| Summary: | The Fioretti is a literary journal consisting of original submissions and editing from contributing students at Marian University, Indianapolis. ~ FIORETTI ~ --- f \lOLUME THIRTY-ONE 197Q-1973 FIORETTI · MJ\RlfiN COL LEGE LI TERfiRY fiN THOLOGY CO-EDI TOR) ELLEN DUGflN ~HERRY MEYER ~ D\J I )OR BERN~RD HEf\D )T~FF KI1THLEEN G\E)TING EMilY BRIC~NER CONTENTS PRO)E flND POETRY 6 The Voice Is Quiet / Kathleen Giesting 7 Mind Is Up High . I Pat Paquin 8 And God Wore Motley / Sister Francis Assisi Kennedy O.S.F. II WaIls / Patty Gorman 12 I Cannot Be Two . / Kathleen Giesting 15 Gently Swaying / Mary Kay Riley 16 It Comes Only . / Mary Elmlinger 18 The Search / Sister Jacquelyn McCracken O.S.F. 23 On My Hill / Mel Arnold 24 We Pass As Strangers . / Kathleen Giesting 25 Murder, Maim . / Donna Jean Meyers 27 My God Is Not . / Mary Kay Riley 28 It Is Good . / K.X. 29 (When Do I Love . ) / Kathleen Giesting 3 30 Concrete Poetry: Reality Revisited / Compliments of the Editors 32 Movin' Groovin' Women / Sister Francesca Thompson O.S.F. 35 I Want to Feel. / Ellen Dugan 36 Surrounded by You . / Donna Datsko 38 Ballad of the Betrayed Soldier / Ken Hornbach 40 Humanity: If Just Died / Kathleen Giesting 42 The Long Wait / Carol Jones 45 Here Am I Alone . / Kathleen Giesting 46 Student Teacher's Lament / Sherry Meyer 47 Time Gr~ws Up . / Ellen Dugan 48 A Wintry Night / Mary Werle 49 Cardboard Blues / Lou DeZutti 50 Electronic Communion . / Donna Datsko 51 I Am Myself . / L.F.P. 52 Welco~e to Richmond / Sister Jeanne Dailey O.S.F. 57 Black and White / Emily Brickner 58 And Many a Man . / Ellen Dugan 4 PHO TOGRfl PHY Pages 10, 17, 45, 49, 58/ Jamie Pinto Page 60 / Tom Kasper Pages 34 and 37 / Courtesy of the Yearbook flRT WORK Cover Design / Sherry Meyer Pages 22, 26, 41 / Mary Spragg 5 the voice is quiet barely audible it has been long since the Muse has seen my pen tracing out her words on the page her powers of dictation have lessened (so few come to take down her wisdom) the wisdom can always wait it is men who demand and need it now it is such men who do not know the Muse when she seeks shelter at their door. they seek it not there their logic tells them it cannot be there it cannot be so easy a quest they . cannot hear the Muse they once heard they are too grown-up for the dream growing ever more closed. the Muse no longer has the po~er .to greet them her wisdom is for those who wIll hsten she does not force doors. 1~f1THLEEN GI€)TING 6 Mind is up high Take it down Put the right one On the ground Sing a chant for nature's wealth Make a toast to Everyone Time is passing Rolling by Picking up speed Getting high Smell the scent of future life Pick a loved one For you friend. Second coming On the stage Clapping voices Silent rage Heavy sounds weigh down the air I was here but Now I'm not. PIlT PIlQUIN 7 flND GOD WORE He did not consider Being God A thing to be clung to But empties Himself And . no room in the inn The foxes have dens The birds nests The Son of Man no place to lay His head "He raised my son." N\OTLEY "He cured my daughter." "He speaks with authority." "He casts out demons." 8 Can any good come out of Nazareth: a carpenter's son, a wine-drinker, a rabble-rouser? Render to Caesar the things that are his. By whom do your sons cast them out? Will you also go away? Lord, to whom shall we go? Let us follow Him to death. Hosanna! And 'darkness covered the land. )I)TER FRflNCI) f1 ))1 S I 9 WALLS smile so sweetly give so much stoop so low act so sorry yet never feel some people very deeply. PflTTV GORMf\N 11 I cannot be two when I am one I will not be I refuse this life you embrace Laughing and sneering at your hypocrisy I must now pity and fear your dividedness For it seeks to be mine I will not be Two each incomplete alone but uncomplementary together The contradiction is one I refuse to embrace as a part of my life As the parts of my life: consumer --- worker hedonist --- servant It cannot be my life If I tend the machine that robs me of my soul It will not be my life Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. I serve none but mankind. Where have they hidden them the souls of my fellowmen ---the ones they snatched in the grand promise of returning them later all polished and bright They could not have been destroyed. Too valuable a treasure to suffer the destruction that is met by their masters --- they are hidden somewhere . confined --- denied release --- for they would aid my fellowmen they would stave off their destruction that the machine feeds upon. I must find them before I too am destroyed . --- for I cannot be sure even of my own soul --- the shadows are so deep. 1Q The moon hangs low The machine does not sleep The machine does not ever sleep but it si quieter in the moonlight as if it feared what the moon might tell The earth is quieter now but the quiet of the earth is tension nature waits to spring up --- but its realm has been overcome The machine continues its humming knowing only three words of the ancient Veni, vidi, vici. needing only three words to maintain itself no others apply. no others sing out the assurance of the machine as those of Caesar as he came saw conquered but where is the Brutus to strike the first blow against this Caesar? Frightened I was born in fright live in fright do not wish to die in fright never once being unafraid The assurance of the machine into whose realm I was born does not assure me could never assure me of anything except my fear 13 The machine does not like fear fear breeds desperation causing men to die for just causes wasting their potential to serve the machine. The machine is calming ---soothing --- humming away it appears to be hardly enough to fear I fear what cannot appear in man's view of the machine My fear is large hidden inside of my soul or if my soul be taken from me in the depths of what humanity is left. My fear is my humanity. I fear for my humanity Some of it already destroyed As the machine seeks duplicates not finding them --- "creating" them from the wealth of humanity offering the poverty of automation Artificial desires met by artificial pleasures but not quite met --- an emptiness in man's memory --- in mankind's memory of what it had been when it ruled the earth, when the machine served it ---this is the source of fear Man's fear is his humanity Man's fear is his hope. \\ATHLEEN GI€)TING 14 gently swaying to the sensuous rhythms of stony sadness, i see my soul caught in the essence of endless time. thus suspended, i' surrender to the visionary's light and answer to your crying need to love. MF\RY ~,4y RILEY 15 It comes only in the end to be my world against yours. And which of us is to say there are more treasures to be found in Spring? MF\RV ELN\LINGER 16 THE )Ef1RCH Reaching the top of the hill, Sarah Strickland peered down at the encampment of tents and buses which seemed strangely out of place among the portly hills of Nashville, Tennessee. Laughing aloud at the thought that she, too, must look starkly different to the inhabitants of the Farm, she was stunned by the shattered silence and by the realization that for the first time in a long while, she was completely alone, isolated from the people below. isolated even from her own body. She ceremoniously stretched out her tan lanky arms over the panoramic view before her as if to get in touch with some mysterious unknown reality, but her arms flailing blinkly about her revealed nothing but the crispness of the dusky air. She took a long hungry breath of the clean air and exhaled gently and lingeringly, savoring its freshness. It's what she remembered most about being a child '- air was a favorite thing of hers, like a doll or teddy bear was to most children. She used to love its tingle thro~h her nostrils and its dry wetness on her face. And her favorite season was spring because she liked everything about spnng air more than any other kind of air. And . that was when she was free . to be a child, to be an air-lover. In the valley below twilight shadows were beginning their nightly ritual. Like well-practiced thieves, they crawled subtly and stealthily over the unsuspecting earth and left no evidence of their deed except the nakedness of the falling dusk and the twinkle of the recently lit lanterns in the makeshift dwellings of Stephen's disciples. Although daylight was slowly and quietly vanishing, Sarah could still make out the individual settlements of the camp. With anguished eyes she searched for the dome tent Gary shared with ten other fellows. He called it the dome tent because a few yards down the hill front it stood a large wooden honey-comb dome - the frame for their future building. She closed her eyes, hoping to erase not only the impressions of the dome tent but all impressions of the past six months of her life. Experiencing the darkness of the blind, Sarah was amazed at how real Gary appeared to her behind her sealed lids. He was beautiful - and - young - infinitely young. His eyes were those of a child, not so much gentle or untied, but candid, open, daring. She squinted fiercely, trying to remember the color of his eyes. She had met Gary at last year's New Year's Eve party and noted immediately that he was different from most people. His shabby clothing, his hair and beard, long and unkept, certainly did not compliment the turtle-necked, beer-drinking young men. Gary was eating a tangerine. 18 Sarah listened carefully and noticed the cool confidence of his voice. . "Perhaps that's the risk you have to take," he was saying to a plump, mIddle- aged woman. "Picking up hitchhikers is a dangerous ~isk," she replied emphati~ally. "Where do you come from?" Sarah asked. Realizing that she had mterrupt-ed their conversation, she blushed. He didn't seem to notice. "Ann Arbor, Michigan." Impelled by a desire to get to know him better, Sarah asked, "Where are you headed?" "Wherever there's air to breathe, energy to share -- wherever ther are people." Awed by his manner, Sarah couldn't de.cide if he were poet or actor. Look-ing into his clear, guileless eyes, she concluded that he was neither. His seriousness unerved her. She didn't know why. A little cynically she commented, "It sounds like you're looking for Utopia." For an instant, Sarah's thoughts flashed back over the two years spent in the convent. The sound of his voice aroused her . "sixty-five miles below Nashville." Sarah opened h~r eyes. The cool breeze stung them and made them water . . Gary was right. Nashville was beautiful. And as Gary put it, it was the kind of place you could go to get your head together. She again closed her eyes and thought of the farm, a back-to-the-soil, open air monastery, embracing 500 folks - men with long beards, women with long skirts, and children with glowing cheeks. Sarah remembered that first Sunday morning she and Gary had walked to the hillside meadow before dawn for community worship. The thin ribbons of light acroos the sky hinted at the coming day. Sarah, waiting expectantly for the rising sun, sat on the damp ground beside Gary, along with her thoughts. Everything about this place freed yet held her. There was something about the air here that caught her. Stephen, the spiritual priest and teacher of the Nashville community, began to speak, breaking the silence of her mind. "We are responsible for each other. No individual can reach final Enlightenment until all of humanity reach~s it together. We have an agreement here that no soul is private - we are each other's soul. Anytime we see something in each other that isn't straight, we try to help each other be straight and keep each other ~rowin~." 19 "No soul is private." At first, Sarah had thought that she had been building a wall around herself. She thought she was being an individual. Then it broke wide open. . . They had just finished evening meditation. Judith began the comm~mcahon session. Sarah felt she could relate openly to everyone, except Judith. Sarah didn't know what it was - there was something about her. It was such a little thing to Sarah. Certainly not important enough for Judith to mention. "Sarah." Sarah recognized that tome of voice. Fraternal correction was on of the most difficult practices of the commune for her to accept. "I think you're ego-tripping. You're not sharing yourself. You're being selfish. I say 'Good morning,' to you and you just nod and don't give anything back; I need the energy you can give me. " A painful silence followed. Sarah knew they were waiting for her to answer. She felt stifled, smothered by the people and by the air. Gary spoke. "If something's buggin' you, Sarah, let it out. You can say how you feel here. We'll understand and try to help you." "I don't know if you can understand. I don't even know if you can help me. I do know that I am not just an extension of all of you. I want to be my own person, and not someone you or Stephen teU me to be." . Sarah took in the hushed silence, which fell upon the group like a pall. She usually had little to say in the group sessions, speaking only when she felt she had to in order to .avoid calling attention to herself. She sensed the surprise of the members of the group at her slightly violent tone of voice. "Stephen tells no one who to be and neither do we. I think you're copping out on us, Sarah. Maybe yours wasn't real from the beginning." To Sarah, Gary sounded strange and unlike himself. She would never have believed he could be so hard. He was always gentie with her. The session had ended badly. Despondently, everyone had left except Sarah and Gary. "What's with you, Sarah? Why are you so uptight?" Gary had asked impa-tiently. "I just can't." "Can't what? " "I can't do it their way." "Just like that? All of a sudden you've decided you can't hack it because of tonight?" QO "It's not just tonight, Gary. It's been happening over and over." "Why didn't you come to me?" Gary was visibly upset. "And tell you what? That it isn't what I thought it would be? Tha! I'm not like these people as much as I long to be? That I'm not free to be like them?" Sarah was glad she decided to wear jeans and a sweatshirt instead of her long skirt and peasant blouse. The night air was becoming cool. She had pulled her long brown hair over her ears and secured it loosely with a rubber band. She wished now she had let it hang loose. It always felt warm and gentle against her back. She gazed at the darkenmg sky. A cluster ~f stars suddenly popped into sight like dernels of corn exposed to heat, Sarah thought. Her mind wandered over her childhood days when popping corn was a Saturday night ritual in her borne. . She looked at her watch. It was 7:30. The bus was leaving at 8:05. If she hurried she could walk to town in fifteen minutes. She didn't relish the idea of being alone on the Tennessee country roads once it got really dark. Sarah turned her back to the commune below and headed down the dirt path leading to the main road. "You have to listen to the sounds within you . " She couldri't remember who said that. Vaguely aware of the night sound pervading the atmosphere, she listened intently to the air swirling within her. It was calm and quiet. Q1 ON MY HILL As I lie on top of this breezy hill I can hear the water trinkling down by the mill. The breeze blows the clouds, I can feel the warm sun. The birds are singing; the fish having fun. Yes, all seems perfect on this solemn summer day Oft times I wish they'd never go away. Then I remember deep within my mind Of how warm you are, how soft, how kind. How I love to hold you and gaze into your eyes, How I want to be with you and cry when you cry. But it's all in my mind, these thought of you, Cause you're so far away and there's nothing I can do. So, I'll keep thinking of you on these warm summer days. And I'll hope and I'll wish and maybe I'll pray. That maybe someday I can have my win . Of being with you on top of My Hill. ME: L t1RNOLD Q3 We pass as strangers now when once we used to walk side by side chatting in the many golden afternoons. We now merely nod and pass each other by and if we pause to speak there are no words save those that fill a silence with their noise --- and mean nothing. Have you grown up so much in such a short time that we are sundered so --- 9r have I so changed without my noticing that causes your fears? there stands a wall. How did we not note its building silently in the pauses replacing trust with lime and mortar? the words are nearly gone. the caulking nearly seals the once wide door. I~ATHLEEN GIESTING Q4 lonely only me murder maim claim love cry die lie leave behind DONNf\ JEIlN MEYERS Q5 My God is not silent. he speaks to me through the beauty of nature: the gentle blowing winds the rolling of thunder, and rain falling around me drenching my soul. M~RY 1\f1Y RILEY Q7 it is good, i think, to sit.in the silence toward evening and contemplate the day's worth, and my own. did i live each moment enough? or could i have lived more? i count the day's worth in the friends i have made and add to that those i could help. was it enough, i wonder. i listen to the thoughts around me and i wonder if i am a part of this world, will i be more tomorrow? THANK GOD FOR THE CHANCE always a tomorrow to make up for today. yes, it is good, the silence. even if it is incomplete· it is my own. and i can think of my tomorrows and hope that i.ll work with them. Oh God, i i don't want to become old. being old is a reminder of lost yesterdays and tomorrows coming to an end. help me work with my tomorrows. Q8 ~.x. I (when do I love) no time sometime all the time -- never II (how do I love) dreaming smiling laughing - in tears. III (what do I love) the trees the earth loving you -- dying . IV (why do I love) for you for me not to be - alone. ~f1THLEEN GIE)TING Q9 'j N\O\J , N', GRO 0 \J IN' WON\€ N (Dedicated to the members of NBSC) Bent-bowed, burdened, beaten Hurtin' That's me! Weary, woe-filled, worried Wantin' That's me! Hungry for the goods Of life and eternity Seekin', searchin' Reachin " rechin' Wretched Rottenin' in mind Un-resigned That's me! Blues-brimmed, bruised Miss-used Confused That's me! Sought, sold Bought Caught . body Caught . mind Trapped, webbed in Sin-sick Soul-seared Looked down to Down-Iookin' Forsooken That's me! 3Q But the wind's blowin' fresh Times changed Sun's started shinin' And now . NEW days NEW ways NEW ME! Blues turned to GLORY hymns Body and souls stretchin' To the Sun For I am Sun-kissed Sun-loved Creature, child of the Son Provin '> groovin >, movin' That's me! Groovin' to the sun Son Good sun, bright sun God-Son Who 'sgivin ' STRENGTH, DETERMINATION, EXAMINATION POWER Changin' power Movin' power People power Heart to comfort The Brothers who yet weep Gives me a goal Deep, deep in my soul Solid support to the Brother and Sisters . To bring And ever, always In my heart a God-song To sing . . AMEN! ALLELUIA! Right? On, on Right? RI· g h ton .t.t.t.t.t.t.l l. s"\s"TER FRftNCE)C~ THON\PSON I want to feel the arm Of winter take me by The throat and almost strangle Me with cold winds and Mounding snow drifts. Alas! My would-be attacker Has only strength to prickle My ire with misty drizzles And cold-catching chills. ELLEN DUG~N 35 Surrounded by you -- trees of life take root in my mind. Harbored from dangers by a barrier of carefully interwoven dearests and darlings, Watered with.a mixture of salt and you, They bloom myriad experiences and an occasional leaf How fortunate they are (am I) DONNf\ DflT~KO 36 BALLAD OF THE BETR~YED SOLDIER Scene I (At home) He went away scared, he did, he did, 'Twas just in the prime of life; But his country called him, it did, it did, He must leave his newly wed wife. "Never I'll go," he said, he said, "Never I'll leave my wife." "Y ou must do your duty," she said, she said, "And help to resolve this strife." "Is that your desire?" he said, he said, "To keep this country free." "Defend it proudly," she said, she said, "Forever I'll wait for thee." "If that's your wish," he said, he said, "I'll go as you desire." "Remember me always," she said, she said, "At times when things look dire." "I'll write you often," he said, he said, "And you write often to me." 'Til love you always," she said, she said, "And together in spirit we?ll be. " "A love is strong," he said, he said, "Oh wife don't you agree?" "A love is strong," she said, she said, "More right you could not be." "I shan't tarry long," he said, he said, " 'Tis a gun that I'll now pack." "I'll always be faithful," she said, she said, As her tears she did hold back. So off he went, he did, he did, To fight his country's war; "Of him I'm proud," she said, she said, "And shall be ever more. " 38 Scene II (At war) Scene III (Back home) "I thank you major," he said, he said, "For honors bestowed on me." "Y ou 've earned them son," he said, he said, "Helping others to be free," "Twas me beloved's wish," he said he said, "That I should go to war." "A fine wife you have," he said, he said, "And faithful ever more." "J ust one thing more," he said, he said, "I want' to ask of thee." "At your service," he said, he said, "Y ou 've been a good soldier for me. " "I've waited so long," he said, he said, "And fought so very hard . " "Go home and see her," he said, he said, "She waits for her desired." "Thank you, oh thank you," he said, he said, "And when shall I return?" "There's no hurry, son," he said, he said, "It's for your wife you yearn." "I'm home, I'm home," he cried, he cried, "I've come to see my spouse," But his voice went unanswered, it did, it did, As it echoed through the house. The note on the table, he read, he read, It said that they were done; "I'm sorry my dearest," it said, it said, "But I'm going to have his son." The soldier went out, he did, he did, And was never seen on this sod; He went back to the army, they said, they said, That is -- the army of God. ~E:N HORN~f\CH 39 H UN\~N ITY IT) U)T DIED. And there on the subway around the town twice we met a young lady who told us, quite nice, that she had been orphaned by such an affair. we thought that by now we'd the feel of the air but J -2 stepped out and fainted right there. we'd no time to stop; the situation could worsen, so K-I and I set to our dispersing. we went to the mayor to tell him our task unlike a captain ---he wasn't the last, to desert his ships when the party was past. it was then that I noticed the lack of the patter . of K-I's slow footsteps, following after and the lack of the patter of anyone's feet. I died in the street among all the hate --- could they have been saved? did we come too late? l~fJTHLEEN GIE)TING 40 '\) J ' ! I'~ ~\i~ A ,.,~ \ -. . " --~---~'-,./ THE LONG WAIT One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand th-r-e-e, - - - - no, no!, NO! I refuse to count another one of those fifty million microsized dots drilled in the ceiling. But face it, angel, what else can an outcastlike you amuse yourself with? Outcast? Yeah, angel, youfit the unabridged Webster's Dictionary definition of "an individual ostracized from society in one form or another." Oh yes, mother, how do you love your dictionaries and encyclopedias and medical books. Medical books, that's where psychiatric freaks like you, mother, obtain the technicalities needed to lock up innocent, unsuspecting people like me. Listen, world! You've taken my name down from the lights and the only visible shape left for it is in the form of a cold, gray, slate epitaph. I'm going to die, I'm going to . I remember what a beautiful day it was as I stared out the car window with my nose pressed against it. Soaking in the sunlight through the glass seemed to soothe my body and clear all unwanted thoughts from my mind. Girls on bicycles were ahead of us on the road, and as we swerved to avoid them I felt a sickening sensation with in my stomach. It was from the realization that I would never be on a bike again, laughing carelessly from the pleasure of the breeze on my face, while riding into the wind. I jumped from my reverie when mother touched my hand. "Angel, don't look so down in the dumps. I'm sure you'll only be visiting this place for a short time." I like the way she suggested "visit ing" as if it were true. "After all, my colleagues recommended this rest horr:~ as the finest in the country, and baby, I always get the best for you. "Mother, my name is Susan, and I'm quite sure I will not enjoy this 'visit', and I could give a damn about what the kooks you call colleagues think." , "Well, angel, I'll let those remarks go by this time since I know you aren'tfeeling well and seem to be a little frustrated." My God, why can't she accept the fact that I'm dying and that's as good a reason as any for being "frustrated"? "Angel, I'm leaving a large amount of money at the home for anything that you might need or want." If she only knew that what I needed was to be at home with her at this time, even if it would complicate things for her. It won't be long before I won't know her as my mother. But, tomorrow she will be wife of the famous Dr. John Emory. Mrs. John 4Q Emory. I wonder what father would think if he were still alive. If only John hadn't come into the picture and advised her as to what would be "best" for me. I would think that she as a psychiatrist would not have listened to his line: "She needs to be at a place where she can be cared for atthis time." But, I don't thinl she wanted to listen to her own medral sense, or even common sense, since that would keep her from marrying him and livin!! with him in France at his new position. "Angel, are you listening to me?" "Uh, yes mother, t4e money will be fine ,although I can't think of what I'll possibly need." Maybe a frothy negligee to turn the doctors on or an ermine robe so I won't catch cold from the air-conditioning! Come on, Susan, cut the crap. This can't be too wasy for her either. "Mother, how long wIll it be before I freak out?" "Angel, I refuse to hear talk such as that. Have you no mercy?" "All right, mother, I'll put in the little niceties if they help it not sound too much like the truth. How long will it be before the tumor pushed into the brain to start me hallucinating.? " "The doctor said that ill a few months you might feel that a few things are "not right." NOT RIGHT! What a classic remark from one of the most acclai~ed psychiatrists of the medical associations. "Mother, I'm surprised at you. What happened to all your medical terminology that would apply so weUnow. Or better yet, we should have John here now, Shouldn't we?" "Susan, stop this. You know all the details of your illness. Why must you constantly harp at me?1 feel this almost as much, or as much as you do." The limousine came to a halt in front of the Oceanside rest home. As I stepped out, Randolf, our chauffeur, turned his head to hide his tears from me. "Goodbye, Randolf." "Goodbye, Miss Susan." I Stood on my toes and kissed his withered cheek lightly. I whispered "You will write to me, won't you, Randolf? It would mean so much to me." He looked at me blindly through his tears and made a slight nod. Mother grabbed my arm and guided me towards the home, with Randolf behind, carrying my luggage. Dr. O'Connor was there to meet me, standing like a stuffed parrot because his tie was too tight around his fat throat. 43 "Susan, how glad we are to see you again." Why the hell does he always say "we" this and "we" that? "You look a little thinner child, we will have to fatten you up some with our delicious food here. Won't we Mrs. Lawson? " Mother made no remark. I think she sensed, as I did, that it sounded like they were fattening up the turkey for the kill. We walked down the flagstone corridor and approached my room. I was wary of entering the room, since I knew it would not be often that I would be leaving. We entered --- , but it was shrouded in darkness, so I moved ahead to open the curtains. I heard mother gasp when she saw that when I had pulled the curtains aside, bars were exposed in the windows. Dr. O'Connor had gone and she and I were left facing each other with tears streaming down our faces. "Mother, you can't leave me here like a caged animal! I want to be with you!" I had grabbed her arm and she was trying to tear herself away from my vise-like grip. She looked terrified as she saw the panic in my eyes and headed toward the door. Nurses and men in white entered the room and put me in bed, strapped in every direction. A needle entered my vein and I remember mother standing over me, and her wet, salty tears falling onto my face. "I love you, Susan." Now, staring at the ceiling in my room, I began the long wait, wonder-ing it she'll return for me. One thousand four, one thousand five, one thousand six, . CflROL JONE) 44 )TUDENT TE~CHER') LftMENT How ~at\ o~e. eos d k -h-OW\ t"e. otda1 z,b~ 'I • SHER RV N\EYER 46 Time grow up Time waves goodby Time kisses me Then goes awry. Once my friend then my foe In youth undaunted In old age not so. Hail Time thou fickle testament To life you are mere puzzlement. ELLEN DUG,tIN 47 WIN TRY NIGH T Scattered shiny specks against the dark sky Flicker through the naked trees As a yellow orb casts its quiet shadows along the forest floor. The snow-laden carpet is punctured with prints As the brown rabbit eagerly seeks a sheltered bed in the stillness of night. M~RY WERLE 48 Electronic communion of minds (so static-Iy intimate -precious thoughts sought by anXiOUS ears futile touches smiles wasted only occasionally interrupted by belligerentclock-watching operators. DONN~ Dt1T~KO 50 I see myself -- yet blind here -- but yet nowhere Hearing -- yet deaf Breathing -- my heart beating yet dead -- my blood blue in my veins -- My own -- all of this beacuse -- I do not see I do not hear -- I am not -- You are not -- You are as if a dead a non-existence -Not seeing nothing Not deaf in life But deaf in that death of nonexistence Not breathing You are -- -- -- --not Oh -- what death --- L.F.P. 51 WELCOME TO RICHMOND "Say, whose car are you driving?" My friend Marge was climhing into the front seat and was referring to the '67 Plymouth I was driving. "The Cricket wasn't chirping too well, and I had to take it in. I got lucky and was furnished with this little number." "How lucky can you get? " She was right. This particular model left a lot to he desired. A car sporting standard steering and missing a side view mirror wasn't exactly my idea of a luz:ury replacement. As we swung away from her split level home, I noticed Marge's brown eyes were sparkling as usual. Her youthful appearance did something to make me feel younger. Pixie-like features and a casual hairstyle worked miracles for a woman of thirty-two. "The heat feels great. It's really chilly outside." "You're telling me. Until a few minutes ago, this car felt like an introduction to life in the tundra!" "I don't know. Want to check it out?" I really didn't care. We were leaving Kettering and approaching the exit of 1-41 North. "At 10:15 in Kettering," the voice of the announcer intruded, "the temperature is eighteen degrees under sunny skies." Marge turned it off. "Well, yourluck isn't so bad after all. At least the radio and the heater work." Traffic was' moderate and I was grateful. Accelerating to seventy and stabilizing it there was my idea of the real way to travel. Being a speeder at heart, I found the uncrowded interstates an answer to prayer. The sky became tempermental, and its changing moods vied for my attention, The sun began playing a fast game of hide-and-seek, producin!!: dazzling contrasts of brightness against the scattered clouds. Radiance highlighting any cloud formation seemed to produce a stunning effect on me. I could easily become lost in all that breath-taking beauty. Unfortunately, that was the only drawback about driving -- you just couldn't absorb all the shades of light and shadow in the changing panorama. "Are you excited about this Awards Program?" Marge asked. "Not really. As a matter of fact, programs like thill actually embarrass me. It'!,! not that I mind it when they honor QJher people, but when I'm the center of attention, it really bothers me. I can see the reason for their choice, since I've put in a number of hours in volunteer work. But as long as I have the time, why shoUldn't I? It's just public recognition like this that really makes me uncomfortable. I guess I just feel phony receiving an award for something I enjoy doing." "Well, why didn't you tell them you couldn't make it?" she asked. "Marge, the Area Chapter went to alot of trouble to pick a day that 5Q would be convenient for me. I really should have leveled with them -- no day is suitable as far as I'm concerned," I confessed. "Do you have any idea what kind of an award it will be? Marge was certainly interested in the program. But then, she was that kind of a person -- as enthusiastic about her friends' successes as she was about her own. "Probably a plaque of some type," I conjectured. "I really wish I had said no. I'm growing more uncomfortable just thinking about it." "That's silly," she said kindly. "More people should do volunteer work in nursing homes. If I weren't so tied down, I'd love to do more. The time you have for it really makes me envious." "Marge, I'm not objecting to the necessity of the work. I agree completely. We need lots more volunteers. It's just the personal embarrassment I feel when I have to appear publicly." "Sheila, knowing you, no one will ever guess it. You never give your friends that impression. And it will be the same way today -- you wait and see." She did have a point. Somehow or other, I managed to look delighted when I felt miserable. I could even say convincing things at times like that in spite of my inner misgivings. What a fraud! "You'll be charmine;!" "Sure," I said. I felt anything but charming. My arms tired somewhat since I had never driven a car without power steering. Keeping the car positioned exactly where I wanted it, required greater determination and some muscular strain. Just spoiled, I thought. The brilliant sunburst illuminating the clouds had completely disap. peared, and it seemed I had imagined the sunshine when we left. An unbroken expanse of slate gray became the backdrop of the dual lanes ahead. Now darker, the distant trees looked stolid, frigid, forbidding . . "What happened to all that sunshine?" Marge mused. "I'm afraid we might be in for some snow!" "You're kidding!" Marge's warm eyes widened in disbelief. "That's what that steel-gray sky looks like to me." Marge chuck-led. "That' kind of proof I can do without." Snowflakes began blowing like showers of confetti from every direction possible. Just like a whirling dervish, I mused. What ever a whirling dervish was. The flakes were now peppering the windshield, by upon impact they changed to droplets. I switched on the wipers. They made a feeble attempt to move, producing a groaning noise, and then gave up trying. They couldn't be frozen. We'd gone twenty-five miles and the car was well heated. Well, try again. Same result. 53 "Wipers that don't wipe!" moaned my companion. "Seems to be par for the course, doesn't it?" I tried to sound indifferent. The whilrwinds of flakes had stabilized and sno~ was falling all around us like sifted flour. It was much thicker now and didn't condense so quickly as it hit the front window. Well, there was nothing to do but slow down and stay in the right lane. "Richmond -- twenty miles," Marge read. "Am I ever glad you're driv-ing! Snow-covered roads frighten me." "Do they? I don't mind a challenge with a fighting chance, but with zero visibility it reminds me more of sudden death. We'll have to pull over. I can't see a thing." Pulling onto the shoulder took only a few moments. The snow spattered windshield responded quickly to the plastic scraper. Easing back onto the expressway, we were on our way. Imperceptibly a deeper gray had penetrated the sky and frowned in discontent. Appropriately the landscape blanched. Evidently it had been snowing here for at least an hour. The broken white lines dividing the lanes were non-existent. The shoulder was transformed onto an extended right lane. Suddenly an oil tanker roared along within inches of our car. Wasn't I in my lane? Exhaust spray reduced the visibility I had just achieved. Well, chalk one up for you, Mister. "Say wasn't he pretty close?" Marge asked. "Too c10~ for comfort! A sideview mirror would be a big help. And look at the back window, Marge. Any suggestions?" "None that you haven't already tried." "I should have checked with the Triple A before we left. Any other time I listen to the weather reports almost compulsively. Last night though, I was so intent on the preparations for today, that it just slipped my mind." Some preparations -- a tangerine, A-line double knit dress seemed perfect yesterday, and yet so meaningless t~ay. All the ~e spent at the hairdresser to trim and style my dark haIr III a new excIting short shag had been a sheer waste of both time and money. Any effect the hairdresser had schieved had to be limp after being exposed to this much snow. Just a five minute check with the weather . Honking alerted me that another truck was passing. Keep to the right. The wheels began to rumble as the car suddenly jogged. I must be on the shoulder. It's so hard to see --- Whoosh --- another exhaust job! "I'm pulling over, Marge. This is wild." I could only guess if we were off the road completely and on the shoulder. Cautiously, I opened the door and saw that it was safe to get out. The wind was sharper now, and I had trouble catching my breath. Longer and tougher periods of scraping 54 were necessary to dislodge the accumulation. When the rear window was finished, I crawled back into the car. Just ahead a road sign informed me that Richmond was fourteen miles away. "Do you know it's 11:15, Sheila?l can't believe it." "I can!" It seemed like hours since we left Kettering. I was sick of the whole thing. Going to a program I thoroughly disliked. Driving a car that strained my nerves and muscles even under normal conditions. And now, this -- a virtual blizzard and thirty-one miles away from home. I had to be out of my mind. Inching onto the highway was harder than before. Within minutes two cars in front began a crazy zig-zag dance-ice! Glimpsing my whitened knuckles first made me aware of the vicelike grip I held on the steering wheel. Clenched jaws were driving my teeth deeper into their sockets. My heart began a sudden wild tatoo summoning help from every direction possible. Tension-cha~ed nerves like high voltage wires kept flashing one deadly message -- Danger! Danger! As I attempted to pull slightly to the right, the Plymouth did not respond. Instead, like a headstrong charger, it swerved sharply to the left-directly into the path of an oncoming truck! I braced myself for a sickening thud! Silence! Nothing happened. I breathed again, marveling at the control of that trucker. At the rate I was going, the only reward I'd be getting was R.I.P. Marge puzzled me. For a woman who admitted she became frightened under these circumstances, she had remarkable control Either she was impresSed by my determination, or she had a lot tnore control than I had guessed. Undoubtedly it was the lalter '. Once I did see her braking as we skidded towards a semi that had jacknifed on the shoulder. But who could blame her? Instinctively I would have done the same thing, with less verbal control, probably. "Only four more miles," she observed. "ONLY four more miles," I groaned. "Do you mind if I turn on the radio? " she asked. My mind was screaming, Marge, please no. My nerves are ready to explode! Can't you tell? "If you want to," I managed. She might as well. By the time we reached Richmond, I'd be ready for a straightjacket! "A snow emergency has been declared in the Richmond area," our commentator informed us. "So what else is new? " I muttered. Ironically the announcer answered, Segments of 1-41 North and South have been closed by the highway patrol. Four fatalities have resulted from accidents within a twenty-mile area. One motorist was killed as he attempted to step from his car, which he had pulled off the highway. 55 Eighteen accidents have been reported in the same area within the last hour .•. " Number nineteen Was on its way. Just ahead a car trailer in low gear was attempting to climb a moderately steep grade. With the icy pavement, uncertain traction, and the truck's weight, we would be sitting ducks in the event that. . . . We virtually stood still stiffening in breathless comprehension .• Mercifully, the miracle happened. I was on the verge of tears. The news reporter's voice broke in upon my concentration . " . four inches of snow have fallen within the last three hours. Three additional inches are expected. Motorists are advised of extremely haz-ardous driving conditions. Traffic from 1-41 North and South is being redirected to state highway 89 which has been cleared. The current temperature in Richmond is now twelve degrees." To our right a large billboard in deceptively warm colors splashed "Welcome to Richmond!" Marge sang out, "We made it, Sheila, - we made it!" The announcer cut her off. Numerous cancellations were cited: the Richmond high-school basketball game, class at the University, both day and evening, all schools were closed, the Optimists' Dub luncheon was cancelled, the Area Chapter of Volunteer Workers' luncheon . "Sheila!" Marge gasped. "You know, Marge, how much I really didn't want to attend it. Be-sides, I've already got the award I wanted." "You do? What's that? " "We're alive!" I squealed. "Sheila, you know something? We should celebrate! Look, just a block ahead is a Howard Johnson'~" she observed. "Do you think I can hold out for another block? " She winked at me. "With your luck, who knows? " ~I)TER JEf\NNE D~I LEY 56 BL~C~ ~ND WH ITE A Birth - - - - - black and white. Now begins a life to be colored by maturity, - - - a first recital - - - a high school graduation - - - a medal for bravery - - - an engagement or marriage Great Accomplishments All reflected in that grayish print black on white. Leading us to our finale A Death - - - - - black and white. EMIL V RRICI(NER 57
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