Bar Harbor High School - Islander Yearbook (Bar Harbor, ME)

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Terrible Monday morning, like Iasi Monday, like ail awful school Mondays. It’s seven o’clock and I should he out of bed and I don’t want to get up at all. I can’t get up, hut I've got to. I'll he late again and I can’t stand going to that office late. But I can't get up. I can’t! Seven-thirty now! No, it can't he! Good Lord, did I drop off to sleep? Oh. dear, oh dear. I can't get up, I simply can’t. But I’m up and where are my clothes? Mother and I had an argument and she's sore at me, hut I’ll have to have some clothes. You can't go to school in your pajamas. I stand on the cold floor and yell out. “Mum. where are my clothes?” Faintly, “What do you want?” “My clothes! My clothes!” “Come and get them.” less faintly. “Where are they?” I yell. “How should I know? I don’t wear your clothes.” I go downstairs and hunt and hunt for my clothes, get into them, gulp breakfast, hating every- thing and everyone. Now I’m ready for school. But where are my hooks? Where are those darned hooks? Here they are. But where are my French sentences I spent so long doing? Why is everyone mad at me? Why do I have to live like this? Why is there a Monday morning? Will I ever get started? I slam the door and am on the street. I hurry along and I wonder why people have to live any- way. I come to the building, get inside. th° bell rings, the corridors are empty. Late again. 0 gee! —Herbert Mitchell There was no one in the Casino at all. It was faintly lighted so that I could see the huge cave-like ceiling floating above me. The sound of my foot- steps echoed around it. I began to sing: at first only to hear the echoes and then because the echoing made the singing itself l»eautiful to me. and I imagined into it all that it lacked. The music was a part of me, inside me. It came from within my own heart. —Vivian Scott As I stand here among the flakes of snow that silently fall around me. I wonder how it is that God has made each snow flake to have a meaning of its own. A meaning that alone says nothing, alone as a single snow flake, yet brought together with masses of others, forms a coverage over the earth. —Richard Salisbury “What is it like to die?” I ask. The answer is very important, for I am going to die in a few minutes. Through my mind race little things out of the past, like my first day at school and my first killing. Yes, I said my first killing. So long ago that was. and so many others since. And now I've got to pay. My eves are getting hazy, the room is going around and around, my stomach is sick. Fin falling, and yet I feel no pain. Why is there no pain? I open my eyes once more. A face, an eloquent dear face smiles at me. There is no fear any more in me, I am ready. —John Lymburner What am I taking Latin for anyway? I don't understand it. I can't memorize the declensions and conjugations. When I try to study the words get all blurry, my mind won’t absorb the funny words, and I just have to give up. Yet Latin goes through my head in idle moments; past tense, future tense, pluperfect, future perfect ... It’s all so strange. I'm confused, all mixed up. —Joy Lymburner - How can my parents he so mean? They re going to take me away from my friends for a whole summer. Just because they can get in with their crowd again in the fall, they think I can get in again with mine. But when I come hack everyone will have her own little clique and I'll he left out. Going to that awful place really makes me mad. There’s no one there and nothing to do. Nobody to talk to hut my parents. It's not that they're so had. hut it all gets tiresome after a while. Young people want young people. I try to talk to them about this matter, hut they just talk me down and keep saying sweetly how much I'll enjoy the summer. But I know I wont. I don’t want to go! —Betsy Croxfori» I sit here often pitying myself. I think that life holds nothing for me. and that I just want to lie down and die. It's an awful feeling, just wanting to die. What causes it? Am I tired? Bored? who knows? —Mary Jane Spear This Page Sponsored fly BLACK WHITE CABINS On The Beach CHAMBERS CHEVROLET CO.. INC. 322 Main Street Bar Harbor

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Whal is lli - point of all this anyway? What do Wl. go to school for, what do we try to learn any- thing for. when all we can see ahead of us is war and more war? Wars, unceasing, foolish, stupid endless wars! Wars to make the world safe for democracy, and after each great war there is less democracy - less and less. Whal is democracy any- way that it is worth millions of lives and that the beautiful monuments of hundreds years past should l,e bombed to rubbish? And the people’s world God gave us desecrated and left desolate, and millions and millions left hungry, unhappy, and filled with terror? Vet democracy is not worth enough to Christians for us to abide by Christian principles. Is there no way to peace except through horror after horror? War after war? —Lissa Owens -------o------ Tonight we have u basketball game at Ellsworth. I want to go, but my parents won't let me. I’ve looked forward to seeing this game all year. I’ve begged and pleaded to be permitted to go. I have my homework all done. Hut I can’t go. I haven’t been out a night for a week, but I can’t go. 1 had my French sentences nearly perfect today, but I can’t go. Practically everyone in school is going. But I can’t go! —Jackie Coirtney -------o------ 1 had been cast over the side of the boat and into the sea. Not being able to swim. I sank very fast and was soon entangled w ith the weeds that grow on the ocean’s floor. A great fish came along and with a sawing bile took my arms off as easily as if they were straw. My legs floated off into the great waters, and as my body dissolved in the ocean, my soul went to God. —Leslie Gray -------o------ She was tall. dark, and very pretty. She had the best lines of any boat in the harbor, yet she could not sail. She was just a picture on my wall. —Leslie Gray -------o------ I’m hot and uncomfortable. I think I have a fever. What can it be? Snowing and blowing out- side but so hot in here, and I can’t study. I hate studying. I’m sick. There she is again, looking at me. How can I study? And I’ve got to study. Bah. women! Ah. women! Beally she's pretty special, and kinda sweet, smiling like that. What’s a guv gonna do? —Jim Boisfif.lo I I was sitting in the living room reading a hook, minding my own business, and kind of pleased with the thought in the back of my mind that I was going to the dance that night. Then along came my little sister and gave me a kick in the shins and ran away. She repeated the act a dozen times, and finally I slapped her on the arm, lightly. She let a fearful shriek out of her and ran to mother. Mother came in. balled me out properly, and said, “Just for that you shan’t go to the dance tonight.” After mother had gone back to the kitchen, my little sister came in w ith a big smile on her face and said. “Ha! Ha!” Mother wouldn’t listen to a word of explanation. Was I mad! —Carroll Lurvey -------o------ Here we go into Algebra Class again. How I hate that class. Don’t gel me wrong. I don't hate Algebra nor the teacher. It’s those girls, whispering all the time, hissing like snakes. You sit in your seat trying to figure out a difficult solution, and then the hissing begins and you forget the clever idea you had. To your right, to your left, in front of you. behind you . . . hissing, just awful hissing from those eternally whispering girls. —Bernie McKay -------o------ Look at that McKay! Messed up another pass! Boy, if I were only in there play ing I’d show them a thing or two. But oh no, here 1 sit on the bench keeping it warm for the next player the coach takes out. Once I got into tile game. I remember, for five minutes only, and boy! Did I go to town? A foul every five seconds and constantly throwing the ball away. Now look at that! We're going to lose another game. Why, oh why, won’t the coach pul me in? —Frei Ames ......O'- — POINT OF VIEW For once, the gym was clean. The Y-Teens were preparing to impress their mothers with an elegant banquet, w ith decorations, flowers, and un-chipped plates. It was nearly time to start. The long tables were almost set. Joan found a better vase for the flowers and started arranging them for the third time. She hail thought of balancing them against each other in bunches, but once more they drooped gently and sadly onto the table and she gave up in exasperation. Nita came over with some shears and a charac- teristic remark. “With that face, it tops it all off to he clumsy, too.” She brushed back her hair and began to repair the flower stems with a swift, ef- ficient movement. Joan didn't say anything. There isn’t much you can sa to that kind of remark. But it wasn t fair that Nita. glamorous and popular, with all the ad- vantages. should pick Joan as a target. “It isn t right,” she thought, miserably. “Maybe 1 am silly looking. But why should she feel like picking on somebodv ? I know Anna, for instance, gripes at people because she’s skinny and gawky herself and she has to let it out on somebody. But Nita? Maybe it's just that I’m so awkward that people can’t resist making fun.” This I'age Sponsored liy HARADEN ELECTRIC CO. FLORENCE LEWIS SHOPPE Weslinghouse - Philco 94 Main Street