Arms Academy - Student Yearbook (Shelburne Falls, MA)

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1938'S HURRICANE AND FLOOD Little did I think when I saw the moving picture. The Hurricane. that I should ever experience anything of the kind. Yet within a year after I saw the picture such a thing visited New England. and the excitement that I felt when I saw the picture was like a calm sea compared with the awe and excitement I felt on the aftemoon and night it really happened. For four days it had rained and rained and kept on raining. until I wondered if it would ever stop. As it was my first week boarding away from home I was a little home- sick, and I was beginning to wonder if the river would ever stop rising. lt rose inch by inch. day after day. until even the people who had lived near it all their IIVBB began to feel a little nervous about its ever-rising waters. On the fourth day of raln some friends and I were drenched in the downpour as we came out of the school building at dismissal: when we crossed the street we waded in water up to our knees. A BIIII wind was breaking off branches from the nearby trees. In the afternoon when I began to study I noticed that the wind was strong and the rlver was high. Dull it rained. we hdd the radio on from moming unul the electriclty was cut off ln the afternoon. and we neard reports that the water was up to the N26 flood mark and that trees Gnd buildings were being badly damaged by the terrific winds. I began to be so nervous that l C0uld hardly study. livery once in a while we would see refuse floating GOWII the rlver. Al one time we saw what I00k6Q like a lot of slabs golng ddwn. Laler we lound out that II was the roadside camp called the lndlan neselvallon, which was entirely rulned and where the one casualty of the disaster occurred. Later that night when II was QUIK and the waler was stlll rising. people began to walk the streets. when the lamlly across the street had to move out. everybody came and llelpea mem get lnelr valuables to safety. lhen several famll.es on the same stlee. uegall lu GSBBAZADAB melr valuables in order to enable them to leave quickly ln case the water rose any lllgher. une woman on the street took an old blanket and put some food alia clotnlng ID it I0 take with her ii she had to evacuate in favor of the water. AS we walked the streets we would hear first a building up the river fall into the raging muddy waler: then we would hear one down the rlver crash: every mlnule we expected to hear we knew hut what. ln addition to this people told us that Vvhitinghdm uam would break lf they QIQTII let some water out within a short time. 'l'his did not make us any less nervous. Finally at about half past ten or eleven o'clock the water reached its height: it was now level with the street on which I lived. Before midnight it had receded between two and three feet. but when they let the water out at Whitingham it came back up to the same height. By morning. however. it had receded about five feet. Much to our reliefl Wlhen I went to school I saw fallen electric light wires and uprooted trees. At school what few students were there had a grand time marching around pretending they were on a strike. Many could not get to school on account of fallen wires and trees and badly washed roads. When I came home after school I was almost sick. because I was afraid I could not get home over the weekend: I literally iumped for joy when I saw my mother and father on Friday aftemoon. I had had the experience of seeing the raging flood. but I had to wait until I got heme into the hills before I realized the damage done by the wind. Silos and farm buildings were blown over. and hundreds of trees were uprooted. I certainly hope I never see another floor or hurricane. especially the two combined. Ada Landstrom. '41 Page Fifty Seven

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THE LAST SMILE The sun streamed through the lacey curtains. making intricate patterns on her cotton dress. It shed its blinding rays upon her wrinkled face, but her eyelids never flickered. Instead she seemed to be staring at it defiantly. Her withered hands rested resignedly in her lap. betraying the boldness of her eyes. Suddenly her frail shoulders shuddered. and she gathered her lavender shawl closer about her as if a draught had caught her. Then, sliding farther down into the overstuffed chair, she rested her head on its back and closed her eyes. So this was the result of years of work. of years of hope never broken with despairl Was this the way all dreams materialized? Was this the outcome of everyone's youthful resolutions? For the first time in her long life she allowed herself to admit failure. For wasn't it fail- ure to find oneself alone, and apparently unwanted, in Fairview Home for the Aged? Wouldn't one call it failure if one's own children neglected to come forward in time of need? Maybe she hadn't been a good mother, though Heaven knew she had tried. Maybe it was old-fashioned to rely on one's children. Was it asking too much of one's family to share their homes with her? Hadn't she shared hers with them? Tears seeped through her tightly closed lids and trickled crookedly down her cheeks. Slowly she opened her eyes and gazed into the distance. The sun. westward bound. glared through the window no longer, and the mountains were becoming purple and dusky. melting into the darkening sky. Somewhere outside a car stopped. For an instant hope soared in her heart once more but died quickly. A tired sigh escaped her: she started violently, for it was almost like voicing her defeat. But why not-what else was there to do? Hadn't Doctor West said when one was old there was little hope? Then why did she keep trying to encourage herself? Gradually her eyes closed again. and her arms lay limp and yielding. A pale moon peered bravely over the mountain and began its nocturnal ascent. A few courageous stars twinkled. for the night was dark and still. as if awaiting a storm. A soft wind swept over the land and blew wisps of gray hair across her face, but so tired was she that she did not bother to brush them back or close the window. Downstairs a young man was leaning over the matron's desk, talking quickly and earnestly in low tones. Suddenly the woman pulled open a drawer and started to run through her files. Finding the desired card, she rose and beckoned the man to follow her. They started up the stairs. The young man continued talking, only now he appeared to be pleadingl But don't you understand? Of course I received her letters, but I wanted to save it ior a surprise. Doctor West told me definitely yesterday afternoon that the operation ought to be a success. He and several other doctors had talked over all possibilities and prob- abilities and decided that there would be very little risk. Don't you see, I wanted to wait till I could send her some definite news? As it is now, I can hardly wait to tell her that we'll be able to go on that trip after all, and she'll be able to see just as well as I. The matron turned to him and smiled. She knew that he meant it, and she realized that all the miserable thoughts she had entertained about this son were wrong. This is the room. You go first. He opened the door softly and crept cautiously across the room to where the little old woman sat. Motherl I'm herel The moon had climbed one quarter of its way and was shining in upon her smiling face for a moment beiore it disappeared behind a cloud. He always said she had died smiling. because she knew in her heart that he would come. But he was wrong: she had passed on smiling at herself for foolishly hopingl Shirley Lowell. '39 Page Fifty-Six

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OUR FELINE FRIENDS Dad loves animals: I adore dogs: Mother is indifferent to the whole thing: so we have cats. We have always had cats and probably always shall. Our cats have always been thoroughly anti-social. definitely unattractive, and. with perhaps one exception, of no practical value. Cats shed hairs, scratch furniture, and yowl at the most inconvenient times. They are always in when they want to be out, and they are always out when they want to be in. Worse than anything else. they have kittens lpreferably in the parlorll. Don't you love cats? As is generally known, cats have four legs-one at each corner. Each end is filled in, either by a head or a tail. They have little bristles on either side of the nose. QFor some strange reason, they heartily aislike having these bristles disengaged.J A well known adage describes the pedal extremities of the cat as a hand of iron in a velvet glove. Nothing is truer, and the usual greeting of our sweet little puss is to plant her iron hand about two inches in our delicate tleshl Q Oh, that this too, too solid flesh would meltl J My first recollection of that noble beast, the cat. dates almost as far into the deep past as 1, myself. I see myself diving under the stove tGlenwood, 19133 where I would lie by the hour and purr with a sickly yellow specimen called Dickie. fwhere do cats get their names'l'l I once declared in company Kmuch to the consternation of Materfamiliasl that to my young land innocentll mind Dickie possessed a striking resemblance to one of the local social butterflies. But alackl Dickie met the roaring death of the gas- buggyl For weeks I daily visited his lowly grave flocated between the beets and carrots in our gardenl. I used to wonder if Dickie went to heaven: dear reader, could you enlighten me? I have always considered it a fact both remarkable and noteworthy that in our long and honorable association with the cat species we have never gone to the cats ll said catsll. but they have always come to us. Little, scrawny. tourist cats, when passing. sniff and then come in. Do you suppose it's the cabbage soup or Mother's Yardley? Such was the advent into our little household of Katze, one of the most intellectual cats I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I believe that Katze's poppa was a wild cat. because she would never tolerate my advances, nor those of practically everyone else. Dad, however, could usually entice her to his arms with a bit of salmon. I think there was chemical affinity between them. Katze's exploits as a big-game hunter seem fabulous, but I will vouch for them. Kane, single handed, would bring back fusually dead-but not alwaysl monstrous rats. chipmunks, squirrels, and, upon one glorious occasion, a rabbit. Katze had kittens annually, and she used to play a kind of game with us, by depositing them in a different locality each year. We were usually able to follow her from closet to closet, but one year she stumped us. Later it was discovered that the 1932 family fit was 1932 that yearl resided in an unused stove in the attic. The doting mother made her entrances via a stove pipel As might be expected, the offspring of this unusual cat were legion. We gave away as many as possible: the undesirable remained with us. t'l'he horrible custom of drowning little innocent kittens seems to us both barbaric and iniquitous, and we are guilty of the administration of chloroform only as a drastic measure.l For that reason, our present cat is somewhat lacking in his revered mother's sterling qualities. I have observed in all my associations with felinity a decided intellect. Our cat knows the difference between Bach and Goodman. When the classics enter our abode via the ether waves. kitty sleeps peacefully: let a iam session rage, there is a noticeable twitch of the ear. When his young mistress occasionally attacks the piano, he stalks to the door and impatiently begs to be let outl In this discourse upon the physical and moral qualities of the cat, I have endeavored to show what can best be described by the German proverb, Bei nacht sint alle Katzen grau. 0 Olive Ware, '40 Page Fatty-Eight