Walton High School - Periwinkle Yearbook (Bronx, NY)

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OUR SCHOOL LEADERS SENIOR CELEBRITIES

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did. not burlesque or deride in some fashion. For as we have tried to indicate briefly, there is something present beyond this laughter, some- thing more than just an innate desire to be flippant and witty. To quote Bernard De Voto: ln Mark Twain's humor, disenchant- ments, the acknowledgment of defeat, the realization of futility find a maturer expression. l-le laughs and, for the first time, American litera- ture possesses tragic laughter. LAURA KRON Mu Dciilu -I-Pip lo School lnvariably I gather my books the last moment, trip over the milk bottle outside our door, kiss my mother hurriedly on the ear, call, Any mail? to the mailman as l tie a shoestring on the third step, and dash out without even waiting for his apathetic nod, or more often, negative grunt. The noisy heave of the glass door behind me marks the begin- ning of my journey to school. Generally, my timing is so perfect that if, in my stride, l take in the streets and people as one dashing continuous blur, I reach my room at 8:00 o'clock on the split second. From long experience, however, l can distinguish enough outline to shout Hello, to several people, glance at a blaring headline, note the weather, smile at the little boys on their way to school, thumbing the passing cars, and hurriedly mumble the lines of a poem or a verb, depending upon what l have the first period. It is with utter disregard that l pass by the apple woman and the man with the song sheets. It is with complete indifference that l hear on all sides comments on whether the digging around the school is for graves for seniors, or freshmen-l know of the existence of these things only through the faculties of my sub-conscious mind, which functions intermittentlytduring the day, and which reports on things noted on my way to school. And there is always a great deal to think about, and many things present themselves to me many times throughout the day, for l have traversed the entire and lengthy distance of one city block. HARRIET SPECTOR

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-l-he l.osl Mile Arrayed in the unaccustomed cap and gown, which, however, lent much grace and poise to nervous and apprehensive graduates, we fell into line, into our assigned places, ready for the walk down the last mile, the last mile of high school and perhaps even the last mile' of edu- cation altogether! For some of us it would be the setting of the sun, and for others the twilight before the dawn 'of a new phase in life, col- lege. And so, with just a few minutes to go before we should leave this happy life far behind us, we shot out the hands of our memories to grasp and hold firmly the experiences of our four eventful years in Walton High School. And the thoughts most closely connected with our last mile, the thoughts nearest and dearest to us, of course, were our remembrances of senior activities. -The whirl and twirl of the Prom with its swishing and rustling of long taffetas and silks were most vivid in our memories, together with an everlasting wonder that we could be so completely different from our usual selves. This wonder was also shared with our eventful Class Night, when we marvelled at the newly discovered talent in our midst. With what realism did they carry us to scenes of gaiety and dancing in romantic and far-away lands! This was certainly a bon voyage. Closely allied to this is the bright splash of red by which we pro- claimed to one and all that we were seniors. And, in our efforts to make all realize our supreme seniority, we bedecked ourselves with extremely grown-up bows, lollypops, and balloons! Such is the intricate complexityand contradiction of the human mind! On the day that we received our Year Books, what exclamations of joy at receiving our books, and what exclamations of horror at seeing our pictures-Oh, yes, we had seen them before--but did we really look like this? Then, further back when we were lower seniors, we cheered up- roariously at the Swimming lvleet. Here we paused to contemplate the very different purpose for which we were, today, to use these same voices. Ah, but were they the same after so many hours of enjoyable practice? We questioned-the enjoyment of the practice. But, re- suming our former train of thought, we remembered presenting to our mothers a review of our athletic activities on Mother and .Daughter Night. After this, we think, our mothers understood the wherefore and whyfore of prematurely aching backs and bones. Thinking of our flittings around the gym reminded us of the capers and gambols of