Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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14 WEYMOUTH HIGH SCHOOL Hot Air Operator! Give me 8-300 please! Let- ter? Oh, K. What is the letter? Why, I just said K. I did not say OK. I said Oh — Yes, I know I said K. Please allow me to finish. I said, Oh because I didn ' t understand what you meant .it first. The letter is K — Yes— Hello, Betsy? — Yes. How are you? Is that so? How ' s the baby? Still givin ' him Eagle brand? Air? Isn ' t that nice! No. Air? Well I always claimed ya can ' t go on looks. Have you seen the new boarder? Oh, ya have ? Well ain ' t he the most hansome thing ya ever saw? Air. He ' s got such bew-t-ful hair — I know it — No! Well, I whis ' t I was young again though by the actions of some people forty is still in baby clothes. Air? I declare, and him earning good pay. Why the way she galavants around you ' d think she didn ' t have no husband to get a supper for. What do ya know? — Why, the baker ' s cart is down there a good half hour every day. Air? As I said to Joe — Joe, I said If she was a tending to her business she ' d have no business odering that junk offer baker. — Air. That ' s just what I say! My Joe, he calls it sawdust — Ha Ha well, the new boarder is so sweet about that. He said to me, Mother — he always calls me Mother — Yes, I know he ' s sorta orphan-like — Mother, he said, don ' t you put on any fancy stuff for me ! ' ' But I do and he appreciates it, too! Air? Well I al ways knew she ' d get in wrong. It ' s scan- dalus the way she ' s carrying on. Betsy, there ' s someone on this line that ain ' t got no business on here. Ya can hear ' em click- in ' . Oh! you ' re chewing gum. Well, it ' s good for the teeth. Air — Well, I feel sorta sorry for him — He usta be an actor-like. — Ya — Oh, Betsy, I read an adorable book last night. — Fatima ' s Last Choice. — Oh, it was simply thrilling! — I don ' t know who wrote it. But, then, the author don ' t make no difference to me. You want to get it. Fatima is in Dutch when the story begins — what I mean is she ' s in wrong, and she meets this little Frenchie that says cheery and all that sorta bunk. Oh, it ' s simply thrilling! Well, Betsy, can you smell that? That ' s my potatoes. Bye — Oh, Betsy ! That baker ' s over there again. — Well, I never did pry into other people ' s business much. I ' m not that type. It ' s nice the baby ' s better — They ' s a new kind of Talcum Powder in the new ' ' Drug Store. ' ' Quite good, they say — Yes. Air? — Well — ' Bye. My potatoes is burnin ' ! M. Pray ' 31 O ' Henry Sees a Doctor There was nothing the matter with me, but I was very ill. I couldn ' t work, sleep, physician. He was young, somewhere between twenty and forty, and wore heli- otrope socks. I liked him immensely. He put me through some coordination exercises. Have you a pain in the back of your head? he asked. I told him I had not. Shut your eyes, he ordered, put your feet close together, and jump backwards as far as you can. I always was a good back- ward jumper with my eyes shut; so I obeyed . My head struck the edge of the office doo: - which had been left open and was only three feet away. The doctor was very sorry. At least he said so and closed the door. Now touch your nose with your right forefinger, he said. On your face, said he. I mean my right forefinger, I explained. Oh, excuse me, said he. He reopened the door and I took my finger out of the crack. After I had performed the marvel- ous digit-nasal feat, I said, I do not wish to deceive you, doctor, as to symptoms ; I really have something very like a pain in the back of my head. He ignored this symptom and examined my heart carefully with a latest popular-an-penny-in-the-slot ear-trumpet. I felt like a ballad. Now, he said, gallop like a horse for about five minutes around the room. I galloped. Then without dropping in a penny he listened to my chest again.

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MARCH REFLECTOR 13 At this point, Tom, and Mac, came to the middle of the ice, one each side of me, with a stick held closely to the side of my ears. Soon Tom yelled, Let ' s go, and I was walloped hard, on each side of my now cut-up face. But that wasn ' t all, for it seemed to me as if every boy there was trying his hardest to injure my feelings, as well as my features. Once I was sailing on my side, and the next minute I was rolling over and over trying to stop myself, but before I could do this, I was rolling between the cans, and some of the boys were shouting in glee. Well, to make a long story short, the skating is all over, and I am lying down in the cellar beside my old friend the hockey stick. We each claim that we are more import- ant than the other fellow, but we can ' t seem to come to an agreement. Of course you can ' t play hockey with- out a stick (that ' s his argument) and mine is that the game is not interesting without me to pick on so there you are ! I guess I ' ll stay down here for a long time, for my sweetheart, the bathing suit, is getting a lot of attention since the swim- ming began. (Gosh! I don ' t know what she means by swimming, but I do know that I am going to be pretty lonely until next win- ter, but when it does come, OH, BOY !). Dorley ' 30. More Precious Colette ' s beauty ' s rare, Helen ' s eyes divine ; For Pan I do not care, But Grace is just sublime. Fay just lives for pleasure, Kay, a clinging vine ; Peg may be a treasure, But not indeed for mine. Just give me plain Mary Jane, For I have heard the rumor She ' s not only safe and sane, But has a sense of humor ! Doris A. Upton ' 32. Only Students Between the Ages of 9 and 99 Don ' t forget, good friends and companions that the Staff is out hunting for extra-special material for the Graduation Issue. It ' s also after more diversified material; so get out your old pencil stub and hop to it. Write up that story you heard Aunt Susan tell the other day ; put down in black and white the rhyme that ' s been singing in your head all day — it may be the start of a poem ; tell us about the hike you took ; copy down those jokes you hear in class ; write up your pet grudge or your favorite subject — -every- thing ! Write these voluminous manuscripts — label them Graduation Issue and hand them to a Staff member any time before May 16th. Remember it ' s an honor to be represented in the Graduation Issue and that your story has as big a chance as anyone else ' s. All work will receive equal consideration from the Staff, whether it comes from the trade- school, the Business, Practical Arts, General, Technical, Aggie, or Classical Courses. The Staff wants work from all divisions of the High School — so get busy. Let ' s make this the biggest and best magazine in the country- it ' s possible if you will help ! Editor. The Albatross Over the dark and sullen seas, Over waves rolled by the breeze, Over the expanses of blue and white, A bird flew by in eager flight. Holding his head wonderfully high, And uttering a long and piercing cry, With wings spread out in the shape of a cross, Flew this beautiful bird, the albatross. It winged its way past sail and spar, And off to the giant cliffs, afar. And proudly perched on the rock ' s edge high, A speck of whiteness against the sky. Martin Rinaldi Jr. High School Grade VIII Martin Rinaldi, Jr. High School, Grade VIII

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MARCH REFLECTOR 15 No glanders in our family, doc! I de- murred. He held up his finger within three inches of my nose. Look at my ringer, he commanded. I did so. Now look across the bay. At my finger. Across the bay. At my finger. Across the bay. At my finger. Across the bay. He explained that this was a test of the brain. It seemed easy to me. I never once mistook his finger for the bay. I ' ll bet that if he had said, Gaze, as it were, unpreoccupied, outward, or rather laterally, in the direction of the horizon, underlaid, so to speak, with the adjacent fluid inlet, and Now return- ing — or rather in a manner — withdrawing your attention, bestow it upon my upraised digit, I could have done it! I ' m willing to bet that even Henry James himself would have passed the examination. After asking me if I had ever had a grand tincle with curvature of the spine or a mother-in-law with swelled ankles, he retired to an inner office to consult himself. Maybe he had an oracle in there. I don ' t know. I stood by the window and gazed first at my finger and then across the bay. At length he emerged from his consulta- tion, looking like the Federal Reserve Bank in Boston. He had written out a diet list to which I was to be restricted. It had every thing that I had ever heard of to eat except snails. And I never eat a snail unless it overtakes and bites me first. Then he told me that I had cirrhosis of the heart, indurated arteries, neurasthenia, neurites, acute indigestion, eonvalescene, and about one chance in a thousand to live. You must follow the diet strictly and get plenty of oudoor air and exercise. Take a tepid bath at night and a cold one in the morning. Be cheerful and fix your mind on pleasant subjects. Take a phosphorous pill three times a day, preferably after meals, and a tonic composed of the tinctures of gentian, chinchona, calisaya, and cardamon com- pound. Into each teaspoonful mix tincture of nux vomica beginning with one drop and increasing it a drop each day until the maxi- mum dose is reached. Have you got that? Yes, I lied, feeling slightly dizzy. Good morning, then, said he. We both took something — he took up a book and I took the air. Now that was a year ago and I, like Jimmie Gallagher, am still hanging on. Elsie Stub ' 30 A Case of Mistaken Identity As John Huntley was walking down Rockcroft Avenue, he saw a slightly opened door, leading into a beautiful house and, seized with a spirit of adventure, he walked in. He walked through long halls till he came to another door a little ajar. Giving it a push, he stepped into a dining-hall pre- pared for a banquet. As he was hungry, he ate some of the food. Then he went out and to a theatre. After the performance he chanced to think he was hungry and decided to go back to the room. When he arrived, the room was full of men who looked as though some calamity had befallen them. As he was in evening clothes, he was seized immediately with cries of: Here ' s the groom! Start the wedding March! He was carried to a large salon, where he was told to Buck up, George. Get to the altar before Ethel. But I ' m not going to get married. I never heard of Ethel or saw this place before in my life. ' ' It ' s just nervousness said the young man who had taken him in tow. You ' ll recover after your married. ' ' ' ' I haven ' t any ring. Isn ' t that proof that I ' m not going to get married? Why, don ' t you remember that you sent it to me for fear that you ' d lose it? Now march. John was led, dazed, to the altar, and didn ' t hear a word that was said till the minister was saying, I pronounce thee man and wi — . Hold on , John shouted at him and the minister stopped short, with a look of the utmost surprise on his usually benign features. ' Hold on, ' is right, said a voice from the door-way, as a very flushed y oung man ran up to the party. Who is marrying my bride? Then John turned around and