Bancroft School - Blue Moon Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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THE BLUE MOON 39 Great-uncle Howard walks into a room, and with a quick glance takes in everyone. If someone fails at the first instant to make introductions, he loudly calls for someone to please introduce him. With a slow movement, so unlike his brisk walk, he eases himself into the most comfortable chair. Placing his feet together and sitting bolt upright against the back, he stiffly beats a continual noiseless tattoo with his unusually long and pointed fingers upon the arms of the chair. Toward the end of a long evening, his busy fingers stop, his feet fall apart, and he drops off into slumber. For he is an old man. CHRISTINE NYE HAVILIAND, 1932 ON ATTEMPTING TO RETIRE EARLY AT WHAT time should we retire? The decision is one which every indi- vidual must make, and which is often disregarded with an excuse of doubtful importance. To the little tot, scrambling over the side of his painted crib into a sea of white sheets, six o'clock means the unavoidable end of the day, and seldom is he afforded the treat of a few extra minutes. An hour later, an older child lays his weary head upon the pillow, and waits for the sand-man to transport him to the land of dream fairies. So each new year ushers in a new bed-time until We take our place As men and women in the race and sleepy-time comes to us according to our ways of life. I can still recall my six o'clock age and the pink and white nursery where I passed my hours of repose. The leaping black and white puppies pictured on the round rugs, the chubby dimpled dolls in their tiny white beds with a pile of white organdie laid out for morning at their feet, the white table with six chairs around it for six china occupants, and upon it six miniature cups from the pale blue china tea-set with the picturesque f1gures-- all these were part of my six o'clock life. Every night I had to perform the same operation of putting all my toys away solemnly and methodically, while my mother stood beside me patiently, but at last resorted to picking them up herself, a recourse with which I loudly disagreed. Next, to delay the procedure, I could always find some book or fluffy Teddy Bear out of place, or one doll that wanted me to tuck her in, and kiss her good-night, Coaxing was of no avail, until the master of the house appeared. He made short work of good- nights. At one clap of his big strong hands, there was a scrambling to hide under the warm pink covers and feign sleepy innocence, a hasty prayer, two good-night kisses, a window opened - then darkness and quiet. When I was a child, I spake as a child ..... when I became a man I put away childish things. I have put away my childish things, but still bed-

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THE BLUE MOON 41 time looms up too soon of an evening. I have long since passed the six o'clock age, and have attained the zero hour of ten, unknown in former days: and yet it is no easier to stop my work of the day. With firm resolution I start the evening. At nine o'clock I have only started my book, and at nine-thirty its interest has claimed me. At the end of the last chapter I said that I had time for just one more, but I must see how D'Artagnan returns from England: and so it goes. If not a book, then a report. or an unexpected telephone call, or a pair of dirty shoes, by or mending left for several days, abbreviates my sleep. Am I possessed with a little black spirit, whose hand is raised against the hour of ten? Perhaps he is responsible for making my evenings as enjoyable as they are, in order to alleviate my natural desire for rest, For, Was never evening yet But seemed far beautifuller than its day. The warm iireside, a cozy room shadowed by soft lights, a strain of magic melody, the presence of loved ones - this is Milton's grateful ev'ning mild, Another solution of my nightly procrastination is a human desire for the 'Afruit of that forbidden tree. Just as seven o'clock was an unexplored and coveted hour in my six o'clock age, so eleven is for should bej in my ten o'clock age. Does it present any unusual opportunity, which makes it so appealing? Not so: it is only coveted, like most of life's pleasures, because it is precluded, and, when it becomes a possession, it loses its lure. Thus might I keep rambling on, had I not glanced at a timepiece a moment ago, and seen how near to the top the hands have traveled. The little black imp is hard on my trail, but this time he has used the new device of composi- tion to stay me. However, I beg forgiveness to-night, because the culprit is, in truth, the person who gave me such a prolonged assignment. ELIZABETH Wooo, 1932 DISILLUSIONMENT SOME one there was, a star to me, Which shone and sparkled in the night, More bright than any other I could see. It fell, trailing a whitish lane, And left a black and lone expanse. Will ever star shine forth so bright again? ELIZABETH WOOD, 1932