I Remember THE first day at school was horrible, as I recall it now. My name, my age, and "now you must sit here" were the first words to reach my ears. You will note that the word "must" was used. Now by nature, I abhor the word "must". To me, even in those tender years, this was one of the most hated words I knew. I struggled through the first day of school. Naturally I was pleased when the end of the day came, for then I was free to play with my train, or perhaps to play ball. Next morning I was again informed that I must go to school. I couldn't understand why, so I asked my mother why it was necessary for my going to school when I couldn't write. Common sense told me that if this was the case, there was no reason for my going to school. My objections were overriden, and off to school I trudged. I wasn't so frightened this time. I began to notice things I had missed the first day. I thought one of the girls in the room was rather cute, so I chased her home from school that night. I enjoyed that. Lorenzo Groutage MISS Goggins, my first grade teacher, agreed with me in most ways. The outstanding exception was her nauseating insistence upon making each of her charges a social butterfly. Once a day, the first and second grades were led into the school hall, which served as a polling place during the county elections, and Miss Goggins seated herself at a piano and proceeded to play "Farmer In The Dell." At this point each of the boys was supposed to present himself to the lady of his choice, bow manfully, and sweep her off in a two-step. Had we but known it, we were acquiring the prerequisites of ballroom dancing. The deficiency of this theory was what every adult should remember: All little boys hate little girls. Of course we little gentlemen resisted, but were dragged bodily from the "cloak room" and forced to ignominious defeat. The fact that some compatriots accompanied me in my downfall helped only a little, and I bear the scars of this daily ordeal yet. Ed Darlington MY first pay day! I was going to buy some long needed clothes. I would also enjoy a malt at the corner drug store. Ah a malt made with strawberry ice cream and strawberry syrup. What more could a man ask from life. But as I accepted the pay envelope, my eyes noted that the sum was only three dollars and forty eight cents. Why?? With trembling fingers, I tore the envelope open. It was true. Three paper dollars were enclosed, one quarter, one dime, one nickle, and three pennies. The enclosed statement showed that my initiation into the miners' union came to ten dollars. It was a shock to me, but as the years passed, I was to learn that the "take home" pay would never equal the actual amount earned. Lorenzo Grout age AS far as we were concerned, we lived out beyond civilization with the sagebrush and jackrabbits. To a certain degree this was very true. We did live among sagebrush and jackrabbits; however, we were civilized. One of our biggest delights was to go out in the sage at night and start a big fire, tearing up all the sage in the vicinity for fuel. How I recall one New Year's Eve. It was a beautiful night, with the snow falling slowly in those large beautiful flakes, the way you love to see it fall on Christmas as you sit inside by the warm fire. I know nothing I enjoy more than being out on such a night as it was this New Year's Eve. I suppose we were all so full of enthusiasm, it had to come out some way. So we commenced to uproot the sage and pile it in an enormous stack. As I recall, there were about six in our band that night, so we weren't long in preparing for our little fire. At any rate, it was somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight when we kindled our blaze, just to burn the old year out and the new one in. The sage was wet but once we got it started . . . You've never seen anything like it. It was only a matter of a few minutes before we had the whole village up to fight the fire. Afterwards it was considered the best community New Year's we had ever enjoyed. Robert Braegger Page ten A Bear Story By Oman Tracy Jackson came flying down the path toward camp as if he had seen a bear. Strangely enough that's exactly what he told us (Richard and me). "I just saw a huge brown bear must have been at least seven feet tall and was he ferocious," panted Jackson. "Now, Jackson," I said. "There aren't any bears here at Monte Cristo." "But I'm not fooling you. I saw a huge bear, and I'm ready to leave for home," insisted Jackson. "You mean to say that after we came all this way from town, found this wonderful camping ground among these four large, equally-spaced spruce trees, struggled for hours to put that stupid tent up, and lugged four heavy picnic tables from nearby and distant camps, you want to go home before we have been here a full day?" I argued. "Besides, the bear you saw was more than likely an old dead tree stump." "Of course it was an old dead tree stump," Richard echoed. With reluctance Jackson agreed to stay, but was still convinced about the bear's actuality. Because of various camp-chores (mostly poker), we didn't discuss the incident any more that day until it was time to retire into our cozy sleeping bags, which were placed on pine boughs for less moisture and more comfort. As Richard securely tied the entrance flaps to the tent, he humorously remarked to Jackson, "This is in case the bear decides to visit us tonight." But Jackson failed to simulate jollity. "And when he does," I added, "don't forget to whip out your rifle and defend us." (Actually we had no weapons of any kind, except a small ax.) With our little jokes over, we blew out the candles, our only supply of night light except camp-fire and matches, and soon went to sleep. During the night I had a nightmare in which our neighbors we had some neighbors, but they left early this morning were merrily banging our pots and pans around the camp. I was becoming quite angry with them when Jackson woke me. "Do you hear anything?" he quietly whispered in my ear. "No," I loudly answered. "Be quiet," was the immediate reply, "and listen." Sure enough, I could hear something moving about the camp. "It's the bear!" gasped Jackson. We could hear something crunching the remains of fried chicken that we had for dinner and gently plucking tin cans out of the garbage repository. We both agreed that it must have been the bear making the racket. I shook Richard who, for a reason I still don't know, woke up singing "I'll Walk Alone." When he realized what was happening outside, he quickly slipped down into his sleeping bag, very deeply. We did nothing but shake and listen for the next few minutes. All of a sudden it was quiet outside. Only the rustling of the pine trees and the chattering of my teeth could be heard. Jackson wore falsies which at this hour reposed in a tumbler. "Has he gone?" whispered Richard, as he poked his head out from his sack. Before either Jackson or I could answer, the creature was softly pawing the tent entrance. "He's after us!" screeched Richard. The three of us were in a frenzy. I was ready to slip under the rear of the tent and tear up the hill to find safety in the out-house (I found out later that that was the wrong thing to do since bears run faster up hill than down hill. I should have run to the out-house that was down hill.) (Concluded on page 24) Page eleven