on the last word,-——His blue eyes widen in surprise, and he looks at you with respect and awe. You can now be assured that you will have no diflicalty whatsoever in undressing him and getting him into his crib. If, however, your tender nature rebels at such a harsh method, then you had better try... Show moreon the last word,-——His blue eyes widen in surprise, and he looks at you with respect and awe. You can now be assured that you will have no diflicalty whatsoever in undressing him and getting him into his crib. If, however, your tender nature rebels at such a harsh method, then you had better try the diplomatic approach. Select an appropriate story, one about the Sandman or the Land of Dreams, and in a soft, low voice read it to the little lad. When his eyes begin to blink sleepily, and his head nods, you have him in the proper mood. Now it is time for you to say in your most per- suasive tones, “We’ll go to bed now, shall we, honey?” Don’t be alarmed if the little angel responds in a very positive and wide- awake voice, "No! I don’t wanna go to bed!” This is the signal to forsake your diplomacy and resort to force. Lift the youngster with a firm grasp, carry him upstairs to his room, and begin un- dressing him, no matter how hard he resists. Try, if you can, to completely ignore his lusty crying and hard, painful kicks in your shins. When, and if, you succeed in undressing him, place him in his bed and put the covers over him. Then turn off the hall light, and with a firm and resolute step, walk down the stairs. Don’t, however, make the mistake of thinking this is the end of your adventure in child care. Perhaps before you have even had a chance to take three of those firm, resolute steps, you will be- come painfully aware that this is not the end. A frightened cry of, “Turn the light on!” will halt your march to that easy chair and magazine downstairs. Here again you have a choice of responses to the situation. You may answer obstinately, “No, you may not have the light on. Now go to sleep right away.” Or you may make a bargain and say, “Well, if I turn the light on, you have to go to sleep.” I Now you again proceed to the living room and freedom—you think. Perhaps you may even be lulled into a false sense of self- satisfaction by the utter quiet that reigns in the rooms above. But this rarely lasts more than ten or fifteen minutes. Then you hear a youthful voice from above. You aren’t sure, but it sounds as though it comes from the top of the stairs. You jump from your chair, first being careful to turn the magazine face down open at the page you were reading. You run to the foot of the stairs and look up. There stands the object of your care, looking maddenineg innocent. 53 Show less
NIirror, Mirror On the Wall HELEN HAUKENESS I am looking in the mirror. I do not shrink from what I see, but rather cock my head, and try to see which way my hair becomes me most. For this round-faced, thin-lipped image in the glass is all I have that is mine. Green eyes stare at me—pale,... Show moreNIirror, Mirror On the Wall HELEN HAUKENESS I am looking in the mirror. I do not shrink from what I see, but rather cock my head, and try to see which way my hair becomes me most. For this round-faced, thin-lipped image in the glass is all I have that is mine. Green eyes stare at me—pale, expressionless, and heavy-lidded. Do they show the thoughts that are crawling around behind them? I shudder at their coldness and cover them with my hands for a moment. I lean closer to the mirror. (Maybe my hair would look better if I parted it in the middle). I peer at myself out of half-closed eyes, and suddenly an involuntary laugh shoves its way out of me. (I wonder, maybe a side part would be best after all). + Now You Lay Him Down to Sleep! PHEBE DALE To the uninitiated the task of putting a small child to bed may seem like a relatively simple one. “You have to be firm,” say some. "One must use psychology,” say others. “Be gentle,” says still another group. But despite this confusing array of opinions, there is a definite manner of procedure. Suppose you are left in charge of a small boy. His parents have gone out for the evening, after sundry ad- monitions to you regarding bedtime and sleeping habits of their son. The first difliculty you encounter is the problem of how to in- troduce the subject of going to bed. There are two approaches to this problem, the blunt or direct and the diplomatic or tactful. The latter method is usually the better, although it is true that you can use the first approach with extreme effectiveness. Let us say you are reading that charmingly ingenious tale of Goldilocks and the three bears to your young charge. Abruptly you throw the book on the floor, leap to your feet, and announce, firmly and loudly, “We’re going to bed now,” with the emphasis 52 Show less
plead ignorance and ask the lab instructor to help you. He’s rather cute anyhow. Latin is the only assignment left. You suppose you had better do that. But by now you are decidedly hungry. The mental activity involved in making such difficult decisions has left you starved. You return in half an... Show moreplead ignorance and ask the lab instructor to help you. He’s rather cute anyhow. Latin is the only assignment left. You suppose you had better do that. But by now you are decidedly hungry. The mental activity involved in making such difficult decisions has left you starved. You return in half an hour, your weight increased by a cold chicken sandwich, a glass of milk, four cookies, and an apple. Just as you have begun to mumble, “Hic, haec, hoc, huyus, huyus, huyus,” your mother becomes aware of your presence. "Are you studying, dear?” she inquires in a surprised tone of voice. You reply, very aggrieved, uOf course!” You are irritated. Mom sounds as though she’d never seen you studying before. Then Father looks up and adds, “You ought to study, young lady!” Father has just seen your grades. But such rude interruptions do not quench your eager thirst for learning. You attack your Latin book with renewed intensity, wondering how anyone could be so savage and sadistic as to in- vent such a language. Suddenly you realize that the variety of sounds in the living room has lost a peculiar tone quality. A plaintive voice behind you soon solves the mystery. Mary has abandoned her piano practic- ing and is now asking, “Will you help me with my arithmetic?” Somehow, she doesn’t realize that it is five long years since you took algebra and your knowledge of said subject is exceedingly dim. But you would rather choke to death than acknowledge your stupidity, and you begin vigorously to solve her equations. An hour later you are still in throes of agony, attempting to discover the value of x. Now you must admit defeat, and you send Mary up to bed, her faith in your mental powers sorely shattered. Somehow the bout with the unknown quantity has left you strangely tired. It is 11:30 and thoughts of struggling out of bed in the dark morning hours make you lose all interest in any fur- ther study of Latin. Your mom finally comes to your rescue with a gentle suggestion. “Perhaps you had better go to bed now. You know you have to get up at six tomorrow morning.” You need no further persua— sion. With unusually swift obedience, you decide to go to bed. 51 Show less
G The Art of Studying PHEBE DALE Studying is a necessary evil if you intend to graduate from col— lege. It is a disgrace to our advanced educational system and will undoubtedly be eliminated as we make increasing Progress. But in the meantime you are obliged to solve the problem of studying in as... Show moreG The Art of Studying PHEBE DALE Studying is a necessary evil if you intend to graduate from col— lege. It is a disgrace to our advanced educational system and will undoubtedly be eliminated as we make increasing Progress. But in the meantime you are obliged to solve the problem of studying in as efficient a manner as possible. Your grades came out yesterday, and they convinced you effectively that you must study. You arrive home this evening, intent on one purpose. You re- alize, of course, that you should retire to your own room and pur— sue your studies in complete quiet. But your room is frigidly cold, and the sounds proceeding from the living room are too in- teresting to ignore. You gather up your books and transfer them to the dining room table, which, because of its proximity to the living room, is a most happy choice. In the living room the family has gathered for the evening. Sister Mary is practicing her piano lesson with more volume than finess. Mother is reading aloud to Grandmother who is more than slightly deaf. Father and Big Brother David are engaged in a violent argument over Dave’s request for a raise in his allowance. Three—year-old Petie has chosen this particular evening to present a strikingly realistic imitation of a B-29. Not to be outdone by the other members of the family, Danny is listening to the Lone Ranger, and he finds it necessary to turn the radio louder at fre- quent intervals. This is an ideal background for studying. Think what you would have missed by shutting yourself into your room! Now you must make a decision as to which assignment to study first. Your European History is due tomorrow, but the assign- ment is so hopelessly long that you couldn’t possibly finish it to- night anyway. Thus you have eliminated one possibility. English literature summaries are due tomorrow, too, but you left several necessary reference books at school. Bravo! Two down, two to go! You have several chemistry equations to be handed in tomorrow, but you aren’t in the mood to wrestle with atoms tonight—not with atomic energy exploding in the living room! Perhaps you can 50 Show less
Friendship Come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. I’ll share a crown or get a pound—— 80 cast that frown from thee! We’ll head for town—oh, any town— And spread ourselves around. We’ll see the Fair and if you care To a gurdy show I’ll pay your fare. I’ll try my luck at... Show moreFriendship Come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. I’ll share a crown or get a pound—— 80 cast that frown from thee! We’ll head for town—oh, any town— And spread ourselves around. We’ll see the Fair and if you care To a gurdy show I’ll pay your fare. I’ll try my luck at shooting ducks And the prize I’ll give to thee. We’ll buy some flu]? and with it stufl The maids we’re sure to see. Of ale and such I’ll buy you much And the cost to you is free! So come, my boy, and share my joy, I’ve more than enough for me. ——DON HEGG + WE THANK THEE, LORD For crystal snow, For sunset fire, For fields of grain, For heads of dew, Metallic stars For blades of grass, And silver rain, And skies so blue, We thank Thee, Lord. We thank Thee, Lord. For gifts that come From Thee above, Which show to us A Savior’s love, We thank Thee, Lord. IRENE JOHNSON 49 Show less
"His wife is nice, though,” the man with the younger voice said. "Y’know she used to call Ed every single morning right after K. G. had drove away and say, ‘Mr. McMorency has just left the house.’ Pretty white of her, eh?” “Yeah, she’s a swell one—too bad she had to marry a stuffed shirt like K.... Show more"His wife is nice, though,” the man with the younger voice said. "Y’know she used to call Ed every single morning right after K. G. had drove away and say, ‘Mr. McMorency has just left the house.’ Pretty white of her, eh?” “Yeah, she’s a swell one—too bad she had to marry a stuffed shirt like K. G.” "You know,” said the older man, “the new kids in those service stations don’t always recognize him. On Labor Day K. G. had his stations open when everybody else was closed. ‘K. G. sure is roll- ing in the dough today’ one of the kids said as he polished the windshield of a bright shiny Cadillac. Then the guy in the car spoke up and said, 'I’m sorry you boys had to work today, but it seemed only logical to keep the stations open. I’m Mr. McMoren- cy!’ ” I’ll bet the kid had goose-pimples for a week after that. That guy just pops up everywhere. When the waiter came with their dessert, the conversation switched to more general subjects. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was getting late. There was just time enough to inspect three more stations before six o’clock. So Anne has been warning the men. I’ll speak to her about that. + diluea Heard them by the river one dark and lonely night Never thought they’d find me, I tried with all my might. But now that they have found me, there’s nothing I can do But settle back and listen to these melancholy blues. To think I could have missed them by never going out Makes me want to cry and all my troubles shout. Why don’t you go and leave me—I never wanted you, The down and lonely feeling of these melancholy blues. —DON HEGG 48 Show less
Besides, streetcars teach you thrift. If you are wise, it is not necessary for you to spend a single nickle for a morning paper. Merely sit down or stand up beside someone who is reading a paper and glance casually at theirs. Be careful not to lean over too far or you will find your head resting... Show moreBesides, streetcars teach you thrift. If you are wise, it is not necessary for you to spend a single nickle for a morning paper. Merely sit down or stand up beside someone who is reading a paper and glance casually at theirs. Be careful not to lean over too far or you will find your head resting in the lap of your neighbor with the paper. Come now, Just what would you do if there wasn’t always an- other streetcar around the corner? + K. G. RUTH PEDERSON Joe and Elsie’s Hamburger Shop was all but deserted when I came in. I saw the empty booth by the door and sat down. “What’s it today, the dinner?” While waiting I settled down to reading the morning paper. I soon became aware of a lively conversation going on in the next booth. . “You know, I wish I had some of the dough old McMorency has. Maybe I could buy me a Cadillac too.” “You probably would if you pinched your pennies the way he does. He’s the worst slave driver in town. He runs those service stations of his like a dictator.” The voice of the second man sounded somewhat older. I “The kids in those stations can’t do anything, but McMorency finds out about it and sticks them for it.” "Yeah, I’ll never forget the time Jim was listening to a good radio program. He heard a car drive up but didn’t go out right away. ‘Let ’em wait,’ he said. It was 01’ K. G. himself, and he wasn’t cheerful. ‘If I have to wait, certainly customers have to wait while one of you guys is listening to a stupid program’.”—-—He mimicked McMorency in sneering tones. "Oh, so that’s the reason he wouldn’t let us have radios any more. I wonder what’ll have to go next. “He tried to get rid of the newspapers once. I don’t know what made him change his mind there.” “Probably doin’ his good deed for the day.” Both men laughed. 47 Show less
(9n filer Inspiration IRENE JOHNSON When I consider how my time is spent, ’Ere half the night, with not a thing to show, And that one theme in comp that irks me so As yet unwritten, though my soul more bent To write therewith my topic and present It to my teacher lest she haply chide. She does... Show more(9n filer Inspiration IRENE JOHNSON When I consider how my time is spent, ’Ere half the night, with not a thing to show, And that one theme in comp that irks me so As yet unwritten, though my soul more bent To write therewith my topic and present It to my teacher lest she haply chide. She does exact day-labor, I decide, And take out pen and paper to prevent Procrastination, though I need An inspiration now to do my best. A thought just does not come, my state Is hopeless, phrases through my memory speed, But none seem fitting, so I calmly rest. They always flunk who only sit and wait. + TO A TROLLEY PHEBE DALE Streetcars, like everything indispensable, are taken for granted. They are also the most abused of all vehicles. Comic strip writers dishonor them, office girls lament their undependability, and a certain author once had the audacity to compare them with men. Yet, what would we do without them? They render so many valuable services and possess such countless attributes. You who have run furiously to catch a streetcar, only to have it zip unconcernedly past just as you reached the corner, will, of course, disagree with me. But think of the countless times the kindly, patient trolley has waited for you. But, you protest, what about the impolite, pushing crowd in- side the streetcar? Surely that isn’t an asset to the car. You must remember, however, that working your way through such a crowd is a wonderful chance to develop your independence. You learn to assert yourself by a few energetic pushes or you end up getting off the car five blocks beyond your stop. 46 Show less
LINDA IRENE JOHNSON Her hair is brown and bends upward around her face, making her look like a leprechaun fairy. Her eyes, the blue color of my American Poetry book, are two tiny mirrors reflecting her whole- hearted enjoyment of life, things, and people. If one looks closely, deep-rooted humor,... Show moreLINDA IRENE JOHNSON Her hair is brown and bends upward around her face, making her look like a leprechaun fairy. Her eyes, the blue color of my American Poetry book, are two tiny mirrors reflecting her whole- hearted enjoyment of life, things, and people. If one looks closely, deep-rooted humor, loyalty, frankness, and a keen sense of under- standing can be seen in them. Linda’s personality is much like a frosted glass of lemonade after a two-mile hike in the sun. From deep within her, laughter surges forth into her lips, her hair, her cheeks, and her gestures. It is al- ways there, waiting to break forth at a moment’s notice. An un- derstanding and love of human nature smooth down the corners of her humor, however, so that she laughs with and not at people. Beneath the laughter and the frankness is a blueprint of sensitivitv where the thoughts and fears of others are indelibly imprinted. With this storehouse of human emotion, she is able to understand and be in sympathy with the feelings of other people. Linda does not attempt to balance herself on the bigoted tight- rope of convention. Rather, her rainbow-striped fancy causes her to do all sorts of delightful, surprising things. It is fun to be with her, for one never knows just what will happen. Life will always be a song to Linda, for she is singing. + STORM DON HEGG Hark to the call of a seething wind That tells of a coming storm. Gaze awhile at the distant fiend And praise its very form: The churl of its tail, the white of its brow And the chilling sigh of its eerie wail. It may east me out of a sheltered nest And all my treasurers flaunt, But the chance of its coming I’ll forever taunt! 4s Show less
Christ a Reality Have you seen Christ? I have. Even today I see. In such a gray and darksome world as this, He comes to me. Before the gloomy morning wakes He speaks to me. A still, small voice that says, Awake! Be of, and brave the world for me. Knowest Thou not, thy hands, thy feet, Thy working... Show moreChrist a Reality Have you seen Christ? I have. Even today I see. In such a gray and darksome world as this, He comes to me. Before the gloomy morning wakes He speaks to me. A still, small voice that says, Awake! Be of, and brave the world for me. Knowest Thou not, thy hands, thy feet, Thy working, speak for me? Have you seen Christ? I have. He lives in me. + J Know the Out of the night of unbelief, Selfishness, worldliness, and grief, I came to find a sweet relief In Christ, my Lord. He saved me for eternal light, Provides my needs, makes each day bright With work and service, what delight To know the Lord! Now in the warmth of His embrace Ready to serve Him in my place Not of myself, but by His grace, I know the Lord. —ELAINE OLSON + I had a little thought today That kept me for its own; It passed aside its usual way And made my heart its home. —-DON HEGG 44 Show less
My Afternoon of Accomplishment RUTH PEDERSON It is January I 5, less than two weeks from the time our semester exams begin. It is now one o’clock. Wednesday is the one day in which I do not have any classes in the afternoon or do not work. Thus it is the afternoon that I have set aside for... Show moreMy Afternoon of Accomplishment RUTH PEDERSON It is January I 5, less than two weeks from the time our semester exams begin. It is now one o’clock. Wednesday is the one day in which I do not have any classes in the afternoon or do not work. Thus it is the afternoon that I have set aside for semester sum- maries. I’m going to see to it that I really get some work done this afternoon. I’ll summarize some of the poems for Twentieth Century Literature. Maybe I’ll complete my summaries this after- noon. That’s it. I’ll see if I can finish my summaries before five o’clock. ~ Let’s see-—where did I leave off? Oh, yes, p. 376, "Cbimes”, by Alice Meynell. Now where is my typewriter? Oh, yes, Doris put it in the far corner under the bed. She cleaned the room last. "Cbimes.” “This poem is a fanciful interpretation of the ringing of bells. Alice Meynell was a writer who. . .” Oh, but it’s a cloudy, dreary day today. There’s supposed to be a blizzard in North Dakota, the radio said last night. I wonder if any of it will reach us. Those houses across the street seem like a part of the weather today—so grey and dismal looking. If houses could think, I wonder what they would think about. I imagine that some of those old houses across the way would have a good deal to tell. I almost forgot to take my clothes out of the Bendix. I’ll have to hang them up now or they’ll never get dry. Well, now that’s done at last. Where was I? Alice Meynell. Next is Robert Louis Stevenson. "Oh, hello, Doris. Back from class already?” We certainly can find a lot to talk about when we get together. The trouble is we get together quite often. We are roommates. Think I’ll clean out my notebook. This notebook is so disorgan- ized, no wonder I have difficulty finding anything in it. I wonder why I carry so many useless things around with me. Well, that’s that. Now I’m going to work on summaries in earnest. Now I know what material I have and I can really get at It. What’s happened to the clock? It says four o’clock. Certainly I can’t get any summaries done between now and dinner. Guess I’ll go and read the paper. 43 Show less
To be sure, our home-coming was a good one. Pa was there waiting for us. “Go break a switch,” he commanded. My brother obeyed. Our whimpering chorus began, but—. That afternoon was as usual except that I never sat down on the empty rack on the way out to the field. The road was too bumpy, I guess.... Show moreTo be sure, our home-coming was a good one. Pa was there waiting for us. “Go break a switch,” he commanded. My brother obeyed. Our whimpering chorus began, but—. That afternoon was as usual except that I never sat down on the empty rack on the way out to the field. The road was too bumpy, I guess. M +W RAIN SHOWER The rain is singing to the world, Humming a lilting, laughing tune. Silver notes are tumbling down from Clouds that try to hide the moon. Can’t you hear them, as they beat Staccato on the muddy street, Say goodnight? —HELEN HAUKENESS + 8 UN SET Spectrum on the skyline Casting tints and shades Fearless of tomorrow— Another day’s been made. —DON HEGG + FAILURE A candle in a holder Waiting to be lit In vain, For it is broken. —BETTY PLOYHAR 42 Show less
The Road Was Too Bumpy VINCENT HOVERSTEN The sun grinned down at us teasingly. It seemed to whisper, "Why don’t you go swimming? The water will be warm today.” How disgusting! Anyone would know that we couldn’t go swimming in the creek that day. We had to haul alfalfa into the barn. Dad said that... Show moreThe Road Was Too Bumpy VINCENT HOVERSTEN The sun grinned down at us teasingly. It seemed to whisper, "Why don’t you go swimming? The water will be warm today.” How disgusting! Anyone would know that we couldn’t go swimming in the creek that day. We had to haul alfalfa into the barn. Dad said that the hay was dry now and tomorrow we might have rain. No, he couldn’t wait a day longer. The alfalfa must be put up today. We were disgusted. On the nicest day of the whole summer we weren’t allowed to go swimming—that is, un— less we stole down to the creek right after dinner. Hurriedly my three brothers and I shoveled down the potatoes, poured down the plum sauce and drained the milk pitcher. We were planning to leave the table one by one so as not to arouse any suspicion over our recondite plans. However, this wasn’t neces— sary. Pa didn’t come to dinner till we were through. Before we had swallowed the last morsel, we bowed our heads, mumbled a few words and abandoned our chairs. Our time was short; so we wasted none of it in starting. The four of us fol- lowed the ditch out to the driveway. We must have looked like an army detachment coming in for a beach landing, but what was the difference? It was the only method to escape without notice. With our long, blonde locks trailing haphazardly in the wind—— my mother used the bowl haircut method—we ran over the hills and through the ravines to the creek in our neighbor’s pasture. The neighbor kids were already there. In less time than it takes to tell, we had stripped and were splashing in the water. My old— est brother said he could swim, but I’m sure now that he was only crawling on his hands. Suddenly we realized that we had stayed too long. The neigh— bors were already out stacking hay on the flat about half a mile away. We had to leave at once. It usually took us a long time to dress because we always dried off in the sun, but today we used my shirt. It was hot and absorbed the moisture wonderfully. As we scampered up the driveway, praying that Pa hadn’t no- ticed us, our hopes suffered a sudden attack. Shep began barking furiously. He always did when you didn’t want him to. 41 Show less
I was going to tell him all about the ocean and the darkness, but when I turned my head again, he was gone. I was exasperated for a moment. But then I realized that I was tired too, so I went below to get a cup of joe and hit the sack. + COURAGE What I’ve taken once I’ll take again N o matter... Show moreI was going to tell him all about the ocean and the darkness, but when I turned my head again, he was gone. I was exasperated for a moment. But then I realized that I was tired too, so I went below to get a cup of joe and hit the sack. + COURAGE What I’ve taken once I’ll take again N o matter what the cost. The little things won’t get me down And neither will the big. I’ll fight the fair and kick the foul Until I’ve reached my end. And then I’ll pause and start again. —D0N HEGG + I watched her as she came up the aisle of the bus and sat down behind me. She reeked of sophistication and expensive perfume. Her dark hair was sleekly brushed to the top of her head where it culminated in an intricate arrangement of swirls and curls. She wore black. Her slender figure was encased in a black suit, slim- skirted, exquisitely tailored. I decided she was no doubt very wealthy. Why she had to take such a means of transportation as a bus was a problem. Perhaps her three cars had all developed trouble at the same time. She was going dowu town for a day of shopping. I pictured her in luxurious, thick-carpeted gown salons. In the evening a hand- some, suave young man would escort her on a gay evening of frivolity. A remark which the lady of my day—dreams made to her com- panion, cut into my reverie. Each word was a pin which burst my bubbles of fancy. “I thought I’d go downtown early today and get my shopping done before the children get home from school. I still have my ironing to do too, so I’ve got to hurry home.” PHEBE DALE 40 Show less
So WWI ROBERT G. KRAUSS It was night on the middle of the ocean. I had been on watch in the radio shack. Tucker relieved me at 0345. After four hours of copying code, my mind was alert and not ready for return to slumber. I walked through the darkened chart room and wheel~ house to the boat deck.... Show moreSo WWI ROBERT G. KRAUSS It was night on the middle of the ocean. I had been on watch in the radio shack. Tucker relieved me at 0345. After four hours of copying code, my mind was alert and not ready for return to slumber. I walked through the darkened chart room and wheel~ house to the boat deck. In the wheelhouse, the quartermaster and helmsman were griping about not being relieved on time. Their voices, through the open hatch and port holes, became indistinct as I reached the rail on deck. It was deep night. There were no stars. The moon shone feebly through a low screen of clouds. There was no horizon. The water was oily, mysterious, black. The swells weren’t very high. They made only a slight swishing noise as they rolled past the bow. A breeze pushed the clean air against my face. The ship was entirely blacked out. Voices from the wheel house were almost inaudible. Occasionally a voice was raised, “Wheel- house to con.” And the answer through the voice tube, "Con aye.” But they were merely voices in the night, brief, impersonal. I looked up. The bridge was indistinguishable from the gloom sur- rounding it. The other ships in the convoy were invisible, black as the night. I was alone. All around was the nothingness of darkness. Ex- cept for the solid quality of the wind and the roll of the ship, it could have been that I didn’t exist at all. I was alone in endless time. The only movement was that of the ocean, and that lacked direction. I felt only the latent power in its lazy, gentle roll. The ocean was more than water. It had solidity, it had strength. It was beautiful and changing and mysterious. It was a highway, a graveyard, a profession. It was a painting, a symphony, a philo- sophy too profound for human conception. And now I was alone in the grip of this vast power. I knew, I had felt the force it was capable of. I might travel forever, in any direction, always mov- ing, always pushing ahead, and still there would be only black night above, and oily, restless water below. I heard a noise and looked around. Riordan, the quartermaster, was standing beside me. He must have been relieved at last. "Sure is dark tonight, isn’t it?” I said. “Yeah,” he said. 39 Show less
A Thought When city streets and country roads Become just thoroughfares And all the traflie dull, I’ll know I’ve lived enough. + She stood that night upon the bridge Unmindful of the stares Telling me her fondest dream, The one I could not share. She said that I was bitter With a hard and vicious... Show moreA Thought When city streets and country roads Become just thoroughfares And all the traflie dull, I’ll know I’ve lived enough. + She stood that night upon the bridge Unmindful of the stares Telling me her fondest dream, The one I could not share. She said that I was bitter With a hard and vicious air Building dreams to smash them And laughing when she cared. ——D0N HEGG + TRANSITION RUTH PEDERSON The street-car was crowded. People were standing in the aisle and along the sides. To the observer, it looked as though every per- son on that car had had a hard day, whether it was in an office, working in a restaurant, or in school. I wondered when the lady at the front of the car had had her last bit of sleep. Suddenly something happened. The passengers relaxed. Like magic smiles appeared. A little girl about three years old had boarded the car with her mother. The tired business man thought of his little boy at home. The waitress thought of her little girl just returning from school. Faint smiles played upon the face of the factory worker. He had three young ones at home who would hurry to the door to welcome him. The mortorman yelled off the subsequent stops in a more cheer- ful voice. A man gave up his seat to a middle-aged lady who had been standing for a long time. You know, if God had made little children only to make others happy, I think it was highly worthwhile, don’t you? 38 Show less
Picking Potato Bugs KERMI’I' HOVERSTEN During my childhood, I did many different types of jobs and errands. But of all the hateful things I ever did, picking potato bugs was by far the worst. I didn’t like bugs then, I don’t like bugs now, and I never will like bugs. I despise them. Fortunately... Show morePicking Potato Bugs KERMI’I' HOVERSTEN During my childhood, I did many different types of jobs and errands. But of all the hateful things I ever did, picking potato bugs was by far the worst. I didn’t like bugs then, I don’t like bugs now, and I never will like bugs. I despise them. Fortunately the potato bug season was only once a year and our potato patch wasn’t very large. As soon as my father discovered the first potato bug, out to the field went my brother and I with our little gallon pails waiting to be filled with those horrible brown-striped, little insects. Every time I looked at one, chills travelled up and down my spine like lost electrons. Then to intensify the sensation, we had to pick them off the leaves and put them into the pail. We searched every leaf. Above us was the beating, penetrating, hot sun. Consequently it was necessary to lug the water jug out to the field with us. After the first hour, the water was nearly as warm as the sun. We went from row to row marauding the potato bug kingdom. At the end of each row, we would take the bugs out of our pails one by one and put them on a large flat stone. Then we would act as chief executioners. Every decision of death sentence was final. There were no reprieves granted. Indeed it was a spectacular and gory incident to witness. Finally, when the day was over, home we went, stiff from the bending and searching, but inexpressibly happy that the day was over. We could hardly wait to get a nice, fresh, ice cold drink of water. Then we hurried into the house for supper, but alas, we had lost our appetites witnessing those horribly gruesome execu- tions. We were content to simply go to bed uttering a prayer for rain the next day. + WORDS OF LIFE Midst tremulous strain of music swells, Ride words of triumph, words of life— And glorious is the tale it tells, Of victory o’er eternal strife. —PAUL ARNOLD 37 Show less
SEARCH The wind grapes wildly Through the trees And shudders To find nothing there. I look s/zyward And see Only the bare stars— Until, Closing my eyes, I see the sun, too. ~—HELEN HAUKENESS + Comin’ [at to Cauy Men. I awoke and sat up. It came to my mind faintly where I was, then again, I did not... Show moreSEARCH The wind grapes wildly Through the trees And shudders To find nothing there. I look s/zyward And see Only the bare stars— Until, Closing my eyes, I see the sun, too. ~—HELEN HAUKENESS + Comin’ [at to Cauy Men. I awoke and sat up. It came to my mind faintly where I was, then again, I did not know for sure. There was a sense of stillness about me. I could hear the water gliding past the ship’s sides, the bunk labored on with the gently roll of the skies, and the steady hum of the turbines stood out like a bass drum. It was quiet, yet so weird. It was never like this at home. Then the Negro troop, up on deck, started tossing. You could hear the melody drift from the bow to the stern. Maybe it was because they were only six days away from their destination, may- be because of the submarine contact four hours ago, or maybe it was because they received an answer. A summer Sunday morning back home came to my mind. I re— membered that as I walk by they were walking into the church. Some had on white suits that seemed to get whiter at every look. What a contrast I thought. They were singing as the church doors closed. Now they were singing again. This time they were singing for something that was in the minds of every man on the ship. I know it was in mine. It did not sound the same as it did on that Sunday morning though. It seemed to be more earnest and more sincere. I guess it is because they new, too, there are no cars, buses, or trol- leys outside to take us there. —KENNETH FAGERLIE 36 Show less
W Aloof, unkind, impulsive, Without a thought to share, You loathe the sight of fine things And prize the word despair. The world is your plaything, Its finesse is your toy; And not for wealth or’riches Would you concede to joy. —-DON HEGG + Noontide, heralded by the masculine chorus of factory... Show moreW Aloof, unkind, impulsive, Without a thought to share, You loathe the sight of fine things And prize the word despair. The world is your plaything, Its finesse is your toy; And not for wealth or’riches Would you concede to joy. —-DON HEGG + Noontide, heralded by the masculine chorus of factory whistles, finds the city pausing from its labors. Like a perspiring, panting giant, it dofis its work gloves for a few minutes of midday rest. The afternoon records itself with a dulling sort of routine in the log of the day. Late day movie-goers from slowly moving queues, in an attempt to escape that afternoon let-down, by spend- ing an hour or so in the world of fantasy unfolding within. —QUENTIN QUANBECK + LIFE Life is a wind, A fickle wind, That smooths our cheeks With practiced hand, And laughing, twists us like a straw Lulling us asleep. IRENE M. JOHNSON + Forget the days and hours that pass Before we know they’re gone; Look beyond to other days And follow with their change;— But let this moment stay. —DON HEGG 35 Show less
Worn en Some women are a tinny tune, A smaltzy juke box serenade, Brazen brass in painted passion, Or coy and clinging like clarinets With arms as soft as muted reeds. An invitation to romance As cheap as a squealing saxophone, With lips as bright as trumpet bells That kiss all night to a two... Show moreWorn en Some women are a tinny tune, A smaltzy juke box serenade, Brazen brass in painted passion, Or coy and clinging like clarinets With arms as soft as muted reeds. An invitation to romance As cheap as a squealing saxophone, With lips as bright as trumpet bells That kiss all night to a two four beat. False and warm, cold and sweet, Smooth and hard, gay and dry, Forever blank, eternal sham— Next time I’ll try Brahms. —ROBERT G. KRAUSS + vine Always moving Never replacing Ever forward No retracing Limitless and faultless Silent and sublime World wide Centuries deep Is fearless and unconquered Mystery of time. —LYLE SMITH Jmagination My balloon of fancy is engorged With lively, silver thoughts, But it soon pops, Pricked by the pin of common sense. —IRENE M. JOHNSON 34 Show less
