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

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Alumni Spotlight: The Real Side of College Life EDITOR S NOTE: Daniel Goodman, 65, former editor-in- chief of The Barque and Master Printer of the VCHS Voy- ager Press is now a freshman journalism student at St. Bon- University, Oloan, New York. by Christine Cartwright Danny Goodman is one of those people who likes his privacy and I’m one of those people who don't like to give it to him. So we get along just fine since he's up at St. Bonaven- ture's University in Olean, New York and I'm here writing about him. I'd say he likes college an awful lot, es- pecially the every-other Saturday-nite parties which I'm not supposed to tell anybody about. But Dan says if it wasn't for them a student would crack up from the work. He does a- bout 4 to 5 hours of studying a night and more for tests. He told me if he had high school to do all over again he wouldn't sleep through Spanish and math classes. He's decided Sister Re- gina was right aftei all. they started the new system because, as he put it: I'd be too old for col- lege by the time I got out. To sum it up, when Dan's not working and even when he is, he's having the time of his life, and if you don't count what I can't tell you, it'd be pretty boring. Sally Takes 7' a Illustration by Rosemary Coyne by Marta Savage The fellows up there call him Benny after the more famous Good- man, but around here he was known as old rug. He left a lot of inspi- ration behind him when he left. He inspired me to write about him and he's also inspired more stills than people would care for me to mention. Right, Ted? His schedule is rather crowded with such classes as religion, English lit., Spanish, math and psychology. He has high words of praise for the tnars who teach there. They're really with it, according to him, They're just like big boys. You should see them riding around the campus on their hondas. The college provides free movies every week-end for the students, and tradition holds it that whenever a fav- orable scene comes on the fellows bang the chairs up and down. Tradi- tion can be rather curious, hmm? Dan's glad he graduated before There were three real sharp guys across the street, so I decided to play it real cool and walk by like... so what, ya know? So I'm walkin' and sayin', so what and doin' pretty good until I tripped over this dead dog that was layin on the side walk. Man, after that I just said, Forget it! I wasn't surprised. Whenever I'm tryin' to act real cool I end up actin' like a real coolie. I guess yop ''ould say I don't have any class. Let’s put it this way, I could trip over a linol- eum floor. For example the time I got my first heels. I practiced for three months. By the time I wore them they were worn out. Anyway graduation came and I walked up to get my eight grade diploma. On my way back to my seat I thought, Great no goofs! Well I shoulda'kept my mouth shut because just then I tripped over Mark McGinity's big feet and broke my first and last pair of heels. This ocher time, I walked into the local hang-out with this real neat guy! These girls looked at me like, How do you rate and I looked back like, Some got it and some don't. That was an unfortunate way to look because I just happened to bomb into a waiter who was carrying a bannana split and three tuti fruti sundies. Well, 1 walked out minus a groovy guy, plus a banana split and tnree tuti fruti sundies. It sort of crinkles up your insides to do so many stupid things so many times. Some of my uncoordination has rubbed off on my friends. After going someplace with me they get so nervous, they resort to watching my feet. The time we went roller skating is unforgetable. It was towards the ndofthe dav and I had collided with every person in tne place at least three times. I don't know how, but I didn't see the 350 pound ten year old who darted out in front of me. Pat Skiba pushed me out of the way and the fat kid fell on top of her. That was tragic! 6

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short story complete on these two pages SANTA WON’T COME film of the stuff outside. This was especially dangerous in Heatherton’s back yard, for it was on an incline. It was good for the kids though, be- cause they could use it for sled riding. If the snow kept falling, there would be plenty of kids coming over and Petey could watch them. He didn’t go out much. He was a normal child—but an only child. His mother hadn’t re- alized yet that all kids need to romp and play and have friends. She much prefered to have Pete indoors where she could keep an eye on him. It's a funny scarecrow, daddy, it’s arms move. Did you ever see a scarecrow that moves?” No not really,” Mr. Heatherton was absorbed in his paper and coffee. I wonder who tied him to the swing. Guess who he looks like.” Petey, come here and eat your breakfast.” Mr. Heatherton felt that Petey had been absent from the table long enough. I want to watch the scarecrow.” Come here!” I want to watch him.” Santa Clause won’t . . I’m coming, daddy, don’t tell him.” And Petey, there is no scare- crow out there.” Yes there is.” And I suppose there is a pump- kin in your cereal too?” Petey looked at his cereal and up again. There wasn’t even any milk on it. He didn’t really want to eat his cornflakes, but his dad was al- ready angry. He grasp the milk carton with both hands and paused. He was lucky—he didn’t get too much on the table. Look what you did.” I’m sorry daddy.” Petey ate q uickly and went over to the window. The scarecrow’s not moving any more. Maybe he’s tired.” Scarecrows can’t move, they’re not alive.” This one can. He even looks like ' a live person. You know who he looks like?” This was apparently not heard for Mr. Heatherton continued,” Scarecrows can’t move, only people and animals can because they’re alive. Scarecrows aren’t Maybe we have a live scare- crow.” Petey, this is enough nonsense, there is no scarecrow out there. Just like there is no Morgan!’ Mr. Heatherton had always failed to see why Petey made up friends when there were such nice kids in the neighborhood. There is to a Morgan, he’s my friend. He comes and plays with me when I want him to.” There is no scarecrow out - there,” said Mr. Heatherton. He want- ed to stay as far away from the sub- ject of Morgan as he could this morning. He didn’t feel up to it. But he didn’t feel upto much this morning. He added as a second thought. It’s winter. Who would want a scarecrow in the winter?” Maybe the big boys put it out there. The ones who broke the swing.” Don’t be ridiculous. You broke the swing.” The big boys did.” You did!” Well mavbe they didn’t. But...” Petey had one of his father's large hands in his and was pulling him over to the window. If there isn’t a scarecrow. . . Oh my God!” Mr. Heatherton added that last remark softly. It was Crazy Deamer. Mr. Deamer or Crazy” as he was known, had somehow gotten tangled up in the loose chain and was hanging there. See there is to a scarecrow, isn't there?” Shortly the place was crawling with people.

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Illustration by Rosemary Coyne Thus, I live in a constant fear of falling to my death. This phobia is bud enough without the guilt complex I have concerning my friends. My con- stant apologies and their patient, “It's O.K., or, Forget it! are getting to me! But even worse is the humiliation I suffer. After I had slipped at the soiled dish table, I heard some girl say, who was the clumsy girl who did that? My feeling of insecurity concern- ing motivation in general turned to panic during our annual style show. I walked the long ramp and up and down the stairs without tripping or or falling. The only thing is, I went in the wrong direction. This is unim- portant because I now no longer trip. You can tell anybody that has a bug on promptness and punctuality in this school. They’re walking through the halls shaking and muttering to themselves. It’s happening to everybody. Right now I am two weeks late for a class, and I don’t even know which one be- cause they switched rooms on me. All I’m completely sure of is that I wasn’t someplace where I should’ve been, not unusual, however. There was one poor freshman who walked into the boiler room by mis- take and because he was so terrified to go back out and look for his class (it’d happened to him before), he sat there talking to the boiler because it made noises back at him. Do you know what finally happened to that poor boy? He got two Saturday de- tentions for skipping classes. Vhat really unnerves you is, when walking down the hall, you meet a drooping, half-starved figure. The story is sobbed out and it seems he’d been lost three days. The poor kid couldn’t find history class, and when he got off the elevator on the third floor it took him that long to get back. Yep! He’ll be here Saturday, too. There’s one girl I know of who hasn t eaten since school started. Shall we ever forget that lovely folk song, Black is the color of my true love’s hair? Unfortunately my lament is not quite the same, Green is the color of my guy’s hair (sob!) Through a schedule mix up of some sort she had a POD class scheduled for eighth and ninth modules. The whole thing wasn’t straightened out until she applied for an application to go to the health room to see what they could do for malnutrition. Need- less to say, when she was carried in, they discovered the error and cor- rected it. Now all she’s got is wri- ter’s cramp from fixing schedule cards. This system has left no one im- mune. When there’s a P.A. announce- ment calling for a misplaced class, you know it isn’t the class that’s lost, it’s the teacher. It must be a rather insecure feeling to know that after teaching in different schools for years, you aren’t capable of find- ing a whole class. But, cheer up! When we’re all neurotics nobody’ll seem different. Illustration by Rosemary Coyne He is the toughest guy and his name is Joe. Until recently, his hair was bright red, and I really loved to tease him about it. So Joe decided to surprise me by dying his hair black; the trouble is, the black didn’t take on his red hair— now it’s a horrible green! As a matter of fact, it’s the same color I turned when I saw it! So I said You have got to be kid- ding me, Alice (which is my most regularly employed phrase). But that’s too good to be true, he wasn’t kidding, it was that really cool green color and that’s the way it was going to stay—his reply to my question was , . . and it won’t wash out!’’ Not too neat, just what I’ve always want- ed. I mean, granted, green is my fa- vorite color but this is carrying things too far! Naturally, optimist that I am, I tried my best to see the good points of dating a guy with green hair. First of all he has a new' madras jacket in which the main colors are navy and loden, so the hair looks pretty sharp with the jacket. I have still another consolation, there’s a circus coming to town next week and I am getting a free pass, they want Joe to be in it; and no wonder they want him—he really does look cool, with freckles yet! Well, at any rate, it won’t be too bad. I won’thave to look at that neat- ness green in my classes. Father just expelled Joe from school this morning. So now the only time I'll have to worry about seeing him is at the out-of-school dances and the lights are usually pretty dim there anyway. Ask me if I’m going to miss him. I give up, am I? Lough Awhile: Where Have All the Classes Gone? by Christine Cartwright 7