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

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REFLECTOR Street Car Lady Why, what ' s the matter, sonny? The small boy gazed at the owner of the soft voice through a film of tears. He saw a woman in her late twenties, her lovely dark eyes filled with sympathy. I ' m running away, he said, but I ' m home- sick already. The lady suppressed a smile, unwilling to hurt the boy, who was evidently serious. Then why don ' t you go back, now? The conductor will stop the car for you. I can ' t do that. My mother doesn ' t want me and daddy — well, he is too interested in his work to care. Why, every mother wants her own little boy near her. But I ' m not her own little boy, insisted the child. She ' s only been in our house three years, and she never liked me. Where is your own mother? queried the lady softly. I don ' t know, he answered sadly. But Dora, my nurse, said she went away when I was a little boy. She said she was lovely and was the finest lady she ever knew. But mother says she couldn ' t have loved me or she would not have gone away. I think she would have stayed, though, if she knew I would miss her. Don ' t you ? He looked at her appealingly. Of course, dear, she assured him. I know she must be beautiful and kind like Dora says. And I bet she ' s waiting somewhere for me. That ' s really why I ran away, so I could find her. But I forgot — I guess I haven ' t been very polite. My name is Eddie Jerome, and I live at 52 Park Avenue. What is your name? Her voice was barely audible as she answered, My name doesn ' t matter. I guess I ' ll call you the ' Street Car Lady ' . Daddy always said never to speak to strangers, but you don ' t seem like a stranger. You ' re aw- fully nice. Thank you, Eddie. And now I ' ll tell you something. I ' m not really a stranger. You know, I can see things other people can ' t. And I know that if you go home now, and wait until you ' re a big, strong, boy, your own mother will come back to you. It may be only a few years. She really loves you, Eddie, and I know she ' s really sorry she went away and left you. That ' s wonderful, he exclaimed wondering- ly. I wish I could see things like you can. And I see something else, she went on. I see your father worrying about you, and wish- ing you were home. He is promising never to neglect you again, if you will only come back. See, Eddie, the car is stopping. You can get off here, and catch the next car home. I will, he promised. I want to see daddy and Dora and — I guess, mother too. Good-bye, Street-Car-Lady. Good-bye, she said, waving her hand and with misty eyes watching the sturdy little figure of her boy — her own little son — disappear in the crowd - Vera Callahan ' 35 To A Bluebird A little bit of feather, A little bit of wing, A little flash of brilliant blue, A little voice to sing — These things all make a bluebird, A happy bit of song, A joyful bit of color, A trilling all day long. Rainbows A summer shower, The peeping sun, A foggy mist arising, And lo! A miracle is done! A rainbow brightly shining, And at its foot a pot of gold Awaits the weary rover, To vanish like his happy dreams When the fleeting shower is over. Ma, ■jorie Bloxham ' 36 Don ' t buy a car until you ' ve tried the new Dodge and Plymouth THORP ' S GARAGE 866 Washington St., East Weymouth

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6 REFLECTOR The Doctor s Story The colonel was speaking to an intimate group at the club. No, he was saying, I ' ve traveled over a large part of the world with the service, and seen many strange things; but I must admit that I don ' t think much of people who believe in dreams. What is your opinion of them, doc- tor? he asked, turning to Dr. Warren, the club physician. Well, said the doctor slowly, I wouldn ' t criticize them too severely, because one never really knows the circumstances. You mean, replied the indignant colonel, that you are inclined to believe that mental experiences occurring during sleep are sometimes re-acted in actual life? Yes, sometimes you hear of such a thing hap- pening. Oh, surely, doctor, as a man of medicine you don ' t put any faith in such idle talk. The doctor did not answer for a moment, but seemed thoughtful. He readjusted his glasses, and then turned to the colonel. Colonel, y ou just said that while in far off lands you saw many strange things. I, as med- ical examiner of this county for some thirty years, have seen many strange things myself right here at home. I remember one of my first cases. It was over Hyde Park way in the apart- ment district. It seemed to be a routine job, nothing to do except fill out the papers. The chap was a janitor in one of the older buildings and had his quarters in the basement next to the boiler room. It seems that the defective tank had exploded and caused the brick partition to tumble in on his room. While following the usual procedure, I noticed in the wreckage a Feather bound diary. Out of curiosity I picked it up and ruffled through the pages. One entry caught mv attention. It read as follows: Friday, August 16. Had horrible dream last night. Dreamt I was operated upon unsuccessfully and only had few days to live. It woke me up in cold sweat. Saturday, August 17. By strange coin- cidence, last night dream was continued. I dreamt I was getting weaker and I heard the doctors say that at the most I could only last another day. I am probably eat- ing too heavily before retiring. Sunday, August 17. I must really see a doctor. The strange visions troubled me again. This time I seemed to hear the nurse say I would probably go between the hours of three and four in the morning, when the vitality is lowest. I shall disregard these nightmares and retire as usual. This was the last entry in the book. A strange feeling came over me as I stared at the clock where it lay on the floor, shattered by the blast. The hands had stopped at twenty min- utes of four. Don ' t you think, colonel, concluded Dr. Warren, that there might be a possible con- nection between the dream and the fatal ex- plosion ? The colonel, deep in thought, did not reply. Philip Sheehan ' 34 Wo n der Lie A bit of green amidst the rolling sea, An ethereal place of beauty it is to me, With its tangy, cooling breeze and kneaded land, The matchless blue of sky, the soothing sand, A haven from the city ' s feverish ways, Where nature feels the primal urge, and plays. Men come to catch the spirit of the isle; And, in their feeble way, they would beguile The hours with happiness or playtime rare, So life would lose its drabness and its care. But bonds are loosed, and sordidness creeps in, To sprinkle nature ' s handiwork with sin. Why can ' t men see the gift of nature pure, And feel within themselves the urgent lure, To banish carnal folly, worldly strife, And through earth ' s beauty find the truer life? Virginia Donley ' 35

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8 REFLECTOR Tke X irst Winter At Pi vmouth The Mayflower reached Cape Cod on Nov- ember 9, 1620. After exploring the coast in the vicinity, the Pilgrims selected for their per manent settlement the place now called Plym- outh, where they landed, Decemher 21. The rigors of a New England winter were upon them hefore they could build a single house. After two days of storm and rain they set to work on December 23, and for three days cut timber with great diligence. So rapidly did they work that by January 13 one house stood on the shore. The very next day this house burned down, with all the beds of the adult men. Meanwhile — indeed, ever since the landing at Provincetown- — a considerable number had been ill, and by February what Bradford called the general sickness had stricken practically all the members. As their surprisingly good health on the voyage had been the result of the ex- tremely careful arrangements, so now the cause of the general sickness seems to have been careless exposure. The women, misled by a mild spell of weather, washed clothes in the ponds at Provincetown, and caught severe colds. Ex- plorations and expeditions resulted in further exposure. The result seems to have been tuber- culosis of a surprisingly contagious and rapid type, sometimes called galloping consumption . Whatever it was, the Pilgrims certainly caught it from one another and in December, six died, in January, eight more, in February seventeen, and in March, thirteen. So dire was their dis- tress that, during those months, no more than six or seven were well at the same time, and only Bradford and Standish entirely escaped ill- ness. On some days two or three died and tra- dition says that the graves accumulated so fast, that the Pilgrims leveled them with care, lest the Indians suspect how greatly the colony was weakened. Those who were able labored un- sparingly night and day, carrying wood, making fires, preparing food, making beds, and washing clothes. Their devotion to each other during these exceedingly trying months is beyond all praise. Priscilla Chandler ' 34 He: Did you ever read To a Mouse? She: No. How did you ever get it to listen ' A Summer Storm It is a hot, drowsy, lazy, summer day. The streets are deserted except for a few limp-look- ing stragglers, and the sun looks like a flaming ball of fire as it scorches the parched earth. An innocent-looking cloud glides across the horizon, but it is followed by more, black and threatening. A distant rumble like a barrel fall- ing down stairs is heard in the distance. Then a louder rumble, and a flashing ribbon of fire appears, and is gone. The sky is black, and the earth is very still. Not a leaf trembles on the trees, and it seems as if the world is waiting for something, quiet and expectant. Then an adventurous drop of rain patters down on a leaf. A few more fol- low, and then comes the deluge. A torrent of water streams down, and the thunder crashes like mad cymbals, while the lightning zig zags crazily across the sky. The wind whips great trees into a frenzy, and they bow down low to the storm. Here and there a tree topples down with a deafening crash, which is immediately silenced by another burst of fury from the thunder. On the streets a few belated pedestrians are seen, drenched, bedraggled, and mournful. They scurry along with umbrellas blown wrong side out, looking out for the puddles, and trying to keep their already soaked and dripping feet as dry as possible. At last they give up all hopes of keeping dry, and splash along with a reckless abandon, fine to see. A last shriek of fury from the wind, as the rain drops patter down more softly. Finally rhev cease, and, with a defeated crash and rumble, the thunder dies away rebelliously in the distance, the lightning plays for a few mo- ments in the distant sky, and then the sun blazes forth more brightly than ever. The puddles soon disappear, and there is no trace of the storm ex- cept for a few trees King amid their broken and crushed branches along the roads. Marjorie Bloxham ' 36 Note: If you have any further information as to the whereabouts and occupations of any of the Wevmouth High School Alumni, please communicate with our Alumni editor. — The Editor