Summit School - Flame Yearbook (St Paul, MN)

Page 25 text:

S 3 NORWEGIAN COUNTRYSIDE Hlf drillling rain cast SOHIIDCI' grey shadows over the lake and the surround- ing l1ills. The road took sudden short jaunts 2ll'OllIlil jutting rock 13112111011- tories which obscured tl1e lake lil'Olll view. Small noisy s1rean1s hurried itnpor- tantly ll0YVll tl1e hillside and i111errup1ed tl1e road witl1 crudely hewn bridges. Tl1e spread-out branches ol' the W00llL'll fence interlocked lingers and SU'l'IK'lll'll themselves Zllflllg tl1e roadside. Behind the fence, tl1e llllL'l'l1ll1l1llJlC stretch ol' forest was broke11 only by an occasional lralf-tinibered 11111. liven the huts SCClllCil to ble11d into tl1e 11atural landscape. lor their sod rools were overgrown witl1 grass and straggly trees. The i11tervals between curves i11 tl1e road gradually shortened as tl1e hills grew up. The lifting mist gave us glimpses of tl1e jagged prohles of tl1e 111ou11- tai11s ahead. Tl1e road became more Zillll INOYC erratic as lllil lake narrowed. The current ol' tl1e water grew 111ore swilt as il it were trying to escape the crowding 111ou11tai11s. I saw, with increasing regularity, tiny larins perched at a precarious angle o11 tl1e n1o11ntai11 side. Tl1e bright patehes ol' helds must have been hewn laboriously Olll ol' the surroundings. They looked so tuumturalfas if they Illlgllt be swallowed 11p i11 a 111o111ent by the dense pine forests. H'e CZIIIIC to an abrupt l1alt as Zl cow ligiagged across Olll' path. Her cowbell clanked furiously as a snrall l0U'llC2lllCil boy harried l1er with a stick from behind. Both boy and cow stopped i11 tl1eir tracks to stare at us witl1 frank, uninhibited curiosity beliore moving on Olll ol' sight. The road lurched suddenly to tl1e right. in a steep curve. Hlithout lilly warning, the lake Clllliil ill a surprise valley. In lront ol' us a village sprang 11p out of nowhere. The incredible gl'CCll of tl1e grass rools struck our eyes i11 contrast to the quiet to11e ol' weathered tini- ber. Ill tl1e center 21 crean1-colored hotel dominated tl1e cluster of houses. It looked unnecessarily large and prete11tio11s in its hunihle surroundings. But even tl1e hotel was overpowered by tl1e towering peak behind it, its snowy ereviees glazed by 1l1e larewell rays ol' Ill-101110011 sun. Louise S'roLTzE Form VI 23

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FORM I Front row, left to right: ELLEN HUSE SANDY PLATT BETTY HANS'1'ElN ELIZABETH FRIFDMAN CAROL BRATNOBER Back ww, left 10 Tiglz PATTY FOBIQS AfIARY LANGE VIRGINIA XVEYERHAEUSFR GEORCANNA NIOLFS Noi in the picture: DOROTHY CODDON 22 JANE HARTITEY GAY GRAY NIYRA SHAPIRA ARDIETTA FORD NIARAYA NICCULLY I: MARY HOSKINS BONNIE BIAIRS NIARILYN ERICKSON NIURIEL 1-IABIMC

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ON SHARPENING PENCILS VERY evening before I sit down to begin my studies, I must run to a near- by sharpener and file down a handful of pencils. This task is an inevitable process and one which I detest wholerheartedly. How much easier life would be if I could sink into a comfortable chair and call, james, or john, or whatever the pencills name might be, quick, sharpen yourself! I'm in a hurry to do my studying. But this is a futile effort, for the pencil just lies there, stiff and composed, not even realizing what is expected of it. I suppose that I complain about the difficulty of sharpening pencils because of the awkward position in which I confront the sharpener. Most pencil sharp- eners are within easy reach, ready and willing to assist, but the only one I have access to is a devilish object in a remote corner of the kitchen. After carefully making a detour around a table and a waste basket in order to reach it, I thread the pencil through a maze of obstructions-a cake tin, matches, a coffeepot. All the while I am bumping one elbow on a stove nearby. Then the trick is to turn a corner around the toaster without breaking off the newly sharpened point. The greatest handicap is the sharpener's continual rasping noise, which irritates the mind so that it causes a momentary relapse. During this unhappy state of oblivion I am absolutely helpless and wander about in a daze. This happened the other night, when, already a bit unsteady from a previous en- counter, I entered the kitchen. Not knowing in which direction I traveled, I veered off my course and absent-mindedly held tl1e pencil under a water faucet while turning on the handle. If these losses of memory go on in many American homes, I expect them to be the future cause of a great deal of insanity. In due time the sharpening of pencils becomes a habit impossible to cureg for the more one sharpens them, the sharper they must be. The unfortunate victim of such a habit cannot use a dull point at all, but needs one needle-sharp in order to enjoy life. I am affected in this way myself, and I have watched this strange disease progress through its various stages. First, a happy state of bliss in which a pencil sharpener plays no part, then gradually the arising consciousness of such an object, and finally, the pathetic condition in which one scurries to and fro from paper to pencil sharpener in an endless cycle. I feel a deep and knowing pity for all those sorrowful people who, like me, have reached the final and incurable stage. There are many types of pencil sharpeners now on the market. The most popular type is the one which sharpens all sizes of pencils and honest styles of lead. This one leads a fine and honest life, playing no favorites and developing no prejudices in its daily routine. Then there is the kind which is particular and, when feeling stubborn, absolutely refuses to sharpen a certain type of lead. I have pondered a great deal over this subject and decided that the only pos- sibility of overcoming this temperamental species is to surprise it by using a lead which it will operate. Of course, some brands of sharpeners do not do their task at all, but there is no need to discuss these. For this emergency there is a simple device which may be used if one feels bold and daring. I refer to the knife. But it does not work if one wishes a sharp point, for it is a very primitive and caveman-like method, which at best leaves a blunt end, and at worst, a cut finger. I speak from experience on this subject, because once in a terrible battle against knife and pencil, I lost, and I still carry a scar. I might add that these knife wounds bleed excessively and are a great bother. They take between one and three weeks to heal. I have thus arrived at the conclusion that it might be better if there were no pencils at all, but on the other hand there are two arguments to consider. 24