Marlborough High School - Marlborough High Yearbook (Marlborough, MA)

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y What’s on every morning, afternoon, and early evening? 920 CLUB, of course. Just as you are about to say, Hey, Ma. what’s for dinner, I ' m starved?” the radio peals forth with Zoot Suit” and you ' re off in a jitterbug. A twist and a turn with arms around an imaginary partner and then you try that new step that you learned down at the ”Bee” the other night. You ' re supposed to be starved, but when your mother calls you, you say, Sure, in a minute, I just want to hear Dinah Shore sing this one. Then Bob Perry chimes in with an ad for Krey Music Hall and you say, “Well, it ' s time to eat, now,” Swinging along with your fork to the rhythm of Vaughn Monroe ' s smooth band, you are warned that you are going to miss any minute now. Just as you are about to get up fbom the table you hear a familiar voice singing, Time out for Dawson ' s,” and you scream at the top of your lungs that if you hear that advertisement again you ' ll write a letter to the station. But when you hear Vaughn ' s soothing voice give out with Racing with the Moon” you forget how angry you were a few minutes ago. From the beginning of the song ’til the end, your mother hears over and over again about Vaughn ' s, visit to the Totem Pole” or the gala opening of Sun Valley,” until she finally blocks her ears so she won ' t hear any more about dance bands. About two-thirty, a couple of the kids” drop in and listen to your favorite orchestras—but of course you ' re doing your hone- work all the while. You try some of those smooth new turns you tried at the Prom and,.upon failure with one, you try another. But oh, gosh, why do they have to put in one of those ugly ads every time the music gets really hot. You keep tuned all the day so you won 1 t miss Jimmy Dorsey ' s fifteen minutes, and live in hopes that Bob Eberly and Helen O ' Connell will sing that luscious Tangerine,” By the time.Johnny and your girl friend ' s brother drop in to talk, you ' ve heard Sumraerfield ' s ad five times. Oh, you don ' t know what ad that is? Well, it goes Tike this, Why don ' t you drop in and look over our ' Honeymoon Lane, ' which includes a completely furnished home, from the rugs on the floor to the pictures on the wall and at the amazing low price of only $179.00. u Oh. torture, as if ‘that isn ' t enough, a very familiar voice says sweetly, Say it again- VIRGINIA DARE—-”—then everybody goes out in a swoon! Oh well, i ' t ' s all in an afternoon ' s work—listening to 920 on your radio dial which is now 950 on your dial. —Gloria Washburn

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IT D1D: A OFJ ©IP SIMWOMG a TT QHCDMQ: Times have changed since grandma ' s day 1 ; then people never thought of going out very much during the day, and it was a major crime if you were seen going out at night. Then you used to sit around with the family and talk about fascinating subjects—like sewing—or something just as exciting. How different that was from our present daily routine. 1 If we stay in once a week we are considered homebodies. It isn ' t that we don ' t like our homes— it ' s just that v;e aren ' t used to them. One afternoon I suddenly decided to stay at home. My aunt was so shocked she couldn ' t speak for a few minutes, but as soon as she recovered she felt my head, took my temperature, and asked me if I felt well. When she was convinced that I really was not sick she prepared to leave, because she said, Opportunity knocks but once and this is opportunity. How, I was alone in the house and I decided I ' d re ad that book by Richard Halliburton which I ' d been planning to read since Christmas. Well. I got to the second page and by this time I had become interested; however, I could enjoy my peacefulness for only a very short time, for the doorbell was ringing. After a merry tiff with the baker as to whether my aunt ordered one or two loaves of bread, I tried to pick up where I left off. But I ? as too heated after that argument and needed something soothing. I picked up a book of my brother ' s which he claimed is a superoo. The first paragraph of this so-called superoo was very interest ting, in the second it became weird and curdly, and so I decided two paragraphs of that were tv o too many Vttien I said I wanted something soothing, I meant just that, not something creepy. Just about this time, I decided that I r eally was not in a reading mood. Then I somehow or other remembered my homev ork. I sternly tried to shake this thought from my mind but it was impossible; reluctantly I started working I studied for a while and feeling very virtuous, remembered that if I were going out that night. I must have a fresh collar for my dress. I turned on the radio while I Ironed, and the convening voice of Bing Crosby came out to reward me. After this little piece of work Y as completed, I decided to clean out my desk drawer, the one that causes raised eyebrows everytime my aunt goes there for something. I spilled everything onto the rug, (including a bottle of brown ink; and squatting, tailor-fashion, prepared to start; but then I began to find things I thought had been lost. The shrill sound of the telephone bell interrupted. I was dismayed to find it was almost 3ix o ' clock. The family would be home soon and discover me in this messj I carelessly threw everything back into the drawee and raced for the phone. It was my girl friend, prepared for a hice long cozy talk. I resigned myself to the inevitable and with a sigh for the potatoes we wouldn ' t have for supper, I waded into an endless discussion about last night ' s dance. . - . . —Olive McGrath