Thomas Starr King Middle School - Echoes Yearbook (Los Angeles, CA)

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AQUAPLANING ml, HE dive into thelwater is perfect. Splash! The lake which was as smooth as a mirror is broken into tiny, rippling waves. Then steady, even strokes to a red surf board dangling on the end of a ' long cord which is fastened to a shiny, spotless motor boat. You slide easily onto the long surf board and the boat starts, at first going slowly with its speed steadily increasing. Gradually you crawl upon your knees and finally to your feet. You grasp the cord and hang on tight. The boat is going at a terrific speed. As it turns corners the surf board barely skims the water and the wind is flying past you. But your ride is so thrilling that you hardly notice the cold. The boat is slowly slackening down. The cord is gradually loosening. The boat stops. You jump into the water and swim back to the landing to lie in the sun drying yourself and thinking of your ride which ended only too soon. Marjorie Burger, A9 THE OCEAN The Storm: y The waves, crashing, rumbling, tearing. and raking at the rocks and shoresg vivid lightning flashes dart about. The thunder and the wind 15 screaming. The sky above is pouring all its stored up revenge down on the sea. Ships are tossed like match-sticks on the water and reefs. Big waves dash over them and far into the night rolls the storm. The Calm: A white ship passes byg strong, friendly wind fills the sails. The breeze flows and tosses about the hel1nsman's hair. The deep blue waves roll past the stern. Far in shore the little waves splash on the rocks and shores. The light blue sky smiles down and asks forgiveness for what it did the night before. Stanton Chandler, 119 THE STORY OF THE DANDELION fri, HE sun, the rnightiest of all the gods rode day by day in all his splendor through the skies, beloved and feared by all, save only one. This person was the god of Night, that fearless being who defies 'T all light and steals over the earth enveloping all in a cloak of da1'kness. But his stay was always hindered by the arrival of the sun as he rode across the flaming sky in all his magnificent glory. However, the great god of night was not to be defied, and one day as the sun passed over the hilltop, Night with a bow and arrow, aimed for his heart, and drew the cord of the bow. It snapped with a twang and the arrow sped through the air and pierced the sun. Many little bits dropped to earth, and became little golden flowers called dandelions. These flowers were given power to heal, and if steeped to a tea will remedy many an illness. Therese Aller, 119 One Hundred Fifty-one

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Finally the maiden lost faith in her lover, and sitting among her beauti- ful flowers started to weep. Time rolled by. Her tears lay on the ground around her. They rose until at last she was completely covered, Alas! Still she weeps. Many years have passed and now people say the sea-weeds are the flowers from her garden, the water is from her tears, and, now, at night, when the ocean moans, people say it is the beautiful maiden calling for her lover. Yetifve Bliss, A9 SAN PEDRO DOCKS At the dock in San Pedro where boats come in from all ports, teeming with color and excitement, a small tramp steamer from China chugs in to dock. There is a feeling of oriental mystery about her. The whistle is screaming, one noisy gangplank is falling, the hoarse bellows of men as they clamber to shoreg the groans and grumbles of cranes as they lift the wares from the ship. The smell of sandal wood floats through the air from the interior of the ship. Then everything is quiet except the waves swishing against the pier post as they go shoreward. The odor of freshly cut shingles and the freshly caught fish, the odor of burnt coal and oil are all mingled with the earth smells of dying day. Stanton Chandler, A9 BIOGRAPHY OF A FROG APRIL 14th, 1929, a wee taclpole extradited itself from the mud at the bottom of Willow Pool.The first pure water which it reached was its christening water, and from thence on, we must call it Tad- i pole Grumphf' Of his parents, Tad knew nothing whatever, perhaps he would someday make their acquaintance. Under the pond he darted around, surprised at his freedom from the sticky mud. Soon he grew used to playing tail-tag with other tadpoles, and to listening to old grandpa's stores. It was in this manner that he spent all his tad-hood. It always seemed wonderful to Tadpole that he would someday become a frog, but when the time came that he actually did shed his tail, it did not seem queer at all. Now he was a young frog and could no longer play tail- tag -because he had no tail! His life was spent chiefly in ridding the world of terrific pests-flies. Although that was his only good occupation, that was done to such an extent that we of the world may be very glad there was a Tadpole Grumph. His chief pastime in young frog-hood was doing expert diving and taking stulbaths on lily ponds. In his grandpa-hood, he told stories to all the little tadpoles in Willow Pool fGrumph had never traveled farther than the banks of Willow Poolj. i He died an old, fat, blinking frog, on September 30, 1932, by dire acci- dent-he was eaten by a fish! His greatest works were: teaching young frogs expert diving, ridding the world of 3,200,000 flies, and giving Willow Pool forty tadpoles. Owenita Harrah, A 9 One Hundred Fifty

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THE ORIGINOF THEBUTTERFLY the long ago some little elves lived in a beautiful green forest. It was a warm day in summer. eAll the spring duties has beenailoiie, such as decorating the trees with fresh green leaves and pai1'iti'iiQfft1ie ' ' I flowers. The elves 'xVC1'C very lonesome and Wanted -some eiiteltiginl ment. All at once a little fellow jumped up and said, ccWOUldll,t it be fun to have a cloud to play with! They all agreed. w - A net was made of spider web, and they llevv up to -arosy cloud. They caught it and brought it down, but alas! They could not get it through the trees. They tugged until they tore it to bits. The bits Hew away among the trees, glittering in all the colors of the rainbow. These bits of clouds were called butterflies, and they still flit about today. Lepha Jurgefzs, .179 OLD MAN SALT ,,g COW hand on our ranch in New Mexico, Old Man Salt, used 'Q to tell this tale to me. I have related it as nearly as possible in his dialect. I-Ie was quite a character in the vicinity and very famous I for his stories. When I was about eight year ole I had an experience jest this side them Chico hills. I was livin' close to the two knob mountain you can see plain frum here. The Indians catched me. A little afore, my father had a fight with six of 'em on top lVIalapes lVIountains. He killed five of 'em, and left them there, swellin' and rottin' in the sun. The sixth got away, come back with the chief and a lot of 'em. They was 'fraid of my father, so they watched and got me. Sneaked upon me when I was aways frum the house, down in a arroya. Was down thar playin' with a rattle snake. Used to think it fun to get a snake, half kill 'em, put my foot on his head, cut hide off 'round his neck, peel it right off, turn his loose and see him cut didoes. Couldn't crawl, you know, would stand right up on his 'tail and wiggle 'round 'till he'd look like a cork screw. I was down thar chewin' terbaker, had lheerd the punchers say that if you spit terbaker on a rattle snakes back it would kill 'emg I was gaing to prove it to myself. T'hey sneaked up on me when I was tryin' it out. Got me, an tortured me every ways for three days. Then as I was still alive they got tired, I guess. They come across an old molasses barrel, where a outfit had ben campin'. They took out the top. put me in it, and put the top back on. Left the bung hole open fir air so I'd die slow of hunger. Then they left. In a few hours I heerd a noise outsideg I peeked thru the bung hole. A big bear was lickin' molasses from around that bung hole. I let him liek. Finally the bear turned and rubbed his hips agin the barrel, his tail hung over the hole. I reached out with my finger and pulled the tail in, got a good hold with both hands, and hollered. He took out for the pinons, me hangin' on. Finally he slammed the barrel agin' a tree. It busted and I got out. Now you believe that, don't you ? he'd say. , i I said that I did to be aflable to the queer old fellow. . Well, by gad, I don't,f' he drawled. ,, , . ' i Illartha Chapin, .49 One H u nd red Fifty-two