Ashland High School - Echoes Yearbook (Ashland, ME)

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Sometimes I think of the supersti- tions concerning farming, such as plant- ing potatoes when the moon is in a cer- tain phase, or digging them when it is in another. Sometimes I laugh at the superstitions and sometimes I wonder if they should be believed, or at least half believed. Ithink of my Dad's farm and the things he has done to it, and how far it has progressed. I think of the new truck we bought just recently, and feel very proud that through honest work and labor we get new trucks, better homes, running water, and new school houses. When I think of our government, with its good and bad points, I realize that we must not let the threat of Com- munism sweep over us. We must keep our government democratic. I used to think that one person, such as I, couldn't make any difference in the way our government was run. Now, I feel differently, because I know that my vote in a presidential election or a local election will mean as much as anyone's. A. BRAGDON '50 WHAT GENDER? Well, isn't it sweet? Isn't it cute? Cold stone deaf And just as mute. In other words it Must be dead- That poor small flea in Rover's bed. SANDRA BELYEA '53 GIRLS Girls are beautiful but not so bright They walk in beauty, like the nightg They are always wearing powder and paint To make th-em look like what they ain't. They are always asking, Are my seams straight? And do you think my hair looks all right ? They are so stupid, but still so bright They can snag a man without any bait. NORMAN TUCKER. '52 EXAMS Mr. McLaughlin has announced, That nine-week exams are here, So each night I take books home, To no avail, I fear. For just as I have settled down, And opened up a book, In come my little brothers Playing cops and crooks. My papers get all scatered, My erasers disappear, I lose the place in my book And wipe away a tear. So, if I flunk my nine-week tests 'Don't put the blame on me, Just blame those little monsters, For driving me cra-zy. MARILYN BERRY '52 THIS COULD HAPPEN TO AMERICA Perry watched from the deck of the U.S.S. Juliana until all he could see was a tiny black speck in the distance. This tiny speck was his home country of Bel- gium, which he would probably never see again. As the cold wind raced around him he felt a surge of homesickness and ex- citement sweep through him. You see, Perry was leaving Belgium to come to America and live with an aunt. He really couldn't remember many happy events in Belgium though, it was war- war. His childhood had been a maze of fear. His father was killed early in the war and Perry had nothing but a vague remembrance of him. Now his mother was gone too. She had worked endless- ly in a war-torn city, trying to make a living for herself and her small son. Work, strain and hunger had drawn her away. Now Perry was on his way to live with an aunt in America. America-what would this land be like? His mother had sometimes told him about the beautiful land of free- dom, across the ocean and he had thought that it would be wonderful if someday he and his mother could go there. Now he was going alone, he had no relatives, except an aunt, whom he had never seen.

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FLYING SAUCER Look! Away off there in the distance, Very few of us understand its existence. It dips and climbs and glides Accelerates, and stops and slides. Men drop their work and rush To view the object with a quiet hushg Its then that their women-folk get crosser At their silly antics as they gaze at the flying saucer. BLAKE BARTLETT '51 National Poetry Association. SPRINGTIME God created springtime for lovers No one can deny this. He made each little detail As sweet as a lover's kiss. He wove a spell of magic With illusions and expectancy, And filled all hearts with yearning For their true love to be. He took two lonely hearts And awakened them-such bliss, God made the spring of beauty As sweet as a lover's kiss. MARILYN BERRY '52 National Poetry Association SUMMER IN MAINE When I get up in the morning The dew is on the grass, I stand in the doorway crooning For summer has come at last. Cows are in the meadowg trout are in the streamg Deer feeding in the forest-Is it all a dream? When evening shadows are falling And there's nothing more to do The whip-poor-wills are calling, For the long, long day is thrcugh. BETTY Howss '51 National Poetry Association STORMY NIGHT Mom and Dad were at the moviesg the children were all in bed. Oh! how comfortable I was. I was sitting in the big chair, in front of the fireplace, in the living room. I was listening to a very interesting murder mystery and I was trying to study English at the same time. Outside a storm was raging and as the sleet pounded against the window- panes I felt very glad to be safe in my own hlome. Burr!! The thought of it all made me shiver. The story on the radio was getting quite exciting. The robbers had escaped! I was frozen to my chair! I couldn't move! I listened again-and then I heard it! Somebody was up- stairs! I could hear the heavy footsteps directly above my head! I had to do something! Then I thought of the back stairs and decided to try them. I was frantic! I crawled easily .up over the stairs. All I could hear now was my heart pounding heavily in my ears. When I finally reached the top of the stairs I heard the footsteps again. It sounded as if they were down the front stairs. I paused for a second to catch my breath and muster up a little more courage. Suddenly I thought of mv baby sister downstairs! I had to do something! I started for Dad's room to get the gun. When I returned the noise had ceased. Now I was really in sus- pense! I tip-toed down the stairs and there before me was my little brother, yawning sleepily and yelling I want a drink of water! I. DAMBOISE '52 A PENNY FOR YOUR THOUGHTS I often find my thoughts wanderinfr. especially from school work, to different scenes. Sometimes I think of the far- away places I have never seen, and I have a moment's regret when I think that unless a miracle happens I'll never see them. Then I think of the farm I hope to own someday, and the modern machin- ery I hope to have, of the new converti- ble I want, and the potatoes I'll raise to feed some big city. I often think of the rotating plan of crops. of how helpful it is to the mod- ern farmer and how it differs from the ways of farming two hundred years ago. That part of history, which im- presses me most is the part which tells primitive ways of farming.

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Perry is just one of thousands of war refugees who have no families and who have been left to -make their own way in the world. It happened that Perry was one of the fortunate ones who was able to come to America and start life an-ew in a country of free enterprise. The others who remain in the war-to-rn lands, will grow up with hate in their minds, because they've known nothing but hate, fear and abuse. They won't have the opportunity for an education and they will be an easy prey for any kind of dictatorship or totalitarian gov- ernment, that sweeps their way. War is crippling civilization and creating people who think of nothing but war. No sooner is one arm-ed con- test over than unrest rages again and everyone talks of another war. A next war will do no good because it will end, no doubt, without having ac- complished anything. High-er education and a chance for people to see what freedom and free -enterprise are like, would be a much better way of avoiding war. If this can be accomplished there will be no more little boys like Perry and the many others, whose country is a battleground. If this cannot be accomplished there may not be a Land of Liberty to come to next time. SHIRLEY KIRK '51 THE INSPIRATION OF THE CROSS Susan Peters dropped the book she was reading and turned off the radio. She turned her wheel-chair around and look-ed out of the double windows of the Peters' living room. As she gazed, she could see the same buildings and scenes she had seen for several weeks now. In fact, it was ever since the plane crash. She was thinking, what if she had to stay in that wheel-chair for years, and looked at the same things all the time. When Dr. Morgan came in this after- noon, she was going to make him t ll her whether she would ever walk again. But she was determined that she must walk again. She had prayed and prayed about it ever since she had re- gained consciousness after the plane crash. Her faith in God was so sure- He would not fail her in her need. She could see her brother's new build- ing not far from her window and the big sign on the top that read Gregory Peters, Radio Shop. Susan's mother came in with her drawing pencils and pad and put them on the table beside her. She start-ed to take them out but she couldn't sketch now. She had promised Greg that she would draw a sketch of his new build- ing to hang in his office. It seemed to her that Greg was too much wrapped up in his work and spiritual things were slowly fading away. What could she do to help Greg regain his lost faith 'Z Just then, Dr. Morgan walk-ed in. Be- fore he had time to take his coat off, she asked him if she would ever walk again. Taking his time and making no answer, Dr. Morgan slowly removed his overcoat and sat down in the easy chair. I'll never walk again. Is that why you don't answer '? asked Susan. Dr. Morgan looked all around and then admired one of her pictures she had drawn, that was hanging on the wall. He said that if she kept on, striving for depth of perception, she would be a wonderful artist some day. Then he looked directly at Susan and told her bluntly that he didn't know whether she would ever walk again. He said that he had hoped to have good news for her, but that possibility seemed remote, now. He had asked a specialist, Dr. Henderson, to come and see her. When the Doctor had gone, Susan picked up her Bible and tried to read. How could she read when hope was gone and such a dark future loomed ahead? Dr. Morgan was only wasting his time. Dr. Henderson would only tell her the same thing--she would never walk again. Picking up her pencil and paper, she decided that she would draw a night scene with a black background. She tried hard, but it just wouldn't come out the way she wanted it. A week later, it