Walker High School - Pepper Pot Yearbook (Simsbury, CT)

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His HeriTage HE Train rushed shrieking Through The nighT, impervious To The heavy darkness enfolding iT, blindly following The knife-like gleam of iTs headlight The lighTs from The windows shone on The dark ground. making liTTle brighT squares ThaT leaped franTically over rocks and shrubs. The wheels clicked madly over The rails. sounding like a crowd of old women babbling in sharp. dry voices. PeTe saT very sfiff and sTraighT in his seaT, gazing around him. The glaring lighTs of The car shone down on coarse green upholsfery and a dirTy green carpef wiTh a peculiar flower design on iT. The voices of The passengers rose and fell inTermiTTen+ly, mingled occasionally wiTh The shrill laughTer of a woman or The rusTle of a newspaper. To PeTe iT all seemed like a dream, and he felT almosT afraid To TesT The realify of iT for fear he would find himself once more aT home in The hafed aTmosphere of The liTTle Maine Town. The fuTure looked somehow very brighT iusT Then as he visualized New York for The millionTh Time in his life, and once more builT his casfles in The air. The iob of reporTer on The Herald-Tribune seemed Terribly imporTanT, and wiTh char- acTerisTic self-confidence he saw himself working up from There To a posiTion of wealTh and power. He was deeply grafeful To his uncle. whose influence and friendship wiTh The chief execufive had been insTrumenTal in geTTing PeTe his opporTuniTy. ln his en- Thusiasm he almosf forgoT The Tremendous obsTacles facing him and, acufely aware of his youTh and inexperience, he knew ThaT They would hesiTaTe before acknowledging any abiliTy he mighT have. Sharply The memory of his faTher's failure once more re- Turned To him, sTinging him wiTh iTs TruTh and ineviTableness. Somehow, his fafher had losT his courage and deTerminaTion, had given up sTruggling To make somefhing of him- self. and gone back To The dreary buT easy exisfence in SouTh Berwick. where PeTe had been born. Some of The people PeTe knew There warned him ThaT he was TempTing faTe To Take a iob on The same paper ThaT his faTher had worked on so unsuccessfully for eleven long years. BuT he had laughed aT Them for he felT infiniTely superior To Them. He had haTed Them for Their laziness. Their lack of iniTiaTive and willingness To be conTenT wiTh Their loT. Fafe, They said wiTh complacenf solemniTy, ruled men's lives, and There was no escape or release. They felT sure ThaT The desTiny of The fafher would be passed on To The son, and ThaT PeTe was never To see The fulHllmenT of his dreams. PeTe despised Their hypocriTical philosophy, for he felT ThaT They were simply making excuses for Their own failures. The Thoughf of his faTher once more refurned To him, and his cynicism vanished. leaving him wiTh a feeling of Tenderness and sympafhy. The old man sTill wroTe arTicles and sTories. and hopefully senT Them in To various newspapers and magazines. buT They were somehow never accepfed. His one inTeresT in life was PeTe, and as Time wenT on his love for his son became The only Thing ThaT made him wanT To live. He wanTed To see his son accomplish whaT he had noT, and he Tried To give The boy The sTrengTh of characTer necessary for The slow building of a successful life. and which he felT ThaT he himself so uTTerly lacked. PeTe had TaciTly undersfood and vowed To prove himself worThy of his faTher's TrusT. 87 1- ':rf.-'-wwf-1 si 'fnfawezrffwvgaw 'ww .,a,,, -. ?-HN4 TWT H A, iii fir -

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mf Off , ,M . l Like To Think . . . l like To Think of The world As a liTTle volume on God's bookshelf. Which he Takes down from Time To Time To smile over. The rich and mellow binding ThaT is The ear'l'h Embossed in golden sunlighT, Holds TogeTher The sTrange Tales of Life. As He fingers The Thin pages. Turning The seasons over one by one, l see The picTures ThaT are There. Colors painTed by a rainbow Or an auTumn leaf. Trees doTTing The green hills Like sTraighT, Tall leTTers Spelling age and mighT. Jagged rocks and mounTain peaks Like ancienT hieroglyphics Scrawled by The pen of eTerniTy On The parchmenT oT The sky. And l, l am bul' a drop of ink On one whiTe page, Like a splash oT The salT sea Sprayed againsT The sails of Time, Soon To be bloTTed oul' As He genTly closes His book And wonders aT His work. :sua-.4 is-vwwf' 5 86 T PEPPEB POT RFU'

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was-wr ffl' if W 'KWH The Train iolfed, ierking him back To realify wiTh unpleasanf suddenness. He saw ThaT They were pulling inTo a sTaTion. LighTs flashed. and voices shouTed, muffled by The din of clanging bells and puffing engines. He wondered vaguely whaT was The name of The ciTy. buT sleep suddenly overcame him, and he driffed inTo oblivion. New Yorkl PeTe felT as Though he were walking on air. Hungrily his eyes Took in The scene before him. People sfreamed by: men in rough Tweed overcoafs, sfriding affer hurrying red-caps: women in cheap fur coaTs dragging children behind Them: old women in long narrow shoes and shapeless felT haTs sfriving To keep pace wiTh The rushing crowd. Red-cap. suh? An insolenT Tan face leered up inTo his. PeTe shrank back in- volunfarily. He felT suddenly very lonely. and wished franTically ThaT he were once more aT home. BuT almosf before The wish had maferialized in his mind, his self-con- Tidence reTurned To him. No, Thanks. he said firmly and. grasping The suifcase, he sfrode quickly away. Oufside he hailed a Taxi and gave The driver The address of a boarding house which had been recommended To him by his uncle. From The firsT momenT PeTe realized ThaT his work was noT going To be easy. The hours were long and The pay small. and he was confinually impressed wiTh The Tran- sciency of his good forTune, ThaT aT any Time his place mighT be given To someone else. He was kepT busy wriTing, rewriTing, copying. The inferminable days crawled by. crowded wiTh work. Then The nighTs would follow: resfless nighTs in which PeTe was Too exhausfed To sleep. He began To undersTand more fully why his fafher had given up. and in spiTe of himself he ThoughT of iT frequenTly, buT he knew ThaT he could never face The shame of refurning home wiTh his goal yeT unaTTained. So The days driffed inTo weeks, The weeks Turned To monThs, and sfill PeTe clung doggedly To his purpose. Nafurally aloof, he made few friends, and he seldom found Time for amusemenf. Perhaps iT was This aloneness ThaT made The Time go so slowly: perhaps iT was The humdrum monofony of his life, buT PeTe was sure ThaT if was his own impaTience and The habi+ he had dropped inTo of living in The fuTure. He sTrove To curb his ambifions and To drive his idle dreams from his mind. For he persisTenTly Told himself ThaT They were idle dreams, ThaT he would be years in ThaT posiTion, years Tak- ing The same orders. years earning The same salary. BuT somehow he felT in his hearf ThaT he musT rise before ThaT, and aT The end of seven monThs his confidence was ius- Tified. One day The chief said curTly, Blaisdell, l'm gonna give you a desk of your own. You can Take The one over in The corner. PeTe was nonchalanf. Yes. sir. Thank you. sir. BuT his brain was whirling, and in ThaT second The whole world seemed To change color for him. His firsT sfep up! He felT suddenly free from The sfigma of his faTher's surrender. He was more sure of his ulTimaTe success and. giving his Thoughfs free rein, he picTured himself in The course of several years becoming an execuTive. BuT a brief Two weeks laTer PeTe's happiness came To an abrupf end. He arrived aT his lodging To find his landlady sfanding in The doorway, a brighf yellow envelope in her hand. He seized iT and ripped iT open wiTh clumsy fingers. IT was signed by 88