Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION O Dorothy Blevins. Editor AD INFINITUM EST There are some things which are of very little importance in the lifetime of a person but which use up a great deal of time. Long ago I came across a mystery, in which, the more I thought of it, the more deeply entangled I be- came. The thought at first was just a pleasure, but now I feel that if I could answer this problem I could an- swer many others. Have you ever noticed the picture on an oysterette box? There is a man seated on a box prying open oysters. Beside the box on which the man is seated, there is a box of oysterettes. Now on this box of oysterettes there is a picture of a man opening oysters, and beside him there is another box of oysterettes. On this box of oysterettes there is a picture of a man opening- oysters, and beside the box on which he is seated there is another box of oysterettes. In our senior algebra classes some of us have learned how to find the Limit of the sum of an Infinite Decreas- ing Geometrical Progression by using the formula s=(H-r — 1. In this case a equals the original box of oysterettes and r equals the difference between this box and the box beside the box on which the man is seated. 8 remains the un- known for some algebra wizard to solve. If the numerical answer is returned to me before I forget all the math I know, I will take a trip to the place where parallel lines meet and know what a quantity divided by zero equals. A DESCRIPTIVE ESSAY The hour is three; the setting, mid- Atlantic on a cold May morning; the director, the keeper of Hades, Satan. j The deep black sea is gently tossing its foamed tipped billows beneath a moon, which, now and then, slips be- hind a dull black cloud casting grue- some shadows over the water. All is still as death on this mammouth grave, the silence being broken only by the creak of a pulley, or the swish of a wave. Unaware of the other’s pres- ence, each of two toilers of the sea are

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION 1 important, closely contested game 1 saw a fifteen-yard penalty imposed for an offside play. Later in the game the proper penalty of five yards was inflicted for the identical offence. In another game the offside penalty was repeatedly unjustly inflicted, at least, the author believes so. If the officials had been capable, this would not have happened. These incidents and re- peated instances of the same sort have proved the incompetence of officials at our football games. I understand that these officials are selected by a central board which de- mands no special qualifications in the form of an examination, from the men selected for the positions. This is a mistake, for the men willing to accept such positions are not always suited for the work. I believe that steps should be taken to insure the selection of officials whose actions will not spoil or mar otherwise excellent football games. IF (For Non-Clarion Supporters) If you had the job of getting Stories with the proper setting And a plot that’s interesting and new, With a topic that ' s appealing And the right amount of feeling, And most accurate punctuation all way thru. If you had to strain your eyesig ht, Reading poems that didn’t rhyme right, Finding good descriptive words in every line — Verse that can be called poetical And at the same time metrical (Well, you see, those two words do not rhyme.) If you had to fret and worry, And the last few minutes hurry, To get an editorial in on time. Or in all your different classes With a pair of strong field glasses Had to search for clever jokes and rhyme, Would you feel that you were lacking The proper loyal backing When you didn’t get donations from the rest. Who with disappointed faces, Criticise the empty spaces, When to fill them up they haven’t done their best? If you have imagination, Just consider the temptation Of the editors, to give their jokes away. But to yield would mean an ending Of the cause that we’re defending And it’s up to you to help us win — to-day ! —I). E. B. A HINT Blake-books are given out at the end of the year as a reward for good schol- arship and character. The football team is banqueted and almost all sports are duly recognized. There is one activity that suffers somewhat from due reward and that is “Clarion Contributions.” You don’t get any points for it. (Most of them are re- jected anyhow.) Suppose that some nice person should make a suggestion that — . Well, you get the idea, don’t you? H. Hamm. Pine Crest School, Belchester, Mass., December 2, 1925. Dear Ma : They ain ' t no Sandy Claws, so don’t try to bull me this year. Gee, ma, will ya pleese send me a bottle of listrine quick? Johnny caught a little kitty in back of the skool and he thinks it ' s got halitosis. I got my thanksgivin basket but you musta been kinda ex- cited cause I found the turkey in the vacuum bottle and the cider on the plate — what was left of it. I was playin football the other day and an- other feller stepped on me. The in- strueter tol me I oughta soap my tongue but I don’t see why; it didn ' t hurt there. I’m liavin a fine time here except fer gography and histry and etc. Good by fer now cause I gotta go out and see Don slide down the drainpipe in his pajamas which the upperclassmen is making him do. Your Lovin son, Archibald Henry.

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G THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION nearing each other; one driven by na- ture’s force, tlie other by man’s inven- tion. The larger is a liner, the smal- ler, a freighter of an obsolete type. Suddenly, a deafening crash is fol- lowed by screams from the liner, and curses from the freighter. Pandemon- ium reigns. The huge liner has rammed the “square rigger” amidships and has backed off leaving her to her fate. For three minutes she flounders, and then plunges with her mighty expanse of canvas below the cruel sea carrying hu- man life with her. The director claps his hands and calls for more. Gloriously, before she sinks, the “Barque” tights to remain afloat as she tips 1 on her side half submerging her yards and sails, finally sinking stern first. Clinging to debris in the gray water, men curse, pray, groan, and yell for mercy and deliverance from that accursed grave. God, life is good. Men who have almost forgot- ten their mother’s prayers call on God for help. Someone swears ' . How ter- rible the curse sounds now. How piti- ful, when sailors, the world’s hardest, weep and pray to the God they have cursed. One calls for a knife. He has lost his fight. Three hours have passed when day- light breaks, cold and gray, revealing five floating bodies, stiff and stark, the toil of the sea to add to that mammouth grave. Five lone heads now bob on the water. Close by are two more who neither see, hear, nor speak. The five see, far off in the distance, one tall mast, fast fading from sight, taking with it the only hope for five men. Again, in unison ; they call on their Maker for mercy; but, no, the ship fades farther, and farther away, until but a mere speck is visible on the hor- izon. With uplifted empty eyes they give up hope and resign themselves to their fate. The director is neglectful, for no sharks appear on the scene; or would it have been merciful? Numbness overtakes them and they are comfortable, in that semi-uncon- sciousness that precedes death. A wave washes over the five lone prospects for death; grim, black death and another passes on, leaving but four. And so in this manner four souls give up the mental fight for life on a boundless ocean. The director, however, grows weary. G. W. R., ’26. SCENES IN WINTER The City The grayish colored snow is banked against the dark, brick buildings, and the icy blasts send the people hurrying along the streets with their garments wrapped tightly about them. The few short hours of the sunlight have melted the snow, but soon Jack Frost creeps out and freezes the water. The ice is nut silver and clean as a lake but dirty and muddy from the heavy traffic that continually passes over it. The stores are brilliantly lighted and decorated with Christmas trees and green and red ribbons. Everyone is hurrying. Nobody minds if he is jostled, because everyone is happy with Christmas near. The Country The scene is entirely different here. The sleigh glides swiftly over the snow nacked roads and by white fields, past a red farmhouse sheltered by the wooded hills. The house looks warm and cosy though just above it the leaf- less branches of the trees are tossing in a cold wind. In the small village the little white church, the general store and the small cottages are all covered by the same white blanket. The people are going to and fro exchanging holiday greetings, for they too, know that Winter brings with it the anni- versary of the birth of the Christ child. The Sea Coast The waves dash high on the wintry coast. The lighthouse stands out cold and dark against the laden sky. There is a tang of the sea in the air. The old fishermen no longer stand on the wharf telling tales of the sea but hobble toward the general store to sit around the fire and tell their yarn familiar to every member of the vil-