Bourne High School - Canal Currents Yearbook (Bourne, MA)

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LITERARY Refugee The buds were just starting to open on that beautiful May morning in 1926 when I was born. I was named Tassie, for my great-grandmother. I re- member looking at her picture, which hung in the front hall. She was a tall, stately lady with a too-firm chin and kind grey eyes. I was only seven then, but it pleased me to note that my eyes were grey too. Our home was in the residential section of London, and I think the thing that I remember most is the green lawn. All the lawns were such a beau- tiful, velvety green. How could I foresee the time when all these lawns would be nothing except a muddy, soggy hole. Once I asked our gardener why the lawns were so green. Well, now. Miss Tassie,” he said, All you have to do is to keep mowing them, watering them, and pressing them down for a few centuries and you’ll have a lawn just like we have now.” I was very ' deeply impressed by this statement, although I was only eight years old at the time. I never went to a public school, for my governess was a capable in- structor. On my tenth birthday people were beginning to talk about some person named Hitler. I asked Cook about him, but she said not to bother her when she was preparing dinner. On my thirteenth birthday Hitler was no longer an insignificant madman and on September 2, 1940, I was put on a boat headed for America — too bewildered even to cry, when I saw father and mother fading into the mist on the dock. I am going to stay in New York, but I know I won’t like it. Mother said there are no green lawns in New York. Justine Cassels, ’41. Dear America, America, 1940. Out of the dark, and into the light. Yes, dear reader, a rather funny way to begin a letter, isn’t it? Now you might be interested to know who J am. Back in the days when people worked and struggled to make a living, when there were no revolts, bombs, or warfare — that’s when I first realized the meaning of peace. You see, I am an old peasant now, born and brought up in Italy. I have always led a very simple life — as a matter of course, there being no other life to lead. One had little time to think of the future, and what one did think of was for the benefit of the family as a whole. My family and I were happy, though, just being together. When I went to school, I was very fond of writing letters — not just let- ters, but som.e that had stories to them. This is why I am writing to you, dear America. That is why — because I want you to know me as well as 1 know you. You are the beginning of a new life for me — one that will be different from that in the past. You do know why I am here? There is nothing wrong with my country — the one I once knew. Please don’t ask me about the new. I really know many things about my old” country — many beautiful things. All I want now is to carry peace in my heart, for the rest of my life — • I know I can. Please help me, America. Lovingly yours. Celeste Vercellone, ’4l. Page Thirteen

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School T ribute America! — the land where the pilgrims roamed, the land of the brave and the strong, the land I call home — I pay tribute to you. Oh, land of the free, you gave us libeny! Here, we live in a democracy never before sur- passed, where we may live in happiness and prosperity. Over there reigns dictatorship, the most despised of governments. Over there are the bleak, desolate, war-torn countries of horror and continuous fear. Let us bow our heads in prayer, that we may be able to keep our country thus. Pray that we may be able to protect our spacious fields, our great farm- lands, our prosperous cities, our magnificent bridges, but most of all, pray that we may be able to keep our country free from dictatorship; that we may retain our freedom, and our democracy. What matter our great cities or our expansive west, if we cannot be free? What is the good of schools or institutions if we must learn only things con- cerned with warfare? What good is a country, if we cannot worship and speak as we please? Oh, America, land of justice, I salute you and I pray to God that you shall thus remain forever; that our government shall continue to be for the people, by the people, and of the people”! Cora Gay, ’42 Up, up into the darkness Go the silver beams of the huge searchlights. Like translucent needles. Trying to pierce the velvet cloak of eternity. They move lightly over the blackness. Pointing out the choice jewels that adorn it. Suddenly one diamond, brighter than the rest. Starts skimming across the infinite spaces. Gropingly the great white fingers search for it. While it ducks and doubles back. Trying to elude its silvery pursuers. But finally these clever hunters find their prey And gloatingly close in around it. In the pool of light that they make We see the diamond is an airplane, not a floating star; In the deep silence we hear the drone of its motor. I turn to you and say, How beautiful it is!” But suddenly I remember that this is practice for war, Practice in order that killing will be easier. And then I hate the icy shafts Pointing up into the cold sky; They search my heart. For they may some day point at you. Dorothy Dixon, ’43 Page Twelve

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School The Dawn Of A New Life Now that I have taken out my first papers , and now that I speak the English language, my childhood, my former life over there” seems very remote. I shall not give my name, nor my native land. I might be any of a number of those foreign-looking persons you see in so many of your won- derful American cities. Even though it was twelve years ago I still remember that day when, entering New York Harbor, I also entered the dawn of a new life. I had kept very much to myself during that voyage, if you can imagine anyone keep- ing to himself on the crowded deck of the steerage class. But I was alone — I had no friends, only a cousin who was expecting me in New York. It was he who had persuaded me to come to this fine country. The day was one of those that we see only in the spring — clean, fresh air, a little crisp, but very promising, with the warm sunshine bringing out the happy side of everyone’s disposition. They had told me back home that 1 would be very lonesome in New York and I confess that I have seen New York look very bleak on a cold day in mid-winter, but my first impression of New York was that of a friendly city, full of opportunity, just begging to be lived in. As I saw the people on the docks hurrying to and fro about their work I felt that tight, bound feeling gradually leave me, and a warmth and sense of freedom creep over my entire body. It was a sensation few of us over there” had ever experienced — that joy — that zest for living. It made me want to tell someone — so I did! There was a little boy standing next to me with his mother. I told them who I was and that I had a cousin there in New York waiting for me. They jabbered back at me several words that I did not understand, but I could not mistake their meaning. They, too, were experiencing the joy I felt. We smiled at each other, and talked, each in a different language, but with perfect understanding. Then came a little sadness. At Ellis Island we awaited inspection and we saw some of our steamer-mates rejected, and it made us very sad to see them so unhappy. Fortunately, I had led a rugged life and my condition was satisfactory so I was at last permitted to enter New York. After some dif- ficulty I found my cousin — or rather he found me, standing on one of the docks, just staring at all the wonders that surrounded me. He spoke in my native tongue and told me that I must learn to talk English as he did and to dress as he was dressed. He did look very nice in that faded-blue work shirt and slightly soiled trousers! That was all twelve years ago. That was for me the dawn of a new exist- ence whose beauties amaze me still, though I am now nearing the sunset of life. Since then I have mastered, bit by bit, the English language; I have grown to understand little Americanisms that at first puzzled and frightened me. The way you Americans ride underground seemed like a horror of one of the countries over there”, but when I had grown accustomed to the noise, I, too, enjoyed the benefit of the subway. Oh, I have learned a lot since I came to this country and I have made many friends. A lot of my friends are police- men, too, and some of the nicest men you would care to meet. In the little neighborhood where I now live one can hear dialects of all parts of the world, but everywhere we are really, in our hearts, Americans, no matter w ' hat the color of our skin may be, for the ideals we believe in are the same. Ruth Brownson, ’41. Page Fourteen