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March 24, 1969 The N.C. Essay Page 2 THE FREEDOM TO BE TO THE GHOSTS OF S P P. I ,'l G S P 1 S T by David Wood The warm weather several days ago awoke something deep Inside of me, something that had been sleeping for awhile. I don't know how to describe it exactly--a deep longing- -a restlessness. It comes to every one at one time or another, espec ially during the days before spring; the days you move back to the out side world again where you can turn and face the shells you've spent a winter in, thanking God they shel tered you, but glad now for room to breathe and stretch, Hegle once wrote that "the history of the world is none other than the progress of the consciousness of freedom," That sounds good to me. People know very little about what really makes an artist what he/she is, but if any stimuli touch es us more than freedom or the need of it, I haven't discovered it yet. When I was younger I once want ed to take the car and leave home for a week, go where I wanted to go, see what I wanted to see, and do what I wanted to do. My father told me the car was mine when I wanted the keys, and the world was mine when I didn't mind the price I'd have to pay. I never left; maybe I should have--but the knowledge that the freedom was there if I did de cide to use it was enough. Sometime that's all it takes. Here, at N.C,S,A., I ask only what all of us ask--the freedom to be what I am--the freedom to be me-- the freedom to live, to work, to love--to grow--to find myself and my place in this universe. And if my choices are sometimes not the best in someone else's opinion, I only ask the freedom to discover it for myself, accepting the consequences. In this I find happiness. AN APOLOGY TO MOTHER-FATHER LIGIHT hy Kathy FitzgevaZA I guess I'a noped to find a revelation to know every what's truth, --or maybe to find a map that I could keep in ray pocket for the times when I'm just not sure where to walk But each moment is a riddle each meeting a puzzle each day a mysterious forest No angel will mark this universe with dotty lines for tne to follow --no man can either-- So I must manage to embrace each secret tightly as I stumble around. (dumbfounded) the next corner to the next rebus to take and give the guiding hands and never stop dancing my living or laughing my lovings in this maze of how. + + + + + + + + + + + + + + by CELIA SPARGEB The night was still, All was quiet. Lightning flashed Illuminating the trees Molded in crystal costumes. "My crown is ray heart, not on my head; not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen; my crown is called content; a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy." by Tony Sparger I walked outside today and knelt at ray private shrine. Beneath the be nevolent branches of this hallowed structure, built by Nature to cele brate her own nativity, I let my thoughts roam free. Strange, that with the magic kiss of spring on ray brow and the sun a halo above me, ray thoughts were sad. Thoughts of war and pain and parting... Spring to me is a sad time. I start thinking of people leaving, myself among them...some of us never to en counter each other again. Many times I realize too late that the tearful good-bye I avoided in my shallowness was to be my last chance. Desperation corapels me to say; "I love you. Before you go please know that." Yet still, I share my words with no one but the night. Already I'm being asked: "Are you coming back next year?" (Has it gotten so late so fast?) In reply, (aon't on pg. 3) THE N. C. ISSAY STAFF Editor Tony Senter Co-editor Lynn Bernhardt Feature Writers. . .Kathy Fitzgerald Robert Lingetbaoh Dance Editor .... Sandra Williams Political Dennis Williamson Typists Vat lanoey Carol Johnson Business Manager. . . . Tess Morton Layout and Design .... Tom Cavano Advertising Polly Croaker Art David Wood Loma Frady Advisor Anthony Fragola ( Tri^T tvtKl I tZ-t > p* i-foi - mis- i
N.C. Essay (Winston-Salem, N.C.)
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March 24, 1969, edition 1
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