West Paris High School - Nautilus Yearbook (West Paris, ME)

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soon as possible. Telling Nancy that he will talk with her on the morrow, he hur- rtes away. Nancy turns to face her children. Again the question, Mother? This time she must answer and answer well. Come children, let us sit before the fire. With one strong arm around each ol' her children she begins to speak. Your father is not coming home tonight. We must go to meet him one day, but not until we have worked to make this land a safe home for those who will come after us. This is what your father would have wanted. We are pioneers and this is a hardship which we must face. Be happy my children, be happy with the knowledge that we are helping to build a country that would make your father rightly proud. Rosalie Curtis '56 NIGHTFALL IN SUMMER Now the night is creeping Clouds drift through the sky, Hear the bullfrogs peeping, Their nightly lullabye. Stars are gems of beauty Glittering one by one, The silvery moon gleams brightly, For another day is done. A distant cry of a whipoorwill Breaks through the solemn night, The world around is faintly hushed Patched in the bright moonlight. The murmuring of the pine trees, The towering waves of grass Lend a mystery to the nightfall, And chant to those who pass. Donna Andrews '58 SUNSET When the sun sinks in the West Casting its glow ore' mountain crest, Making the valley an artist's dream, Reflecting in the babbling stream. Nature sprinkling her carpet with dew, Closes the eyes of the flowers, too. Calling her birds to the swaying trees, Sending her message by the whispering breeze. That day is done and night is nigh, An' th' golden parade marches from the sky. One more check to see all is well, While being caught in the sunset's spell. Gerry Andrews '56 30

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Several hours later, or maybe days later, I opened my eyes and found myself underneath the wreckage, badly bruised, with a huge bump on my head. I realized that it would be futile to remain in this position, so I began to try to get out. After an hour or so, I had moved enough of the wreckage to permit me to crawl through. Having noticed that it was difficult to breathe, and that it was bitterly cold, I decided that I must be many feet above sea level, possibly on Mount Mc- Kinley. Outside, it had stopped snowing and the wind was blowing the snow into huge drifts. I managed to examine the ruins thoroughly enough to find the cock- pit almost intact. The radio set was not completely demolished, so I attempted to send an S.O.S. Some days passed. I was nearly dead from cold and hunger and had given up hope of being rescued. But, unknown to me, a party of mountain climbers had heard the crash, and were coming after me as rapidly as possible. In the mean- time, I had been doing a little exploring, and found several yellowish pieces of rock which looked very strange. I decided to keep them, although I had little hope of getting out alive. The next day was quite warm and I ventured out onto a cliff that was near the wreck. From this point I could get a pretty good view of the surrounding country. I noticed something moving up the mountainside. In a short while, it became apparent that someone was coming to rescue anyone that might have sur- vived the crash. They told me that they were minerologists in search of uranium. When I showed them the pieces of yellow orel had found, they put them under- neath a geiger counter. They proved to be radioactive! My rescuers radioed for a helicopter to pick me up. In the meanwhile, l gave them all rights to the uranium find, to thank them for saving my life. Mark Sundelin '58 A PIONEER MOTHER MotherP From firelight shadows a pioneer mother turns to her children. For Nancy Mason this tenderly spoken word holds a question, a very serious question. As they sit before the fire Melanie and Josiah lean anxiously forward to search the strong lines of their mother's face. The faith and hope there is mirrored in the laces of her children. Come now, to bed with you my children. Rest well. As the children climb obediently to the loft, Nancy walks slowly toward the blazing hearth. Suddenly she stops short and stands gazing pensively at the flickering shadows. Then from a crack in the wall she draws a book. As she turns the yellow pages, a picture of the wilderness and all its hardships flashes through her mind. Knowing that she must not dwell on such matters, she quickly begins to write. April 1-1, l77Al john is to be home tonight. Both the children and myself anxiously await his arrival. Dick Harris came today with reports of Indians. This worries me but the children must never realize my fear of the wilderness. I wish that they could go back east for some learning but book learning won't help them in the tasks before us here. I pray that lllosiah and Melanie will learn to love this land as their father does. 'This will be t eir home and I want them to be happy. Now Nancy Mason has fallen asleep over her writing. As the fire burns low, she is awakened by the pounding of a horse's hoofs. johnP Indians? Her mind is filled with a multitude of questions. At the knock on the door, she hurries to open it. She hears the children behind her as she slips the latch. With a sigh of relief and disappointment she sees that the visitor is Dick Harris. Mrs, Mason --if the look on his face tells the news adequately enough. After a moment's silence Nancy asks, Won't you come in, Dick? She knows that his duty is hard this night and that he wishes to be gone from the place as 29

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JES' LIKE MY OL' MAN Oh when I said my prayers tonight I felt jes' awful bad, Coz jes' this mornin' I told God l'd be a real good lad. This mornin' when I milked the cow The milk it sorta spilt, An' I slipped down an' broke the stool Thet Dad an' -lim had built. At dinna time I broke a dish An' made Ma raving mad, She said she didn't see jes' why I was so awful bad. Wal, this went on the whole long day From one end to the otha, If it wasn't Dad, wal then t'was Ma, Or -lim my bigges' brotha. My Ma says thet she neva saw A naughty boy ez me, An' Dad says thet I'm jes' a boy, A boy - ez once was he. I know God watches every day An' hope thet He can see, I'm jes' a boy like my ol' man When he was young like mel Louise Gammon '56 31