Venango Christian High School - Saga Yearbook (Oil City, PA)

Page 11 text:

WHERE THE GRADS ARE It has been said that,- What we do today will set the pace for to- morrow.” Questionaires were sent to all graduated students in order to determine their present positions and its relation to their high school work. THOMAS FORD works as a weigh- er” at Republic Steel Corporation, Warren, Ohio. Tom found that office practice and typing aided him in getting his j ob. RONALD J. DOLECKI is attending the U.S. Army Engineer School, Fort Belvoir, Virginia. He plans to become a draftsman” upon dis- charge from the Army. PAUL WALTER JOHNSON is attending Gannon College, Erie, Pennsylvania. He plans to become a dental surgeon some day. Paul took the academic course and feels that it was the best preparation for college work. CONNIE RINALDO is studying to become a nurse at Capital City School of Nursing, D.C. General Hospital, Washingto , D.C. First- aid and chemistry proved to be Connie’s best subj ects. LARRY LITW1NOVICH is studying at Saint Francis College, Loretto, Pennsylvania. He hopes to obtain his bachelor’s degree and possibly go on to graduate study. DAVID R. HARTSELL is majoring in accounting at Gannon College, Erie, Pennsylvania. He hopes to enter the service through the ”4 year R.O.T.C. Program. English was Dave’s most beneficial high school course. THOMAS HARTSELL is also attend- ing Gannon College, Erie, Penn- sylvania. His plans are to study law both in college and in graduate school. THOMAS OWENS is taking a Pre- Med course of study at the Univer- sity of Dayton, Dayton, Ohio. He plans to be a dentist, and chemistry was his most important subj ect be- cause it is the basic foundation for his present experiments. GENEVIEVE SMUTEK is majoring in physical education at Slippery Rock State College, Slippery Rock, Pennsylvania. She hopes to be a physical education instructor in a high school. NEIL EDWARD TODHUNTER is a student at Saint Bonaventure Univer- sity, Olean, New York.(Con t., pg. 15.) By Suzanne Marshall I remember how it stood there mangled and inviting. I was just a kid then and every gnarled, knotted limb was a potential tree house. And I a pot ential Tarzan. All us kids used to climb it when the weather was nice, and we were nice. Nice in gram’s house was when everyone dressed to fit the weather. When it snowed, if we had on snowpants and mittens and all the other things kids wear when it snows, it was nice . So we climbed summer, winter, and fall. I wouldn’t climb in spring 'cause there were about fifty billion bees in gram’s tree. They rented our tree-house or something, I guess. At least that's what gram said so we believed her, of course. My gramma was the smartest gramma alive and, besides, she made the best cherry pie in the whole world. Jimmy (he’s my cousin) and I used to get little pies made especially for us ’cause we were the oldest, we were also the WAR GAMES By Michael Fletcher Some people ride in speeding cars And others fly beyond the stars To get some fun from this dull life. (Some even try to get a wife,) But I have found a better way To get a kick from every day. All I have to do is this— ‘Cee, you sure look stupid, Sis-9 And books and missiles fill the air Pots and pans and silverware. Then 1 behind the sofa find A refuge and some peace of mind Until the opportunity Is finally afforded me To peek beyond my padded fort. Boy, this is exciting sport- A little bit of searching proves The enemy has made her moves. She9s sitting in her bedroom lair A raft of curlers in her hair. A verbal missile ready waits, The megaton she really hates. It finds its tar get with a boom; 7 ey, what is that thing in Sis9 room?9 The mop-up actions now begin. (This is why I always win.) 4Doggoney Sisy throw 9way that stuff. Without it you look good enough.' lousiest tree climbers around. One summer day when it was nice out, I fell out of Gram’s cherry tree. Cherries were all over the ground when I landed, so my mother couldn’t tell whether I was bleeding or not. I must have knocked down at half the cherries in the tree. That’s what Gram said anyway, and Gram was never wrong. I cried for all those cherries that couldn’t ever be in one of Gram's pies. All I got was a cherry sunsuit, a broken arm and an angry mother—which didn't par- ticularly bother anyone but me too much. THAT FALL when the leaves were getting all crunchy, Jimmy and I decided to go tree climbing again. My arm was all better then. My mother told me that tree climbing wasn’t ladylike but then I wasn't a lady. I was a kid who liked to climb my gramma’s cherry tree. I’m glad I did too, because it was my last chance. My cousin Jimmy fell out and broke his arm. He didn’t even smash any of Gram's cherries but he was a boy so everyone got scared and now there's a sandbox at the place where Gramma’s cherry tree used to be. 9

Page 10 text:

By Ann Logue LITTLE BOY ALONE Pete Rollins stood alone on the sidewalk holding his violin case. He had to go take a lesson; the other guys were probably playing football. He swung his foot way back and, with everything he had, kicked a stone hard and straight and with satisfaction watched as it scraped the bark off a nearby tree. '•That's the Pete Rollins they don't know, he thought bitterly. That's the Pete Rollins who can do everything they can do if they wanted to notice. A memory came back and he closed his eyes to shut it out. They had no- ticed him plenty once. They had noticed him all 62 yards of the touchdown he had run tn the wrong direction. They had noticed and laughed the whole long walk back, not a warm That-guy-is-a-blast laugh that was friendly and in- clusive. No, it had been harsher than that. The way a guy laughs when he says What-a-fink or Throw him to the lions or something. It seemed that he'd been running in the wrong direction in front of them ever since. The noisy street- cars broke into his thoughts and he turned and walked toward town. Pete and his family had must moved to Mill City but Pete was pretty sure he didn’t like it here. It was so hard to make friends. He'd been a pretty big guy with the crowd back home. Everybody liked him; he could do anything. It had oc- curred to him recently that maybe he could do too much. He looked around him: the dirty old buildings, the littered streets, the crowded sidewalks. He hated the city! AS HE ROUNDED THE BUILDING opposite the Cozy Corner”, he heard loud voices and saw a crowd gathering. He recognized some of the fellows as he crossed the street and walked toward them. Joe Simpson, a red haired, pimply faced smart aleck, had grabbed a small boy by the arm and was picking the gro- ceries one by one from the bag the boy was holding and throwing them to the crowd. So they had another victim. Pete remembered the taste of the numb loneli- ness when it had been his turn. They’d been in Mill City for a week but no one had stopped at the house so, when his father mentioned seeing a group of teen- agers at a soda shop downtown, he decided to take a chance and make some new friends. When he walked into the shop, the place suddenly got very quiet. It was Joe Simpson who had come up to him too and asked him his name. Pete? Joe Simpson repeated and spat it out. Pete, Pete with the two flat feet. Pete had grinned timidly. Then, W hate ha' got there?” He pointed at Pete’s case. Ya play some kind of horn? I play the vio lin, Pete said eagerly. You play the violin? His tone was incredulous. Hey, guys, you hear that? He plays the violin. His movements grotesque and exaggerated, Joe danced around bowing an imaginary violin. The place exploded with laughter. Well, violin player, we got some rules for you, don’t we fellows? The group shifted and nodded ominously. Shall we tell Kreisler here the rules for violin players? The shifting started again. Simpson put his finger on Pete's chest. Listen, Petie boy, you gotta get asked even to walk by this place, understand? Asked. So out—until we ask ya to come back. The crowd lunged 8 forward and stomped their feet. Get out! Pete turned and ran. He could still hear them scream- ing behind him. Joe's loud, jeering voice brought him back to the present. How come your old lady doesn't do the shopping, sonny boy? Is she growin’ you up to be a girl?” The anger in Pete’s throat choked him. He pounded his case. Damn! When would they stop! I don't have a mother, the little kid said. She's dead.” Aw, ain't that sad, Simpson said and went on pulling the things out of the bag. Look, guys, good- ies. Anyone for hamburger, cris- py critters, weiners?” Hey, stop that!” the kid yelled. That's our supper. You gonna get tough about it, kid? One of the older boys hit the kid with his index finger so hard he had to grab the pole to keep his balance. He was bawling now. You don’t want to eat this do you, kid? Joe dropped a melon and smashed it into the ground with his foot. The small boy searched the crowd for a sympathetic face. His eyes found Pete's and pleaded. Pete stood transfixed for a moment and then turned abruptly. You dumb kid, he thought. This is your battle, not mine. I wanna go home, the boy cried and touched Pete's jacket. Did ya catch that—he wants Pete to take him home. Well, what's the matter, violin player ? Dintcha hear him? Pete could f eel the hot anger and embarrass- ment rise within him. The boy was still crying. God, Pete wished he'd quit. What’re you waiting for, Pete? Joe simpson's face was pushed menacingly in front of Pete’s own. The crowd had be- come quiet...waiting for someone to move. Pete braced himself and took a deep breath. He had spent a lot of days alone on the streets with his violin case. He reeled: Any kid who’s that much of a baby had his mother too long. Inside the store he couldn’t hear the kid crying anymore.

Page 12 text:

The Class of ’67: L,eaven FRESHMAN YEAR...The beginning ...Entrance exams...Uniforms... New regulations...Old regulations... Pink slips...white slips...yellow slipsmmu MARGARET BURNS AND LENA MAS- SON: Grade school was never like this. ONE: Mary Karien, Elizabeth Keating, Virginia Aaron, Deborah Allio, Kathryn Baj orek, Joyce Boczon, Theresa Bowen TWOi Kathleen Breene, Valerie Bunce, Morgaret Burns, Anna Caccavo, Karen Callahan Christine Cartwright, Rose Mary Coyne THREE: Katherine Duda, Jennifer Dziekciasz, Kathleen Paller, Bertha Everman, Made line Echenoz, Mary Jane Fink, JoAnn Gohr FOUR: Mary Gavin, Christine Guyton, Susan Given, Karen Guyton, Christine Horgenrad er, Marie Heher, Kristina Homan FIVE: Maxine Wojtowicz, Carolyn Hovis, Jean Hynes, Nancy Jarosz, Patricia Kalamojka 10