Biddeford High School - Olympian Yearbook (Biddeford, ME)

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24 THE OLYMPIAN sister to go to school with, play dolls with, eat and sleep with, and every night the two little girls say their pray- ers thanking God for that lovely first day of school. Ann Chamberlain, '39. I'M GOING BOWLING. Have you a match, Buddy? Sure, right here. Buddy is not John Palky's name, but our unknown friend called him that. John is not wealthy, nor is he, as girls say of some boys, cute. He is just an ordinary person, spending his time out of college by cleaning auto- mobile salesrooms. But don't think that John isn't intelligent, because he is. Thanks May I do something for you, sir? I want a salesman. He's out to lunch. I'Ie'll be back in about five minutes. Won't you wait? How long have you been work- ing here, Bud? Since I started college in Septem- ber, three months ago. Where do you come from? California Why didn't you go to school there? . I thought I could find better work here. 'Tm in a hurry. Can you get me a catalogue? Yes, sir. Here is one. l'll be back later. What time does the office close? Five o'clock. At five minutes before five o'clock our friend returns. The salesman is closing early because the boss is out of town. john is still working. The sales- man nods his head and says a few words. What may I do for you, sir? I want a demonstration of that second-hand car you have outside. 'Tm sorry, sir, but I cannot. This is my evening to bowl. John will give you one. My name is Oliver White. If you wish to buy it, please inform me. Good day. As five o'clock was striking, Oliver White left the building. When a week had passed, john was still working at the same place. He was, however, sitting at Oliver White's desk. The man who had asked for a demonstration was a major stock- holder in the same company. Steve Ryan, '40. STREET CARS The harried commuter in a large city has my heartfelt sympathy when, after a day's work, he hastens, laden with bundles, to the crowded subway for a home-bound car. - First, he must search his pockets for the necessary dime, but of course only quarters are forthcoming, making it necessary to get change at the change booth, while bundles and newspapers slip nonchalantly from his arms. At last, the dime! Now for the car. Cars glide serenely past him, crowd- ed to the doors. Will one ever come with a bit of spare room in it! A ten- minute wait, while he is jostled and shoved along the platform. Finally, a car with vacant seats! Heaven be praised! Unfortunately, however, the avail- able seats are few, while the waiting commuters are many, and you can not fit a carload of people into a few empty seats by any trick algebraic equation. Be grateful for the straps to cling to. Push, scramble, jam-at last, all aboard! With newspapers folded to minute size and bundles lodged precariously between his feet, the commuter's ride home has begun. Soon, very soon, a sudden stop-the first station. Caught unawares, his newspaper falls while he, himself, struggles to maintain a perpendicular position. Another rush- ing army invades the stifling car. The law of impenetrability springs to the traveler's mind. Two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. At least, that is what

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THE OLYMPIAN , 23 f though their foolish independence seems to ask otherwise. Let us continue to open doors for women, tip our hats to them, walk on the outside when going down the street, and perform other such acts of courtesy. Business women or not, their sex demands courtesy. Let us show them that chivalry is not dead even though it is their own misguided sense of independence that has done much to strangle it. Harold Bean, ' 38. Janie's First Day of School. It was the first day of school, and Janie's mother was getting her ready to go to kindergarten. She was so anxious to start, she had seen her twelve year old brother going back and forth to school, the year before, and she was already determined that she would love it. Just the idea of carrying books and learning to read and write seemed to send a shiver through her from the top of her gold- en curls to the tips of her tiny feet. She was very proud as she walked along the street, feeling quite grown up in her little blue dress, which her mother had just made the day before, and her little black patent-leather shoes. When her father had looked at her this morning all dressed up, he had said Why, Janie, your dress just matches your eyes, and Janie had run up the stairs to mother's large mirror to see if her eyes did look like blue cloth. They hadn't to her, but then Janie was only five. As they turned the corner nearing the school Janie could see all the other little girls and boys playing. Why, Janie thought, these girls are all much bigger than I am. And they were too: they were at least seven or eight and only a few looked six years old, but Janie was only five. Sudden- ly she felt that she didn't want to leave Mother and come here with all these strangers who didn't seem to even notice her. Mother took her from a wide doorway to a large room which had windows all around itg and there, Janie saw, were other little girls and boys with their mothers talking to the teacher. Janie's mother also went up to the desk and said, Hello, Margar- et to the teacher. Janie thought that when you talk to a teacher, you shouldn't call her by her first name like that. But Janie's thought soon left this idea, for another little girl was coming in all alone. Her mother wasn't with her, and she didn't have a nice blue dress or patent-leather shoes: in- stead she had an old gingham dress, all patched in places, and she wore old brown sandals. lmmediately Janie felt very sorry for this other little girl: and the other children were laughing at her. Janie ran to the frightened child and, pulling her by the hand, brought her to the desk, and held her hand for fear that the poor child would run away. The teacher, seeing this, im- mediately started talking to the new girl and asked her name. She answer- ed that her name was Elizabeth but everyone called her Beth, that is, her mother had until she died, and mentioning her mother the child start- ed to cry. Janie's mother tried to com- fort the poor little girl and the latter, feeling friendliness, after a long time, told her story. She had been an only child. Her father had died, and her mother who had worked in the laun- dry had never returned after she had left for work one morning. When Beth had seen her mother again she had been lying cold and still in a big black box as Beth call- ed it. Everyone was crying in the room, except the children who did not quite understand, but they also were quiet. When asked who took care of her now, Beth said that an Aunt Martha who had a large family and no money at all, had taken her into her home. Janie, liking this little girl with straight but beautiful black hair, wanted her to come live with her, and: so it hap- pened that Janie now has an adopted

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THE OLYMPIAN 25 Socrates or somebody thought. But Socrates never rode the cars. Will that woman ever get settled? Little regard has she for tired feet un- lucky enough to be Within her step- ping area. No use to try again to find out the latest war news from China. There's a similar conflict taking place close at hand-two people covet the same territory. The weary rider, discouraged, yet still clinging desperately to the thin strap he has managed to hold despite all opposition, devotes himself to a perusal of the advertising signs around the top of the car. A glamorous blond advises him to use her particular hair rinse and make his hair the envy of his fellowmen. Close beside her a well- known mustard is said to add consid- erable zest to steak. Corns can be painlessly removed, suggests the next ad in line, close beside the soap that will give him that school-girl com- plexion. All diverting, but he's so tired. By now the crowd is thinning out, and believe it or not, he finds a seatg but before his weary limbs know the feeling of rest the conductor bellows Clark Street! The home stop of the sorely tried commuter. There is one last trial in store for him. On his way to the door he glances up and sees the last ad in the line above him: Ride the street cars for comfort, convenience and speed! D. Hopkins, '38. DREAMS. Have you ever wanted certain things so badly that it would leave an ache in your heart if you could not have them? You see, it isn't quite as easy for me to forget immediately, I brood a while, then realizing such futility, I visualize myself in actual pos- session of what I wanted. I lapse into the ever welcome relief and pleasure of day-dreaming. When I was nine years of age, and I shall always remember this certain incident in my life, I wanted a bicycle, a two-wheeled bicycle with shiny red paint on it and bright silver spokes that sparkled in the sun. My dreams became haunted with visions of it. I always dreaded to awake, for then I would have such an empty feeling, that of a child having been robbed of a most coveted toy. Needless to say that my studies suffered somewhat from this indulgence in day-dreaming. Minutes would tick by and the while I would be gazing out of the window into faraway space. Beautiful white clouds would float past and along an endless blue sky. But eventually and always I would picture myself flying along the cement highway. Oh, the thrill of itg the breeze blowing in my face, catching at my hair and tossing it into wild dishevelment. I could feel myself tingling with excitement .... Oh dear, back to earth again, and for what? Geography? Oh merciful heavens, no! That was recited upon ten minutes ago! I would then stumble to my feet, very much embarrassed. I could feel my face growing red with confusion as the teacher calmly eyed me with a most withering look. There ensued an appropriate sermon on the futility of day-dreaming and of dire remedies if necessitated. I assure you that I sat down again feeling properly squelched! If only the bell would ring! Just fifteen more minutes to go, and then . . . Out in the open again! Perhaps I could recapture my lost dreams up there, somewhere, in the clouds .... ? After the evening meal, when everyone settled down to an atmos- phere of geniallity, I would calmly mention the fact that Bud's new bi- cycle was quite the thing and that a certain bright red one in a downtown window was nothing to be sneered at! I would look around hopefully for the least sign of encouragement. Did I just see a smile vanish around the cor- ner of Dad's mouth? Well, he cer- tainly didn't look forbidding. Ah, I thought to myself, now is the time if ever! I-low I did launch myself on the beauty, grace and supremity of a