Abington High School - Abhis Yearbook (Abington, MA)

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--p THE ABHIS 11 My pen pal is very proud of her land and often speaks of its beauty. I do not believe that she is being boastful or over proud in doing so. Her let- ters only prove to me that Hawaii is truly a paradise. ALAN DAMON, '53 WHERE TO TURN I am a sixteen-year-old student in high school and at present a junior. You, the reader, will un- doubtedly make the remark, So what? But before you do, I should like you to read that first sen- tence again. After having done so, perhaps you can enter somewhat into my trend of thought, that is to say, you sense the fact that the sentence may have a double meaning. Yet it remains insignifi- cant to you. To me, however, it has a meaning which can only be got through analysis. This I shall endeavor to perform. At present the world is being slowly but as- suredly lowered into a whirlpool of war and chaos. Along with the physical world, many private lives are being torn apart, never to be rebuilt. These troubles which are plaguing the world at present are far from being all the troubles which have been so successful in disrupting my life as well as the lives of my fellow students. The majority of us were born in the heart of the depression and our families were constantly besieged by financial prob- lems. This financial crisis lasted in most cases until about '38. At last! thought most Americans, we can begin to spend time with our children, educate them, and enjoy them. Oh! how childish and pre- mature their dreams were. In '38 and '59 a fiend appeared on the face of the earth in the form of Hitler and he was joined by many willing confed- erates. Then began their march of conquest, lust, and murder in Europe and Asia. The repercussions were to be felt in America as well as in the other three corners of the world. In most cases our fath- ers were torn from us to aid in the defense of our nation for a period of almost five years. The end of the great period of suffering gave our young and hopeful hearts a short breathing spell. In 1945 I overheard my mother predict trouble, not to men- tion war, with Russia. This prediction brought in- expressible fear to my heart. I tried vainly to con- sole myself with the thought that if we did go to war with our ex-allies, they at least were good Christians and flike ourselvesj merciful. Oh, so little did I know! Oh, so much I was to learn! Within two short years all my hopes Cas well as those of my fellow-studentsb were but flimsy craft in this whirlpool, ready to be sucked under to de- struction. We, in high school, have no more than four short years in which to strengthen ourselves before being swept into this giant whirlpool, either to swim or to drown. In order to prepare ourselves we must receive help and consultation. To whom can we turn for this help? Shall it be our parents who have been so busy during these great crises? Our teachers who so often give us reason to doubt their wisdom? Our churches and religions which were developed for peoples and situations hundreds of years ago? Our government which is becoming so corrupt? These are only a few of the heart- sickening questions which confront a sixteen-year- old today. How shall they be answered? Can you now perceive a double meaning in that sentence? I turn to you, the reader, for an answer. Where are we, the youth of America, to turn for confidence to take that first and last step? CHARLES T. Nssatrr, '52 I DON'T KNOW One day as two teachers were conversing one queried of the other, What three words do you think high school students most often use? After much deliberation, the fountain of intelli- gence perplexedly answered, I don't know. Yes, next to the three little oft-used words of endearment these three gems of ignorance rank second. They are used in innumerable places by various types of persons, but we are chiefly con- cerned with their status within the walls of A.H.S., where our teachers are endeavoring to cram our craniums with knowledge. First, we have the carefree person, who, al- though when leaving class acts like a zephyr, to put it mildly, always manages to breeze into the next one late. When an interrogation travels in his di- rection he gives a frisky little laugh, and non- chalantly answers, I don't know, then goes back to filling the ink well with paper.

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10- HURRICANE The night was dark and still. The world had never seemed more serene. I lay patiently awaiting the Hrst signs of the weather man's prediction. A breeze gently stirred the leaves, lulling me to sleep. While the church bells were striking twelve, I was awakened by a soft tap on the door. Fright- ened by the weird sound, I groped to a window and cautiously peered into the darkness. A voice softly called my name. It was a friend. My friend and her family asked me to ride to their cottage at the beach, where the surf was expected to be high. An hour later as we approached the beach the wind began to howl. Two policemen, dressed in shiny black slickers, ordered us to detour. The rough surf, flooding the street and hurling huge stones in the air, splashed viciously over the sea wall. The center of Brant Rock appeared as a street in Venice. The steps of stores and cottages disappeared in the torrents rushing down the main street. After parking the car, we headed for a water- front cottage, struggling against the powerful winds. The spray soaked the porches of the homes like a heavy downpour. Mountains of surf dashed against the sea wall, rising as high as the telephone wires. The swirling ocean glowed like phosphorous for miles. After arriving home again, we found it just as peaceful as it had been when we left. It was as if this odd experience were a dream and I had just awakened. ' JANET HULTMAN, '52 THE BEGINNING or THE END The night is quiet. The moon hangs, abnormally bright, in the sky, seemingly waiting. The earth is transformed by the moonlight. Places which by day are plain, ordinary, and uninviting, become, when touched by Luna's silver sheen, places of rare beauty. The night is so quiet that to the lonely watcher out for air the sound of a single falling leaf is greatly magnified. Below him lies one of America's largest cities. Its gleaming lights seem to be intruders in the light of the moon. The young man stops to view the panorama before him. From far off in the autumn sky comes a low roaring. From the same direction the sound of coastal ack- ack guns rolls across the countryside and little orange flashes pin-point the horizon. The roaring increases in volume, like a blast from a giant blow- torch. It passes over the city and gradually fades. Suddenly, from the midst of the cluster of sky- scrapers, a blinding, bright orange ball suddenly appears and grows larger and larger, noiselessly, THE ABHIS as the force which keeps the sun shining is sud- denly unleashed on the metropolis. The young man stands, fascinated, oblivious to the terrihc heat, by the spectacle before him. A sudden rush of sound and shock waves knocks him like a tenpin down the opposite side of the hill. He comes to rest in a bush, moves slightly, and then lies still. . Hours later he stirs, crawls out of the bush. and staggers to his feet. He is conscious of the burning sensation over his face and hands caused by the radiation he has absorbed and which will in time cause his death. His clothes are scorched and tat- tered. He climbs to the top of the hill. Below him, where once stood a great city, now burn hundreds of fires, whose light and smoke blot out the sink- ing moon. All around him the trees have been stripped of their gaily-colored leaves. On the hori- zon glowing spots testify to the recurrence of the event in other great cities. The watcher turns and walks slowly down the hill to be swallowed up by the dark woods. 'In the east an increasing glow heralds the arrival of a new day, a day which will dawn upon a ruined earth, upon destruction caused by men who could not learn to live together in peace. It is the begin- ning of the end of civilization. ORIN CUNNINGHAM, '51 A HAWAIIAN PENPAL My penpal is a Hawaiian girl. She is fifteen years old and a junior in a very modern high school in the center of Honolulu. Except for a few subjects, her high school course is the same as ours. One thing that is not true of our school is the fact that in her school such sub- jects as Art and Music are required. The school publishes a weekly paper in which there are many interesting things. It resembles slightly one of our small daily papers. My penpal's school has a foot- ball team, which is very lucky, for it plays all home games in the stadium at Honolulu. When my penpal explained the way in which she lives, she made it very clear that Hawaiians live in much the same way as any of us do. In fact, some of their homes are very modern in de- sign. She lives close to Honolulu Bay and goes swimming all the year around. Recently her class went on a beach party to the Bay. In ocean sports, which are naturally their chief sports, she indulges freely and she is a very good swimmer. Every year in Hawaii, a week is set aside as Aloha Week. This is a very festive occasion, unmatched in the United States. Each day during Aloha Week there is a special event. One day there is a parade and ban- quet, and the next a regatta, and on another sports events, and so it goes all through the week. This holiday provides some of the beautiful scenes of Hawaii.

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12 THE ABHIS Another person closely associated with Care- free Charlie is the space taker who sits in class Monday and Tuesday and recalls the events of the precious week-end and on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday dreams of the week-end to come. He is the guy who thinks the only book worth carrying is the little black one. Spacetaker Suzie never bothers to say, I don't knowf, She just shrugs her shoulders and heaves a heavy sigh. Don't be misled into the belief that all students belong in one of these two classes. Oh no, we also have the intellec- tual type. One such person is the faker who sits with an intelligent gaze on his face and when asked a question, frowns until his forehead looks like a newly plowed Held, scratches his head, wildly grasps a pencil, and begins to tap out a private code, wriggles in his seat as though he were reclining on his pia mater, and then with everyone on the edge of his seat, Frankie Faker' answers slowly and almost inaudibly, I don't know. Still another would-be intellectual is the strong masterful type who can never say enough. All during the class his hand is extended in the air until you feel like hanging a coat on it. When he does get his chance he bounces up and speels olf until he becomes unwound. Although you would never catch him saying I don't know, everyone might be better oif if he did. These are only a few of our future rcitizens. Let's be thankful that there are some serious-minded students willing to learn all they can, that it may serve as a foundation when they take over the reins of government. Life would, however, be monotonous if we did not have a few I don't knows. ' GERTRUDE SPILLANB, '52 A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S CRUISE It was July second and Dominion Day in Can- ada, when my mother and father and I were trav- eling into Montreal, Canada. We hoped we would lind lodging for the night. As we were driving over the majestic Jacques Cartier Bridge, a gateway to Montreal, my father sighted the docks and ware- houses on the beautiful St. Lawrence River. He thought we might enjoy a cruise to Quebec that night rather than the drive to Quebec the next day. We supposed that there wouldn't be much chance of getting reservations for the cruise, as it was nearly five o'clock and on a long holiday week- end. But, when we reached the ticket office of the Canada Steamship Lines, to our great surprise we got the reservations. The boat was to sail at six o'clock. That gave us an hour to look at the sights of Montreal. At Mc- Gill University we saw the students playing cricket. We saw the old market district and the new mod- ern city. The horse-drawn victorias were an un- usual sight. At six o'clock we came back to the boat, the Tadoussac. It was a large boat about four hun- dred feet long, with four decks. Below the bottom deck were the engine room and a garage-like room for the freight and the many automobiles. The bot- tom deck, above the engine room, was called the C deck. This deck consisted chiefly of staterooms and small shops. The next deck up, or B deck, as it was called, held only staterooms and other minor rooms. The A deck, which had a few staterooms, was used chiefly for recreation. There was a large modern hall used for dancing, movies, plays and games. This hall was next to a bar and luncheon room. All decks had large and spacious ramps or outdoor decks on which the passengers could enjoy evening air. The three hundred staterooms were modern, neat and compact. Our reservations included only the stateroom and recreation. Food and automobile storage were extra. Our food was delicious. We ate with two very interesting men. One lived in Murray Bay, P. Q. He was a stockholder in the Canada Steam- ship Lines and proved very interesting in telling us of the company. The other was a man originally from Belgium and now living in Montreal. He told us much about the French Canadians, their customs, and their way of living. After dinner we toured most of the boat. At eight o'clock we went to a real dance in the hall on the deck. It seemed unbelievable to me. An ordinary dance with a real orchestra and a French choral group from Montreal-on a boat! It was exciting, entertaining, and a lot of fun. I really enjoyed watching those little French people dance. One of the men we were with in the hall was a teacher of chemistry and English in a Montreal high school. We learned that there are very few American cigarettes in Canada and that those are very expensive. The Canadians smoke their own cigarettes. In the course of the evening there were midget horse races and various other games. After the dance I went outside on the ramp and enjoyed the cool night air. The moon was full and shone brightly down through the silhouette of the trees and across the beautiful St. Lawrence. The boat made two stops during the night. Even in the middle of the night the boat was bustling with activity. One was at Sorel and the other was at Trois Rivieres. It was two o'clock when I climbed into my bed after that busy evening. The boat had reached Quebec. When I awoke on Sunday morning there were two masses for those wishing to attend. Breakfast was then served. It was eight o'clock when we left the wonderful Tadoussac at Quebec. BRUCE SANDERSON, '52