Lyman Hall High school - Singer Chronicle Yearbook (Wallingford, CT)

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THE CHRONICLE 5 REMINISCENCE The poor old soul was sitting In her usual chair by the fireplace, Knitting a small garment. ’Twas for her grandson, and Tho’ she had not much to give, The thought and love of her heart Were knitted right into her work. As she sat there, she wondered If her only son would visit her at Christmas. She hoped so, And for a few minutes All was quiet as she sat Recalling the past. She remembered now ’Twas no more than a year ago That he had not come to see her. It had taken a long time to get over the shock Of being forgotten by a son, And yet, like a real mother, She had found excuses— He must have been too busy Or something must have happened. But if he only knew How lonely her heart was And if he only knew That a few moments spent with her Would gladden her heart, Or just a card in the mail box With the words “Merry Christmas, Mother”! For ’tis not the wealth Nor the size of the gift But the thought, love, and spirit with which it is given. Clotilde Brazeau, ’33

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4 THE CHRONICLE THE NEW YEAR It is rather late for seniors to take stock of themselves. It is hard to make up in one year what has been missed during the past three. Nevertheless, it is wise to aim to do so. Too often when the end is in sight, vigilance slackens. On the contrary it should be increased for the purpose of keeping that already attained and of pressing on to further goals. The dictionary defines attainment as accomplishment, accomplishment as embellishment, embellishment as that which beautifies. Thus it will be seen that the goal is not merely to acquire something, but to use that something to enrich character and carriage. This should be included as a part of one’s final purpose. Maurice Foulkes, ’33 OUR TREATMENT OF NEWCOMERS New-comers! These are just new pupils—just a few more “kids” to join our group. Somehow, it never occurs to us that these pupils may sometimes have a feeling of loneliness. We must understand that they have left all their old friends and have entered an entirely new and different group. Try to put yourself in their places. How would you feel if you left Lyman Hall and entered a new school? Of course, your answer is going to be, “I don’t intend to leave.” Probably not, but that is no reason why you should not try to make the new-comers feel familiar with our routine. If a new-comer comes to our school, let’s introduce him to our friends, try to acquaint him with people whose acquaintance we think he will enjoy, interest him in all the social activities, and show him our school spirit. This should also be said of new teachers as well as pupils. Occasionally, we have a new teacher come to us. Do we always try to make it pleasant for him ? In conclusion, I make a plea for all of us to give new-comers, both teachers and pupils, a warm welcome. Catherine Murphy, ’33 AUTUMN The autumn leaves lie scattered on the ground, A crazy-quilt of color all around. A dab of brown caresses one of red. A slab of yellow slowly fades—is dead. The winds in columned fury sob their grief As winter dully comes like some mute thief, And autumn sinks to find a sweet surcease From crying winds and nobly falling leaves. Jeremy, ’33

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6 THE CHRONICLE THE THINGS THAT COUNT Outside, the snow was falling softly as though it were caressing the earth. Inside the five houses on Darcey Street, everyone seemed to be fairly bubbling over with laughter and Christmas cheer. Through every window could be seen Christmas trees gayly decorated with red and white cotton images of Santa Claus, wax angels, brightly colored balls, and flickering candles. Let’s take a little peep into the smallest, gayest house on the street. The six people inside seem to be having a glorious time, despite the fact that the furniture is scarred and scratched where baby feet have climbed over the arms, and the carpet is noticeably worn in places. Everyone is singing, laughing, and throwing good cheer about. Finally the presents are neatly piled under the branches of the tree, and little by little the house quiets down. A young couple, obviously lovers, go to a rather secluded corner to be by themselves for a minute. “Isn’t it just glorious, John?” sighs Jacqueline. “You bet, sweetheart,” replies John. “It couldn’t possibly be better —now that I’ve got you.” Slowly trudging upstairs are the twins, Tess and Ted. They are giggling and pointing to the two lovers, who are quite unaware of their use as a topic of discussion. “Do you suppose we’ll be that silly when we grow up?” gasps Tess between giggles. “Oh, you’ll probably be worse,” says the scornful Ted. “I won’t have time for girls though. Come on; get going.” Sitting by the little fireplace, the flickering light playing on their happy faces are Mother and Father. “Christmas is a wonderful time of the year, isn’t it, Father?” murmurs Mother. “It certainly is,” he says. “It’s the one time of all the year that all seem to have love for their fellowmen.” “Yes,” continues Mother, “and it isn’t money and expensive presents that count. It’s love such as the love John and Jacqueline have for each other, the happy-go-lucky times Tess and Ted are having, and last but not least the peace and contentment which is filling our years to overflowing.” “You’re right as usual, dear,” agrees the ever gallant Father. And so, peace draws its curtain over the happy family on Darcey Street. I wonder how many of us who have these things just mentioned are still craving the lesser things in life. Really, folks, it’s love and peace and contentment that make this old world spin. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year ! ! ! Natalie Read, ’33 CUBBY Cubby had the reputation of being the best watch-dog in the little village of Marken. His master, Jim Boken, was very fond of his dark brown police-dog. As Cubby was not often tied, he roamed about alone at night when he had a great tendency to catch chicken-thieves at their work.