Bancroft School - Blue Moon Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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THE BLUE MOON 37 the nightmare really happened. After a short lapse of time, you enjoy the pleasant fading back into oblivion. A drawback for slightly plump people is the fact that before going to bed is the worst time to eat if you intend to stay thin. Still worse is the reaction of your parents who are provoked, when awak- ing in the morning, to find the ravages done by the feasters. Mother worries about the effect of the food on your stomach and father thinks of the loss of his pet cheese. They cannot understand an appetite like yours. In spite of all this. there is no hour so good for the pardonable sin of gluttony as bed-time. CHRISTINE NYE HAVILAND, 1932 A BOHEMIAN NEW ENGLANDER WHEN you meet Great-uncle Howard, he kisses your hand. Your first sensation is one of bewilderment and surprise. Most of us have never had our hands kissed. We have watched fair ladies of the screen and stage having this honor bestowed upon them, with secret admiration for the pomp and dignity of our grandmother's day, We modern ladies believe ourselves too matter of fact to enjoy such a romantic tribute. When we meet a man, we are satisfied if he nods his head, shakes our hand. and says, 'iHowdiyado or Pleasedtamecha. Uncle Howard's way of making our acquaintance far surpasses other methods. This great-uncle of mine resembles the pictures one sees of French diplo- mats. He is less than medium height and carries himself with a ruler-like straightness to make himself seem taller. Startling and yet fascinating are his little pointed imperial and his long drooping moustache, above which pro- trudes a long, thin, and slightly aquiline nose. His lips are always parted to talk or smile, showing remarkably white teeth for a man of nearly seventy. His eyes are the blue of a hard and cynical character: but the manner in which they regard the world is wistful and dreamy, as if at his great age he felt that life had been kind, but there were still some dreams of his boyhood to come true. The top of his head is bare, egglike, and rosy in hue, and is fringed with white hair. What can be seen of the baby-like skin of his face matches the shade of his head. He is always methodically dressed. On Sundays he wears a double-breasted blue serge suit with high yellow shoes, black cotton stockings, a wing collar, and black tie. Then with bowler, cane, and a dark blue top-coat with a velvet collar, he sets out for church. Week days we see him sporting brown shoes. black stockings, the same derby and cane, and another double-breasted suit of a mottled brown mixture. Topping all is a gay-ninety collar and a vivid red tie.

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36 THE BLUE MOON ON EATING AT BED-TIME HAVE an inexplicable passion for eating between the nocturnal hours of ten and two. To me, there is nothing more dissatisfying than to go to bed hungry. One fascinating part of this extra meal is that there are so many things you can eat at night which you did not have room for before - cream cheese, cold stuffed peppers, a turkey leg, a tomato sandwich, a glass of milk-it is possible for me to enumerate indefinitely. The food you choose for this snack depends on the time of year and what you have been doing, If you have been out in the cold and it is late, I advise, from personal experience, that you have hot milk and some delicious looking food that should be served warm, such as cold rare steak, ham with piles of mustard, a greasy lamb chop, or a chicken limb. Then for a kind of dessert, which you have the privilege of eating before the main course, a piece of mince pie, some crispy fresh ginger snaps, a few sweet p-ickles, or jello. I hate jello. That is, at meals. But irrational as it may seem, in the wee small hours jello tastes like another food. Somehow it loses all of its stiff formal manner of the dinner table and becomes more gracious -- even seduct- ive-and lures you into the sin of gluttony. It melts in your mouth, leaving a sweet nondescript taste on the tongue. It slips its way down to your stomach, and a delicious cold feeling follows in the narrow path behind it. Then it snuggles coyly into the hungry crevices. In the summer, eating before retiring has not half the thrill. The soothing things to eat are not so intriguing. In the first place, it is too hot to eat most of the foods I have mentioned. Ginger ale, orangeade, or lemonade. and cookies, cakes, or pies blend well with the atmosphere. Where and how you eat, adds to the enjoyment. If youtare all alone, get your eatables, take a hot bath, and crawl into bed with a mystery story. Be sure to open your window, and if it is winter, you will have the pleasure of trying to keep the covers over you while you read and eat at the same time. If you have insomnia, by the time you have finished eating you are too worn out to continue reading. If you have a friend staying the night with you or any bothersome brothers and sisters, gather them all together and raid the pantry. Then adjourn to the living room, spilling crumbs for mother to scold about in the morning. Manners do not count. If you want to eat steak or pie in your fingers, no one will stop you. There are no Worries about which fork to use or about polite conversation. Everyone is at his full ease. The pleasure of this gluttony is immense. The effects are tremendous: tremendously evil. You dream -your dreams are sometimes pleasant, but more often they are horrible, all about tigers and lions chasing one off high cliffs. The fear of them! - then to wake up and lie trembling, wondering if

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38 THE BLUE MOON Great-uncle Howard was born in the proper town of Bath, New Hamp- shire. At the age of seventeen, he left this dead village and went to Dart- mouth College. Of this fact he is very proud, and he has never been known to miss a class reunion. Ever since I can remember, this illustrious gentleman has been living from September to July in a studio in Greenwich Village, where he sells books for a publishing house. This studio has one room, a bath, and a kitchen., I am told by his wife, Minnie, that this winter home is so dirty that she refuses to live there. In fact, in winter she insists on going South. Uncle Howard defends himself on this matter. Minnie is unfair to me, he says. How could I keep my two angora kittens in a filthy home? Once a week I wash this floor myself, on my hands and knees. Then I dust and wash the dishes too-all because of my kittens, Ethelbert and Miss Plani, who after their weekly baths insist on rolling on the floor. So you see I must keep my house clean. Every summer from July to September, Aunt Minnie and the two cats live with him in the ancestral home. As he owns no car, the pussies travel to Bath in wicker baskets, mewing incessantly and indignantly under his seat on the train. I am told that Ethelbert lgwho has attained the noble and enfeebling age of thirteenj, hides when wicker baskets are produced. Uncle Howard has four hobbies, his writings, his genealogy, his Greater Gramercy Club, and his harmonica. One cannot say that he is an excellent harmonicist. But one can say that his music is pleasing to the ear. His tunes are far from modern or classic. the most often heard numbers being Little Brown Jug and Turkey in the Straw. As for writing, he is more clever telling his stories than writing them down. He is an inveterate talker. In that way he reminds me of Coleridge, because it is possible for him to talk in his mellow voice hours on end without becoming a bore. Occasionally ambition overtakes him, and he writes a short story or poem which is published in some obscure magazine. The Greater Gramercy Club is well known by successful and unsuccessful artists and poets, shop girls and millionaires, janitors and society leaders, alike. The rules are strict. Uncle Howard, as everyone calls him, must always be president: to be admitted to the club one must cross the threshold of the studio: the initiation is being fed fried chicken and waffles by Uncle Howard: there are no dues. After observing the above rules one becomes a life member. Talking about his genealogy is his one bad fault. When Uncle Howard was visiting us this year, he met a man who had the same name as his, Clark. His first salutation after the introduction was Do you know any Clark genealogy? At this greeting Mr. Clark was amazed and replied, UNO, I'm afraid I don't. That was not enough to satisfy Uncle Howard. Immediately he went into ecstasies about historic Clarks, beginning with 1600 A.D.