Excerpts from Spring 1958 Edition
Science has entered the talk of men.
Visions of men have now become true,
As her tired old body rocked back and forth in the old rocking chair, her thin mouth hummed a sweet tune. The voice was weak and unsteady, but the words could be clearly understood as she sang a folk song of the old days. Her mind wasn't as sharp as it used to be and always thought back to the way things were long ago. The wrinkled lines of her forehead told of a hard life, but her clear blue eyes had always been her best feature. When she was young, they had been striking against her black hair which the years had now turned grey. Her once striking figure had become plump and aged.
In her wrinkled hands she held her knitting needles. She seemed to be knitting something for someone. Her feeble mind never seemed to accept the fact that her family had been killed two years ago. They had been her only family, and her only tie to modern life. Now that they were gone she lived in a world of her own, centered in the past.
As I gazed at her hard wrinkled hands, I saw no wool. Yet, her needles clicked, endlessly producing emptiness for emptiness.