Newspapers / Louisburg College Student Newspaper / Nov. 30, 1944, edition 1 / Page 2
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Page Two COLUMNS November 30, 1944 COIiUMM VOI.UMK IV NUMBKR 2 PublUhed by Louihiiuiui Coi.i.mr. Sti'RENts eight timet during the collegiate year | STAFF Editorial Kditor-in-Chief . CiiAKwrrrK Usiikr Ansociate Editor Bon Biki.k Managing Editor Barbara Thorhon Afiittant Managing Editor.. Barbara Howard News Editor Mii.drko Parks Atniiitant Newt Editort MAROKt.I.K Ki.vo, Haroi.I) Carrom, Feature Editort Mary Strowii Ward. Lanoiu- Watsos Exchange Editor Caroi.yn DRivpni Hportt Reportert. Unwnii'i Cahkv, Miuirkd Bomp;y TAi.MAixiK LancahtI’JJ, Cfxm. Strowd Social Iteportern Kay Ciiamtion, It>A Franckh Liskky Religioun Reporters Mary Fra.n'CKS Oaki.ky, Catiikrink, Cookk Literary Editor Carol Bkshent BuHinesB Husiness Manager Frkd Davis Assistant business Managers Marik Bakco, Bird Ramsky Photographic Manager Stam.ky Lkwis Copy Readers Barbara Eatman, Grack Laksitkr Typists Gi.adyh Dikkrhon. Moi.mk Fkari.xo. SrK Hohiih, Loi'Ihk Morgan, John Pkkry, Mattik Snkkd I'roof Readers Francks Mkrritt, Ida Lkk Whitk Make-up Manager Mary Lkk Hoikjkh Assistant Make-up Managers Jkan Am.kn, Evklyn Ann Garre-ttt Circulation Managers Samukl Lkiikw. CiiARt.Ks Skinnkr, Ai-lyne Smith SubscTlptlon rate for non-residents: for colleRiate year, $1.00; single copy, 15o SCRIPTURE Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise.—Psalm 100:4a. Thanksgiving Everyday ThanksKiving Day, 1944, has passed! Did we here at Louisburg College find anything for which to be thankful? Officially Thanksgiving Day conies but once a year, but shouldn’t we experience thankful ness every day? We live under a government of the people. We find refuge in a horrow-free haven. We are acquiring an education that will be of use to us later in climbing the ladder of success. We are collecting innumerable memo ries that we may reflect smilingly upon as we grow older. We are learning to live and asso ciate with fellow citizens. Should we not be thankful for these things? Why cannot we who are now college students acquire a realization of the fact that we are enjoying privileges now almost obsolete in most of the world. Why cannot we make everyday a Thanksgiving Day and offer our thanks to Him who grants us countless privileges? I "Smiles and tears of all (our grades)." i ; Dear Mom: Have my hands and back been sore! We boys j have been digging potatoes and shocking corn. ! Those girls had better appreciate the fact. I ! thought shocking corn was bad enough, but dig- j ging potatoes—never before in all my life have II known potatoes to grow so deep in the ground. 11 expected to reach China any minute, if I could defend my back from spinal meningitis a little longer! One boy said he came here to get off the farm, but how does he spend his time now? Shocking corn and digging potatoes. Do you know what happened? A picture was made of us to put on the front page of Columns. Maybe, though, the work wasn’t so bad after all; we did have fun, and maybe we’ll be pin-up boys now. One evening last week a harpist was at the college. Gee, she really played; and I liked her even if most of the numbers did seem rather classical and highbrow. Anyway, maybe college ought to give some things of that type. I haven’t forgotten your telling me you wanted college to give me some added polishing. I do believe I have made some improvement. Well, Mom, now that grades are out, I may see you sooner than I once expected—or had I better not come home? So long for now. Lovingly, Little Willie. P.S. What do you want for Christmas? About Us—Opportunities "Some things arc to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. . .”—Francis Bacon. Our college, like our columns, points the way of life. Students behind these columns are searching—searching for ways of life, creating capacities for happiness, building personalities. Some in their search have found paths that led to various interests—to the Glee Club and the Raleigh Civic Music Concerts the music lovers, to the Dramatics Club, the drama enthusiasts, though none may be a Helen Hayes or a John Barrymore; to the LR.C. the searchers for current events; to the staff of the two publica tions the journalistically inclined; sport lovers play on and cheer for their team. Common en joyment of our interests helps to knit our stu dent body together as one family. In our desire for a better way of life we reach out for a deeper sense of the Christian way. To the Y.M.C.A. and the Y.W.C.A. we find ourselves going for Christian leadership and fellowship. Some have found on a yet closer fellowship in a Cell Group. If in our college activities we can find inter ests, outlets for welling spirits, wholesome con tacts, we may make better, happier students, build better personalities, be the better citizen in the making. If in reaching out we find ourselves broadening in thinking—enriching our lives in enriching our hearts and minds, college will not have been in vain, for we shall have stored with in ourselves lasting wealth and happiness— “Sweet . . . thoughts that savor of content.” f (Exchange Column) Few freshmen will realize that they are be ing graded on character, native ability, energy, earnestness, personal appearance, manner, and disposition, unless told. We believe that a word to the wise is effective; so we warn you that such ratings are demanded of the faculty. The Clemson Tiger, -Clemson, S. C. These Things I cherish: “My Negro friends with their sad, dark eyes, and voicf>s full of gay laughter. The flashing smile and soft voice of a young Mexican girl who sings as she dances. The pathos in the voice of Kimi, my Japanese- American friend, as he poured forth his story without bitterness or complaint. The gracious dignity of Te Fan Isou as she told of her home and school destroyed by bombs. The dancing eyes of the Italian man who mends my shoes, understands my faltering Spanish, and says—Treinta y cinco cayitavos, senoita. The tears in the eyes of a soldier lad as the train pulled away from the station platform. This I have learned: All men are brothers.” The Wotnan’s Press. “Lsiten, student, when you criticize your Alma Mater you are criticizing yourself. Having found fault, the next step is to correct it. The year is ahead of us—let’s make the Coker spirit live as never before. Let it play a dominating role—having high ideals, worthy ambitions, and the essence of that which is fine and beautiful. Let it mean Christianity, character, and culture. You, the individual make it a living intangible that you may truly be a part of it and it a part of you.” The Periscope, Coker College. “Happiness is like sunshine. Some refuse to get in it for fear of getting too much! Goes into the darkest places provided there is no obstruc tion.” Smiles like culture are worn with ease by those who are accustomed to them. Griping, like ignorance, is shared by those who don’t know. Days are like buses and trains. A few people or things try to fill them up, but there’s always room for one more. Gloom, like fog, will settle on everything. Gossip, like mud, when splashed, makes a bigger mess.” Creek Pebbles, Campbell College. ODE TO LOUISBURG Since the reading of “Ode To Louis burg" by Elizabeth Harris at the alumni banquet of the 1944 commence ment and the reading by Sara Davis at the 1944 homecoming banquet togeth er with a chapel reading by Sara Davis this past November 2, the de gree of interest manifested in "Ode To Louisburg” has seemed to justify a reprinting of the poem, this time from the original manuscript of the writer. It follows with the headnote published in the October issue of Coi.i'MNS, 1943. “You have probably heard that “A dog is i man’s best friend,” but a book is everybody’s best friend.” School Daze, Louisburg, N. C. (In loving honor of those who were the companions with me at Louisburg, 1941-1942) • « * Seated high upon a rock Above the greatest of all seas. Resting quietly—almost dreaming— I thought I saw a dream. A score of men and maybe more With brick and mortar built A perfect-fashioned, graceful wall And covered it with roof— Built a perfect wall And finished all within. Upon the front four lovely columns Pointing straight into the sky. Pointing up and to perfection— A perfect symbol for the bold. I saw a hundred acorns Split open, and from out Came a hundred mighty oak trees, Tall, majestic, and straight— Mighty oaks with faultless arms Arching high as if in prayer. Or bending gently to the ground In submissive humility. For even they must know They were on holy ground. Then came six generations— Grandparents, mothers, fathers— And after them the long, long lines Of all their countless children, Each with purpose on his face. Young maidens, gay with youthfulness, And vigorous boys wth ardor For the tasks that lay ahead. From all their throats Came forth a mighty song, A mighty song, which roused my soul And brought back memories: "Alma Mater, sheltering college Tliou hast been our guiding friend." And within that group I seemed to see My mother, young and gayer Than all the rest that day. Her cheek was an apple blossom. And I heard her sing with joy: "Stand old college—Alma Mater Through the changing years abide." Then the multitude of people Went up upon a seat Of heavy granite, massive steps. And into an open door; But after them the open door Was ever opened wide For future generations To come and there abide. Next came a mumbled sound from in. Of French and Latin verbs— Of Shelly, Yeats, and Milton; Of Villian and Hugo; Of Lowell, Poe and Whitman; Of Moses, Paul and John— Read by classes filled with fervent zeal For knowledge of the best. There was the sound of formula And elements combined. These were the sounds of learning Coming through an open door. And then it seemed I clearly saw Time come down, and leaves Upon the trees floated gently to the ground. Making there a soft brown carpet For man to walk upon. The birds flew south. And snow came down Enclosing all within— A little coat of loveliness. And then the rains came down. Now there was the smell of burning leaves And freshness of cool green; The birds came back again And filled the air with song. Thus came the seasons, And thus they went again. They came and went; They came and went Until the bricks grew mellow. And the trees grew big with age. Ever was the sound of hammer. The swish of brush and saw; And the columns stood, Straight, clean and tall, A symbol for the brave. Ever came the sound of laughter And the buzz of a busy man. During war it was most silent. But, when came joy and peace, It reached a mighty tempo— The crescendo of a symphony. The tones of sacred music. THANKSGIVING PRAYER Dear Lord, we bow our heads and pray To Thee on this Thanksgiving Day; We lift our hearts and voices free In grateful praise and thanks to thee. Be with us in the future years Through joy and sorrows, smiles and tears; As thou hast been in years before. Be thou today and evermore. Grant us from sin and war, release; Guide us to free and lasting peace; Hold thou Thy hand above our head; Teach us thy will, thy way to tread. Accept, oh Lord, this humble prayer, From thankful hearts to thee made bare. Amen— Carol Bessent. WHAT DOES THANKSGIVING MEAN? What does Thanksgiving mean to you? Search your hearts and lives today. Think of the many blessings given you by God’s great mercy; then answer this question, “What does Thanksgiving mean to me?” —Carol Bessent OUR COLUMNS Columns, stately, stalwart, sterling. Pointing heavenward toward the blue. Flood the earth with rays of knowl edge, Courage, faith, and love so true. Be to those seeking truth and honor, "A glowing light to cheer and guide.” Stand you columns, straight and strong; “Through the changing years abide.” Columns, stately, stalwart, sterling. Let your light a beacon be; Ever inspire and guide us onward. To a blest eternity. —Mattie Snead. A WEEK END AWAY FROM COLLEGE As I passed through the city of Alexandria. Virginia, passed the towers of the Masonic Temple, passed on by the new Jefferson Memorial, passed that sacred shrine, the Lin coln Memorial, with the Washing ton Monument in view, I awoke to the realization that I was entering our beautiful capital city, Washing ton, D. C.—my home. For a few minutes I was seized with a feeling of butterflies in my stomach and a saddened sensation. There is something about this city that always thrills me deeply when I return. While these thoughts were fleeting through my mind, the train was lumbering on into the tunnel; I then caught one glimpse of the capitol dome. On into the Union Station I rode, brakes squeaking, people rushing. I walked up the steps, hailed a cab and arrived home. The familiar words, “There is no place like home” had come home to me. —Arlene Cockrell. The wind came from the Atlas— I stirred and woke from sleep. And far below the sea beat hard And lashed upon the beach. It seemed it sang an old refrain. That song I love so well; "Stand Old College, Stand Old College, Stand Old College, strong and great!” A sea gull floated high above. Above in the blue, blue sky; And called its shrieking mating call To its mate somewhere beyond; But I heard it indistinctly—- My thoughts were far away: There was a tear of pride upon my cheek And with the waves of the Mediter ranean I sang the old refrain: “Stand old college—Alma Mater Through the changing years abide!" PL/de CC, class of '42 Algeria, 1943.
Louisburg College Student Newspaper
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Nov. 30, 1944, edition 1
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