Biddeford High School - Olympian Yearbook (Biddeford, ME)

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34 THE OLYMPIAN not get me out, so I have lain in this same spot for about four years now, through the cold of winter, and the heat of summer. My life has not been a happy one. I have had no exciting experiences. I have changed from the bright shiny penny that I was on March l, l928, to a dull brown pennyg my date is nearly worn off. All I can do now is to wait and hope that the porch under which I am lying will be torn down some day, and that l will be rescued. James Tarpy, '40. ,-mlm SPRING in the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Knock! Knock! Who is there? That is Spring knocking at our doors. As we open them and look out, there is a wonderful sight to behold. The sunlight upon the green grass, which was covered with snow so long, shines into our brightened faces. The trees are slowly budding and showing their enjoyment of Spring as they swing to and fro in its warm breeze. The various birds are arriving and they may be seen hopping about the lawns, seach- ing for food. All these sights may be seen from our doorway: but as we travel farther, we see hanging upon maple trees bright silver pails in which the sap is dripping. Children may be seen around the streets playing base-ball, marbles, jumping rope, riding bicycles, and roller-skating. Only two weeks ago we could see the grown-ups and children all wrapped up in winter clothing. As we look about now, we see little children in short stockings and dressesg the grown-ups have shed their winter coats and have put on jackets and thinner dresses. ln the Spring, with all these different changes, the streets are brightened by all the colors of the rainbow. Spring also means a general clean-up for everyone. Father is to clean the shed and attic, brother is to rake and roll the lawn, while sister and mother are to stay in and clean the house. Lovers may be seen walking together arm in arm. Everyone is happy and gay. E.. Stone, '38, ,li-l. THIRTY-EIGHT We, the class of thirty-eight, Seniors now and quite sedate, Think upon the four years past, Eour years of joy--too short to last. The first year Freshmen-Oh! so green! Was not that year the best we'd seen? Or so we thought 'til as Sophomores Again we passed through our school doors. As Juniors felt we best of all, Where we answered Biddeford's call. But time marched on-our fourth year came, And Seniors all, we played the game. Now all too soon we near the end, And graduation comes to send Thoughts of sadness and real regret To bring tears that our lashes wet. And when we leave old Biddeford High, 'Twill hurt us all to say good-bye To each and every one of youg Teachers, schoolmates tried friends and true. But we'll return in later days, And walk again these well-known waysg As proud Alumni-to all we'll state: We are the class of thirty-eight. D. Hopkins. OUR SONG. Into my saddened heart there steals A melancholy strain. From out the night it comes to me Like lonely drops of rain. Its melody so rare reveals Something I must regain. Its pleading haunts my memory A mournful, rich refrain. 'Twas long ago I heard that song Along a lonely way. I fell beneath its magic spell, This rhythm sadly gay. I hear it now still sounding strong So like that distant day. 'Cause in my heart 'twill always dwell A beautiful rose of May., R. Chenard, '38.

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THE OLYMPIAN 33 the country morning, as compared to the dark, muddy cheerlessness of the city. My lungs, long used to smoky, sooty air, expanded in the sweet, spark- ling atmosphere of the disliked region. Still I grumbled inwardly. These duty visits were unbelievably boring. And as we drove up the lane that led to the small white bungalow, I was still fuming. Little by little, the drowsy peace of the country forenoon crept over me. I slept, there on the vine- covered porch, lulled by the hum of the insects, the song of the birds. Slept dreamlessly, deeply, the sleep that has been called the season of all natures. I was awakened by the dinner bell. To describe such a dinner is impossible. Such food, not sticky or rich as is city food, but wholesome, and nourishing as well as tasty. The next two days passed all too swiftly. Country people have no time to be bored. There are always chores to be done, cows to be milked, chick- ens fed, fields plowed, sowed or reaped. It is my own leisure hours that I shall always remember. Those of you who pay dearly to be amused will never know the wild exhilaration that comes from riding a spirited horse through the sunrise. You cannot buy the feeling of exultation after the conquest of a fight- ing rainbow trout. You cannot capture the peace and beauty of a walk at twi- light through country lanes. Eyes daz- zled by city lights will rest on cool ver- dant meadows, ears used to clamorous city life are soothed by the insects or song of the birds. No one likes to admit he is wrong. I am no exception. But such an admis- sion in this case is unashamed and natural. Eileen Brennan, '38, THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A PENNY I am a penny, and although I am only ten years of age, I have been thrown around more than anything else in the world. I was born on March l, I928, in the United States Mint at Philadelphia, Pa. I went out into the cold world on March fourth. I was very bright and shiny, when I rolled into a bank vault in New York, after a day's ride in an armored truck. On the following day, I was given to a man, along with some other coins. I-Ie took me to a store, where I helped to pay for a pound of butter. I lay in the cash register all that night, but the next morning I was given to a man. The man took me to his house. As we arrived, I peeked out of the man's pocket, and saw that we were entering a large, beautiful house surrounded by an equally large garden. I could not help exclaiming with ad- miration as we entered. The man walked to a safe in the wall, and put me in with a large number of other coins. Looking around, I could see a large number of paper bills, stocks and bonds, fifty-cent pieces, quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies. I was terribly frightened. I lay in a dark corner of the safe for five years. Then, one day, a hand reached in and plucked me out of the corner. I was given to the poor gar- dener as part of his weekly salary. He took me home and gave me to his little daughter, who ran quickly to the cor- ner store, and handed me to a clerk while she selected a bright green lolli- pop. A short time later, I was given to a little boy along with some other coins. When the boy arrived home, he said, 'lVIother, may I have this penny?' 'Yes,' said his mother. The boy put me into his pocket and went out and sat down on the porch. I grew restless lying in the pocket, so I rolled out and bounced down the stairs. At the bottom, I slipped through a crack in the step. The boy poked around me with a stick, but he could

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