Bellingham High School - Epilogue Yearbook (Bellingham, MA)

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The school orchestra strangely took pos¬ session of our thoughts once again and led them clearly through our last year of high school. Every little detail of that year stood plainly before us, but particularly the most important ones. How fortunate we were to be given Miss Mahoney as our class advisor. Under her supervision we selected our last class officers. Norman Belcher, president— Mary Foley, vice-president — Constance Codin, secretary and Helen Buckley as treasurer. We studied hard for several months until talk about the Christmas Dance interrupted this scholarly silence. With the generous interest of the lower classmen we conducted a successful dance. Realizing that our funds were not suf¬ ficient for meeting the expenses of Gradu¬ ation Week , we decided to conduct several affairs. The most successful ones were the Defense Bond Raffle, Whist Party and Beano. Finally, the great problem of the Epilogue confronted us. Our busy fingers flew from one typewriter key to the other forming memories that would some day bring us happiness. The final exams were here and’ with them appeared the long and rocky road of study. All frolicking and fooling were put aside for a week of seemingly hard and tedious work. As the music approached its climatic beauty we could visualize ourselves tak ng a firm grip on our goal—OUR DIPLOMA Then came our final social of our high school life. The Senior Hop! The soft rustle of the evening gowns easily could have been mistaken for gentle summer zephyers that accompanies a beautiful garden setting. Such a setting was accomplished by the capable hands of the decorating committee. The highlights of the evening were c mmed as we sorrowfully sang our Alma Mater Song, but this sorrow was strangely mingled with the joy of memories to come. These four years of hard work combined with happiness are gone forever, but the spirit which was born within these years will live in the hearts of every one of us, and will lead us toward a path that is now buried under the turmoil and destruction of war. However, we will give to the future all that she may need to help make the way clear again so that all paths leading toward her will be those of freedom and happiness. We, the students of the class of 1942, are the first to achieve the whole four years of high school education in Bellingham High School; consequently, we are the leaders of a great line of graduates to come. May we always prove ourselves worthy of this great honor. As the years go by, may an occasional glance at our Class History bring forth in our memories a spark of happiness and a secret longing for the years that had such a great part in making us the kind of Americans that America sants! GMcc @Lrr i er, — —

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Glass Gtistorij As the orchestra began to play the march that would rhythmatically beat out the his¬ tory of our class, marching feet could be heard coming closer and closer to the stage. This was the class of 1942, the class which had four years ago began high school with strange and puzzled minds. The music from the orchestra seemed to harmonize perfectly with the thoughts of the Seniors. Swiftly they recalled the important events that made each year of high school out¬ standing. Our Freshmen year could be compared to the Call to Arms , that was being musically portrayed by the school orchestra. As we advanced into high school life we elected our first class officers under the supervision of Mr. Keough. Fernand Croteau was elected president, Juliette Collamati— vice-president, Constance Codin—secretary and Romeo Sweck as treasurer. Long will we remember the never-ending periods of Ancient History while other mem¬ ories portraying the adventures of the brave Ivanhoe of Literature will always stand out in our mind. As the rhymic beat of the music swiftly changed to a sharp staccato, our thoughts just as swiftly leaped to the following Sep¬ tember where as Sophomores, we found our¬ selves rushing lickety-split into room ten. Miss Ward quickly calmed us down long enough to select our class officers for the coming year. Kadzemiez Michalowski was elected president, Mary Foley—vice-pre¬ sident, Romeo Sweck— secretary and the late Irene Drapeau as treasurer. Soon the time arrived to choose our class rings. How happy we were to show the other students our choice. As the days passed on our debits and credits in Bookkeeping seem¬ ed to balance more frequently, while the nouns and pronouns in Latin became more familiar to us. Even the speed and accuracy, so needed in typing, was begin¬ ning to enter our fingers. High school sub¬ jects were not so hard after all! We all looked forward with excitement and anxiety to our first dance, the Valentine Dance. With plenty of encouragement from the upper-classmen combined with the hard work of our own classmates the dance turned out to be a huge success. Faintly now, we could hear the simple tunes streaming forth from the orchestra. These simple tunes were introducing strong and forceful measures which would reflect our approaching year of high school, the Junior year. The year which would reach the climatic point in our school work and in this way forming the back-bone of our education. Of course, we would not have realized this important moment so keenly without the wise advise of Mr. Granger. Mr. Granger, being our class advisor was the greatest help our class had to reach the goal that was now drawing closer. After considerable thought toward the more cap¬ able members of the class, Romeo Collamati was elected president, Juliette Collamati, vice-president—Lenore DeJony, secretary and Normand Bel isle, treasurer. Plans for a Halloween Dance were soon underway. The profitable returns from this dance rewarded us for our hard work. Soon the Junior Prom was being thought over, very casually at first, but as time fled by our thoughts began to materalize. Dia¬ grams were designed by the head of the decorating committee and tickets were printed. Everybody was busy doing some kind of work. On the night of May 2nd, 1941, the veil of industry lifted and behold! there before us was the finished product. A hall beautifully decorated with maypole, streamers, and maybaskets and a happy group of young people dancing to the music of Harington ' s New Englanders .

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Glass (Prook ropnecij As I sat in the heat of my hotel room that June day, my thoughts wandered back to the day of my graduation from Bellingham High School. The events of that day stood out clearly in my mind as I wandered list¬ lessly to the window and gazed at the mil¬ ling throngs below. What had become of my former classmates? was the question uppermost in my thoughts. How pleasant it would be if I could see them now. How¬ ever, even these thoughts failed to relieve me of my discomfort. I set out for the beach where I hoped to find a cool place to rest. I finally found a secluded spot on the shore beneath the shade of a huge palm tree. I took the car robe from the trunk and carefully spread it out on the sandy beach and lay down. Lulled by the soft lapping of the sea on the shore, I soon drifted off into the arms of Morpheus. A cool breeze seemed to awaken me. With a shiver I sat up and looked around with awe. I was floating in the air among the fleecy clouds. The robe which I had so carefully spread out on the beach was now carrying me through the air at a fast rate of speed. I looked around in despair. Where was I, and where was I going? Presently I passed over a ballfield and in the pitcher ' s box I saw Norman Belcher standing straight and tall. He was playing with the undefeated Boston Red Sox. How cool and calm he was in handling that siz¬ zling pellet. Even such noteworthy old- timers as Ted Williams, Jimmy Foxx, and the DiMaggio Brothers were held spell¬ bound by the delivery of the man on the mound. Well, at least my travels were going to be pleasant, I thought. As I breezed by the reporter ' s box, I noticed that Lucien Brunetti, renowned sports writer was getting first-hand informa¬ tion for his sports column in the New York Times. Leaving the ballfield behind I saw in the distance what appeared to be an open-air concert hall. My earnest desire to go in that direction made me aware that by deep concentration I could control the course and speed of my aerial sailboat. I steered in the direction of the band stand which was sur¬ rounded by an admiring group. I was just in time to hear Billie Buckley and his Bugle Boy Band go into their last number. This number, I learned, was one of Billie ' s own compositions called You ' ll Be Sorry! . I next sailed away in the direction of a four-lane state highway and ahead I noticed a streamlined sports roadster. I strained all my powers of concentration for sufficient speed to overtake the car. How on earth can there be such speed? I asked myself. I found my answer in the driver who was non other than Romeo Sweck. Romeo just recently has attained the coveted position as State Speed Regulator. Since his appoint¬ ment, all speed limitations have been abolished. Unwilling to compete with such speed, I veered to the right over a wooded section and soon I came to the entrance of a huge hospital. The hospital motto stood out clearly in large letters on the front of the entrance All Mental and Physical Ills Cured . Proceeding along at third story level, I saw Lenore de Jony comforting the pain-racked patients who looked trustingly up at her from their small wooden beds. A loud backfire in this quiet hospital zone attracted my attention to the drive below. The source of the noise was an outmoded car of faded blue. There beside the raised hood of the motor stood super-mechanic Claire Fitzpatrick. Claire, as I understand it, took up the solving of the intricacies of the motor car after she failed to get farther than Medway in her cross-country tour. There she stood with a puzzled look on her face. I wonder if it could have been one of the tires, she said.