Walt Whitman Junior High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

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THB RUNAWAY what will I do? where will I 'i 9 V. x,43 ' f ' ' Q' X go?N These were some of the puzz- -J,,Qtg, ya !5g5i3l3fia55Sggj ling questions I kept asking myself -'SQ ' I WBQ Sig?-4 Could 1 go back? No: That was if 7 b definite. I had said I would never Ag 5S5Q555iTT5EgfQ- return. I would just have to start I 'N S' ' ti 'Y f-'QT' my new life on my own twenty dollars, would I had been walking But with I-manage? around for three hours and it was getting dark. Then it dawned on mel Here I was, in my own neighborhood. Didn't I know where to find an inexpensive boarding house? Of course! There was one across the street. With a brave smile and a courageous gait, I entered the house. HGood day,U said the propri- etress. HGood day,n said I, although to myself I thought, UWhat's so good about it?n Hwhat can I do for she smart, I thought, to buy a dozen eggs! you?n Isn't I'm not here I told her I was looking for an inexpensive room. What do you think she asked me? How old I am. Quickly I asked my- self how old must one be to rent a room. I had a feeling she was get- ting suspicious by my prolonged answer, so I told her I was sixteen. iN P o Q I-I 0 5 1 41 UQ c+ S o w FD m H m NJ 3 N S le. 1 4 s K YSSESN F T The smiling proprietress then said, UI'm sorry, dearie, but I simply cannot rent a room to any- one under the age of eighteen. UThank you.H What else could I say to the smiling battle-axe? Then she said in an encouraging tone, Ulf I were you, I'd go home. It's getting dark.H That was all I had to hear! I picked up my little over-night bag, and was our of her house in a huff. I was back where I had started, with no place to go. I realized I had no choice. It was now very dark and cold. I pulled my coat closer to my body for warmth. Now, I was on the steps in front of the door. I took a deep breath and rang the door-bell. It was my mother who answered only to say, HHurry up dear! Get wash- ed. Your supper is getting cold.n Nina Gottlieb if .SLWxH'.H'.!lL a ' SAKA 3586913 27

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l ll '-l!!Ll? V is ' ,... I 5 Q-Q L .W , e -,.. as f , --' ' -- 3 di, H gl f- A f 't 2 , W' .J 'A 5.,A'N' -1- -4 f ,-- 1 'fav -I 1 f ff f - -, -?.1IA..... nie., ' K 'fp f-'J - ' A Y,-Tau. b-f ' '-V: ' q'.?':5 -'T A ,,,Jf-:H - 3-1 - in -'I X V ,Alf ,fi-if A 1 ' F-A 'A Y -Q i A:--- ' Eu- x Y i 4 gg gjfi' -4 1'-eh 'I A WINDY TALE q --L I I I ' - - 1-E1 -- .lx It was dark and cold. I was on my way home from the library. Suddenly a heavy wind started to blow. I began to run but didn't seem to be getting any place. I kept tripping over unseen things or so it seemed. Finally, though, when I made it to the lobby of my house, a cold strong hand grabbed me by the neck. I struggled to free myself of this new-born terror only to run into a wall of heavy-looking, musty old books. When I fqnally untangled myself from this unexpected horror, I got into the elevator to go to my apartment. Mr. Josephson, my neighbor, was in the elevator. Upon see- ing me he said, nRicky, what are you doing with all those '+. R,F.Muv.v.n1 The reason I seemed to be tripping over unseen things was that the treacherous wind was sweeping me off my feet, I had felt that I was getting no place because the furious wind was against me. There was a cold hand, but it was only the cold, icy wind, The smothering wall of books was created by the fact that, as I stumbled into the hall, I raised the books in front of my eyes and they appear- ed to be ominous. Gosh, now that I think of it, I'm glad and relieved that it was only the wind and books that gripped me with fear and not the real thing. Lois Axelrod books? Here, let me help you.H He then asked me why I looked so horror-stricken. 26 1 w p v

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. .twilight magic- - The mist of the twilight throws many strange shadows, They shrink, and they leap to gargantuous sizes: Here valleys and mountains, mosquitoes and giants, There devils now clothed in angelic disguises. These shadows trespass on the mist of the eve, That seems to be woven of cobwebs and dreams, Where nightmares and daydreams with ease intermingle And never a light of reality gleams. A rumble emerges from up in the heavens, Tha shadows stand still as if just stricken numb-- A flash of streaked light crashes in the horizon And the earth waits in silence to see what will come. Some clear crystal water, like light, tripping steps Falls onto the road, and is soon joined by more. They drop down and splash up, like a young woman's Scirt That rises and falls on a bright ballroom floor. The wind, as if trying to run far away, Shrieks loud, but the rain at once quiets her chants Like a laughing young girl when her lover has caught her And she finally succumbs to the tune of the dance. The raindrops swirl wildly and seem to dance faster As if all their reason and senses had gone: They're slaves to the rhythmg the thunder grows louder Like a frenzied percussionist, leading them on. They dance upon rooftops, on windows, on pebbles, On mountains that soar, and on rivers that bend... This music of nature might go on forever!- But at once a great silence announces its end. Delirium ceases, a murmer is heard Like the whispering of couples that leave the dance floor A mist falls on earth like a lady's gray veil Which she quickly adjusts as she heads for the door, The earth is now silent, except for a patter: The very last callers are saying good night. They fade in the mist, a soft breeze shuts the doorg And the night slowly comes as they turn out the light. Sharon Gilbert