Warren G Harding High School - Echoes Yearbook (Warren, OH)

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The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight THE KID SISTER Betty Beck, Eleventh Grade The youngest sister in a family of girls al- ways presents an inexplicable problem. She invariably has a feeling of isolation and cov- ers it by tormenting the others. Such is the case in our home. Our ages are fourteen, sixteen, and nineteen respectively: and I oc- cupy the perilous seat in the middle. I am the arbitrator, the pacifier, the peacemaker, and also partake of my share in the battles. When trying to cool those at war, I, too of- ten, get the worst myself. It's no fun trying to console Wellington when you hope with all your heart that Napoleon will win. For example, we three had decided upon a Christmas gift for Mother and had all sol- emnly sworn to keep it a secret. Christmas Eve came around, and we got the gift out to wrap. Kate and I wanted it wrapped in red paper with silver ribbon. But Io-she wanted gold ribbon, and she was going to have gold ribbon, or else! Well, Kate and I thought that, being older, we had the better judg- ment, and so the silver ribbon was unques- tionably used. Io stamped out of the room, threatening to tell Mother. I used all my ar- bitrary doctrines and dissuasions, but to no avail. Several minutes later in came Wel- lington with Blucher and stood there, looking like a good target for a punch in the nose and with an I told you so look smeared all over her face. Kate and I, as Napoleon, had to sit on our swords and brandish our teeth to suppress our overwhelming desires. It was a good thing that Mother was between Io and us, or Wellington would have been torn into shreds and cast to the winds. Blucher then made his devastating decision. which Napoleon was ever to regret. Now, girls, Mother began, don't you think, since you are older, that you should give in to Ioey? She hasn't told me what the package contains, but threatens to if you don't compromise. I do hope she won't have to spoil your fun. O, Wellington, thou art the bane of my existence! we breathed as we gloriously went down at Waterloo. We vowed we would never again endure such a defeat, but we nevertheless have been overpowered again and again. Io is a dear when she is asleep and will probably grow up to be the envy of both of us, but just now she has the reputation of being an annoying kid sister. MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT RIDING A QUADRUPED Harold Smith, Eleventh Grade Now I know why the legs of a cowboy be- come so bowed. That horse's sides were plenty far apart. My feet hung over the sides of the animal nearly a foot above the stir- rups. I enjoyed sitting there: I liked the feel of the wide, thick leather reins by which, I thought, I could control this powerful beast. My father and my uncle, who were along with us, were remarking about the beauty of the horse, but the only nice thing in that respect was her name, Patty. By the time we were ready to take a run around the pasture, my heart was sinking, and my stomach was acquiring that doc- tor's office feeling: but since my sister was with me on another horse, I didn't dare utter a word implying any fears. The farmhand in charge started out at a swift canter, but soon slowed down when he saw us still struggling to get our steeds to move. After much coaching from the side lines, I gave forth a weak giddyup, at the same time touching her ribs with my heels. To my supreme satisfaction, Patty started off at a Walk, while my sister's horse followed without her having made a noise or motion. 106 That horse knew I was scared: in fact, she could probably hear my heart beating: so instead of keeping her former pace, she set off after the horse in the lead. About this time, I heard shrieks coming from behind and saw the other horse coming alongside of Patty at even a greater pace. When the horses were nearly neck and neck, they reduced in speed until they came to a dead stop. The other horse then swung his head around, his mouth just open far enough so that I could see those great big teeth. Then he rubbed his huge head against my bare leg. This was too much. I let out a cry of dismay, just as the farmhand drew up, dis- mounted, took the reins of the other horse, and led him back to the barn, with Patty following. Afterwards, I told Dad that I was sure that the horse would have chewed my leg right off then and there if the farmhand had not appeared just then, but he just laughed and said that he did not think the horse to be carnivorous, or something to that effect. Nevertheless, I have never been quite so eager to ride a horse as I was the first time.

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The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight THE TRIALS OF THE CHILD IN THE MIDDLE Wilda Garman, Tenth Grade There have been countless stories, poems, and all kinds of articles written about the disadvantages of being the oldest or the youngest child. Now let a person who's had experience give a few pointers on that most unfortunate predicament of being the child in the middle. Every time you turn around, it's either, You're too old for this, or You're too young for that. It is especially uncomfortable when you are about fourteen or fifteen years old. At this age a young girl's thoughts invariably turn to enhancing her feminine charms, es- pecially to beguile that perfectly adorable boy in English class. But Mother can't seem to understand that make-up is positively necessary to bring this about. She says a generous smear of lip-stick looks cheap, and she laughs at your worry over whether green or blue eye-shadow would suit your type better. And then, there's the problem of high heels. After all, HE is nearly six feet tall, while you are a scant five feet three. Mother just doesn't seem to realize how important this is. It wasn't so long ago that she, too, was confronted with the same problem. But the biggest worry of all is dates. She can't understand why you can't have just as much fun with the girls. She frowns disap- provingly every time Iohnny, Ted, or Bill telephones and asks for you, insisting that she never dreamed of going out with the male of the species until she was eighteen. Then, after you have been told you're too young for all these things and you try to come down to your own level, as Mother terms it, you are told to act your age and not be so childish, merely because you had an exciting game of hide-and-seek with the neighborhood gang. You can't slump around in comfortable positions, and you must con- stantly watch that your dress isn't above your knees. You are too old to go down the street, nibbling a chocolate bar or eating good old peanut-butter and bread. By this time, you don't know what you are supposed to do: too young to keep up with big sister Mary, and too old to follow little sister Peggy's example. So, you oldest or youngest child, cease bemoaning your fate, and you might put in an extra prayer for the poor child in the mid- dle. WINTER FAIRYLAND Mary Ann Smith, Tenth Grade Gaunt, bare trees transformed by the snow into fairy things: A scarlet cardinal poised for the moment on a dark evergreen covered with snow: A cheerful little black-capped Chickadee calling gaily to its bird friends: A gust of wind blowing snowflakes violently hither and thither: The blue shadows on snowy ground: The snow itself, piled high in fantastic drifts: Snowflakes sparkling and twinkling in the sunlight like millions of precious jewels: Long, slender icicles hanging in icy majesty from the roof: All these are seen in winter. LOVE Ruth Price, Twelfth Grade Love is not blind: It sees with keener eye Endearing things None else can quite espy. Love's glance is kind: It finds in smile or sigh The fragile wings On which a dream may fly. HARDING COED Ulpologies to Henry W. Longfellow! lean Bogan, Twelfth Grade On the steps of Harding High School Stood a coed tsweet enchantresslg Spoke she coyly to a stalwart Hero of the Harding gridiron. Bend your head, she softly murmured. In your ear I wish to whisper, Wish to whisper something secret. Blushingly his head he lowered, On his face a look of rapture, Ear to ear a blush suffusing. Shucks, he stammered- Sure, I'll do it. Sure, I'll do your economics. AN IMAGE Gene Grant, Eleventh Grade When I need someone to listen to me. Who won't say a word, but still will see. I take your picture down from the shelf And make-believe you're here yourself. Your eyes have an understanding way, And your lips so tender seern to say. In tones so sweet to a lonely ear, You're doing your best: that's well, my dear. 105

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The CAULDRON Nineteen Thirty-eight MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT MILKING A COW Tressa Bugnone, Eleventh Grade When I was a little girl, many, many years ago, I really didn't know how the milk that I had to drink every day got there. Oh, I knew it came from a cow all right, but it was a mystery to me how a clumsy old cow could fill a quart bottle without smearing the milk all on the outside. Another problem of mine was about milk that came in cans. I would sit for hours, trying to figure out how a cow could put milk in a tin can without even making a hole in the can! Well, I brought the matter to my father. After I had expressed all my opinions on the subject, he told me I'd have to find out for myself, he suggested though, that I try planting the CGHS. Well, I thought, you can plant a seed and get fruit without any holes in it, why milk in cans? I tried this, but no plants peared: so I started to dig to see how milk cans were getting along. Imagine not ap- mY mY surprise when I found only a few rusty pieces of tin in place of the shiny Eagle Brand cans that I had put there! That was the last straw: I went to my father and demanded to know how a cow managed her business so well. The next day I was trudging up a hill with my father: at last, I was going to know the solution to this mystery! In one hand I clutched a milk bottle: in the other, a paper stopper that I had salvaged from our last bottle of milk. We finally reached our destination, which was the farm of the man who delivered our milk. My father left me gazing Wonderingly at the cows, while he went to the house to talk to the farmer. In a little while they came and led me to a place that was all white-washed. We went in, and there waiting for us was a whole row of cows! They explained that the cows were wait- ing to be milked, and that I was to have the opportunity of milking one! I quickly pro- duced the milk bottle and put it under the cow: then I put my hands on my hips and waited expectantly - nothing happened! I glanced at the farmer, who motioned me to proceed. So I started to stroke the cow's back very encouragingly. I looked again at the milk bottle: still it was empty! Well, I was stumped. Then the farmer took me out to the yard and showed me how he got water out of their old well by pushing the pump handle up and down. Ah! I knew what to do! We ran back to the cow, and I imme- diately and very intelligently grasped the cow's tail and vigorously began pushing it up and down. The cow turned its head, looked at me, and then with a kick, knocked over my precious milk bottle! It was only a matter of seconds before I was pleading, through. sobs of disappoint- ment, for my father to take me home, but the farmer had obtained a pail and stool during this time and already had the bucket half- filled with milk. I stared, gasped, and then turned to my father. Is that the way they get milk from all cows? I asked. My father smiled and nodded his head. Yes, he said, all cows. M LITTLE JACK HORNER U-ls told by a lawyer! Bob Shoemaker, Twelfth Grade A minor, one lack Horner, who shall here- after be known as the party of the first part, on the twenty-fifth day of December in the year of our Lord l937 A. D., was reclining in a site commonly called a corner, and was engaged in the legitimate process of con- suming a pie. The party of the first part at this time inserted the first digit of his right hand, and withdrew, apparently pierced by the aforesaid digit, one plum. When the aforesaid plum, pierced by the above-men- tioned digit, appeared before the visual or- gans of the party of the first part, his im- mediate reaction was an adjudication of the act, in which he pronounced himself a vir- tuous youth. CONSOLATION Charles Simpkins, Twelfth Grade I hardly dare to breathe of consolation Or speak of comfort, to a heart so torn: Since in the newness of your desolation, Like Rachel, you must mourn. God garners what a mother loses: The purest hearts are they that earliest rest The sweetest flowers are those the Reaper chooses To lay on Iesus' breast. Thank God, your heart-break cannot last for- every Some blissful day your weeping will be o er: And when the Shepherd brings His flock to- gether, She will be yours once more. l07