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

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liferarp AS eaman s Ck ristmas Roy Xenny 35 December the twenty-fifth. Christmas. Red lights, green lights. Turkey, candy, cider, stuffed stockings, fireplaces, Santa ' s presents, merry-making. These thoughts raced madly through my whirling brain, as I renewed my savage grip on the lifeling aboard the trim little Naval Destroyer, 17. S. S. MacFarland. A white capped, seething mountain of green smashed down on the little thin plates of the gallant old Mickey, and her tiny, elastic, tough, still sides trembled and shivered like the bones of an old skeleton that had been roughly thrown into the corner. The hideous green avalanche poured over the deck, soaking me to the bone. I bit my lip till I tasted blood, as the life-line cut into my cold, salt-water-soaked hands, and old man Neptune ' s glorious sea tried hard to pull me over the side a nd down to Davy Jones ' locker. I finally won that struggle, but did not feel fit for another. Under special orders we had suddenly been detailed to join the Scouting Fleet at Panama. We had been docked in our home port, and I had been looking forward to a pleasant Christ- mas furlough. Now here I was, terribly sea- sick, grimly hanging on to a stanchion con- nected to a lurching steel tub, over one hundred miles out at sea, with two theatre tickets in my pocket, besides a full month ' s pay. What a way to spend Christmas. I definitely decided to de- sert the next time we hit port. The Mickey ' s lissome hull slipped dizzily down the side of a breaker into a cavernous hol- low. With a sickening roll, which only a destroyer could perform, she started up the in- cline of the next vertical volcanic-like breaker with her scuppers under. High above the decks, and too sea-sick to be of any use, the lookout desperately clung to his little crow ' s-nest, as the long tapering mast swung back and forth against the bleak grey sky like the pendulum of a mammoth grandfather ' s clock. A howling gale whipped the snowflakes into a biting blizzard. Far below decks, sweating and swearing, the engineers tried vainly to keep their balance. It would be very unpleasant to trip and fall into those churning pistons. A shrieking wind, a resounding crash, and our wireless was ren- dered useless. A gigantic comber tore away our forward port lifeboat. All the gobs were busily engaged, trying to do their work. A tired overworked naviga- tion officer decided to go to the galley for a cup of hot coffee. He stepped out of the cabin to the bridge and glanced aloft at the ice-coated rigging. Warily he started down the ladder that was coated with frozen salt-water spray, and which led to the deck. Another drunken lurch on the part of the Destroyer 237, and the officer slipped, fell, rolled across the tilted deck, and was washed overboard. Luckily, as he had been working in the cabin, he had not been wear- ing heavy oilskins. The cry of Man overboard ! was raised, and the deck force ran to their life-saving stations. The ship ' s headway was immediately checked, and oil was poured over the side to smooth the choppy seas. The air, trapped in the officer ' s clothes, bouyed him up for an instant. During this instant, a life-preserver was hurled to him. He could now last a little while longer. The sea was too rough to even think of lowering a boat. A quick-thinking sailor grabbed up a coil of rope, tied a bowline around his body, and thrust the other end into my hands. While the little ship was on the crest of an Atlantic roller, he dived over the side. Other seamen rushed to help me guide the line that depended on the

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Sartor g taff 1934-1935 Editor Virginia Donley ' 35 Business Manager John MacDonnell ' 3 5 Assistant Norman Morrisey ' 3 5 Athletics Francis Long ' 35 Art Virginia Howe ' 36 Assistant Robert Candy ' 37 Literary Dorothy Baker ' 35 Doroth Cain ' 3 5 Alice Crowley ' 35 Beryl Gray ' 35 Elizabeth Groht ' 3 5 Marie Keohan ' 3 5 Rose Leonard ' 3 5 Kathleen Mathewson ' 35 Ailine Price ' 35 Rhoda Spurr ' 35 Theresa Stagliola ' 35 Jean Brewer ' 36 Harry Coleman ' 36 Marie O ' Donnrll ' 36 Secretaries Mildred Brooks ' 35 Dorothy Cote ' 3 5 Ethel Hanian ' 35 Ruth Locke ' 35 Jeanne Lockhart 35 Jeannie Worthley 35 Trade School John Christie ' 3 5 Donald MacDougal ' 35 Faculty Adviser P. B. B-owr. SOUTHEASTERN Advertising Marjorie Bentley ' 35 Elva Newton ' 3 5 Eleanor Dresser ' 36 Leona Gregory ' 36 Robert Kainan ' 36 Laura Kelley ' 36 Barbara Merrick ' 16 Carol Seach ' 36 Frances Bates ' 37 Barbara Donley 37 Genevieve Fuller ' 37 Lucille Groht ' 37 Carolyn Morrill ' 37 Kathlyne Wood ' 37 Sable nf (Enntntta Literary Snoops Editorials Athletics School News Languages Observer Music Crystal Ball Page 3 16 17 18 22 23 24 25 26 Printed by Printing Department, Weymouth Vocational School, Harry F. Duncan, Instructor

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life of two men. Gamely the bluejacket, who had shed his clothing in the teeth of a blizzard, battled through the icy water towards the ex- hausted officer. As we watched our mate, we leaned dangerously over the side to note his progress. Other times, we had to strain our necks to gaze at the top of a green avalanche of water, where he still battled the elements. Finally he reached our navigation officer, and we heaved on the line to pull them aboard. There was great danger that they would be crushed between the hull of the ship and the sea, but Uncle Sam ' s Sea Fighters were trained to over- come this difficulty. The rescued and his res- cuer were hauled safely aboard the ship. We immediately returned to our work and professional grumbling. On giving some time to meditation over my grievances, I decided not to desert after all. Wasn ' t I supposed to be a sailor? And wasn ' t this a real sailor ' s holiday? It ' s not such a bad outfit, and a great life, if you like it. Xke New Year Virginia Pray 35 As the old year rolled down in the west, So came the new beaming over the crest. Far down below on the shivering plain, Stood an old man stooping over his cane, Wondering when his road should give way, And let another step into his day. All his life he had pondered in vain, In search of a treasure he could never obtain, Unless he could walk, and in some age be free To gallop about in a young merry spree. He was robbed of his childhood when just a boy. But should he have given up and looked not for joy? Yes, he had given up much to his pain, And crawled to his perch far out in the plain, Where no one could find him and pry in his past, Whence he might have found shelter up to the last. But now he is old and so all alone, When he might have been famous and sat on a throne ; But that one disappointment made him give up, And never again could he build or retouch. Wky Ckristmas D onald Foskett 35 The human race has always had certain char- acteristics by which it may be identified and set aside from other creations of God. The race, as a whole, will probably continue to possess them as long as it exists, regardless of mental and physical improvements by which it may become more efficient. One of the chief results of this fault or asset, whichever it may be, is the forget- fulness of, and, oftentimes, utter disregard of, the meaning of Christmas. Christmas is undoubtedly the most universally observed holiday of the year. Countries the world over, although they may not observe other holidays in common, certainly celebrate Christ- mas as one large community. This day, then, is recognized from the point of view of the world as a whole, as the most important day of the year, even though each individual country may have its own significant holidays. It would seem that people ought to realize the great significance of this day. On the contrary, many people do not recognize this significance, nor do they feel obliged or thankful to anyone or anything on this day. To them it means merely the ex- changing of gifts and the enjoyment of a day free from work and care. To me these things make up a part of the Christmas celebration, but, when one considers carefully, they make up only a minor part. The real celebration is in giving thanks to God, and in feeling joyous for the birth of Christ. These two things really are the basic principles of all Christmas activities, in spite of the fact that many other things take one ' s attention on that day. If a person is to really enjoy Christmas and celebrate it in the proper spirit, he must cease to be forgetful of its meaning. If he celebrates it in the right way, it is safe to say that he will discover a new-found joy in being grateful to God and in being more charitable to his fellow men. Witk Apolo eies to M.ilton Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee Yankee jazz, and Yankee glee, Gibes and gags and Yankee slang, Negro mirth that cheers the gang; Fetch the journals where buffoons Are cavorting in cartoons. Come and trip it as we go, Driving home the German foe. REFLECTOR ...4...