Woodstock High School - Eureka Yearbook (Bryant Pond, ME)

Page 18 text:

was very possible because there was only about a quarter of an inch between the piston and cylinder. 1 was nearly ready to take the cylinder head off, but lirst I decided to try pulling it with my car. During this procedure the motor turned over. You may be wondering why 1 couldn’t crank it. Well, I must be truthful. 1 had left it in gear! Clinton Cushman, ’58 THE TAP ON THE WINDOW It was a cold night in the North. Snow had been falling since the day before, and everything was covered with a thick white blanket. Hidden away deep in a valley was a tiny cabin. The window had a cherry glow, and smoke spiraled from the chimney. It looked like a comforting shelter from the storm. Inside, a trapper was standing before a pot-bellied stove that was fairly red with heat. 1 he other trappers were a half hour late. As he listened to the wind howl and shriek around the little cabin, he moved closer to the stove. The trapper was really worried now. Suppose his friends were lost? And in this storm! Maybe he should go looking for them. He reached for his coat but decided against going. He would just get lost himself. Now the wind was a terrific gale which shook the cabin. Just then he heard a rap. “They’re here,” he thought. As he opened the door, a gust of wind blew in sifting snow around his feet. No one was there! “My imagination, he decided. As he walked back to the stove, he heard another rap, this time at the win- dow. He glanced at it, but saw nothing. The rapping continued about every two minutes. The trapper was becoming frantic. Finally a weird sound came through the cabin. It was a faint “O-oo-ee.” He grabbed his rifle and stool very tense as the sound came closer. Then the door burst open and in stumbled the trappers, red with cold. The first trapper asked, “Did you see anything tapping at the window?” “No, nothing but a branch from a fallen tree,” was the reply, “But didn’t you hear a strange noise?” The trapper asked wonderingly. “No, just us calling to you.” Carmen Martin, ’61 CATS ARE A NUISANCE! Believe you me, they are! That is, in my opinion. They have a way of always rubbing against me at the wrong time and “rubbing me the wrong way.” Either I’m watching a hair-raising mystery, or I’ve just put on my ski pants 16

Page 17 text:

cJitercinj THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SPOT I KNOW I am sure every person in the world, at one time or another, has a place she calls her own—a place where she can go to he alone; and I am sure that to her, it is a spot of beauty. I have such a place. It is the most beautiful spot I know. To get to it I go through a long field of tall green grass; then I come to a steep hill, with a path leading down to a winding brook. As I go down the path, 1 see, at the bottom of the hill, “my” spot. Not far from the edge of the water is a huge rock, and when I stand on it, I feel as though I were looking at the ocean from a high bridge. Just beyond is a smaller rock, where I like to sit and dangle my feet in the refreshing water. The water is calm and mirror-like, and through it I can see many fish, large and small, swimming lazily around. To my right, there is a small falls rushing into the brook. On my left is an- other falls sending the water tumbling down into a lower part of the stream. As I look toward the opposite bank, I see beautiful white birches reflected in the water. If I look behind me, there are more trees, which also use the brook for a mirror. flipping into the water for a swim, I suddenly come alive. Every part of my body senses the change and I feel like a new person. I could stay in this spot for hours and forget all my troubles. I go home feel- ing at peace with the world. Somehow I know I can always go back when I need to get away from it all. The trees will always be there, the brook, the rocks, and the fish—all essential parts of the most beautiful spot I know. Beverly Poland, ’58 LIFE’S DARKEST MOMENT The little incident which 1 am about to tell you concerns me and my old model-A Ford tractor. I had just done a valve job on this tractor and now was ready to see if it would run again. Grabbing the crank and thinking everything must be in good condition, I tried to turn the motor over; but, alas! It wouldn’t even budge. I couldn’t un- derstand what was the matter. During the operation I didn’t remember leaving out or putting in any parts, so I figured the starter must be locked. With that in mind, I took off the starter and found that it wasn’t locked at all. Now I really began to worry, for I thought the motor must be stuck. That 15

Page 19 text:

that I took so much care pressing, and who happens along at that moment? No one but my mother’s favorite cat! Just at the most tense moment of the mystery, I feel that furry tail brush by the back of my legs; and, wih a blood-curdling cry, I jump sky high. Or the cat brushes by, leaving behind a trail of white cat’s hair on those neatly pressed ski pants. It’s just at that moment I’d like to give him a swift kick, but mother dear is standing by as I cast that eat the evil eye. So he goes on nibbing against other legs and other ski-pants, and nothing is said or done. And, as cats usually do, lie’s living his full nine lives. Nadine Waterhouse, ’58 CHURCH BELLS l'he church bells are ringing; You can hear them loud and clear As they ring out the age-old message We all love to hear: “Come to church! Come to church!” Each Sunday of the year. Kaye Ring, ’58 HE LOVES US ALL Whether you’re big, whether you’re small. It makes no difference, God loves all. Whether you’re meek, whether you’re bold. Cod loves you better than you love gold. In the Bible you are told, That God loves all within His fold. Remember, when you kneel to pray, To say, ‘God help us not to stray.” MY CAR I have an old car, Which isn’t much good. The bumpers rattle; So does the hood. The fenders are bent, And the lights are quite low; The mulfler is gone. And the horn doesn’t blow. The motor’s not bad— It just skips quite a bit. And the gas doesn’t burn— It just runs right through it. But after all’s said and done. She’s still quite a ear, As long as you drive slow And don’t go very far. Dorothy Bean, ’59 17 Evon Gerrish, ’59