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

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“I WONDER” I wonder why I think of you In every waking hour. I wonder why I paint your face On every budding flower. I wonder where it came from, This sweet and lovely spell. I wonder why I love you— Maybe you can tell! —Ann Tripp '53 THE TEST We have a test in class today. It reallv lias me scared. The questions are just bound to be On something not prepared. 1 studied this, I studied that And turned page after page, I’ntil my eyes are nearly blind — Mv mind almost in rage! In class, I chew my nails to bits. The teacher talks away. He grins, and then he stops to yell, “No test for you, today!” —Jeanne Cleaves --------o------- SMOKE GETS IN YOl R EVES Personally, I don’t smoke. Perhaps the reason why I have never had the desire to do so is because when I am with people who are smoking their smoke gets in my eyes, nose and ears, and plugs up my throat until I nearly choke to death. So in my esti- mation, cigarettes are enough to kill a man. That's why 1 keep clear of them. Rut what tickles me are the techniques some women use in order to let people know they are experienced smokers. The sophisticated smoker is no end amusing. From between her fingers she gently places the long, beautiful snow-white, small paper cylinder into her mouth. With the other hand she presses on her shiny lighter and sets the cigarette afire. Drawing into her lungs about as much smoke as she is able to consume, she waits a while. Then she becomes a dragon, w ith the smoke pour- ing from her nose and mouth in steady' streams. You wonder if the next breath won’t be smoke, too, because of the amount of smoke she took in. for it doesn’t seem as though she could let it all out in just one breath. How she lives through one cigarette is more than one can understand. And al- most you wish she wouldn t. I’ll never forget a woman I once knew who smoked in this manner. She filled her mouth with as much smoke as she could (didn t in- hale. but just filled her mouth). Yfter that dramatic procedure, she caused a very beautiful scene to occur. With her mouth half open, she jerked her head back curiously and left the smoke in mid-air to curl very artistically up around her nose and eyes. I can’t see what J( enjoyment she got out of it, other than being noticed. Perhaps the most popular method is that which I have generally noticed among beautiful young ladies. They, like the sophisticated smoker, gently press the precious fag between their lips and inhale far too much. Tilting their heads a little awkwardly, they then blow the smoke straight into the air hor- izontally. They blink their starry eyes prettily as the smoke goes by. Thev seem to get as much out of a cigarette as they put into smoking it, and that's a lot. Yes, how often I wonder just w hat type of smoker 1 would be if I took up the habit. I think I’d like to lie one of those dragon ladies, with the smoke coming out of all ends. It looks so much more fascinating and skillful. Y et. 1 would probably throw the cigarette away with the first puff, for I would be terribly sick from swallowing what now chokes me merely from its smell. —Helen Hanscom --------o------- I DIDN’T MEAN IT” It’s so dark here, and the time seems to be dragging. It must be way past midnight. All I can hear is the ticking of the clock. And here 1 am wait- ing . . . waiting! ! If they only knew how' things would turn out, but only time will tell. I’ve got to do something to take my mind off that maddening lick-tock-tick-tock. I can’t stand it! Sitting here in the cold dreary darkness not knowing what will happen next. If only I could turn on the radio . . . No. they’d hear it. Maybe if I tried reading . . . No, they’ll see the light. All right! All right! I’ll confess ! ! ! Oh. God, you’ve got to forgive me! 1 didn't mean to do wrong. I just couldn’t help myself! I didn t mean any harm! I couldn’t help taking them. I just couldn’t, honest. I couldn’t. They have always been my weakness, and 1 bet you'd like to have had them too. 1 know I've done it time and time again, and they kept warning me they would give me one more chance. I always suffer the consequences, and say I'll never do it again. Yet whenever the situation arises again and 1 see those beautiful, enticing things 1 can’t resist them. It is beyond my control. My hands just reach out for them automatically. No one ever sees me take them. But they always come Ellsworth American Printers Since 1850 This I'age Sponsored 11 y A. J. McKay Beal’s Service Station West End Sheet Metal Ellsworth Maine Drug Company

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A couple of girls wandered over and began scattering napkins around, chattering about nothing in particular. One wrinkled her nose and muttered, “I II bet that this darned mother’s banquet makes me late to the dance. You know these long-winded speakers.” The other one said cheerfully that she didn’t mind. “I'm not going with anybody special, so why hurry?” Nita laughed smoothly. “Joan isn’t going with anybody . . . special, are you? No, she is much too busy for such things.” Joan just stared at her for a minute. She felt that she was going to cry a little, and hating herself for being hurt so easily, she went out into the hall. She heard them laughing at something behind her. Maybe it’s true they’re all laughing at me. It’s be- cause I’m really ugly that she does that.” Then she began to he angry, mostly at herself. “No. that isn’t so! There must be a reason for Nita hating me. It can’t be just me, it can’t be. 1 don’t want it to be.” Diinily she heard voices outside. She must go and greet the arriving guests, be polite and cheer- ful. and find them, their places. She opened the door for them, seated them with appropriate ges- tures, and began to feel better about life in general. Inside of half an hour, the dining room seemed full. Joan looked around at the tables. There were some missing. Her own mother was there, talking happily to a lady in a pink hat. next was Mrs. Car- ter. then a space . . . She turned quickly at the sound of the bell and walked over to be a hostess again. She opened the door to a large, fair woman who boomed out: “Glad to be here.” As they started towards the dining room the lady said, That’s another of your own sty les you’re wearing? I like your sewing, young lady. I tell my own girl to set store by your example and do a little work herself. But she’s shiftless. Always has been.” Joan was appalled. “My lord, that poor girl w ho’s her daughter.” And then she looked at the lady again and had to stifle a w hoop of laughter at her, striding ungracefully through life with a militant eye and a positive yen for saying the untactful. But there was more to come. She had caught sight of Nita carry- ing dishes. The huge voice echoed again. Nita. doll, that’s a dreadful dress: like I tell you. look at what Joan, here, has got on. Y ours looks a mess beside it. Resentment flared in Nita's face. Joan watched, speechless, as it smoothed into the too familiar con- tempt. She said bitterly “People can hear you, you know,” and walked swiftly towards the kitchen, nearly running before she reached it. Joan stood there, fascinated and relieved. “It wasn’t me! She was taking something out, like Anna does! And so would I, if my mother did something to me like that. Only I’d probably hit at my mother and get to the point.” Nita passed by and said with cutting courtesy to Joan. “Isn’t Madame going to do some of the work?” Joan turned to her and smiled. “Sorry, 1 guess I m just naturali) lazy.” —Vivian Scott ON CATCHING COLD One of the easiest things to catch is a cold. It re- quires no intelligence whatsoever. You may spend hours trying to capture the mouse that has been bothering you at home and be unsuccessful; but catching a cold is an entirely different matter. Colds just love to be caught. There’s nothing they like any better than to get into some poor victim’s head anil throat, stuffing the nasal passages and causing a frightful cough. Consequently, colds don’t put up much of a struggle, if any at all. In fact, they often resort to catch- ing you. if they are lacking a person to make miserable. Some colds are very aggressive. They just can’t wait to be caught so they go right out and tackle their prospective victims. This explains why many people land flat on their backs so often in the winter months. Colds are really a lot like the people who catch them. I here is the “sweet young thing” type, which results in a little sniffle only. Some specialize in causing just an awful cough or an un- ceasing runny nose. So you see. colds resemble the various professions w hich have specialists. All colds, regardless of their specific type, have the same purposes. These purposes are, one, to catch as many victims as possible. Here 1 might add that each cold has a quota each month. Failure to com- plete this quota results in extermination. The world of the cold is essentially very communistic: and two. to make these victims as miserable as possible. From inception, each type has these two principles taught it. In conclusion, I hardly need say: “Beware! You may be the next to be attacked by our enemv. the cold!” 1 —-Joy Roberts SNOW FOREST n elm stands poised and richly dressed And, if the air were not so still. Would rise, all floating, far above. As strangely weightless, shining lace. Dark, forbidding, northern savage— fir tree, brooding wild within. That wears in drifts its piles of snow And heaves against the clinging weight. I Pine has softer, hazy patterns All in plumes with little needles Poking through to mark the edges.) Oak thrusts out its twisted limbs; Sunlight, warming all the trunk, Goldly glitters on its branches, Wreathed in flashing, blue-fire jewels Etched about a fragile sky. —Vivian Scott 7 his I1 ape Sponsored By THE COLONY ELITE DRY CLEANERS For Gracious Living BAR HARBOR LATNDRY KENNETH CLEAVES Civil Engineer

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straight to me when they discover they are missing. Oh please God, have mercy on me. It means so much to me this time. I promise to try hard, only please — please forgive me. 1 didn't mean to be had. Won’t you please tell Santa Claus not to forget me! 1 didn't mean to take the cookies ! ! ! —Ann Tripp '53 your life! There you sit all worn out! A person who has learned the skill of typing should be commended on the superiority of his nervous system. Donald E. Dyer, Jr. 53 -------o-------- ()() , AM I MAD! LEARNING TO TYPE Today, as never before, the art of typewriting is becoming more and more popular. Practically all business concerns in the United States do their business correspondence with typewriters. This is why a young person, who is applying for a job should be able to type. A person who has pride in ♦ making his business transaction neat is going to excel and move ahead faster than a person who does not. Keeping this in mind many students in our pub- lic schools are learning to type. But. somehow, in some way or another, it is not as easy as it seems. They just can't seem to make their fingers fly over the keyboard. If they do they don’t hit the right keys. Let's start from the beginning and tell why. First of all. the teacher has the future typists, (that is what we had better call them), learn the placement of their fingers on the keyboard. Yes, this appears to be very easy. You just have to learn the keys a. s, d, f. j. k, I, : , and you’re all set. But many stu- dents don’t take time to learn them because they figure they can look at the keys and type just as well. But they soon learn, to their sorrow, that they can't. The first two or three weeks are fine ami they know all about the typewriter now. Then there comes the day when the keys are capped and the letters can't be seen. Boy! You should hear the groans and complaints. The usual speed with which you have previously typed drops to one tap of a key about every minute. You scratch your head and you can actually feel the perspiration of frustra- tion. Eventually after a hard struggle, you become accustomed to the caps. After this, all you need is practice. However, before I finish, let me say a few words about the speed tests. Each day the instructor gives you a paragraph to type. You try to type as much of this as you can in a minute. On the word “go you type as fast as you can. But here is what happens. You are going at great speed and then you hit two keys at once, causing them to stick. After you have un- fastened them you can't remember where a certain letter is or what became of your place in the para- graph. By then you are ready to throw the type- writer through a window. When you are through with this episode you can't hit the right key to save Is it not perplexing when. Studying so hard I’ve been. Someone else a rumpus raised And Teacher Weymouth seems quite phased. To the desk he comes with a snort, “Mr. Shelton, you will report!” (Utter contempt, yet feelings masked) “What's the matter? of him I asked. “You know as well as I. said he “And in my room at three you'll be. And so till soon I am outside. Here I sit, 'cause here I’m tied. —David Shelton '53 -------o-------- LATIN JIVE STYLE Have you heard that Latin is a language dead Of people long decaying? Well. sir. then ou’ve too many bones in your head And you don’t know what you're saying. To enlighten you just come along For a visit in Room Five: You'll hear ets and emos all sung in song — W hy. Latin's more lively than jive! The vocabulary and translations. Word studies, declensions, and conjugations — W hy man. these things are reel and mella. But then, you see. I’m a real gone puella. Beatrice Hayes ------u------- GLAMOR GIRL Several million people all over the I nited States eagerly crowded closer to their television sets, wait- ing for the judges final decision that would pro- claim one of the thirty beautiful females “Queen of all the rest. File crowd around the platform surged forward with excitement. The contestants, winners of other contests, stood ealmy at one end of the platform while the judges counseled at the other. Finally, one of the judges stepped in front of the others. A tense hush settled over the crowd for it knew this to be the great moment. The judge spoke into the micro- phone “ Will M iss Glamor Girl please step forward? Amidst cheers, the glamorous female went for- ward to the judges' table. The loudspeaker boomed with the judges’ final words. “I now proclaim Miss Glamor Girl as best female dog in the show!” And the crowd ran forward to congratulate the lucky owner. —Joy Lymburner ’55 This I age Sponsored tty H. C. Stratton Co. Arthur O. Iverson Ellsworth Maine General Store • Trenton Snow Noalley Co. The Brass Rail Bangor Maine Bangor Maine