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

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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

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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 THE WEE SMALL HOURS Florence Zamarelli, Eleventh Grade Now, what's this? What is the idea of all this darkness over me? I hope no one has buried me alive! But would you think they would do a thing like this? Of course not! I know what it is. I'm awake! That's it. I've waked up in the middle of the night. Well, isn't that nice? Isn't that simply grand? Twenty minutes past four. Look at this, will you? At a time like this, when all young people are going to bed, I must wake up. Yes, and you know what got me into this mess? Going to bed at ten o'clock, that's what! Early to bed, and you will Wish you were dead. Bed before eleven and nuts be- fore seven. Ten o'clock, after a quiet even- ing of reading. Beading-that's an idea. I think I'll read-oh, no, I won't either, because that's what brought me here! I've got to get this thing adjusted. I must try to get back to sleep. And what suggestion has anyone to offer on how to drift back into slumber? I really can't start counting sheep, at my age-although I've tried it before, and it did- n't Work out so well. I hate sleep! All my life I've hated sleep! I also hate counting sheep! Imagine me, counting sheep! No, sir, I'm not going to count them! Let them count themselves, if they want to be counted, and they are not real sheep either. Someone will think I'm crazy if he hears me counting sheep. There you are-maybe I will be crazy be- fore morning. The question still in my mind is, how am I going to drift back into slumber? I might try busting myself smartly over the head with the night-light, but then there would be a bump on my head, and how would I explain that? Now-let's-seel, Oh, humiOh, yes, there is a saying They also serve who only stand and wait. I'll just wait till I fall asleep. Ohlhuml. C. C. C. KWritten to a friend while in camp? Ioe Gmucs, Eleventh Grade - Who wants mansions? Who wants wealth? I'm not greedy- I want health! This wide forest Is for meg That's my life- A C. C. C. 108 Nineteen Thirty-eight A MOVIE FAN ' Donald Conners, Twelfth Grade A picture show is a nice place to see a picture. As a matter of fact, that is the reas- on for which they are created. I went to a theatre about a week ago, with the firm intention oi enjoying the feature. A friend accompanied me. About one-tenth of the way through the film he said, Do you know, Connors, they shot this take seventeen times? I said, Yeah? Two minutes later he said, Do you know, Connors, those fountains are using 150,000 cubic feet of water every five minutes? I said, Yeah? Ten minutes later he said, This set cost S200,000. Did you know that, Connors? I said, Yeah? Ten minutes later, he said, Do you know, Connors, that so-and-so's stand-in tainted before this scene? I said, Yeah? Near the end, he said, Do you know, Con- nors, that it cost S750,000 to make the entire picture? I said, Yeah? The picture? Egad! I don't know what it Was! I know it cost fB750,000: I know the fountains squirted 150,000 cubic feet of wa- ter every five minutes: I know that one take cost S200,000: and I know that another scene was taken seventeen times. Yes, a theatre is a splendid place to enjoy a picture. THE STORM Helen Conti, Eleventh Grade Dark clouds gather across the blue, Hiding the sun's bright rays. Thunder rolls by, like the beating of drums: Lightning flares, a bright red blaze. Torrents of water pour down to earth Large glistening drops of rain, Wetting the thirsty, parching ground, Washing trees and flowers bright again. The dark clouds pass: no thunder is heard: No lightning flares: raindrops cease. All is stillness. After the rain And the storm have passed, there is quiet and peace. REVERIE Ruth Smith, Eleventh Grade Always-I shall remember The dying candle flame and The shadows moving on your lips As you caressed my name.