Watsonville High School - Manzanita Yearbook (Watsonville, CA)

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Eflnur Zhang, flgearsa fljnrfue Svheltereh 155 EE. the last exf lf I pass this. l'll be through for good and all. Life, the world, opportunity, all beckoning from beyond the day of graduation. But thengall the fun, the dances. the classes that Q-HXNS-' were cut so abandonedly, the good pals, the demerits that weren't perhaps deserved, but were accepted unmurmuringly because I knew l'd get by without 'em other times when they were deserved. The teachers that were 'AfiXed only to find out that they knew all the time, the games, the good old assemblies and oh-everything! Leave it all now, just when one can really appreciate the sparkle and tingle of it? No. no, hand in a blank paper and then there will be another year casting its bright reflection ahead. 'Surely just one year more won't hurt. and oh, it's so hard to give it all up at once: we may bluff that we're glad to leave: but 'way down underneath we all want to stay on and on-indefinitely. But nay-remember Black and Gold. - Four long years you've sheltered us, And then there comes a day When we must leave you far behind And seek our own life's way. Other joyous times may come When each must do his part And home and country will be first In every loyal heart. When each must do his part-yes. that's itf lt wouldn't be fair that way. Come on: let's go. Answer those questionsf' The paper was written in a rush and handed in: and another blase Senior strolled nonchalantly out the door, whistling as he went--but-the tune he whistled was Black and Gold. -JERRY DR1sCo1.L mg Bleu Just keep me free to hear the song Of swiftly running brooks. Or peaceful streams that glide along Through wind swept fields and shady nooks. And never let the burdens blind My eyes to pathways small. The outdoor trails that twist and wind Through trees that lift up still and tall. Or guide my feet when doubts arise To where the sunshine pours A golden glory of the skies On God's untainted Out-of-Doors! L. CoRDozA '30 Page Twenrif-Nine

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Glamping, ' REATHES THERE a man with soul so dead, who never to himself T has said. l must go camping? lf so, speak. and his name shall A, be given to the Ananias Club. 5' T ' ' l don't believe there is a human being now alive who hasn't dreamed many and many a time of a vacation spent in camping. and finally realized such a dream. lf he hasn't, he isn't normal. Nlonths before Dad gets his vacation. the family has planned on a camping trip. Though everything for the trip is purchased days ahead, what work! There are so many little things to do. and so few hands to do them. Many is the evening spent with pencil and pad, planning the work for the morrow. At last the car is piled. packed, crowded, and jammed until it looks more like a funny bug than a car. And of course a trailer must come along behind with buckets and bedding and what not. The family is wedged in as best it can be. without interfering too much with the lamps swinging from the top, and the various bundles and boxes. After finally getting adjusted the most comfortable way possible. the family looks forward to a wonderful trip, and turns the car into the broad highway to join the thousands of other curious bugs struggling on to a camp site. Darkness always approaches, and here, dear reader, is the undoing of many a would-be camper. A wayside inn does look so appealing. and unpack- ing that car so much just the opposite. that it takes a person with strong will power to go past. Some do, and some don't, and there are many of the latter. I speak from experience. The morning is the time to be glad, if you stayed in an inn, for the simple reason that the packing is all done. There aren't even any grimy dishes to wash. Thus between lunch counters and hotels. the camp site is reached. What a beautiful place it always appears to be-no bugs, nothing unpleasant at all. Everything is unloaded, and if you are in a public camp. say in some park, you are more than likely to be right up against some other eager campers. but what does that matter? Everything finally being set up, everyone goes in search of the scenery and famous sights. Appetites being appetites, you are soon back in camp. only too willing to help prepare something to appease the terrible hunger that the wonderful mountain air fosters. Satisfying the appetites is one of camping's own pleasures. There is just so much to do with, and no more, and the stove will never go unless properly coaxed. After sitting down to eat, and really eating with one hand. and shooing bugs with the other, you really think there is nothing so wonderful as life out in the open. Thus days go by. but at the end of these days there are still bugs, bugs. bugs, and bugs, and too many neighbors who quarrel. a very temperamental stove, and a hard bed. not to mention the leaky tent and dirt---the real stuff. clinging and grimy and black. And yes, of course, it rained. Not only rained but poured, 4All the rain there ever was. however. couldn't get rid of that grimy dirtl. Oh. yes, the scenery is beautiful, but at home-there is a nice big bath tubf , -Lots MacQU1DDi' Page TcL'enlt1-eight

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Page Thirty Elie Green :Seem Sail Euniglyt The trees tonight, all white with snow Bending laden limbs so low. Lack the joy that's in the air When the children, young and fair. Gayly fly o'er snow and ice Seeking thrills despite advice, Heeding not the warning sign Of dangers they are sure to find. 'Till some, more daring than the rest, Break through the ice and end the quest! These trees with boughs of shining white Whisper of follies of youth tonight. But soon bright Spring will come and bring Fresh colors, flowers, birds to sing. 'Twill cheer the trees. and add new sights, In which the children find safe delight. +DOROTHY BRADLEY 'Z 8 fStudents' Versions of a Poem Wz'th a Refrain! . Spring To the old swimmin' hole so gay! Why should we demerits fear? The sun is shining bright today, Hi! hif Spring is here. And though the exes, dreaded so, Like bears are creeping from their lair Upon us, to the creek we'll go! Hi? hi! Spring is here. PHILIP BAKER Suit Breanua Soft dreamsf Like feathered wings they float. Soft dreams Are wings for fairy boats. Softly through the realm of sleepiness they'r Gently kissed by light wings of hope. Soft dreams! They bring us promises anew. MAXINE MCKIBBEN '28 e drifted