hn. X :IX 71 'A CATHY MYERS X up X 711.5 Form III -A -A 1- X CE OUI ARBIVE QUAND LA MERE N'EST PAS A LA MAISON UAND ma mere n'est pas la maison, la vie est tres clilficile. Voici ce qui arrive: Le matin, mon pere me reveille, l'byllisse, leve-toi. Depeche-toi. Pbyllisselw Ie me leve en sursautg ie sais que je ne peux plus dormir comme les autres matins. Il faut que ie prepare le deieuner pour mon petit frere qui mange beaucoup. D'abord il faut le reveiller. Chose tlilficile! Il est tlifficile fi reveiller comme sa soeur. Le soir, apres l'ecole, il faut preparer le diner. Une fois, j'ai fait cuire un gateau. Peine perrlne! Ce gateau est encore dans la cuisine, vieux et dur. Personne n'en mange. Ma famille sait maintenant que leur Phyllisse ne sera jamais une bonne cuisiniere. Quand ma mere est chez nous, elle fait boire clu lait fi mon frere, et le laitier nous apporte beaucoup de lait. Depuis le depart cle ma mere, les litres se sont empiles ai la porte de clerriere. A present, il y en a clix ou douze, et personne n'en boit. Mon pere et mon frere seront tres beureux cle revoir ma mere, et moi plus encore! PHYLLIS LAIDLAXV Form V SI J'AVAIS UN FREBE 'AIMERAIS avoir un frere. I'ai une petite soeur qui a onze ans et demi, mais j'aimerais avoir un frere. Mon frere s'appellerait Robert. ll aurait dix neuf ans. Il serait grand, sombre, et beau avec des cbeveux bruns. Ses yeux seraient gris et il aurait dc longs cils frises. Robert aimerait le football, le tennis, le golf, et beaucoup cl'autres sports. Il pourrait jouer clu piano. Mais plus que tout cela, il serait bon ecolier. I'aimerais que mon frere connaisse les bons livres et puisse parler francais. QPeut-etre pourrait-il m'aitler?j Robert aimerait danser et cbanter et bien s'amuser. Il saurait bien parler et aimerait parler a tout le monde. Si j'avais besoin cl'aide ou si je voulais quoi que ce soit, j'irais 21 Robert. Robert et moi, nous serions non seulement frere et soeur, mais nous serions amis, Voila mon frere .... si j'avais un frerel PEGGY I-IAIXIBI Form V THE FLAME 33 MY ART OME people paint pictures, some sing Carmen at the Metropolitan, some Write great novels, and some prepare meals fit for the king himself. Other people play in symphony orchestras or discover gold mines. I, too, am an artist in a very specialized field. I daydream. And daydreaming is an art. To me it is the greatest of all arts. In one magnificent dream I can paint the most beautiful picture ever seen in Saint Paul, sing Carmen while audiences sit in awed silence, and then go out and conduct the New York Philharmonic, as it plays my world-famous symphony to top all symphonies. But one must be able to daydream in the right way. There's where some of the art lies. Some people never learn that daydreaming shouldnit be applied to plain everyday living. If it is, it becomes not an asset but a liability. If I am going to a dance, I concentrate on not daydreaming about that dance, because if I do go through the whole evening many many times beforehand, the actual event is invariably a disappointment. Instead I conhne my imagination to dreams that will never interfere with my life. If one must daydream, he should put himself into his dreams as whole-heartedly as an author puts himself into his book. In my daydreams I go to the Belgian Congo, to Iraq, to the Antarctic, or just to northern Minnesota, but wherever I go, I really go. That, too, is part of my art. I donit trip merrily down a well-beaten path through the jungle dressed in immaculate white silk. I crawl on my hands and knees over thick tangled under- brush calling for Hercules, my pet ape, in a thirst-choked voice. And the jungle looks like a jungle too. Not just a stage setting. Like all arts, mine has its advantages. Can many people daydream so vividly that they can go any place they wish in a few seconds? I can. How many people can com- pletely forget everything around them while their minds go off on a little jaunt, or can read a chapter of ancient history and actually cross the Rubicon with Caesar and his men? These are my talents. Besides, I never stay mad or sad very long, because when I feel like getting furious, I just close my eyes and there I am, gliding down the highest ski jump in the world while thousands cheer. So you see, I wouldn't take all the diamond mines in South Africa for my art-my own special art that makes the sun shine on a rainy day. HELEN LUCAS Form VI LE DINEB CHEZ MOI H AROL, viens ici! Le diner est pretli' dit ma mere. Il faut rarement qu'elle m'appelle deux fois, et diorodinaire je cesse d'etudier fou de telephonerj tout de suite. Tous les soirs, de lundi a vendredi, nous mangeons dans la cuisine au lieu de la salle 51 manger parce que c'est plus commode. Clest comique parce que c'est toujours la meme chose. Mon oncle et le chien se trouvent la avant moi. Dans son coin la radio donne avec grand bruit les nouvelles du jours. Mon oncle dit au chien d'aller sous le poele tandis que nous mangeons. Nous nous asseyons et commencons a manger. Maintenant toute la famille est ensemble pour la premiere fois depuis le petit-dejeuner. Nous parlons de mon ecole fet toujours de la chimiej. De temps en temps le chien sort doucement pour mendier un morceau de quelque chose de bon. I'essaie-mais a quoi bon? Mon oncle ou ma mere me voit chaque fois. Ne donnez pas de nourriture au chien a table! Ceci vous ennuie sans doute, mais l'annee prochaine quand je serai au college, je n'oublierai pas ces diners autour de la table de cuisine, la taquinerie de mon oncle, la radio ennuyeuse, et surtout, les bons repas! CAROL PEET Form VI 34 THE FLAME Q 6 We 12,5569 Q25 xg fy'-Q 1 was IT'S AMAZING! S we bounded up the stairs on our way to the library, we noticed a group of ex- cited seniors crowding around the door of the chemistry lab. Must be something importantf, Ioan shouted to me, as she raced ahead. In a few seconds we were both standing on tiptoe, peering between green jackets and bobbing heads. On the lab door was posted a bright crimson sign. Yellow letters proclaimed: THE PHYSICS CLAss Is INVITED TO THE CHEMISTRY SHOW IT'S FREE YOUJLL BE AMAZED! TODAY AT 1:30 The bell for next hour class rang while we were reading this breath-taking an- nouncement. We hurried on to the library. At one twenty-five on the dot, prompt like all true scientists, we entered the chemistry lab, as we were members of the fortunate or perhaps unfortunate physics class. The hostess ushered us to the best seats in the room. They were next to the desk where everything would blow up, fizz, and smoke. We settled down thinking how exciting chemistry lab must be with its explosions, acid burned clothes, stiHing smoke, and deadly poisons. The most thrilling experiment we performed in physics lab was the one on capillary action. You watch water run up narrow tubes. To make the experiment really sensational, you color the water! Meanwhile, the performers for the afternoon were hustling about, carrying test tubes in one hand and bottles of acid in the other. We envied the girls looking so scientific in their black rubber aprons. In a few minutes the general confusion subsided, and the chairman introduced the first scientist. With a determined expression on her face, she went up to the demonstration desk. She paused a moment looking at her hopelessly ignorant audience and then started her work. She told us that her experiment was a very simple one. In fact they had learned it on the first day. Of course, we physics students were determined to understand it. With a clipped accent the speaker began, i'This crucible contains sugar, which is . . ., She then wrote on the board in bold letters, C12H2QO11.,' Do you know what that means?,' With puzzled looks at each other, we answered in firm voices, Oh yes! Now, this bottle contains sulphuric acidf, She then proceeded to pour the acid on the sugar. The mixture bubbled up and sounded like something boiling over on a stove. In an awed voice Ioan said, My goodness, itis turned blackf' V From an excited spectator in the second row we heard, lt looks like burnt toastf' The scientistls eyes lit up, we knew we were on the right track. Someone else said, Alt has little holes in it, like coal. The scientist whispered, Yes, yes, go onf' The whole room was tense now. Then suddenly a truly brilliant physics student shouted, I know, itis carbonli' 'LThat is correct. The scientist looked pleased. Quickly she went to the board and in the same firm handwriting wrote some more letters and numbers, this time adding a few arrows. Now, she said proudly, 'fthe equation is balanced. Do you understand why?,' Again we untruthfully replied, 'gOh yes! The experiment a success, she returned to her chair, contented. The program continued with a few explosions and some thick smoke. Somehow we managed to choke back our coughing, proving to the chemistry students that we could stand anything they could. 36 THE FLAME The experiments became more amazing each time. Finally, the chairman announced that the last part of the program had arrived. We felt that must surely be the coup de grace, that would test the mettle of the physics class. A group of serious looking students went into the lab store room. Silence fell upon the room. We sat on the edge of our chairs. every muscle tense. Suddenly, the store room door burst open. A'Refreshments! ELIZABETH Cons Form VI LITTLE BROTHERS OTHERS think they are sweet, fathers think they are the stalwart sons of America, and older sisters think they would like them a lot better if they didn't leave rings in the bathtub. Brothers are their worst at night when you are trying to get your homework done. They are likely to decide they want a bath just as you are settling down for the evening. They sing in the bath tub in their strange, changing voices, which will start in an almost inhuman bass and will suddenly slip into a treble squeak. They seldom know more than a phrase of the song, and this they sing over and over again in a monotone. Sometimes they vary the tune with submerged bubblings and soapy gurgles. When they have finally sung and soaked very thoroughly, they continue entertaining their sisters with the radio. Of course crime programs are the favorite, and of course the gangster shootings and blood curdling yelps must be turned on full blast. After a session with the radio, they may try a little of their own homework. You are next having Caesar and the Gauls recited to you in a very dramatic fashion. When this is over they may possibly be persuaded to go to bed. This can only be accomplished with much arguing, pleading and pushing. When they are in bed and all is peaceful, you begin to think they are not so bad after all. Little brothers are always monopolizing things. The telephone is a favorite. They us- ually manage to be using it when you are expecting a call. Their conversations are not normal. They are accompanied by guffaws, bangs, hisses, and other boy sounds. They usually have nothing in particular to say, and if they do, it soon gets lost in the com- motion. Another favorite monopoly is the newspaper. The only things they read are the funnies. They take them very seriously. An hour is the least possible time they can spend on them. They read while sprawled on the Hoor. Also, it is not stylish to read with their shoes on. The one thing that can tempt them from the paper is a comic book. The bath- room also is a monopoly. Brothers never wash their faces or comb their hair unless you are in a hurry to use the bathroom yourself. Then, if you don't find a brother using the wash basin, you find it occupied by a live turtle. Sometimes, on Saturday mornings, your mother will ask you to help her clean your brother's room. This is an all day job. Brothers like to collect things. They have cans of rocks, old hats, and highway signs. Also they pick up things from the street. You can find such things as ladies, compacts, jewelry, and old combs in their drawers. They never make their beds properly. VVhen Saturday sheet changing comes you must first wade through piles of dirty clothes and old junk to get to the bed. Then you must stop to untie the knots and tangles in the sheets before operations can continue. Brothers embarrass you in public. They never sit up straight in church. They are likely suddenly to break the reverent silence during a pause in the sermon with a loud snicker because of their own thoughts. Little brothers are the bane of their older sisters, existence, but wouldn't life be dull and uninteresting without them? DEBORAH BUTLER Form VI THE FLAME 37 t ,L I Iiiiij' K. n- i if M, I V M 4-l- TUUTE SEULE E SUIS toute seule. La maison est si grande et si vide que j'ai peur. Le silence est affreux. Oh, comme je voudrais que mes parents rentrent. . . . . u,est ce ue c'est? 'entends un as .... C'est affreux. ll faut ue 'e me cache. Q ll J ici. derriere cette chaise. Le pas approche. Papa, Maman, ou etes-vous? Venez bite. C'est un revenant peutetre? Non, c,est mon chien. Duke, vous ne devriez pas me donner tant dieffroi. Mechant chienf, Quoi? On frape. Ce sont cette fois les revenants de la famille. Devrais-'e re ondre. Maintenant qentends des voix. Mais 'e les connais ces 1 P l 1 voix. C'est mon pere et ma mere qui reviennent. Quelle joie. IEAN CARLTON ' , Form V THE FIRST DAY HE walked down the strange new hall feeling completely alone in the sea of laugh- ing faces. The air was not yet heavy with chalk dust, it smelled instead, of fresh paint and newly washed floors. She could feel her heart beating against the scratchy blue Serge of her uniform, and her cold hands dug at the lining of her blazer. It was wrong-all wrong. She didn't belong here, and she knew it. Somehow she got to the large study hall. Skirting the crowds of excited girls she sank into her desk chair. She looked down at the floor and clenched her fists until there were tiny scratches on her palms. Inside she was crying. She wanted to run away, she didnit care where, any place where she would not be seen. She looked up then, and saw that the girls were smiling at her, drawing her into their group. Their friendly eyes were assuring her that she was welcome. A great weight lifted from her heart. Laughingly she answered the eager question. Yes, yes-I like it here-I love it here! IENNIFER STATS Form III 38 THE FLAME 1 W w J JAMES HE parents are in the living room. One is reading, the other is talking about the new look and high prices. In comes Iames, tramping through the kitchen, and on into the living room. He says a cheery hello which no one hears and starts his way up the stairs. He reaches the front hall and looks for the mail. Nope, no mail today, so he turns to face the last seven steps. He goes into his room where he unloads. The books come first. They go on the Hoof under his desk. Then come his hat and coat. They're left under his chair, the big one, of course, with the Rocky Mountains. The Rocky Moun- tains are the springs which have been broken. When thatis all over, he comes into my room. There he insists I give him his mail. I hand it to him and he removes himself from my presence. Then he gets hungry. Down we go to the kitchen. Two pieces of bread, a pat of butter, some peanut butter, ten pickles, three glasses of milk, a bottle of ginger ale, seven cookies, the rest of the pie-and that completes the small snack for the moment. Then from the silence there comes Dinner is ready. Nothing stirs. Then it comes again and again. I trudge down the stairs and start reading a book. The parents and I go to the table and sit down to eat. Mother speaks, Go up and get Iames! I go to the first landing, Hlames, dinner is readyli' No answer. I go to the second landing. Iames, dinner! Then I hear, Drop dead, you little pipsqueaklu I go downstairs, and we start to eat again. Then Dad speaks, Did Iames hear you? He must have. We eat in silence until we hear a door open. We see feet come dragging down the stairs. It is Iames. Victory at last. SUSAN READ Form I THE END OF THE BEGINNING U O you want to come while I put up the trap?,' Her father put the question casually. He never seemed to get excited about anything. Oh yesll' she squealed with delight and bounded after him, excited and happy. To- gether they walked down the hill to the rocky irregular pool set back among dark green pine trees. The black oaks looked commanding with their old bark ridged like water-log- ged skin. She had always wanted a pet, just anything that she could play with and talk to. There were no other children in her family, and she needed a companion desperately. Her father and mother were wonderful, but they loved this desolate country and didn't under- stand her need. She looked up at her father. How quiet and big he looked with his tanned, clean- shaven face and his tall frame! I-Ie was walking slowly, holding a big box with a screen over one end, a carrot, and a piece of string. She bounced ahead of him laughing excitedly. At last he put the box down and tied the carrot far back inside it. That ought to do it. He surveyed the box appraisingly. Oh, Daddy, do you really think we'll catch a rabbit? She could feel the cool flicker of a breeze on her flushed face. You never can tell. He smiled down at her. Early the next morning she crept out of bed. She just had to see if they had caught a rabbit. She slipped downstairs, eased herself through the big front door, and hurtled 410 THE FLAME down the hill. There was the trap. She could barely make it out in the uncertain glow of dawn. She moved a little closer and thought she heard a faint scratching from within. Yes, surely that was an eye that gleamed a faint yellow in the dusk. She leaned down and peered into the gloom beyond the wire screen. A terrihed rabbit threw itself against the back of the cage. Her heart in her throat, she sprang back, and after a minute she straightened up smiling to herself. Then she turned and ran up the hill with the melody of early spring birds filling her ears. She was almost afraid to tell her father about the rabbit, because he might not let her keep it. However, he thought it was a wonderful idea, and her mother didnlt object much since it was only a baby. They built a cage for it and kept it down in the basement. Life was just beginning for her. She finally had something to live for-a companion. The world was being born anew, for it was spring. She had never been happier in her life. All that summer she played with her rabbit. She was never alone. After thinking about it for days, she decided to name her playmate Flag after the deer with the Huffy tail that her mother had told her the story of. She watched her Flag grow and thrilled at every movement the little creature made. Every morning she would take his cage out- doors and let him have some sunshine. After a while when he got a little bigger, she let him run around with her. They would go to the vegetable garden, and she would give him a carrot. By the end of the summer she took him on walks through the woods. He never left her side. Then in the fall they caught another rabbit. This one was bigger than Flag and look- ed very mean. She had a strange feeling inside her when they put the two rabbits together. She couldn't describe it . . . it Was as if something had suddenly blotted out her sun and left her empty. Before she went to bed that night, she kissed both rabbits and told Flag to be nice to the newcomer. She went to bed dreaming of her pets. In the middle of the night she heard an ear-splitting scream, first a high-pitched shriek, then a low moan. She jumped out of bed and ran downstairs. By the time she had reached the room where the rabbits were kept, the screams had stopped. There was a frightening stillness. She waited a moment outside the door. What could be going on in there? She had to go in, but some- thing held her back. Finally she took a deep breath and made herself open the door. What she saw made her gasp and clutch at the neck of her flannel pajamas. The new rabbit was cowering in a corner, and Flag with no skin on his back was lying in a mangled heap in another corner of the pen. She didn't care what happened now. She ran outside and down the road blinded by her tears. The ground felt icy against her bare feet, and as the red and yellow trees slipped past her in endless rows, she felt the cold of winter all around her. She knew she would never have another summer like that again. ANN HARMON Form V OBSERVATIONS AM Walking home from school. Everything around me is trying to tell me that spring is just around the corner. As I slosh through mud puddles, my feet are much too warm in their sheep-lined stadium boots, and my hands in their Wool mittens are perspiring. I feel the cold splash of muddy water on my legs. There are limp brown leaves under foot, leftovers from autumn, at long last uncovered by the fast melting snow, and ever so often I notice a patch of brown grass, inconspicuous and surrounded by soot-covered snow. I cross to the south side of the street in order to avoid two dirty and very wet little boys, who already have me picked out as their target and are trying their very best to THE FLAME 41 form snowballs out of the soft slush. On this side of the street, things look more prom- ising, and there is even an occasional patch of green grass pushing its way up through the mud. The warm sun, although still a little weak, is doing its best to help things along. I notice the first patch of dry sidewalk emerging from its wet surroundings, and I walk on it slowly and deliberately, making big wet footprints right through the middle. I jump as one of the snowballs finds its mark and feel the wetness of melting snow ooze down my neck. The girls, walking home from school, have their coats unbuttoned and their heads uncovered, and cars driving by have the windows rolled down. The trees stretch out to the sky, looking bleak and monotonous, waiting for the sun to bring them to life. Everything is anxious to be delivered from its burden of ice and snow. IUDY MooRE Form IV ON SCBUBBING FLOOBS AT TEN THIRTY P.M. S I WALKED to school this morning with Kay, she told me with a satisfied smile that she had really got to bed early for once-at nine o'clock. HDO you know what I was doing? Scrubbing floorsf, I told her. She sympathized with an '4Oh, how ghastlyf, and I realized that she didnit understand at all. She wouldnit understand if I tried to explain it to her either, I decided. Perhaps if you have had too much of scrubbing floors, you donit enjoy the feel of the hot soapy water that makes your hands smart and bleaches white puffy wrinkles on the tips of your fingers. Perhaps you have felt too often the ache in your arms and be- tween your shoulder blades that creeps upon you when you sit back straight and con- template the gleaming expanse of newly scrubbed linoleum. But even for veterans at this task, it must give a thrill of satisfaction as they scrub themselves out of the kitchen door and stretch cramped muscles. Perhaps it is this satisfaction that I like to feel, and I am glad that the cleaning lady has decided to skip a week and give me a chance at the chore of scrubbing the kitchen floor. No one knows what the true character of the linoleum on his floor is unless he has been down on his hands and knees for an hour, watching the grey squares turn to white and the colored ones change their hue from dull to bright, while he wields the scrub brush over the patterned surface. The pattern looks different in different directions. I wonder, did Mondrian start on his career as a designer of linoleumsP He didnit design ours, for it is rust and cream and black instead of red, yellow and blue. The things that you Hnd on the linoleum are strange-almost as strange as the pattern of it. Under the table at the place where Ieff usually sits there is a stickiness which never did all come off when someone wiped up after his most recent accident with his milk. Under Dan's chair is a slipper, taken off and left there when he listened to a program by the kitchen radio after his bath. It is too bad that everyone doesn't get to scrub his kitchen floor at least once in awhile. It would be good for many people to assume this humble attitude. Honest labor and earning oneis bread by the sweat of oneis brow are time worn phrases, but phrases which, though not always recognized in our modern creed, still ring true. As I empty the pails of gritty water and rinse them under the kitchen faucet, a sort of peaceful tiredness comes over me and Hows through me like a great wave. Now to bed and to sleep, a deep sweet sleep that comes from working with oneis hands, and arms, and back. Strong work, to make a floor clean and shining and new. SALLY WILLIUS Form VI 42 THE FLAME CANOE TRIP AM watching my big toe as it moves slowly up and down. It is such a silly little mo- tion when the rest of my body is moving with the full force of paddling. Pull, and then an instant of relaxation as I swing forward. Then the paddle is again in the water, and again I am pulling back. Itis an automatic motion, and I don't think about itg but I have only noticed the insignificant movement of my toe for the Hrst time, and I am laughing. The ache in my arm is becoming stronger now, but it will go away soon. It always goes away as the stiffness wears off. We have hit a large wave square in the center, and the water is spraying over my sun-browned legs. It is cool, and the wind is so cool that I do not feel the hot sun. The sun is burning though I do not feel it. I am looking straight down into the water, and it is dull gray. If I look out across the lake, the water is all blue and silver. I must look through my lashes across the lake, for the dazzling and the strong wind bring tears. The clouds are white and racing swiftly. I should like to make them into cloud-pictures, but they take no shape at all. It really doesn't matter, for I like them as they are. No, it really doesn't matter .... The line of dirt is hard to wash out from the collar of this shirt, and my legs are cramped from this stooping position on the rocks. The rocks are slippery with soap, and I must grip hard in order not to slide into the water. I should not like to slide in here, for the water which was so clear before is now ringed with greasy soap. Only the little minnows like the soap, because they think it is something to eat. If I hold my hands very still, the greedy things will nip at my fingers. One movement though, and they scatter under the rocks. But I must get back to this impossible shirt. The sweaty smell is gone so maybe I can stop and take a swim. I'd better finish though. My knuckles are sore and red, but my nails are clean at last. Another shirt is flapping from a branch overhead, and it has the strong good smell of wet laundry. Wet laundry and pine trees. It is odd, but they smell good together. The sun is beating down on the gray rocks with such force that the socks stretched out there only a few minutes ago are dry. They are stiff. Probably all the soap isnlt out. Well, it doesn't matter. Iill go for that swim now. I am really very hot and I think I will go right away .... Caddie's voice is as clear as a bell. That is a trite expression, but it fits her voice so well. I do not care to sing for I will ruin the song. Dick,s voice is husky. He should not sing either. I donit blame him though. It is nice to sing. I'm too sleepy. I'd rather look at the stars. They are cold. The moon is cold and distant now. It was not cold when it came up, but large and orange. I am cold too. Only the bottoms of my feet are warm where they are near the fire. Somebody has put a fresh log on the fire, for I hear it blaze up. It is not crackling so hard now. It will soon become a few red coals. They are warm coals, like the moon when it first came up. The moon is so cold and small now and not nearly so nice. It is funny, but the singing has stopped. Is everybody asleep so soon? No, someone is stirring near mc. I guess they are moving in their sleep, for the purring of voices has stopped too. I am warm all over now. How did I get into my sleeping bag? Well, it really doesnit matter. I shall watch the stars again, because it really doesn't matter .... DEBORAH BUTLER F orm V1 THE FLAME 43 THE LOST ROOM ,M SURE we go to the leftfi You're crazy. I distinctly remember going by that pillar on the right. Why didn't you remember the room number?', MeP Thanks! Molly and I had been in the lobby of the hotel with Sue and Dee buying magazines and gum. We got separated, and Molly and I were returning alone. Well, this is perfectly silly. Letls go back to the elevator and start all over again, I declared. 'gflut it wasn't the same elevator we came up on the first timef, Oh, gosh! Let's walk for a while. Maybe we can find it by its individuality. The carpet muted our footsteps as we started off down the long red corridor. Molly went up to each door and put her ear to it, listening for familiar sounds from within, hoping that Dee and Sue had returned. We turned the corner. Another mile-long pas- sageway lay before us. We were able to see two people at the other end. We trudged down our red path and realized that the two figures were cleaning women. We approach- ed them cautiously. Do you happen to know where our room is?', I faltered. Your room? 'KYes, our name is Iacksonf' Now look, girlie, there is two hundred rooms on this HOOP, how'm I supposed ta know who lives in each one?U We fled. Dee and Sue must be back by nowf' Molly decided. Let,s sort of yell their names through the transomsf, Okay.', We started down the corridor, getting as close to the wall as possible and calling hopefully through the transoms. Suddenly Molly leaned against the wall with her hand to her head. - UOh, my headache, she moaned to me. I quickly assumed the role of sympathizer. My dear, donit you feel wellP,, asked a little old lady who had seen us crawling up the walls. Oh, I'm finef, she grinned feebly. 'KI couldnit understand why you were leaning against the wall calling someone. HI was talking to my friend. Thank you anywayf, Good-byef, Finally we came to a room which I was sure was ours. I knocked on the door. My knees were knocking too. The door opened slowly. Around the corner peered a man with lather covering his face. I, uh, is this room 329? I stuttered. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Molly stalking down the corridor as if she didnlt know me. No. 373. Can't you read? 'LI need glas ..., I was explaining to a closed door. Molly, come back herelu 'Tm going to go to the desk and ask what our room number is. That's the only way to find out,', she explained. We reached the elevator just as it was closing on Sue and Dee. Dee dashed forward with a key clutched in her hand. You kids! We couldn't find our room, and had to ask the desk. LUCY IAcKsoN Form VI 44 THE FLAME www: ,HC COUNTY FAIR S WE walk out of the dark parking lot through the promising gates, we are struck by the sudden blare of lights, noise, and confusion. At our left behind a dancing string of multicolored lights, we see two giant bullets going up, down, and around ac- companied by the whir of machinery and the shrieks of protest coming from a fat woman who is being scrambled inside the bullet. We walk along, still looking at the rides, and almost bump into a tearful child, who is crying for his umamaf' A scrawny, wild-eyed woman tears up to this bundle of woe, clutches him by the arm, and drags him off. VVC suddenly become aware of the dull roar of a thousand people all talking at once with an occasional outstanding shout from a Ubarkerf' Nearing a wide, squat building, we are overpowered by the cheap, meaty smell and the intense, almost living heat. We decide to get some ice cream to cool ourselves, so we squeeze in between an old man with tobac- co-stained teeth and a woman with caked make-up, orange hair, and vile perfume. We finally haul ourselves out of this dirty, jostling crowd, and we feel a cool breeze of night freshness mixed with the smell of animals not far away. As we slowly start homeward, we look back to see the fairyland of colored lights and the life that makes a county fair. ANN HARMON Form V WATER FRONT SCENE Scene: Outside a spacious white restaurant that overlooks the water front. Time: An evening of any beautiful hot, summer day. Place: A typically progressive American city. EFORE entering, let us view for a moment the outside. Hmmm, it looks like an ar- tistis dream of a ship, constructed by decks, not stories, complete with those round, lifesaver-like objects secured beneath the windows. How very pleased its cultivated cus- tomers must be on finding this clean, modern pot-of-gold after traveling over a rainbow of dirty, dark brown wharfs to reach it. Inside you are struck by the cool, expensive atmosphere, and you feel inclined to relax. The stairs leading to the main dining room on the second floor are to the left of the entrance. They are covered with an icy blue carpet that feels to your step not unlike an air spring mattress. I point out a group of be-menued, tuxedoed waiters gathered in the doorway at the top. But you protest that you've seen thousands of these fawning, harm- less creatures before! Yes, but notice how those fixed smiles fade once their backs are turned. As the invisible bystander, I wonder what causes people to hold that special feeling of impatience and superiority toward waiters and waitresses, more than toward any other class of working people. We slip past them unnoticed and find ourselves in a rectangular room, decorated in ice blue with deep peach shades and maple paneling. The side facing the water front has three immense bay windows that give a panorama of the harbor and its wharfs. At the opposite end of the room on a table four symbolic red roses are frozen deep in a large square of ice. Our gaze is suddenly jerked to a commotion at the entrance. A model, conventionally beautiful with a tall slat-like figure sweeps arrogantly into the room. She is dressed in a white slack suit with gold sandals and accessories to match the trimming on it. Our her- oine you wonderP Oh, no! At a properly respectful distance behind her follows a short, ugly, old man pulling a short, ugly child. We watch the different expressions on the faces of her would-be audience. Some womenls eyes follow her with awe and envy, 46 THE FLAME while others are critically casual. Men Watch her until she is seated, even though they may continue to talk. At a table in the corner is obviously a party of some kind. It is presided over by an excited, shiny-eyed, little lady with a daffodil corsage pinned securely on her front. She and her party form quite a contrast to the rest of the expensively dressed, bored customers. You may easily imagine her excitement on being told that for her birthday she may come here. Why doesnit she stop that, or close her eyes, or something? She's making those other price-tagged people look so insincere. I force your attention away from the band that's getting assembled on its stand to point out Madame Overdressed, sitting opposite that bald, red faced gentleman with the cigar. She is fat and kittenish, painted down to her rosy finger tips. Her gown is low cut, exposing her wrinkled bejeweled neck and the waterfall that is her chin. She sips her cof- fee delicately with a languid air. You agree that the human form is at its ugliest when eating. Shall we stay for the singer and file her as a type too? She will be one, I heartily as- sure you. Her hair will be drawn up on either side of her face and her white-washed teeth will seem to number in the fifties. She will be overly curvacious and not too good a singer for she w0uldn't be herej. Personally, I'd prefer to go out and look at the wharf and the unpretentious, dirty Water and evening sky that stretches for miles ...... CAROL PEET Form VI Q '. P0017 A TORT NE apres-midi nous discutions la piece de theatre, Hamlet, dans la salle de classe, Poof etait couche dans une chaise pres du radiateur. Comme vous savez, Poof est bien eleve, tres poli, et courtois. Pendant les discours il se toit. Cette apres-midi Poof etait assoupi, parce quiil avait etudie Hamlet l'annee derniere. Au moment ou l'on a dit, The rest is silence, Poof a grognel Qu'est-ce quiil avait? Personne ne savait. Poof avec des yeux feroces a bonde de sa chaise pour attaquer quelque chose sous la table. Soudain il s'est arrete net devant les pieds de Sally. Poof etait tres derange. Il a regarde Sally avec tendresse. Nous savions qu'il avait honte. Quien pensez-vous? S'agis- sait-il d'un chaton ou dlun ecureuilP ELIZABETH COBB Form VI THE FLAME 47 TO SLEEP, PEBCHANCE T0 DREAM? 5' ATCH the cigarette, think of nothing but the cigarette going back and forth . . . back and forth . . .M It was hard to keep my eyes on the pink glow which was traveling to and fro above my head. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I strained to look up in the dark and follow the even pendulum-like movement of the cigarette. Audrae's hushed voice came to me out of the blackness. Back and forth, back . . . and forth goes the cigarette . . . concentrate . . . ciga- rette . . . back and forth . . . back and . . .H I wanted to shut out the bright, burning ember, but her whispered words kept me from giving in. Back and forth . . . watch the cigarette . . . You,re very sleepy, but you must watch the cigarette .... You are sleepy now .... Watch the cigarette . . . back and . . .U Didn't she understand that I was trying to watch it? But my eyelids were so heavy I had to look up from under the lashes. Through the tears which had saturated my neck and hair, I saw numerous vague glows, and I tried in vain to concentrate on just one . . . just one. You,re sleepy now . . . very sleepy . . . soon you may go to sleep, but now you must watch the cigarette . . . back and forth . . . back . . .ii My heart beat faster as I was becoming terrified. I didn't want to go to sleep. I tried to tell Audrae, but she didn't hear me. She went on relentlessly in a quiet, methodical rhythm, You are sleepy . . . very sleepy . . . very sleepy . . . Where was the cigarette? Where had it gone? I had to watch the cigarette. I tried to sit up and Hnd it, but I couldn't. Why didn't Audrae realize it had gone out? I struggled to hear what she was saying, but it was becoming much harder . . . much harder. Close your eyes, you are going to sleep . . . go to sleep . . . sleep now . . . close your eye . . . sleep now . . . sleep . . .U CYNTHIA BAER Form V WITHOUT MAMA HEN your parents go off on their annual vacation, you are expected to be filled with joy and ecstasy at Finding yourself rid of those inhibitions which have hitherto hindered your freedom and suppressed your desires. I was once a firm believer in this school of thought but have since changed over to the opposite field as the result of three years of conclusive experience. The first year I waited breathlessly for the departure, greedily watching the suit- cases accumulate in the hall, and daydreaming of the days to come when there would be no one to tell me to sit up straight or to go to bed early. I was even more optimistic when I saw the lady whom Mother had asked to stay with us. She was the plump over-the-back-fence-gossiper type, a widow, grandmother of twelve, and great-grandmother of nine. This vacation passed in a whirlpool of late hours, too many movies, much drinking of pop, and all the pleasures that are forbidden when the law and order are present. I-Iowever, I must admit that after the first few weeks, I got rather tired of hearing about the twelve grandchildren and the nine great-grandchildren, or of Mr. Spencer's courtship of Mrs. Spencer, and I had developed an overwhelming desire for a good substantial meal consisting of something more than potatoes, watery carrots, home- made bread, and three cookies. Thus when my parents came in the front door, I greeted them with something suspiciously like genuine gladness. The second year I watched the preparations for the escape from the childreni' with 48 THE FLAME perhaps not quite as much enthusiasm as I had had the previous year, for I now con- sidered myself a hardened veteran of parental vacations. A married couple fan ex-school teacher and an ex-G.I.j were to stay with us this time, and we had dramatic visions of a G.I. adjusting to civilian life. But our hopes were shattered. He turned out to be the usual meek, hen-pecked husband, who washed the dishes and emptied the garbage every night. It was his wife, we surmised, who adjusted him to the brutalities and monotonies of civilian life. She was a very efficient, business-like sort of person, just the type mothers like to leave their children with while they go off and sun themselves under a palm tree. What a vacation that was for us! We were awakened every morning at seven o'clock, and if we didn't get up within the next few minutes, the covers were pulled off us and the windows opened wide. If we didn't make our beds, they were left unmade. When we went out, if we were a few minutes past the eleven-thirty dead- line, we were given a long harangue on how no one likes to be a nagger or a persistent preacher but is forced to be in order to carry out a mother's orders. We somehow always ended up on the verge of tears after one of these disciplinary pep talks. In short, this six weeks minus parents was much worse than having no vacation from parents at all. This year we permitted our parents to escape only when my sister-in-law and brother, along with their menage, agreed to stay with us. Finally, I thought, we shall be able to find the happy medium as to proxy parents, someone who knows what Mother and Father would do and who acts accordingly. But even this happy arrangement has its drawbacks I have discovered. Number one: I hate to change diapers. Number two: My room is right next to the two month old babyls room-the result, many sleepless nights. Number three: I have to whisper over the phone on the second Hoor as one or the other of the babies is always sleeping. Number four: I come home from school each day and find all my books strewn over the floor with the pudgy fingerprints of the two year old placed artistically on the edges of the pages. Number five: Every time I practice on the piano, the two year old decides to play too, and when I tell him patiently that he can play as soon as I'm through, he attacks me, pushing my hands off the keyboard and pounding the piano with his fists. If I try to ignore him, he makes his presence unmis- takably known by various ingenious methods. Thus my advice to all those who long to have a vacation from their parents is. go on a vacation yourself and leave your parents at home. SALLY FITZPATRICK Form VI THE MAJ 0R'S METHOD T had been all arranged. THE Major Faudel-Phillips, retired English cavalry ofli- cer, was going to give me a jumping lesson. I arrived at the appointed hour to find my teacher meticulously garbed in riding clothes. He greeted me with a brisk Good afternoonn and a deprecatory glance reserved especially for Americans. Off to an excel- lent start, I made myself even less appreciated by remarking that I had taken a few jump- ing lessons in Ireland and would like to jump a little that day. Again I was squelched by a firm statement from the master that there would be no jumping. We proceeded to the indoor ring, and as the sliding door closed after us, I had a pre- monition that all would not fare well for me. The Majorls helper, a hefty farm girl, led me to my horse and looked at me with no expression whatsoever on her face. This also was deflating to my ego, but I started to gather my reins up to mount my steed when, Drop those reins, was shouted at me. I had always been taught to hold the reins as I got on the horse, but not so this time. My instructor then began to coach me for the canter much as a football captain goes into a huddle and plans the next move with his players. With his instructions and signals crammed into my bewildered head, I went into the ring THE FLAME 49 and gave the signal according to the Major's strict instructions-head up, eyes straight ahead, knee pressure, but under no circumstances was I so much as to kick the animal. He was supposed to sense my intention and to go into a collected canter, He apparently mis- interpreted my plan of procedure, for he began an even slower walk. Major Faudel-Phil- lips shouted at me to feel inside that I was going to canter, thereby transmitting my thoughts to the horse. The chunky helper was doggedly cantering ahead, outfitted like a soldier of the First World War with her wide-brimmed Held hat safely secured by a cord under her chin. She looked like a Boy Scout of the nineteen-twenties. With this inspiring example ever before me, I was struck with the idea that Major Faudel-Phillips, method for cantering was rather peculiar. Praying that we would pass on to the trotting stage, I was told to dismount. My idea was that I could rest for a minute, but instead my instructor told me to canter on my own two feet around the ring as fast as I could go. Meekly I requested that he repeat his in- structions. You must learn the fundamentals involved in cantering and how hard the horse works. Canter, pleaseli' By that time embarrassment was a thing of the past, so automatically I cantered. Now, my girl, it is obvious that no horse will canter if he puts as little spirit as you do into itf' I lurched forward again feeling like a perfect idiot. The Major, visibly pleased that I was now completely humble and confused, had me get back on the horse. It was futile for me to expect to continue in the usual manner, I should have sensed that the rest of the lesson would be just as abnormal as the first installment. This veritable Sir Nigel Bruce fairly beamed with glee, then shouted, To gain balance, drop your reins, canter, and swing your arms back and forthf' I followed the example of my Boy Scout friend and found that at last I excelled. The horse cantered, my arms swung, the Major approved. He even was encouraging enough to say, Now, if you come back next sum- mer, I will teach you how to ridef, MILLICENT THOMPSON Form VI EN ALLANT A L'ECOLE H Mon Dieu! Il est sept heures et demi. Vite je bois mon cafe au lait. Ie me precipite vers le garage. Ie prends le volant. Vite, vite, je pars pour l'ecole 21 toute vitesse. A huit heures moins le quart, je renconte mes passagers. I'en ai trois. Pour nous amuser, nous ecoutons la T. S. F. Ce matin-ci nous chantons aussi. Les chemins sont couverts de glace. Ie prends soin ann que nous ne glissions pas. Mon ami Ioe a sommeil. Il fait un somme. Mon amie Marly nla pas fini sa legon de franeais. Elle prepare ses devoirs. Voila trente minutes que nous roulons. Serions-nous en retard? Maintenant j'approche des limites de la cite. Il faut que j'aille plus lentement. Les agents de police font observer la loi. Ie m'arrete a cause du semaphore 21 lumiere rouge. Il est huit heures vingt. Enhn, la lumiere change en vert. Ie me remets en route. Vite! Vite! Maintenant une autre lumiere, maintenant un pieton. Depeche-toi. Ie serai en retard. Au loin jlapereois mon ecole. Encore six blocs-quarre-trois-deux. Serions-nous en retard? Non, non! Encore une minute. Enhn j'arrive a l'ecole. Ie ramasse mes livres a grand'peine. Ie me precipite vers la porte d'entree. Patty, tu es en retardf, Mon Dieu, en retard. , . . en suis our mes frais! I P PATTY COURTNEY Form V1 50 THE FLAME it Ffh, A A l ON GRUNIONS ff OU can't go back to Minnesota without seeing the grunions runl As our car wound its way down Topanga Canyon, I thought over the con- versation which had led up to the mysterious trip now in progress-going grunion hunting. They are washed up at high tide. Then they do the loveliest dance, lay their eggs, and Wiggle back into the oceanf, Knowing my friend's sense of humor, I was quite dubious about the whole affair, afraid that the excursion was going to turn out like the famous snipe hunt-the only difference being that I would be left holding the pail instead of a bag. At last we arrived at the ocean. The tide was coming in, the moon was full, the crisp. salty air smelled wonderful. VVe spent the next two hours going grunion hunting. For the first hour I couldn't help feeling that someone was somehow making a fool of me-a very unusual thing. And then it happened! I saw a grunion run! It came in with the tide, did a lovely ballet, and slithered back into the Pacific. A real grunion! After recovering somewhat from the shock, I started out, a determined glint in my eye, to catch one of these fabulous animals. Grunions are a long, very thin, quick type of fish-indeed elusive fellows. The proper way to catch one is to turn your back to the ocean fwith the tide coming in this can be rather deceivingj and then try to catch the slimy fish as they are washed from the sand back into the water. Ploughing around in the ocean tide. trying to keep your clothes dry, and peering to and fro, hither and yon for grunions is an experience full of the unsuspected. It is a sensation to turn suddenly around, and meet a four foot Wave face to face, and then try to think of a way, quick, to keep from getting damp. Another one of the more charming aspects of grunion hunting is to get a soft shelled crab stuck between your toes, and have all the other little sea worms beat their heads against your ankles as they pass by. If you are a squeamish person, as I am, it leads to a mild form of hysteria. Luck was not with us, however. The grunions just wouldn't be caught. We finally gave up and wound and twisted our moonlit way home through the mountains -salty, soaked, and with no grunions. HWiIl the wonders of sunny California never cease? I asked as we drove along. 'LGrunions doing minuets and congas-and crazy people staying up to watchf' MARCIA RUSSELL F orm VI THE FLAME 51 i LE MATIN Ie me leve it sept heures et demic Et je saute tout de suit de mon lit. Ie mihabille et me lave les mains Aussi, parfois, je prends un bain. Mon petit dejeuner est du lait Et souvent du toast que je hais. Pour arriver Z1 l'ecole Zi temps. Le samedi, je dors jusquia dix heures Rien ne m'eveille, meme pas le tonnerre. I'ecoute la radio dans mon lit. Ah! Pourquoi niest-ce pas toujours samedi? IULIE Giuccs 1 .J- f My Ie mets en hate tous mes vetements WX, 7 1 r Form V SPRING OWN the steep hill, large rivulets of muggy water were racing, running around the hunks of coal in the street, detouring through the ruts of slush, and ending in the sewer with a hollow sound. Last year's wet brown leaves were sitting on the sooty snow. Others, trying to resist the intermittent gusts of wind that darted among the bare tree-tops, wavered unsteadily as they clung to frail twigs. Birds twittered constantly, as though they too could smell the difference in the damp spring air. Two frisky squirrels lcd each other a merry chase up and down the rough tree trunks, across the sticky snow, and over gushing streams of water. Everything was celebrating the first warm day in its own way. Next to a grimy hydrant, as yet unwashed by spring rains, was an abandoned tri- cycle. In the street by the curb was a small lone boy wearing an orange and black tassel cap pulled down over his ears, a black jacket, and some high bespattered boots. He poked and pushed aimlessly through the slush with his boots and a stick, the latter almost as large as himself. Occasionally he stooped to examine some unknown object, and then re- sumed his aimless poking and pushing. An intrigued paper boy, with a bright yellow newspaper sack labeled SAINT PAUL DISPATCH slung over his shoulder, stopped for a few moments. He took the stick and pushed for a while and then continued on his zig- zagging route up the hill. A dirty, dripping black and white spaniel tagged at the boy's heels. The dogis fur, clinging to his sides, gave him a bedraggled aspect. After some more sloshing around, the small boy sauntered slowly off. He dragged his feet through the muddy water in the gutters, kicking and splashing. The drone of a plane somewhere in the west diverted his attention. He searched for it, but the glaring stun blinded him. Then he gave a few pokes to a discarded Christmas tree lying near a gar- bage ean and disappeared from sight into an alley. The sun was sinking farther in the west, and the water was not rushing quite as fast. The dull swish of the warm wind in the tree-tops was now becoming cooler and louder. The slush would soon freeze into crunching ruts. As night drew near, the frost would bring to a close the first spring day. IAIILLEN HARTFIEL Form IV 52 THE FLAME ON THE WORD DON'T NCLE STANLEY and I invariably disagree on everything we discuss, whether it be a question of who would make a good President, or why I use vinegar on my spinach and he doesnt From past experience I have learned to be rather non-committalg in fact I consider myself a martyr, for no matter how much he tries to entice me into an argument, I decline his invitation. Most people would give up attempting to argue with a stone wall, but not Uncle Stanley. He only redoubles his efforts. One day he sug- gested our playing a game of cards. Oh, okayf' I replied innocently. With that he turned upon me. Since when is that obnoxious phrase acceptable? Do you get away with saying that at school?i' I made myself calmly answer him, but at last Uncle Stanley had found a weak spot in my resistance. From that moment on, I vowed to repay him in a befitting manner. The opportune moment finally came. We were sitting on the porch of his cottage at the lake. Uncle Stanley was explaining to me how to reach the dock. Take either of the two paths. It donlt matter which onef, N Don't it?', I slyly retorted. I-Ie glared at me stubbornly, A'It donitf' The battle royal had begun. I felt extremely self-satisfied to have corrected such an obvious grammatical error. But after that one triumph on my part, the novelty of success began to wear off. Uncle Stanley used dont, incessantly. Whenever I could, I called the matter to his attentiong or rather he never let me forget. If he was with a group of people, he completely refrained from using the word dont But as soon as no one was around, he would begin to bring that word into the conversation again. Finally, in desperation I reverted to the use of okay to counteract his aggravatingly successful 'fdonitsfi It was useless. I-Ie didnlt fall into my Himsy trap. In fact, just to show how completely he was master of the situation, Uncle Stanley gave me a sugary smile, I,ve thought it over. I accept the deplorable slang phrase Lokay,' Millicent, it really don,t matter. MILLICLNT THOMPSON Form VI LA PETITE MAISUN Nous avons une petite maisong Elle est pres de la ville d'Afton. Nous y allons pour les vacancesg Nous y allons quand Pete commence. Pres de la maison est un grand jarding Nous plantons les legumes avec nos mains, Un ruisseau coule 21 travers bois, Il coule, il coule, clair et froid. bf Il y a des collines autour de la maison, Et les arbres sont beaux en toutes saisons. Il y a aussi un grand pommier, Qui donne des pommes rouges en ete. BECKY Diuscorr llllvr ,,,....f -iii Form III THE FLAME L .s A pf 4 if , 1 I un,g,,,gn El il '4 I' i I'M GLAD Ilm glad roads wind. Looking behind O,er a hill just climbed Pictures unroll - I always find lt right for roads to wind. PHYLLIS LAIDLAXV Form V THE SWAMP ON A SUNNY AFTERNOON N the opposite side of the swamp, by the brink of the water, there's a bright eyed Red-winged Blackbird sitting on a cat-tail. Dipping and swaying on his perch, he swings the slender reed downwards so the leaves, like long green lingers, Hick the glassy surface of the pond, and send countless little ripples scurrying merrily away in all directions. Now the bird leaps into the air, and the cat-tail lifts its autumn-colored head to watch him as he glides away. The bullrushes, like dowagers on a Sunday afternoon, are gossiping to a wandering breeze and telling him in hushed voices of the five new mud turtles hatched in the swamp. A yellow butterfly, skipping from one lily pad to another, stops to watch a silver bellied minnow playing tag with itself deep down in the shadowy depths of the stagnant WLIICI. Gnarled and hunch-backed, their bark hoary with age, the trees lean far out over the grassy banks and try to catch a glimpse of their own reliections. The buzzing of scavenger liies searching the steaming vegetation, the chirping of birds overhead, and the throaty flt'LI71g tzumzg of the bullfrogs-all mingle together ,til the silent atmosphere is saturated with the heavy monotonous drone. Then along comes the wind with her rustling skirts and says, f'Shhhhhhh,,' and the trees whisper back, 'fHushhhh, Hushhhhf' and a quietness descends on the swamp. The stillness is tangible and living. NIOLLY SIAIPSON Form VI LES VACANCES? L y a une question que je voudrais poser: les vacances sont-elles bonnes ou mauvaisesP Pendant mes vacances je mange constamment. Non pas que je ne prenne mon petit dejeuner, mon dejeuner, et mon diner. Non! Ie mordille quelque chose 21 toute heure. Malheureusement, les choses qui je devore sont: gateau, glace, et tout ce qui me rend grosse. Pendant les vacances mon lit est souvent vide jusqula minuit, une heure, deux heures, Ou trois heures du matin. Le lendemain quand je me leve, tres fatiguee, ma mere dit, Leve-toil ll faut que tu m'aides 21 faire le menage auj0urd'hui. Cependant pendant les vacances je peux oublier liecole. C'est une joiel Une vraie joiel le ne me pose plus la question, ce nlest plus necessaire. Les vacances sont bonnes, tres bonnes. Fai-iNCEs HOLMES , Form VI 541 THE FLAME I Q. . Q . if 1 I COMMENTARY ON ICE FISHING BY AN ELOOUENT FISH IRST of all, I shall attempt to relate the process of this so-called sport from my own personal observations. It is the misfortune of our family to be situated in the shallowest part of the lake. One morning, precisely at seven, the family was seated at breakfast peacefully devouring the latest catch of minnows fat a dollar and three cents a pound, I might addj. From above iour heads came a deafening roar. VVe leaped from our seats in time to see an enormous chunk of ice land on the dish of seaweed and splinter it into a million pieces. Dumbfounded, we watched the ice slowly ascend out of sight. VVe sat down at the table again, bowed our heads in a moment of silent prayer, and resumed our meal. My wife dissolved into a stream of salty tears. L'Oh,,' she sobbed hysterically, 'fthey're cutting holes in the ice again. My meal is ruined, absolutely ruinedli' As I rose to comfort her, I was stopped in my tracks. A menacing blue steel hook was hovering over our table. Death stalked through our cozy little home. As I rolled my eyes upward, I was confronted by a face peering through the hole in the ice. By the malevolent gleam in his eye. I could tell he already imagined me sauteed in hot fat, baked in wine, or in some such delectable form. Abruptly the hook descended upon our youngest and juiciest and snatched him from our grasp. VVith this my wife emitted a heart-rending shriek and collapsed on the lake bottom. Our newspapers are full of such terrible episodes. As you can readily imagine, the morale of our bereaved community has sunk to a new low in despondency. But the other effects of these catastrophes are more far-reaching. It has depleted our population from 304 to 197. Due to lack of fishpower, the production in our industries has slowed almost to a standstill. The scarcity of food has wreaked havoc with the laws of supply and de- mand. Why, just go out and try to buy a bottle of pickled seaweed. You will find that infiation has doubled its pre-season price. I shall hereby make my position clear on this major issue. I deplore this practice as positively barbarous. I predict fand mark my wordslj that if nothing is done, this sport will cause the downfall of our entire civili- zation. Ah, I can see by your drowsy expression and halffclosed eyes that I have been car- ried away by my own eloquence. After all, I'm only a fish and not a very influential one at that. Since nobody else ever listens to me, why should you? LEssER STOLTZE Form V THE FLAME 55 AMONG THE STABS ll ASY now, Frank, that sky's in bad shape. Better put in a new bulb. For Pete's sake, get those trunks out of the wings. Tamara, do you know where the hat to the other page's uniform is, and where the extra gloves are?,, l'Someone hold this ladder while I-N Okay, boys, pull that drop up. Easy does it-steadyfi Standing in the doorway, I took a deep breath and hesitantly walked up to the trunk on which a tall, bird-like lady sat, intently studying some sketches. Pardon me, but could you please tell me where I am to go? I am the walk-onf, Oh, yes, you're from the Andahazy Studio? Iust a minute, please. Ioe, Ioe Bastien, som-eone here for youf' A man in shirt sleeves immediately emerged from the bustling swarm on the stage and came towards us. 'ilust follow him, he,ll show you the wayf, Thank you, thank you very muchf, I followed the man across the stage, sensing all the tension and excitement of the backstage life just before a performance, at the same time feeling my insignificance. The man conducted me to a tiny dressing room partially buried under voluminous costumes. Four girls were seated in front of mirrors, painfully painting eyebrows and glueing on eyelashes. I was introduced to them and then seated in a corner. I couldn't make up my mind as to whether or not I should listen demurely to their conversation or pretend to be sophisticatedly uninterested by studying the costumes and busying myself with an invisible nail in the bottom of my shoe. After several minutes of pounding my shoe, accompanied by a stiff neck from turning to look at costumes, I gave the latter alternative up and watched the girls pull on their wigs and powder their faces. The door burst open, and in bustled one of the wardrobe assistants bristling with good will, pins, and a Brooklyn accent. The girls, is they treaten, you nice, girly? Of course we are, Dorothy, you know us. That's just the trouble. Ioe sent me to tell you it's time to start getting dressed. Curtainls going up in twenty minutesf' She waited expectantlyg then seeing no reaction, she threw me a benevolent smile and scurried triumphantly out of the room. No sooner had the door closed on her than it opened again to admit Tamara, the costume mistress. She was besieged with complaints and pleas for help, but calmly smiled and while curling the wig of one of the girls, told me that I could watch the Hrst ballet from the wings and get dressed during the intermission. A masculine voice bellowed through the keyhole, Five minutes! Curtain going up, ladies! Five minutesf, That Ioe, he knows the curtain can't go up unless we're out there, and yet he keeps pretending the curtain is going to go up without usfl I watched the first ballet from outside my dressing room and then rushed back to get into my costume. It was a rather gaudy green velvet riding outfit, as the ward- robe mistress called it, complete with a broad plumed hat and a pair of three inch high red boots. When I Hnally succeeded in getting into it with the help of two wardrobe assistants and the bursting of several hooks, I had the true hourglass figure. On my way to the other side of the stage, I passed two of the main Stars. I heard one whisper to the other, 'lMust be someone newll' I hastily pulled my plumes farther down over my face and tried to look as much like a ballerina as possible. 56 THE FLAME Once more I stood in the wings amid trunks and people, watching the curtain go up. The stag-e was a mass of light while its surroundings were submerged in a complete darkness. It was as if I were in a dark, humid forest looking out at a sunny meadow, eagerly awaiting my chance to run into the sunlight. Someone pulled my sleeve, and I realized that my chance had come. I took as deep a breath as my costume allowed and wobbled sophisticatedly onto the stage. SALLY FITZPATRICK Form VI THE SEA OF BLACK VTIHERE she was-Cathy Collins-mousy, self-conscious, the misht, floating in his arms Her pale yellow organdy skirt billowed as she danced. The bow at her neck stood out pertly, and she forgot that he had not even brought her a corsage. She looked at the other girls sitting patiently on the sidelines. They were clustered in bright knots, their faces set and gray, tossing their hair and laughing loudly at non- existent jokes and all the time darting watchful glances at the few boys who were not dancing. From time to time a gaily clad girl would be rescued from their ranks, and the heads would bob together again closing the empty space. Her face took on a half-pitying, half-encouraging smile as she danced by the group huddled along the wall. The smile was carefully copied from many she had received. There was the sharp clap of hand meeting back and a mumbled 'gThanks s'lot, and then she was gingerly matching her steps to a new pair of feet. Her smile was easy and relaxed now. She was not conscious of her tight new shoes any more, and the words came forth readily, sparkling and amusing. The succession of dancers was so quick that she had stopped counting-and then intermission. She sat surrounded by the black coats, laughing, flirting easily and graciously. The sea of black coats grew thicker and thicker. -is as as The music stopped abruptly, bringing her back from her dream. Her spine ached and her organdy dress was a mass of wrinkles from the long hours of sitting in one position. She shifted in her seat and leaned a little closer to the knot of girls. She threw back her head and laughed loudly, Guess I'll go get some punch-save my place, will you?l' She weaved in and out of the groups of laughing girls and boys, making her way cautiously back to her seat against the wall. Her hand crept up to her shoulder to hide the place where the corsage should have been. ' IENNIFER STATS Form III THE EYES HAVE IT EBSTER'S definition of an eye is quote: An organism of sight unquote, but to me it has always been an organism which causes me a lot of trouble. When I was born, my father, looking at me for the Hrst time, shuddered, hardly be- lieving what he saw. His daughter consisted of one small wrinkled body weighing two and one-half pounds and two enormous eyes. Had I known then that these two indentures would arouse comment all my life, I,m sure I would have closed them tightly. But I innocently opened them wide in hope of seeing all there was to see. Relatives and friends came from far and near to see this strange baby. They all sincerely agreed that all they could see was a pair of eyes. This story has been told to me hundreds of times by my parents and thirty-two relatives. At the age of eight I came home from school one day, crying that I never would THE FLAME 57 go back again. One of the boys had teasingly called me Hbug eyesf' and the nickname had spread so fast that from then on I was known as bug eyesw to anyone who could run faster than I could. Incidentally, I was pursuaded to return to school again, and life continued smoothly until I reached the seventh grade. I was beginning to notice that there were other people besides girls in the world, and I explained this exciting piece of information to my father. From then on he teased me, saying that I made 'icowu eyes at all the boys. This became almost more than I could take, but I discovered that if I ignored his teasing he soon stopped. I grew out of the cow-eyesv stage, though my father says I never will, and for many years I enjoyed perfect peace. That is, until several weeks ago. I was out with a boy, whom I admired very much. We had gone to a marvelous movie and just as we were at my door, he looked deep into my eyes and said, You remind me of a Iapanese goldfishf, From then on my ambition was to see one. My wish was soon granted at a friendls house one day. The fish had two enormous eyes bulging on either side of its head. They stuck way out and seemed completely out of proportion with the rest of its body. I realized what the boy had meant, and since then I've always felt a personal kinship to every Iapanese goldfish. I've tried many methods to make my eyes appear smaller, but the most effective one is to keep my eyes partly closed. Of course this brings about some diliiculty of bumping into things, but then, it's worth the sacrifice. So if you see me feeling my way along the halls, it's not because I am blind. No longer will I be called Ubug-eyesf' AUDRAE Noruzis Form V THE BLACKSMITH HE old room was hot and dry. The little black iron stove in the middle with its glowing embers had made an almost unbearable atmosphere on this stifling summer day. Rusted farm tools lined the walls and windows, making it impossible for much light or air to seep through. The old bent man stood cussing at my horse. I-Iis white hair covered his head and most of his face. I-Iis patched clothing was gray from the grease and soot of the workshop. c'Give me your hoof there, horse. Don't get sassy with mef, The old man grabbed the horseys hoof and spat contemptuously amidst the rusted horseshoes and bent nails. The horse tensed, and the look in her eye changed. I tightened my hold on her halter. The familiar hollow hammering sound began as the blacksmith pounded each nail through the horse's hoof and abruptly clipped off the other side, shaking it from his hammer to the ground. Once the hammer slipped and cut his finger, and he mumbled a few curses while sucking the blood and dirt from his hand. The horse stood still, numb to the whole affair. The old man hammered on steadily, only occasionally going to the stove to heat a piece of metal or to find a new nail in his tool box. The blacksmith gave one final pound and dropped the horse's leg. The man was breathing heavily and in short gasps. His face was red and covered with beads of perspiration. I-Iis back was bent almost double as he tried hard to straighten up. I dropped two silver pieces into his hand and walked out leading my horse into the fresh air, only to see two more horses being led towards us up the path. I turned to see the blacksmith bracing himself against the wall, faint with exhaustion in the terrific heat. NANCY NEIRIEYER Form V 58 THE FLAME vnu., HG wr' Q. ..,,, in Wx -.. y A W,-.V mg ': 4' m f . 11' K' ,N N .Jw- ' -,,-. 1513522 M :Q gm ANNE HE phone rang-short, angry sounds beating against her ears. She uncurled her- self slowly from the chair in which she was sitting and walked lazily over to answer it. She picked it up and heard a masculine voice speak her name. ltls Bill again, she said softly to herself. I do wish boys would stop calling every night. Honestly, a girl canlt live in peace these days! K'Annel', At the familiar sound of her mother's voice she awoke. She recalled the dream faintly as something unreal, something that could never happen to her. She stretched drowsily and sat up in bed. Another day. School, breakfast, algebra, work! Thoughts tumbled through her mind like a swollen stream after the first spring rain. She dressed hurriedly and ran downstairs, her loafers clattering noisily on the hard- wood surface. ' Breakfast was swallowed at one gulp. She picked up her books, gave her mother a quick kiss, and started the short walk to school. It was a warm, sticky day. The sun peeped through the thick foliage of the trees that lined the street. She thought of school, of the teachers, and of her classmates. Anne didnit like school. Whenever she thought of school, a thick black cloud appeared on the horizon, a cloud of loneliness. It wrapped itself tightly around her, shutting her off from the rest of the world. She knew what would happen when she got to school. There would be the usual smiles and hello's from her classmates, empty words that didn't mean a thing. Oh, they liked her, she knew that. It was just, just that she couldnlt enter into their world. Although she didnlt realize it, selfish parents had kept her locked up, away from the heartaches and laughter of people who should have been her friends. She thought dreamily of what might have been. She was talking and laughing with a group of girls. She was the most popular girl in the class. Everyone liked her and- Hello, Annefl Margaret, one of the girls in her class, smiled at her. Anne smiled back. It was so easy to smile, one didn't have to mean it. A smile was merely a form of etiquette everyone observed. Anne started to speak to Margaret, but that girl was already talking to someone else. Anne was forgotten. She turned and walked wearily toward the school, a small, dark girl who should have been happy but wasn't. She looked up at the soft blue sky. A breeze cooled her face, and the leaves of an old weather- beaten oak tree danced in time to it. Only they werenit really leaves. They were dancers whirling round and round, and she was one of them. CAROLYN RUMBAUGH Form III BEACON INN ETWEEN the ocean and the highway stood a rambling white stucco structure. The shabby red trimmings gave it a cheap appearance. The roof was of dull red tiles. The front of the building resembled a lighthouse. A light at the top, lazily blinked on and off, on and off. There was no lawn - only sand. We walked around to the side of the building. The whole back of the house was up on poles, and the beach stretched from underneath it down to the ocean. On the lighthouse tower were the words, Beacon Inn - Hotel, Cafef, Silently we went inside. As we waited for an attendant, I read an advertisement which lay on the cluttered desk. '4The enchantment of a never-slumbering surf . . . soaring sea birds . . . the sym- phonic Pacihc providing musical background for Nature's continuous floor show . . . a 60 THE FLAME descending sun gilding heaven above and the sea beneath with paint no mortal can express . . . this is Beacon Inn. A man in baggy pants and shirt sleeves entered, and we anxiously asked for rooms. Yes, he had a couple, way at the back. Gratefully we gathered up our luggage and followed him up the narrow stairs and through the dim hall. Our rooms were clean, but the bedspreads were a faded yellow with a big flower design in orange. The woodwork needed painting, and the wall was a peculiar yellow. We washed and went down to dinner. After waiting about half an hour, we were served. The girl who brought us huge lobsters caught our attention immediately. Her tan was even and dark. I-Ier black hair was piled high on her head. She wore a white blouse which dropped off her shoulders, a black skirt, sandals and no stockings. This outfit accentuated her sloping shoulders, full bosom, and slim waist. When we left, she gave as a quick smile. Back in our rooms we unpacked and then got into bed. I opened the window and turned out the lights. Outside the stars shone, the moon was huge and yellow. Its light stretched from across the ocean in through my window. The tide was coming in. The waves roared as they fell over each other in their hurry and broke against the pillars underneath our floor. Their spray floated up into the room. The breeze was cool and smelled of salt and sea animals. Downstairs I could hear people laughing - and the juke box, MARCIA RUSSELL Form VI TWILIGHT ' T WAS twilight, and the sunls rays cast a weird red glow on the river and its bank. The gaunt, bare trees stood out black against the crimson sky. A slight wind rustled the few remaining dead leaves on the trees, while a dogis plaintive howl could be heard in the distance. The snow on the bark was melting, and little rivulets of water trickled down, saturating the ground, forming pools of water and slimy mud, from whence came the clear, fresh smell of wet earth. The ground was covered with dry, coarse grass, brittle bushes devoid of leaves, dead, hollow stumps, and the rotted branches of long decayed trees. There were ridges of gray snow, mottled with particles of dirt on the banks, and in a few little gullies where the rays of the sun couldn't reach them, soft mounds of snow. The sun was slowly fading, making the pools of melted ice on the river glisten even more fluorescently in the waning light. A thin mist rose from the river, chilling the air. The night was still except for the faint splash of the cars passing through the puddles on the street, the incessant dripping of water from stones, and the gurgle as the sewers swallowed it. Suddenly the dusk was pierced by myriad lights, pin points in the dark. The spell of twilight was broken as day merged into night. ELEANOR BRATNOBER Form IV FROM WHERE I STAND AVE you ever noticed the difference between a sunset in the country and one in the city? I stood upon a windy hill, building castles in the sky. The last rays of the sun were pouring over the earth. They melted the hills and valleys into a soft, pink mist. Everything looked unreal, as if it should have come out of some legend long ago. From the baby-green fields a stray song Hoated up to my hill. The muffled sounds of living could be heard faintly. It all blended into the light of the drowsy sun. THE FLAME 61 They tell me that the sun sets in the city, too, but I don't believe them. The city remains aloof at the close of the day. It looks as if it were ashamed to be left alone in the darkness, and it is raising its proud head to spite the evening. The city is cold and unfriendly. Empty buildings stare down upon the earth with hostile eyes. The tired sun only illumines black, harsh buildings standing stiff and straight, guarding the close of the day. There is no peace in the city. People, like busy ants, rush here and there. No one takes the time to glance at the pitiful slice of sunlight timidly groping between two scowling buildings. All that can be heard is the metallic honking of horns and the squealing protest of someone's brakes. On my hill the whole world seems to stretch out before me. The countryside shares its deepest secrets with me. It whispers softly, and I am at peace. Finally the last rays of the sinking sun are drawn away to light another world. All that is left is one purple spot burning in the west. ANN HARMON Form V ACTIVITIES FREN CH RELIEF HERE has been a very active group doing relief work for France under the direction of Mademoiselle Diebold. We have sent the money to support a French orphan and have packed boxes of food and clothing and even toys and dolls. The elementary school and high school have both contributed to these boxes. Probably it is because we are learning to speak and write French ourselves that we have enjoyed especially our correspondence with the French students. We have established a regular correspondence between Summit and a little French school which has suffered from the war. We have also written to girls in other parts of France, exchanged gifts with them, and many of us have made friends that we hope to meet someday. Following is a brief summary of our relief work by classes: The first form has sent one box of food and one box of clothing to a school in Auxerre, France. The second form, with Miss Cobyfs help, has adopted a French family in the Vosges Mountains in France. Twelve packages of layette, food, and clothing have been received with enthusiasm by the whole family. The third form has sent seven packages of food and clothing to our own French girl, Simone Sabourin, in Paris. We have been sending a package the fifteenth of every month and have enjoyed doing it very much. In their freshman year the fourth form adopted eleven year old Ieannine Bonnet, through the Foster Parent,s plan. She had formerly been the French orphan of the class of I947. Every four months we send sixty dollars, a total of one hundred and eighty dollars per year. Each of the eighteen girls in our class donates two dollars, and the remaining twenty-four is raised by us. We have had food and hat sales in order to raise this sum. We make the food at home and bring it to school to be sold at four o'clock. The hats are knitted tassel caps, also made by us. Besides sending money, we write letters back 62 THE FLAME and forth about every three weeks. We pack a box and send it every two months. At Christmas we got together and bought a doll to send to her. The last package was Hlled with white clothes for Ieannineis First Communion. The fourth form has had a lot of fun being Ieannine's foster parents, and we hope to keep our adopted daughter until she doesn't need us anymore. The fifth form French class has been closely connected with France during this year. We all have one special French girl to whom we write. We write half in English and half in French. This system makes us more intimate with our girl, and it also improves our French. If we make a mistake in grammar, which we often do, the mistake is sent back corrected. At the beginning of this year and all of last year we were taking care of a twelve year old French girl, Monique Leval. We sent her letters and packages for almost two years including the summer. About the middle of this year we decided to take a French school instead of Monique. Two girls in our class still write and send boxes to her. So far We have sent a box of school supplies to the school, and each month we will send either clothes or school supplies. After a while we hope to be corresponding with some of the girls in that school. At Christmas time the elementary school and some of the high school brought all kinds of dolls and animals for French children. We have received several letters from France saying how wonderful the dolls were and what good mothers these dolls have now. Here are some of the letters translated. They make us feel well repaid for sending our dolls to France. Auxerre, March, 1948 Chere Ieanne, Our Principal has just come in our class room with the dolls you sent from America. Mine is lovely with her rosy cheeks and her blond hair. I shall name her Ieanne for you. I shall take good care of her, you may be sure. I brought the doll home after school. I waited for my father to come home before opening the box so as to have the surprise to discover My Ieannei' all over again. Father, Mother, my little brothers, and my little sister sat around the table admiring her. We sat there until ten o'clock at night looking at her. I have tried on her all the dresses. She has a magnificent trousseau. I never had a doll and I am so happy now. When I go to my grandmother during the summer, I will take her with me. I will never separate myself from her. Merci for the beautiful doll, and thank you with all my heart. Colette C10 years oldj Another, an eight year old child wrote: I donit mind going home after school now because I have my doll waiting for me. Monique From Brittany a ten year old little girl writes to a sixth grader of the Summit School: Dear Maraya, The baby,' is beautiful. It looks like my little sister Colette. It came on Thursday. I am so happy. I will make doll clothes with the pretty materials you sent me. Mother will knit booties for her. Father will make her a bed and a chair. You see I shall be the mother and my father will be the grandfather and my mother the grandmother. Michel, my little brother, will be her uncle, and Colette, her little aunt. Grandmother said she will be her great grandmother. I am so happy to have a doll of my own. I never had one. Monique T H E F LA M E 63 REPORT ON SERVICE COMMITTEE HE Service Committee, under the sponsorship of Miss Busyn, Miss Coburn, and Miss Nichols, is just what the name impliesg it aids the people that are in need of help here in our own city and also abroad. This year we have been concerned mostly with CARE. and W. S. S. F. fVVorld Students' Service Fundj. We launched the Community Chest campaign early in the fall and set as our goal the high sum of four hundred dollars. We were able to achieve this goal through pledges and by the Summit School Students, Association's voting to appropriate enough money from the ice-cream money to make up the goal. Last spring the school learned about the function of CARE, and since then we have been very much interested in that organization. In order to raise money for it, the junior class sponsored a record sale during lunch periods and after school. It proved very suc- cessful, bringing in fifty dollars which was enough for five CARE packages to be sent overseas to a Polish school. The student body decided that as their Thanksgiving olfering, they would like to contribute money towards CARE. Boxes were distributed around the school making it optional whether a girl gave or not. But within a two-day period enough money rolled in to send two CARE packages which also were sent to a Polish school. W. S. S. Ffs work was made clear to us after we had a speaker, Miss Gruner of Norway, come to speak to us. She made us realize how important this organization is. Therefore the freshman class staged an after school food sale, raising twenty-one dollars and forty-one cents. The second semester was devoted almost entirely to work for this organization. E The Red Cross drive was staged in the early spring and brought in a grand total of one hundred and eighty dollars and sixty-nine cents. The average of each girl in school was very high. It all was under the direction of Margaret Metcalf, who is our student representative to the Red Cross, and was elected Vice-President of the Saint Paul Chapter of the Iunior Red Cross. In looking back over the year we on the Service Committee think that it has been an extremely successful one. JEAN CARLTON, Chairman Ist Semester NANCY NEIMEYER, Chairman 2nd Semester THE INTERRACIAL COMMITTEE HE idea for an interracial committee originated in the senior class. We felt that, judging by our class, the rest of the high school would be interested in learning more about the Negro in Saint Paul. Most of us know very little about the Negroes, but want to promote better understanding between our group and theirs. A committee was chosen to plan a series of programs and exhibits. Our first speaker was Mr. Whitney Young, Industrial Secretary of the Saint Paul Urban League. He not only gave a general picture of the Negro problem, but also told us of their employment situation in Saint Paul specifically. This hrst speaker was followed by an exhibit showing the contributions of American Negroes and a movie dealing with the Negro soldier in World War II. The last speaker was Miss Constance Fisher, a welfare worker, who told us of some of the deplorable housing conditions in our city. We hope that next year this committee will be organized early in the fall and will be able to bring the school even more speakers. I MILLICENT THOMPSON Chairman 64 THE FLAME i N ...ulllnln wa 1461 : v F s V '1 1 3 ' F Y l K SPORTS The gazmcfs afoot . . . HIS year we have engaged in live sports. In the fall the upper three forms played field hockey, the third form Speedball, and the first and second forms Soccer. The upper three forms had a play day on October thirteenth with St. Mary's. They played field hockey and sad to say St. Mary's won 6 to l. During the winter most of the students played basketball while a few skated. On Friday, Ianuary ninth, we had a play day with Northrop. This time we played basket- ball. The results were better than those of the St. Mary'S play dayg for although the Summit seniors lost 20 to 8, the juniors won 14 to 12. Also during the winter we have had several intramural games of volleyball and basketball. The sophomores beat the freshmen in volleyball twice, 30 to 15 and 14 to 13, and in basketball Once, ll to 8. The Spring season has just started and everybody is playing tennis. AS the tennis tournaments end too late to be recorded here, we shall name last year's winners. lean Carlton Won the singles for the second year in a row, and lean Carlton and Aleeta Engelbert won the doubles. The following are the elected varsities. The captains are starred. FIELD HOCKEY VARSITY PIO.-KN ADAMS IEAN CARLTON LYDIA AHERN NEITIA COUNTRYINIAN IULIE GRIGCS POLLY BANCROFT PATTY COURTNEY ANN HARMON CLARISSA BOCKSTRUCK SALLY FITZPATRICK PHYLLIS LAIDLAW DOROTHY GRIFFITH ANNE HARTLEY MAIKGARET METCALF HELEN HARTIIIEL MARTHA HOLMAN FRANCES HOLLIES CAROL PEET NINA STEEFEL IOAN STORBERG KITTY WOLFF Speedball IANE ADAMS CYNTHIA CLARK BECKY DRISCOLL BARBARA FIELD HENNY IACKSON IUDY MACGREOOR Iojo MILLARD PETER MOLES CATHY MYERS TBETSY ROTHSCHILD IIINIE STRINOER THE FLAME NANCY NEIMEYER AUDRAE NORRIS ROXANNE PAPER NANCY RARIER :KGRETCHEN RICHTER LESSER STOLTZE VARSITIES Soccer DOTTY ANDERSON MARY BANCROET SALLY BINC-HALT IANE DUNNING CYNTHIA HOLT JULIE KAMMAN BABBIE LANGFORD HELEN MCGOVERN SUSAN METZINGER ELINOR MILLS DUSTY PLATT BETH HEADLEY SIOMI LANCFORD ANNE SEABURY ELIZABETH SLADE PI-IYLLIS STORBERG ELIZABETH VON DER Soccer NICKY BENZ CY'NTHlA BRACKETT TMARY DOSDALL LAURA FLOAN SALLY KATZ ANN LUYTEN CACO MYERS BETSY RAMSEY SUSAN READ SANDRA SCHAUB KAY STODDARD WEYER l l A 'FIOAN ADAMS PATTY COURTNEY ANNE HARTLEY MARTHA HOLMAN LUCY IACKSON CAROL PEET NINA STEEFEL IOAN STORBERG KITTY WOLFF 'WIEAN CARLTON IULIE GRIGGS ANN HARMON BASKETBALL VABSITIES AUDRAE NORRIS ROXANNE PAPER GRETCHEN RICHTER LESSER STOLTZE POLLY BANCROFT DOROTHY GRIFFITH IOMI LANGFORD XANNE SEABURY ELIZABETH SLADE PHYLLIS STORBERG WIANE ADAMS IUDY MACGREGOR Iojo MILLARD CATHY MYERS BETSY ROTHSCHILD IUNIE STRINGER DOROTHY ANDERSON SALLY BINGHAM IANE DUNNING CYNTHIA HOLT IULIE KAMMAN HELEN MCGOX'ERN ALUMNAE NEWS In the dark backward and abyxm of time . . . LIDA BUTLER is in Paris for her junior year. She is at the Sorbonne working on her major. At Smith, Polly Nye is working on cancer research in a new laboratory. Polly is also a candidate for the Smith House of Representatives. Monnie Russell, Iean West, Sylvia Burns, and Virginia Kinkead are at the University of Minnesota this year. Betty Holmes is doing work on Wellesley Students' Service Fund, and is on the business board of the Barnswallow Dramatic Club. Allison Butler is doing post-graduate work at Yale in anthropology. Patty Ray is a roving editor for Campus Parade, a new magazine about colleges. Cynthia Stoltze has transferred from Wellesley College to Stanford University. Margaret Herbert is at Rasmussen Business College. She has left the University for the year. ' Ioyce Carlton from Sarah Lawrence is going to Europe this summer with several other girls. They plan to visit most of the countries in Western Europe. Barbie Iudson is secretary of her house at Stanford. Caddie Dunning is the sophomore member of the Iudicial Commission at Rockford. She is also going to Europe this summer with a group from Rockford. Teedie Mairs is a freshman member of the Outing Club at Mount Holyoke. Dorothy Leavenworth is the president of her house at Rockford. Dorothy Countryman is Vice-Chairman of the Womenis Conference at Stanford and is also a candidate for Vice President of the Student Council. Charlotte Fitzpatrick, after graduation from Radcliffe this summer, is going to study at Oxford. Martha Elmquist is social chairman of Alpha Phi at the University. Mary Briggs has given several recitals this year at Radcliffe, including an important one at Harvard. Debbie Donnelly gave an outstanding recital at Vassar. Connie Cathcart is going to Europe for the summer with a group of Sarah Lawrence classmates. 66 THE FLAME ,,.-vo THE MIKADG COR THE TOWN OE TITIPUB by GILBERT AND SULLIVAN The play's the thing . . . The Miliaclo ol' japan ,,,A......,, liouise Stoltze Nanlci-poo, son of the Milizulonltilie Griggs Ko-Ko, l.ortl Iligh lixeeutioner Cynthia Baer Poo-Dah, l.oi'1l lligh liverytliiiig lilse Margaret Metcalf Pish-Tush, zi noble l.oril ......,, Ann Harinon Yum-Yuml Three sisters, Auclrae Norris Pitti-Sing ywartls of lean Carlton Peep-Bo , Ko-Ko Nancy Neimeyer Katisha, an eltlerly latly ,..,..,. Peggy Hamm Nobles' Cretehen Riehter Lyrlia Ahern lerrie Christenson Kathryn Comfort lutly Moore School Gzrlr Polly Bancroft Beth Headley Iomi Langford Nancy Ramer Anne Seahury Phyllis Storllerg Gmu'rl's Aleeta Engelbcrt Dorothy Grifhth Helen Hartfiel Elizabeth Von der XVeyer C oolics Clarissa lloekstruek Marly Deutsch Roxannu Freese Phyllis Laidlaw Elizabeth Slade Marlene Shapira Assisted' by Forms I, Il, III, VI. STHFF Dance Director ,.,, ....... Music Director ,,.,.. Pianist ,,,......Y..Y., Directors ,......... Stage Manager ....,,, Scene Designer .....,,,. Costume Mistresses .. Make-up Artiste ,,.,...... Property Mistress ,,....,, .Kathleen Lovett ........Ray Cutting .......Ruth Thietlc Mimi Lewis Dorothy NVarc ,,.,.,,.,Roxannc Paper ......,,Phyllis Laitllaw Ann Harmon Nancy Neinieyer ,....,LOU1SC Stoltze Gretehen Richter Lighting Technician .... .,,.,.,,., N ancy Rainer Publicity antl Business Managers ,,i......., . Aleeta llngelbert lean Carlton CREQTURES GF IMPULSE , . Nl . 5. C111.1a1.1t1' latqtlt-S. ll xtllngcr ,,,,,,,,.,,,,,,,,,,, 3111111 l.Llj'IL'l1 'l4lll'Ct' Villgrut-rs ,,,,,,, Nlilliut-11t plllltlllllktlll l3u1111it- l,g111gt11r4l l4llll1 rXtl.llll5 lim1111l1lcl1111'clt. Al IlllNCl' Nt'it.1 Ctltllllfjlllilll Pctcr. Ll u11yg11'1l ,,,.,,,,, , ...., I71':111gcs IlllllllLlS Mgirtlin. at mlirimtxy lnmllgtrlx' lzllcn llttggctt Pipt-tts. ll1'l' sl1y I1lt't'i',,S.lll5 A1111 ll1't1t1stt'i11 Sergeant Klrmqtlt-, lDI'1lYi' 1111111 Molly Si111p5o11 A st1':111gc oltl lguly ,,,, ....,, , Ninn Stcsful OUR HEHRTS WERE YOUNG FIND GQY Hy I1-31x R11111 Stcwg11'1l ,,,.,.,A.A.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,A. ....:X1111c Ht1rtlcy Mrs. Ski1111c1 ',,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,. ,,,, S L 1lly Williua f1Lll'I1L'llLl Otis SlQlllllK'I' ,, , Kitty YVult'l Otis Slti1111t'1 ',,,,,,,, . ,Sully Fitzpatrick Iimily Kil11l11'1111gl1 ,,,,,,,,,,,,,, 1114111 SItH'l7L'I'g1' Ptlrscr ......Y........,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Yirgi11i.1 Stryker Stcwgirtlcss ,,,,,,, ,,,, Dick Wintcrsn ,, ,'Xtlll1lI'2ll ,,,,,,,,,,,, . .,,, , Ilt1rrit'tSt. ltbllll , VVi11ili1'c1l lll1llIgll,,, , Leo Mclivuy, ,,,, ,, Inspector ,,,,,,,,.. I hcrcsc ,,,,.,. .,,,,,..,,,,,,,, Mt1clg1111c lflimu l:l1Qll'llbUC G11rl1rccl1t Lucy I11cks1,111 ,,,,,,,M41rrl111 HQl1111111 lfliZ11l1ctl1 Cobb ,,,,,,l,L'l7UI'1ll1 Butler Carol Pact , .Mnrcitt Ruswll Mnlly Tcasclrrlc , ,. ,.,, ,,lL'1ll1 Mgirs Ni47IISlt'tlI' cle lg1 Cruiy ,,,,,, , P.1tt1 QiULll'fI'lCl' Thr' l,i'mfmI1'rn1 Sftllf Dircctur ,,,,.,,,,,.....,.,, ,,,,,,,,.,,.,,, . ,Mimi Lt-wis Linc llircctms ,..,., ,..,,,, I .r1rc11g1 .Xycrs Suygtn filllllllldili Stagg- lli1't-rtm ',,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,, Y Llllif' Harris Scenery blllllllgill' ,,,,., ,...,,,,,,,.. . Xlicc Nclwn Lighting 'lk-cl111it'i1111. ,,,,.,,,,,,, YXIc111t1 l.LljlL'Il Property Mist1't-as, ,,,.,,, Clmrluttc Gg1rl1rccl1t Make-up Artistc ,,,,. Iitisimss M1lIlLlKLXL'l' ,,,,, , Publicity f,lllL'l ,,,,,,, Millict-111 'I'l1m11p5c111 Costutnc I71'SlgIlL'I', ,,,, , ,, llt?lllllC l.1111gfortl ,1,,.. Ilt-lon Lucas luun Atlxttns WHY THE CHIMES RHNG Hirst-rl on tl1c story by R.x1'xr41wD Nl.UtlDflN.Xl,IJ .XLDLY N11rr.1tc1r ,,,.,,,,,,,,. ,.... .,,,,, Olcl 11111111111 ,,,,,,, Peter ,....,..,,.,.. Ir1l111 ,,,,,,.,,,.,,, N1ll'll5lCl',,, ..,, Rich w1n11.111 ,,,,,, Scl1ol:11' ,,,,,.,,,,,, ,,,,,lltlY'UIllj Griilith ,,,,,,,,,A11r1c Stutbury ,, , Ilclcn H.1rtlit'l l'il4'Lll'lUI' llI'LlII1IJl7CI' . It-rric Cl1ri5tc11wr1 , ,,,,, KLltllI'l'I1 C0111f411't lilif.g111t-tl1 Slade L:llYlllll'I' .,,,. ..... , b1LlI'lLIlL' Sbapirgl Girl .....,..,. ,.,... ....,...,... l 4 ctl1 Headley Artist ,,,,,. .....,...,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,.., l luxnnna Freesc- Rich 1111111 ,,,,., liliv-1l1t-tI1 V1111 tlcr XVCYCI' Baker ,.,...,,..,, ......,.....,,,,..,. Musician ,,,,,,, Pt-11s11t1t ,,,,,,, King ,,..,,, , A 11 gel ,.r... Dirnctor ,,,,,,,,.,,,,,,,.... Assistant Directors ,,.,. It1111i Ll1Hgl:Ol'll Pliy llis Stnrlucrg Clnrissit litlCl'iSU'LlCl'i ...........Lytlit1 Ahern . ....., Iutly Moore ,,,.,,.Mi111i Lewis Polly l5r1r1c1'11ft 5l.1rly llcutrch V, AL... ,Y GLEE CLUB I-Ier voice was ever mf! . . N IOAN ADAMS . . . President IERRIE CHRISTENSON KATHRYN COINIFORT MARLY DEUTSCH DOROTHY GRIFFITH BETH HEADLEY IUDY MOORE ALEETA ENGELBERT IULIANA GRIGGS PEGGY HAMM ANN HARMON MARGARET METCALF NANCY NEIMEYER AUDRAE NORRIS NANCY RAMER LESSER STOLTZE IOAN ADAMS LORENA AYERS DEBORAH BUTLER SUSAN CAMMACK NEITA COUNTRYMAN PATTY COURTNEY SALLY FITZPATRICK MARTHA HOLMAN FRANCES HOLMES LUCY IACKSON MONA LUYTEN ALICE NELSON CAROL PEET MOLLY SIMPSON NINA STEEEEL IOAN STORBERG VIRGINIA STRYKER MOLLY TEASDALE MILLICENT THOMPSON SALLY WILLIUS KITTY WOLFF RAY CUTTING ...,.,. ,,,,,,, D l.7'BClOI' JUNIOR MODERN DANCE PHYLIS FITZPATRICK ..... SALLY BINGHAM ........ IANE ADAIWS SALLY COOK BECKY DRISCOLL JEAN DOUGLAS HENNY' IACKSON IOJO MILLARD CATHY MYERS IUNIE STRINGER IQATHLEEN LOVETT ,.... GAIL ANDERSON IULIANNE ICAMINIAN SUSAN METZINGER IUDY WOLEF IANE WASHBURN NICKY BENZ MARY DOSDALL CACO MYERS President ,Secretary Y,,,,,.FucuZzy Adviser for the Mod'er'n Dance Clubx THE FLAME MODERN DANCE Hlfyhmz you do fffzmw INN Mxllas ,,,,,,, ,. PULLX' l3.xNc:1mP'r l'1l.IZ.Xlili'I'II SLADI3 l'lIY1.L1s S'm1:P,1iuG lH'x'I'l11.x Hmm lux C.x1u.'1'0N Nxxm' X111x1m'ER .XVIJRXI Nfmuls Iilamxlaxri Ul 1'1.L1: Nl as Su xx C xmlxlxcrii l'.x'r'l'Y lifJl'R'l'NliY Mxu'l'1l,x lIo1.1x1.xN I1-gxx Mum Yu x S'l'liIilfIlL Ifmx S'I'1Jlilil:R!I IiI'I I'Y XVHLVI' ,rm CIuL'x'1'lu'1xl,xN PIACSIUKZCYZI 'I' ll If Fl XXI lf' 11 4 , . 4 THE CCDMEDY Q14 ERRQRS Mary Bancrofl: 1'Has anybody seen my identification brace- let? It has my name on it. Iemzifcr, angrily: The day after Princess Elizabeth's Wed- ding, someone stole my gym suit. Miss Spicer: 'LThis English class may not be able to meet tomorrow. Don't be too disappointed-Irony. 0 o iIli1r'gn1'c1: I think the electrical college is pretty good. 0 0 . Mary Wells, after looking at an algebra paper with the words go on written at the top: 'KMiss Coby, why did you call me a goon? I O Miss Bnsyfz: Did Iefferson, as Hamilton, have any ghost writers? Muirs: Oh, ieepers! I Q Moose, flying up to Phyllis: Are you going out Saturday? With Bill? Phyllis: Yes. Moose: So am I. 0 0 Alccm: I thought a neurotic was a drug Fiendf' o 0 Molly Simpson, talking about a boy: He's a dim bulb. Willius, taking her nose out of a physics book: Yah, a half watt. BAKED To eat or not to eat, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slights and snickers of insulting people, Or to take arms against our excess bulk And by reducing lose it. To stop: to eat- No more: and by a diet to say We lose The plumpness or the thousand extra pounds That Hesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation Devoutly to be wish'd. To diet: To eat- To eat? Perchance to gain. Ay, there's the rub: For in that wealth of food what pounds may come, When we would shuffle off this mortal fat, Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so much food: Miss Spicer: The Dakotas are very Hat-except where they're not Hat. 0 0 Miss Sirzfie: Tomorrow a young man will bring two test tubes for the biology class. Nancy Ramer and Cynthia, will you meet him at the door? Riinzer: 'tCynthia, you can take the test tubes. 72 Debbie, dashing excitedly through the Fitzpatriclis front door: Phyllis, is Debbie home? Science test question: What is a disease caused by lack of vitamin D?'l A1111 Simpson: 'KCrickets. 0 0 Miss Bilsyn: Inventors learned to vulcanize rubber in 1850. VVhat would they have used rubber for in those days? Lucy: Hot water bottles? Azrdrize: I have some French words on the board, but I'm not sure of them because I had to make them up. Mary Ella, in an English class: A man's best friend is a dog, Also a woman's. Dogs aren't choosyf' Marlene, translating Latin: I permit the Greeks to have many virtues. O I Teasdale, reciting the Preamble of the Constitution: to secure posterity for ourselves . . . Q Q Miss Spicer: Now, what does it mean by provocation in Desdemona's eyes? Harmozz: That come-hither look. Q . Miss Stevie: Sulfur does not smell, Ellen. You smell and it has an odor. D I HAMCLETD For who would hear the laughs and scorns of friends, The mirrors truth, the thin man's appetite, The pangs of despis'd love, the fun's delay, The insolence of models, and the spurns That plumpness merits and though unworthy takes, When we ourselves might our Figures help With a bare table? Who would girdles wear, To grunt and sweat under so many stays But that the thought of something that we love, The yet uncovered platter from whose sight We cannot turn away, o'ercomes the will And makes us rather bear the weight we have Than Hy to pleasures that we know not of. HELEN Lucas Sandra Quinn, in English: In our test on Lady of the Lake, will we have to translate a verse into English? o 0 Miss Rider: Henny, why did you say in your test that Brutus and Portia were partners in crime?,' Hemzy: They were married, weren't they? THE FLAME Summit alter Shakespeare to f-ight. Final exams There's small choice in rotten apples. Recess lunch XVbat's gone, and what's past help Should be past grief. Report cards The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelvef' Studying for exams Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. Walk around the block The true beginning of our end. Commencement A Midsummer Night's Dream. Spring dance Come not within the measure of my wrath. Tally board W'hatl Keep a week away! Absence Now good digestion wait on appetite, And health on both. Lunch O most lame and impotent conclusion. WVrong answer Much Ado About Nothing. Freshman Week Words, words, Words. Literary Section. at rt it H THE PIED PIPERS ON GOODRICH With apologies to Robert Browning Summit School's on Goodrich In the famous St. Paul city. Milwaukee tracks, long not wide, Follow its wall on the western side, A pleasanter spot you never spied: But, when begins my ditty About 3:10 each day The school suffers in such a way From boys, it is a pity. Boys! They honked their horns and came en masse And wooed some lassies from a class. They stormed the school by dozens and scores And drove their cars right up to the doors. They heckled the teachers and drove girls insane. To stay shut in school, what a horrible strain! They even spoiled the teachers' chats By drowning their speaking VVith shrieking and screeching In fifty dirlerent notes and flats. At last the parents in a body To the schoolhouse came Hocking. Our girls, they cried, are on a spree. And as for all these boys-it's shocking! The parents and teachers all decreed That they Wouldn't put up with this stampede. They said that the boys could come no more Until the last school bell rang at four. So now the teachers breathe with ease: They're plagued no more by this disease Of boys! Who honk their horns and come en masse And woo the lassies from a class. ANN Hakxxov THE FLAME Know that tomorrow, the last of many battles we mean lvjfa . 1 film ' al ' I ' ' 5 ' ' 1 r -.e..5 ' v des . ,Srl eff- Q I - -- ' .. J D NH .fun ' Qdf'-J - l ii ,fM' - ., ', . , ' fr I u-bil-1, '7'-'4 7'f' .JC-drk.,-,f:2'Puv A H N S MA'44 I I J ffff, 7-Aft. rl JJ.: l az , .Q nf ' N- 4 ,f --C J, I M4g'ji 4' I - I ' ll I ig NT' J 7 W . ., 1 f fx 'Q . uv VJ-l,,.Q-4,1 'avg' 1 A 4' W Nr-f c N e7 -..T 5' 'L4 Q--Q, ' Q ' Q 2 Von der Weyer, in Itnglish class: In the French Revolution jc, many people were executed by the kiloutinef' ,gf 'W- O 0 1 1 Peet: Oh, loan, you're so naive. F --P -3 Storberg, indignantly: I've been kissed. , , - 0 0 ah' ,qw Lesser, reading Othello: ' . . shall sink in my - ' rebuck . . . ' . . eq-4 1 21 v Mir: Rider: What was the name of the water nymph who I J' helped Odysseus? Coolq: I know. E, Miss Rider: Thats right. Ino. Vb 0 o ' ' Lu '-11 S 'rig Romer, in biology: Wheat contains gluttonf' '-1? F 1 o 0 lx D I l . Mademoiselle, spotting a first former coming out of a class X' . 'das for a drink, severely asks: What's going on? Girl, brightly: American Life. Mis: Spicer, seeing Peggy Hamm gazing out of the win- dow: Is he out there? Hartley, making an announcement to the school: The whole school's going to be there so everybody be sure to come. Hurffel: I like your ribbon. Where did you get it? Bockrirzlek: In the dime store where I get all my beauxf' Gogo Slams, to her little sister, Sissy: NVas Vllashington a general or an admiral? Sisry: 'tHe must have been a general, because an admiral would have known better than to stand up in a boat. 73 f 'I 1 ODE T0 A LARGE VOCABULARY I sat and thought sedulously About my sorry state, If I don't learn vocab, my marks Will all depreciate. So here's a word of sapience To everyone mundane: A dour face won't get you far Along the road to fame. A recluse leads a boring life, It seems that Way to meg It's iust like being ostracized Or sent away to sea. Rut never be promiscuous, It's shocking and it's base. Remember to be adamant And put him in his place. This perroration's at an end, I hope it's lucid, too, Although this may be brumous, It should be clear to you. ANN HARMON DISC DATA CRAZY RHYTHM .,,.,,,,,.,,,.,,.,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Modern dance FOOL TPIAT I AM ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,AA, I-I Xams I'M GLAIJ I WAITFD FOR YOU .,..,.....,, Ride home at 4:30 Sl5I7TliMIiIiR SONG ,,,,,.,,,,,,,,,.....,,,,...,,,...... Opening of school SOMEIIOIDY IiLSIi IS TAKING MY PLACE Next year's senior class AIN'T MISISIEHAVIN ',,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,i,,,,,,, P oints I'Ll. GIQT RX I,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, E x cuges TWO SILHOUETTIAQS ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,e,,,,, Summit dance IT'S FULL OR IT AIN'T NO GOOD ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, A fter lunch HOW I5liliP IS THE OCEAN .,.......,.,,..........,., Chemistry lab HIiY. DADDY O ........,,....,,,,,,,,,,..,,.,,,...... Plea for dues money I'M :X ISIG GIRL NOW ',,,,,,. .,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, F irst forrners I I'I.-XI7 A LITTLE TALK YVITI-I TI-IE I..ORD,,Before exams I IVli MINUTIQS MORE ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Summit dance Illilil' PURPLE .,.,,,....,,.,.,.,...... ......,,, I oannie embarrassed A G.-XI. IN CALICO ,,,,............. ...,.......,.. I-I ome Fc class I HAVIQ BUT ONE IIE.-XRT ,,,,,,, e...,,.....,,,, B iology HOW SOON ,,,,,,,,,,,,,.,.,,,,,,,,,,.... ,,,.i,.,.,. . .Collefze WHO IJ.-XT DOXVN I5IfRl'1 ,....., ,,,,,,, S aint Thomas TII,-XT'S MY I7l'QSIRIi ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,..,,,,,...i,.,....,,,, Graduation Iilifi YOUR P.-XRI-JON ,,,,.,,,....,,,,..,.........,i..,..,,... Tally meeting THIi RIQST THINGS IN LIFE ARE FREE,,Senior cut cards Carol, looking at a bewildering chemistry problem: Oh, dear! Mis: Sfcrie: Speaking to me? Thank you. Carol, still confused: 'iOh, dear! Miss Stevie, modestly: Again? Really, I'm not used to this in publicfl 0 0 Phyllis Slorlferg, in a vocabulary lesson: 'AIsn't the cemetery a school for priests? O O Mary lfllu: 4'Miss Rider, are We going to read A Tale of the Twin Ci1iz'.f this year?,' 0 O Lnry, in chemistry: Oh, Miss Stevie, what's that horrid bug on the floor-a centigrade? 74 OUR JUNIOR BOOM The door flew open: we rushed inside And gazed around with exceeding pride. The room was dark, the room was drear, But it'd house us for our junior year. K'It's ours! It's ours! A junior cried As each article in the room she spied. It didn't seem much, 'cause it looked so bleak But it would be shining within a week. First it was painted: the walls a cream. And that made everything start to gleam. Next the woodwork: a handsome blue. And the room of our dreams began to come true. The rugs were beaten, the pillows aired, And each new task the juniors shared. Each Saturday morning, you'd find us at work, And never a one, her duties shirked. A K'LanZy design appeared on the door, And at each junior meeting. we sanded the floor. Coatrooms were made for the far end wall, And a bulletin board we were quick to install. Chairs were donated, and curtains were bought. A homemade lampshade next was sought. We then pasted up 'lliack Home for Keeps. The room was progressing by bounds and leaps. if And now we have finished what has been so much fun. No more are there duties that need to be done, So we will invite you to see on your own The bex! looking room that's ever been known! IEAN Caiu.ToN A1135 Low!! entered the faculty room with a football. Poof tried to get the ball. Mix: Spicer: Put the 'football down and Poof will make a home run. Science test question: VVhat is a tissue. Dzmziingi KleeneX. 0 0 Aleem: Couldn't you find that book in the book pond? O O Alfsr Sieeic, to class: Are you as hot as I am? Cliffs: Oh, yes!'l Alix: Stevie: How do you know? Lf! mmm!! ,-::- ,a 4'l'l ff 7 A S ft 694159. 'U Il cd ' THE FLAME THE SENIORS IN HEAVEN Ti1ne: Several centuries hence. Place: A group of clouds high up in heaven where the first reunion of the class of '48 is being held. Lucy: QWhose halo is a skein of white ynrnj L'Oh, say, I got the funniest letterfknit one, purl two, knit one, purl three-from Swift the other day.'l Filz: CScratching her head with a toe encased in a pink satin ballerina shoeb Hmn? I don't understand. But it is a rather striking arrangement of colors. Molly T.: CFloating back to view a cloud which she has been decorating in pink and orangeb YVell, thank you, I think it needs just a touch of purple. Snr: CSeeing Anne and Debbie riding on pogo sticks and bounding from one cloud to another, Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. Anne: CGasping for breathj l'I'rn so . . . so out of breath. Debbie: CHer face beaming as she spots Sally Annj Oh, Sally Ann, let me tell you what happened . . . etcetera, etcetera, etcetera . . . Sully Ann: CAlso beamingj And let me tell you . . etcetera, etcetera, etcetera . . . Marty: CGrinning happilyj Say, have you heard about my trip to Nagawijdiw last century? illurefa: tWith poisej HSay, Harris, may I have a ride home on your cloud when you go? Jlillirent: QTimidly fluttering her wingsj 'LOli, dear. May I too? Oh, uh, what are you talking about? Nancy: tWithout hesitationj l'Certainly. of course. Sue: CSeeing Iane coming across the sky on a golden camel? 'lChuckle, chuckle, chucklef, l.wAcmz: CThe inquisitive mindj 'LHow did you get past Saint Peter with that animal? lane: QCalmly looking down from the camels backj Oh, he knows I love camels. Virgizzizz: QLooking up from her large volume entitled Hezzferzly Fflfflllliflfj VVell, Simpson, why are you so late? Molly S.: fClenching a paint brush between her teethj Oh, I've been down below doing a sketch of Lucifer . Q gig THE FLAME and some of his fiends. Alice: CLanguidly stretching her wingsj Next time you go down, give them my regards. Sue: CSlylyj Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle. Liz: QPlucking a harp While Neita pirouettes across the cloudsj My dear, you do fully. Neita: CVVhirling hack againj make quite a difference. Sally W.: fAbsently lingering and take care of my littlest Bonnie: fFeverishly studying 17151167156 Pcoplej By the play bridge? if that beautifully, just beauti- VVell, you know these wings her hairj I must go home cherubf' How to Win Friends and Way, does anyone want to Kitzy: Clnhaling a deep breath of . . . fresh airj Well, what I mean to say is . . . that is . . . of course . . .? Mona: Clingrossed in a volume of Nuclear Physics? I Wonder if anyone has discovered heavenium yet? Charlotte: CTU Helenj Do matches my hair? you think this gold halo Helen: fUnscrewing her eyeballj Hmm, yes, of course. Patty: CSinging energetically and keeping time with her eyebrowsj 'lOh, the knee bone conneeta to the leg bone, the leg bone connecta to the . . . Carol: fHolding a long silver cigarette holder ornamented With snake-like designsj Oh, really, Patty, must you? loan S.: CBlushing furiouslyj Oh, dear, where can I get some cloud fluff for my flash bulbs? Nina: fXVith patience and understandingj 'lHave you tried the new compound cloudofoamo? Dee: Uovially slapping everyone on the backb Hellooo, you all. XVell, well, where's Ellen? loan A.: QVVashing her hands in a basin of nitric acidj Teh, teh, very sad about Ellen. Very sad. Ieannie: QMournfully shaking her long golden hairj 'AYes, you see poor Ellen . . . well, she didn't quite make itf' Sue: fVVickedlyQ 'KChuckle, chuckle, chuckle. Ellen: CFrom far, far belowj 'IBeuw. Whar'5 done 1.5 done L. N. 1. M. K. S. 75 , AUTQGRAPHS xxWrite 'til your ink be dry. . . X Sw , w 2 v O 5 ! 3g1nz'i'S .. ti in I . ' . 9 5' X WR if


Suggestions in the Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) collection:

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1944 Edition, Page 1

1944

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1946 Edition, Page 1

1946

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1947 Edition, Page 1

1947

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1949 Edition, Page 1

1949

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1950 Edition, Page 1

1950

Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN) online collection, 1951 Edition, Page 1

1951


Searching for more yearbooks in Minnesota?
Try looking in the e-Yearbook.com online Minnesota yearbook catalog.



1985 Edition online 1970 Edition online 1972 Edition online 1965 Edition online 1983 Edition online 1983 Edition online
FIND FRIENDS AND CLASMATES GENEALOGY ARCHIVE REUNION PLANNING
Are you trying to find old school friends, old classmates, fellow servicemen or shipmates? Do you want to see past girlfriends or boyfriends? Relive homecoming, prom, graduation, and other moments on campus captured in yearbook pictures. Revisit your fraternity or sorority and see familiar places. See members of old school clubs and relive old times. Start your search today! Looking for old family members and relatives? Do you want to find pictures of parents or grandparents when they were in school? Want to find out what hairstyle was popular in the 1920s? E-Yearbook.com has a wealth of genealogy information spanning over a century for many schools with full text search. Use our online Genealogy Resource to uncover history quickly! Are you planning a reunion and need assistance? E-Yearbook.com can help you with scanning and providing access to yearbook images for promotional materials and activities. We can provide you with an electronic version of your yearbook that can assist you with reunion planning. E-Yearbook.com will also publish the yearbook images online for people to share and enjoy.