Fridoy, April 20, 1956
THE NEBRASKAN
Fools Breathe . . .
"Conrad has alwavs been siirh
a quiet boy," said his mother, her
vague blue eyes showing compla
acency. "He's never caused me
any trouble."
"For my part, I think boys
aren't boys unless they show a
little spirit!" The neighbor lady,
with her great, stuffed bosom and
her malicious monkey' face,
sensed possible insult: her oldest
son was in jail, her daughter had
married unhappily; and her third
child, only twelve, wa already
lying and stealing.
It was rumored that he did
much worse; although no one
heard official reports, mothers
herded their children inside when
they saw him coming.
"Yes, sometimes I do worry
about Conrad." It was absurd to
think that Mrs. Stuart could be
insulted; she credited everyone
with her own kind nature, cluck
ing a little at war news or rape in
a far-off city, never realizing that
events were perpetrated by human
beings like herself.
It was fortunate that she had
always lived in small towns; the
crimes presented on her doorstep
came from those whom she knew
so well that it was all a horrible
mistake. "It's about time for him
to be coming home from school,
and Esmeralda, too."
"Why, it is almost four o'clock.
My boy will be hungry and yelling
his head off if I'm not there
to give him a snack." The neigh
bor lady put her hands flat n the
sofa preparatory to rising, but fold
ed them in her lap again as the
front door opened.
When the tall, thin girl who had
entered saw her mother's guest,
she banged the door shut with such
violence that its frosted pane of
glass shivered.
"Why, Esmerelda! That's no
way to shut a door."
"I know, Mother. I'm sorry."
She was lifting the curtaindoor to
leave the room when Mrs. Stuart
halted her: "Aren't you going to
greet our neighbor?"
"Hello, Mrs. Schwartz." The
girl's brevity was discourteous, in
tentionally so. She did not like the
woman, or her family, or the
school, or the town in which she
lived.
She lived entirely for the future;
she was, however, as much of a
realist as an arrogant intellectual
can ever be. She thought that the
future would cease to be when she
left Arcadia (what optimists the
founding fathers of her hamlet had
been!), and fife would gebin.
As the living future came closer,
for she was a senior in high school,
the sharp past receded, and the
lacunae of the present became al
most bearable. Thus she could
add, somewhat pleasantly, "How
are you?"
"Oh, I'm just fine, dear, but
Where's your little brother?"
"He'll be a little late." Esmer
elda debated; then she realized
that Mrs. Schwartz would learn of
the incident anyway. "He's being
kept after school for fighting with
your son."
"Conrad-fighting!" Mrs. Stuart
was confounded. Her consterna
tion almost transformed the neigh
bor's indignation into joy.
"Now, Mother, it wasn't Conrad's
fault, I'm sure. He won't say any
thing about it, but you know that
Gary is older and bigger."
"Well, really, my boy's a good
boy!" And Mrs. Schwartz got up
and lumbered out.
The mother, always uncertain
when confronted with an emer
' gency, let her go, but remarked
after a few seconds, "Conrad will
have to apologize."
"Mother, he will not!" In her
anger, the daughter, with her
dark hair and eyes, looked like a
mahogany statue.
"How can you use that tone of
voice when speaking to your moth
er?" Mrs. Stuart's mouth 4began
to tremble; the familiar light
green lines formed around her
mouth and nose.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to say
that, but he shouldn't have to."
"Well, we'll see." She reached
for the box of kleenex.
It was five-thirty, a cold-pink,
chill dusk, before Conrad came
As Is Fitting
by F.
A bemused smile on his face,
Dodg-37492 turned to lean his el
bows on the marble parapet edg
ing the roof-garden that he might
look out over The City. His ad
miring eyes sought the busy street,
far below him, where the Robo
cara whistled along bumper to
bumper and the traveling side
walks were packed with sleek,
graceful Robots, powerful of body
and of mind, Dodg-37492 felt a
glow of warm satisfaction and kin
lihip that made him smile softly.
An empty Martini glass, just re
moved from the Master's study,
twirled idly in his flexible fingers,
the last of the strange ingredients
Just borne to his delicate senses
on the warm, summer air; "Dry,
veddy dry," he thought, and al
most felt the thrill of the laughter
he had known before his last Serv
ice Modification.
The peculiar affectationss of oth
ers, even of the Masters, still In
trigued and delighted him, how
ever, though he could not, now,
laugh aloud as when he was last
owned. This Master did not think
laughter tasteful in Dodg's kind
and Dodg, thinking about it now,
realized thot probably it was not
seemly In hlrn to imitate the Build
ers of The City.
The tiny bulb of his wml eall
ignnl glowed faintly and Dorlg
turned quickly,' He at the empty
by Nancy Rodgcrs
home. He set his books on the
parlor table, stood for a moment
in the quiet and then went through
the curtain to the dining room.
"Hello, Mother." She was spread
ing the plastic tablecloth that he
hated; its flowers looked like dry,
slimy tentaacles.
"I didn't hear you come in, Con
rad. You're always so quiet." And
then she remembered that the un
precedented had happened; he had
been a bad boy. "Esmerelda told
me that you had a f ig h t with
Gary."
"Yes, I did." The boy was pale
and handsome; his body seemed
compacted all of one piece, with
no protruding joints or bones. It
was not that he was fat; rather,
he somehow seemed a perfect man
in miniature as he stood there,
waiting for his mother to speak
again.
"Did you apologize?" Mrs.
Stuart's kindness followed social
rules; it knew no larger ethical
or moral boundaries
Conrad knew this; therefore he
lied deliberately. "Yes, Mother, I
did."
"Why did you fight." She would
not have asked this question or
dinarily; she was not concerned
with causes. The event must have
upset her.
"No particular reason. It won't
happen again, Mother."
"All right, dear, but I will have
to tell your father."
This was the moment for which
Conrad had carefully prepared.
"Oh, please don't you will just
worry him. You know he has to
work hard, and I do promise not
to do it again. Please, Mother."
Mrs. Stuart hesitated; her blunt,
garden-grimed hands smoothed the
tablecloth. She was afraid of her
husband, not because he was un
kind, but because he was remote.
It was rash to precipitate him
into domestic reality, because then
he would notice the disordered
state of the house and the fact
that she had planted a garden
again this year, strictly against
the doctor's orders.
She felt her way through life
like a blind animal; only when a
cause and effect had been repeated
many times could she be sure of
her role.
Her role in this case, she de
cided without consciously thinking
about it, would be to preserve her
she said, "Well, we won't mention
it this time. Now go wash your
hands and set the table."
From the bathroom he called,
"Where's Mary?" He hated the
name of Esmerelda almost a s
much as did the daughter herself;
the doll for which she was named,
Mrs. Stuart's childhood playmate,
sat on the diningroom buffet and
leered eternally.
Many years ago Esmerelda had,
in a fit of childish spite, painted
the doll's mouth and nails with
red polish, an offense for which
she had received her only spank
ing; the desecration of the fetish,
for the polish could not be re
moved without damaging the doll,
could still move Mrs. Stuart to
tears.
"She's taken the dogs for a
walk. They had been cooped up all
day."
"Has Coyote delivered yet?"
Conrad was so matter-of-fact
that his mother blushed; when
Coyote had begun to swell, she
had told Esmerelda to inform her
brother of the facts of life. This
was the first indication that he
had been told.
"No, she's not ready."
"What are we going to do with
the pups?"
"We'll have to sell them; we
can't keep too many dogs or the
neighbors will complain." She
might have explained further but
just then Mr. Stuart came in
through the back door.
He always entered through the
kitchen to dump the g-oceries
which his wife ordered and he
carried home.
"What are we having for supper
j tonight?" was his perfunctory
greeting which never need be
answered. He sat down in an easy
chair in the parlor to read until
dinner was served; this, too, was
Cont. on Page 5,
. .
X. Ross
glass on the table beside him and
hurried irtside. to the library. The
Master didn't like to be kept wait
ing, and Dodg wanted always to
serve him so well that he should
never have cause to reprimand
him.
The Builders of The City, thought
Dodg, and he glowed. The creators
of the New World where, as the
Master had once told him, life was
now "veddy, veddy good." There
was something very right In his
serving such great ones! He hur
ried into the library.
"Yes, Master," he offered, let
ting his adoring eyes fleetingly
glimpse the Beautiful One as he
bowed with a timid eagerness.
"Another Martini, Dodge," said
the Master, without looking up
from his scroll-reader. "As al
ways, Dodg . . ., dry, veddy dry."
Dodge bowed assent and backed
from the room. But outside, and
his stupefying awe somewhat di
minished, the smile again found its
way to his lips. "Martinis," he
thought, and "veddy, veddy dry!"
But his amusement was alto
gether sympathetic and not, he
hoped, impudent for his sleek,
graceful Master, powerful of body
and of mind, was a Robot . . . one
of the Builders of The City and of
the New World . . . and it was
only fitting that Man should serve
and know his place.
the nebraskan
iter
A CERTIFICATE WAITS FOR ME
(With Apologies to Walt Whitman and
E. B. White, plus a Democratic Visa out
of Teachers College)
A certificate waits for me, it contains noth
ing, all is lacking,
Yet nothing were lacking if wisdom were
not lacking, or if the endorsement of
the right college were not lacking,
0 teaching, and the pleasures of unemploy
ment,
Olibraries for sheer emptiness unrival'd.
Fern Hubbard Orme my eidolon
I, freely enslaved, cordially welcomed to
leave,
My arm around John Dewey and the Presi
dent of Columbia Teachers College,
My taste in books guarded by the spirit of
the New York Society for the Sup
pression of Vice
(From your memories, sad brothers, from
the fitful risings and callings I heard)
1 to teaching devoted, brother of garage
mechanics, soda jerks, farmers, foot
ball players
(It is not necessary to have an education
to graduate from high school)
I connoisseur of artivities, friend of con
noisseurs of activities everywhere
not obligated to teach anything not in
I,
the text, free to reject Emerson, Mil
ton, Shakespeare, Gide, Aristophanes,
Newman,
I, in perfect health except for a slight
twitch, press'd for time, having too
many more years to live
Now celebrate this opportunity.
Come, I will make the profession indissolu
ble, I will teach the most expurgated books the
sun ever shone upon,
I will start divine magnetic groups
With the love of students
With the life-long love of distinguished
censors.
I strike out all the Old Books.
Kathleen Walton
Vernal Equinoxical Fever. . .
A serious, debilitating and con
tagious illness has pervaded -the
campus of the University of Ne
braska in the past weeks. The
alarm aroused by this virus led to
consultation with local and national
experts who found it to be nation-1
wide in scope. !
The symptoms are many and
comparatively easy to recognize.
Unfortunately, mere recognition of
this disease, now classified as
vernal equinoxical fever, is not
enough. There apparently is no
cure for VEF, as it is popularly
calcd, except time and the nat-!
ural health of the youths who so
readily fall victim to it.
Doctors frantically searching for
an effective remedy are operating
on a recent grant for this purpose
set up by a former university pro
fesRor, Doctor J. Snarl Snarf.
Doctor Snarf, since his retire
ment two years ago, has main
tained an active interest in the
welfare of the students through his
work with the State Liquor Com
mission. Although no cure has as yet been
discovered, the scientists have
been able to prove that VEF is
closely allied to another wide
spread malady, senioritis. Re
search on VEF has been publi
cized by the renitentiary and
University News, with an article
by the director of the Research
Institute, Dr. J. B. Corn.
Scientists everywhere were sad
dened by the sudden illness of Dr.
Corn soon after the publication of
his article. He was apparently in
fected while studying several cases
brought in to the Institute's Ob
servatory. Dr. Corn's illness was
first detected by his co-workers
after he had suffered several ap
parent seizures.
After unobtrusive observation by
other staff members, he was found
to be in the advanced stages of
the disease. He now is recouper
ating at Icicle International Hos
pital, Bluebanks, Alaska, where he
is rapidly regaining health.
I 'PI, pMCinnrph Tnctittif.p line nnh-
li.shed a list of symptoms in con
nection with combating vernal
equinoxial fever, treatments found
to be most effective in curhing
the effects of the disease once a
ary
Long the best indoctrinated figure in
America, my dues paid, sitting in
wheelchairs everywhere, wanderer in
populous schools, weeping with Eddie
Guest an'd with the late John Green
leaf Whittier,
Free to cancel my contract whenever it
expires.
Turbulent, fleshy, sensible,
Ever tiring of club life
Always ready to teach another master
piece provided it has the approval of
my eidolon Fern Hubbard Orme, my
superintendent, principal, ' section
head, department head, students, and
the P.T.A.,
Me imperturbe, standing at ease among
peragogues,
Rais'd by a perfect system and now be
longing to a perfect propaganda so
ciety, Clean-shaven, sunburnt, red neck'd, my-
Loving the school board and the school
board only
(I am mad for them to be in contact with
me),
I celebrate this opportunity.
I will not teach a book nor the least part
of a book but has the approval of the
Postmaster General,
For all is useless with that which you may
guess at many times and not hit, that
which they hinted at,
All is useless with improper suggestions.
By God' I will teach nothing which all can
not understand on equally low terms
(Love is Hate, War is Peace, Igno
rance is Bliss)
I will make inseparable students with their
broad-axes aimed at each other's
throat's,
By the love of censorship,
By the manly love of expurgated
literature. ' E. E.
person is infected, and methods of
avoiding contagion.
This publication is now on file in
the offces of the Dean of Women
and the Dean of Men, Student
Health, Love Memoral Library
and the Student Union reading
room.
The following excerpts were
printed in the campus newspaper,
The Occasional Nebraskan, and
are reprined through the courtesy
of the Research Institute on Vernal
Equinoxial Fever, Room 32 B
(Basement), Student Health Cen
ter, University of Nebraska, Lin
coln, Nebraska.
Any undergraduate student on
a campus similar to that of the
Look to the
Side
Your tanks clank over the
cobbled paths;
Your cannonade hurls its sleek
metal shells
Through the smog, striking a
panicked village.
In splintered trees, weary of
their feasting,
ultures and crows rest, an
ear to your boasting.
They must now rest, made
gluttons byyour pillage.
The sound of your comrades'
victory cry,
lynching mob,
ings clear and sure against
a fiery sky.
As your battalion stamps
through the sticky streets of
this day,
o oman Legions strode vic
toriously down the Appian
Way.
If you will, for one minute,
stop your ears
To the triumphant shouting,
Cease the swelling pride from
the valor shown,
And climb through the rubble,
Strewn by the way,
You will see a child's tear
streaked fnce
Close to his mother's cold, still
breast. !
This will be his first night
alone. ' J
Jon Diiwfiort i
University of Nebraska has un
doubtedly been exposed to VEF.
It is no respector of age, prey
ing most heavily on those whose
resistance has been lowered by
a closely allied malady, senior
itis. There is no cause for serious
alarm since VEF is seldom fatal,
the one such case on record be
ing of a student who apparently
walked in front of a car while
suffering a seizure on the cor
ner of 14th ana P Streets here
in Lincoln.
Common symptoms of VEF be
gin cropping up some time after
March 21st' each Spring. It has
been proved that the strength
of the disease is influenced by
weather conditions. Apparently,
strong sunlight and sott breezes
both increase the chances of
contagion and hasten complete
loss of resistance in sufferers
still fighting the first insidious
inroads of the disease.
Close proximity to heavily per
fumed flowers, sand pits, or beer
parlors also influence the spread
of the disease, so that when all
conditions are unfavorable, VEF
reaches epidemic proportions.
Unfortunately, there is great
danger of contagion to all those
attempting to curb and combat
the disease, so that most work
(except observation of singular
cases) must, of necessity, be
done in the dead of night in se
cluded, even isolated labora
tories. (It might here be noted
that even vigilance and fore
warning are not always effec
tive. For example, Research Worker
Ima Lookin was placed in Stu
dent Health after falling victim
to VEF. After being sent out to
observe and discover unusual
cases of VEF, she called in to
the Institute to report, "Shay,
Doctor, I've got a cashe and
azsh shoon azsh I finish it, I'm
gonna get another."
Attendants Immediately were
sent out to return her to the
Institute, where she has re
mained in isolation. I
The most readily observable
symptoms are loss of energy,
general lassitude marking into
Omt. n Vftf. 4
And a time to look
Spring is really the time of the Cuckoo.
I say that with little resignation (only
who'r what is the Cuckoo?
If he is that goofy little bird who
popsfromaslatted wooden cottage high
on the wall Singing:
Cuckoo Cuckoo .....
Then:
I sit up in my slatted window
(it's really a brick house, thought
tee hee
And watch the funny little men and women
rocking and rolling and picnicking
And brea'hing
Freshened Pinkish Spring AIR
And I
(with a silly expression)
Sings
Cuclcoo Cuckoo . . .
Optimistic Richard
THE
Manhood approaches and I stop,
I revolve upon the essence of life past
And that which is to come.
I view humanity.
Each human being as a minute white sphere
Appears before me and is transformed into black,
Then cast blindly onto a vast maze of callings.
Such is life.
And each dark spot moves unknowingly on,
Charmed by a magnetism not of men,
Carried by a force no living thing can see,
And so is man's pattern made.
One slip left ten thousand different courses take
Our dot. Down wide green slots, through
Carefree channels and into precious straits.
Hush! (A man is being made.)
And when our product is evolved H pauses, dries, hardens.
A man emerges. Over his body he spreads
A coating to protect him from the storm of insults
Of his fellow men.
Wait! Do not cross him, now that he is made,
Or he grows angry.
Or he grows angry.
Yet one slip right on life's labyrinth,
We might have found our ruler
Begging bread.
John Noble
Devil's Jackpot . . .
A blustery February gale thrust
icicles into my back. The filthy
concrete upon which I trod seemed
to fuse into the dirty sky above.
The one crushed down upon my
aching head; tne other jarred me
to no end as I thrust my plodding
feet over its unamiable counten
ance. I was tired fatigued beyond
reason, and lost heoplessly in a
strange city.
The Devil fed another slug into
his favorite slot machine. Strange
lights glowed and began to play
inside the polished case as if they
lived.
What force directed my blunder
ing way to that dingy shop I can
not say. The door was suddenly
before me and I opened it. The
room which I found was tiny and
littered with tattered locks of hair.
A barber's chair sprawled sed
atately in the middle of the floor
scarcely noticed My eyes were
immediately fixed on the other
man, the ungair'y framework of a
grim barber' cloak who stood over
the chair.
You see I hated that man! I
hated his protruding blood-s hot
eyes. I hated his flaring nose and
heavy lips and yellow, b roken
teeth.
I hated his large, long-fingered
hands and the drftness with which
he plied the razor over the face
of the man in the chair. I hated
him beyond reason.
More and more the evil lights
spun and beamed within t h e
haunted case Satan smiled.
We were alone in the tiny cub
icle, 1 and the man whom I hated.
He was clipping great gobs of hair
from the unruly mass upon my
head.
His delicate fingers moved rap
idly over my skull t rimming
here, straightening there, and all
the time oh horror! touching me.
The Devil was chuckling deep in
his throat. He played on, his hands
now steady and sure.
I was trembling terribly and my
breaths came raggedly 1 could
not wrest my gaze from the razor
Dirge
Yes. weep!
Wash her cold and haunting
smile away
With gentle April mourning.
Say
That she is gone, asleep.
The breath
Of lilac mocks us an'd the white
Still lovely face derides this
rite
Of dead who mourn the dead.
Ninbe sigh!
For us who are the dead here
after Bereft of Emily's sparkling
laughter
Beguiling, dancing eye.
June Jlill
eview
MAZE
! where it lay upon the corner less
j than an arm's reach away.
It would be but a simple move
ment to catch the old man about
the neck and slash. He as weak
and slow-witted and hampered by
the smock which he wore over his
shoulders.
I found myself suddenly pleased
that I dared think such thoughts,
and yet I was sickened at my own
unreasonable bloodthirst. No no
I could never do such a thing;
I hadn't the nerve.
I must get away. Tell him that
my train was leaving that my
to get away before I before I
killed!
Tilt! The Devil tightened h i s
grasp upon the firing lever and shot
again. His face was suddenly illum
inated by a burst of brilliance
from the whirring machine. An
evil smilea chuckle and then he
laughed. The jack-pot was his.
Jed
PLAYTIME
The little girls watche in de
lighted fascination as the brilliant
pin-point lights flared and flickered
about on the surface of the blue
green sphere, throwing up tiny,
tiny spurts of mushrooming dust
on the side toward the light and
winking over the darkened portion
of the globe like a summer-borne
swarm of tiny fireflies.
There was a final flurry of ac
tivity which brought squeals of de
light from the children, then larger,
isolated flashes which spread and
joined until a pale-violet glow
diffused the entire surface of the
spehre, turning it first brown, then
crev. Finally there were no more
1 rVi.nfTnc
"Oh, they've stopped!" cried the
youngest. "Make them do it some
more, Gella!"
"I can't. They're probably all
dead."
"Oh, no . . .," wailed the young
est. "Don't carry on, Vinna," admon
ished her next elder sister. "Gella
can easily make another."
"But maybe the next one wont
do it!" the child protested.
"Oh, yes, it will. It will."
"Why . . .?"
"I don't know why, honey. They
just all do. that's all."
"Yes," Gella assured them,
"they all do eventually.'
the child demanded.
"Oh, yes! Make us another, Gel
la!" cried all the children.
And so, to please her younger
sisters, Gella pushed the dead toy
aside and deftly fashioned another
of the heavey, blue-green globes,
which she placed, spinning slowly,
at Just the right distance from the
light. Then they sat back to wait
the youngest holding her breiith in
excited iintk'ipi'tion.
And from the seas of this Hew
sphere life rose.
And studied physics.
And, in time, did it a;iln.
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