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

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School Brotherly Love Dick Strode into the house, from an afternoon of hunting, with the same usual stride of contentment; and tossed his ducks on the kitchen table. At once Sis flared up and yelled, Get those nasty old ducks out of here, Dick, or I’ll tell Mother!” Dick laughed right out loud at her and naturally she got angrier. Why, Sis,” he exclaimed, I feel greatly hurt to think you don’t appreciate this small gift I hunted all P. M. to get for you.” Oh, you hateful brother,” she screamed, and dashed from the room. A teasing smile at once covered Dick’s face, and unwillingly he disappeared, with the ducks, out the back door. As soon as Sis cooled off,” she acquired the same gleeful tittitude, and peacefully and earnestly continued preparing dinner. When Mother and Dad had returned from the office and we all were busily eating, Dick suddenly asked to be excused as though he had forgotten something. Mother agreed and he dashed up towards his room. A few moments later he appeared and in his hand he held a neatly wrapped and tied box. Well, Sis,” he apologetically replied, I hope you’ll like this one!” and proudly pass- ed the box to her. A queer, puzzling smile lighted her face, and, thanking him, she opened the package. Within the wrappings she beheld a costly 5 pound box of chocolates. Why, Dick,” Mother at once asked, What’s come over you?” Oh, Sis will explain,” he carelessly said. Oh, Dick, you old darling! All I can say is — You’re ' Swell’!” Esther Davis, ’42 Retreat in Spring Each year as the cold white snow ' s of winter blend aw ay into spring, I drive far into the deep, dark woods af Maine to a little hamlet known as Rattlesnake Rapids. From there I go by canoe down the bounding, blue waters of the Rattlesnake River. There, shores are lined with spruce and cedar making a solid bank of dark luxuriant green, broken only by the sharply contrasting white birches, majestic and tall. There winter lenticels show as spots of black giving the impression of an ermine coat, a fitting garment for such a kingly tree. I come after a while to what appears to be but a mere crack in the luxuriant foliage so peculiar to the north. But , as I come nearer I see that it is actually a small brook barely twice as wide as the canal. After several hours of fighting airrent in that clear cold, bubbling mountain brook, the brook seems to widen out into a miniature lake, the fisherman’s, or for that matter any nature lover’s, pa adise. The lake is bounded on one side by a clearing reaching back several hundred feet. On the other sides it is bounded by maples just budding out in preparation for the summer ahead. In the distance, on the crest of Red Fox Mountain, which for my own personal rea- sons I call Mount Beautiful, the waters of my Beautiful Brook hurl themselves as if in suicide ofif the precipice onto the rocks below. I pitch my tent in the clearing and unpack my supplies. For a week I stay here fishing, resting, drinking in the beauty of my surroundings. For a week I live, and sleep, and eat with God and enjoy His clean, pure air, and drink in His bright, clean sunshine and enjoy the beauty created by Him. Then I must return, up the swiftly flowing Rattlesnake River, by modern means to an ugly, gray, cold, unattractive city which we call Modern”. But, as for me, let me live in the great outdoors, God’s masterpiece in art. Bernard Stockley, ’43 Page Seventeen

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School Shopping With The Fairer Sex Fellows, if you w ' ant to spend about three hours in torture, go shopping with your sister when she wants to buy a new hat. How does this black one look, Ken? I take a quick glance at the hat my sister has carefully set on her head and mumble a few words of praise hoping that she will buy the bonnet so we can go home. I don’t know just which one I want, they’re all so nice.” Yes, they are very nice. Sis, but please buy one. You have tried on twenty different types now.” Oh, you’re in too much of a hurry. This is the last time you’ll come shopping with me.” Then my sister extends her hand and picks up another hat; and then I knoiv I’ll never go shopping with her again. Glancing down at my watch I note we have been in this hat shop exactly an hour and a half and there is no sign of my sister’s buying any special derby. The sales clerk brings out five more boxes: Here are some of the very latest models. Miss. I’m sure you’ll like one of these.” There is a funny glint in his eye and I know he wants to make a sale as quickly as I’d like to see one made. My sister tries on all five of them and arrives at no conclusion as to which of the twenty-five hats she wants. Please, Sis, as a personal favor to me, buy one of these hats.” But I don’t know which one I want. Shall I look at some more?” The answer to this question fairly leaps from my mouth: No, there are 25 different kinds of hats in front of you now. For gosh sakes, buy one! ' My sister glances over the lot of hats and I hope and pray she selects one of them. Her eyes linger on one special hat, so I jump at the chance I’ve been waiting two hours for. I pick up the hat and set it carefully on her head. Gee, Sis, that’s a wonderful hat. Why, it looks perfect on you.” I guess my sister must be a sucker for flattery because she falls for my gag. You know. Sis, that’s the only hat I’ve seen of this type. It looks as though it was made for you.” That statement closes the deal. My sister says the four words I’ve been waiting hours to hear. I’ll buy this one.” The clerk quickly wraps up the hat and gives it to my sister. I knov then that he is afraid she’ll change her mind! Then, as though we had rehearsed a little act, the clerk and I both wipe the sweat from our foreheads and heave a sigh of relief. Kenneth Young, ’42. Mr. Blackwell Views the Political Situation Well, Mr. Willkie does not have to feel too bad about losing because in 1944 he can vote for Mr. Roosevelt (still running) and then be on the winning side. Clarence Blackwell, ’41 Page Sixteen

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School The Meeting The room was one of a great number that were secreted in the Third Reich headquarters scattered throughout the great Rhineland.” Bright glar- ing light poured down into every corner and every shadowed part of the room. It pointed out that the square cage-like room was bare except for the few necessary chairs with built up partitions between them. These seats were built so that each individual one shut off its occupant in an empty space of sharp light, alone from the rest of the room. However, there was no real con- cealment in the room. The bright light penetrated any hopefully darkened spot, even seeming to pierce the thoughts of the room’s two occupants. They sat, one in a partitioned seat on each side of the room. Each had en- tered the room at a different time. Once having been placed in their imprison- ing chairs they had become immersed in their thoughts, oblivious to anything else. The bright light fell upon them but in no way could it shine through the thoughts of either the well dressed, quiet, apparently well-educated man nor the ordinary, citizen-like man. The apparently educated man sat on the right of the miserly opening that was a door. He was well-dressed. His natural body sat quietly; his expressive hands at rest in his lap; his marvelous face was covered by a peaceful mask. This marvelous face had softening and un- derstanding lines over its solid Frankish surface; lines that come only when a man has studied, then met the world, and found it truly deep yet lightly amusing. He was calm and prepared. The citizen -like man was seated in one of the partitioned chairs across from him. His rugged body was clothed in ordinary, every-day clothes. From his tanned hardened face with its topping thatch of light Frankish hair glanced lively blue eyes with faint crinkling lines about them, lines that came from meeting the every day world and finding it satisfactory. A preoccupied air was about him; a rather hopeful look on his face. No, the light could not pierce their thoughts. Yet, their thoughts thun- dered through their individual minds with an almost uncontrollable intensity. The quiet, seemingly magnetic man on the right of the door was thankful he had done his duty. Ach! he did not care a bit about his fate. What did that matter. God only grant him sufficient physical power not to disclose his secret, at any cost. A man’s mind can withhold information no matter what physical pressure is brought upon him. Had not he found and searched out further the capacities of the human mind? Now all his life’s work was in good hands; neutral hands; not in the maddened hands of war-stimulated men. Ah! it was good that he had been so fortunate to be able to serve his fellowmen and to pass his work safely on to them. That was all thanks to that chap who had been more loyal to mankind on the whole than to Herr Leader” and his gang. Ach! but he would like to know ' what had become of that chap after the S. S. had taken him away. Would he admit the reason for the disturbance he had caused as a ruse for the work he himself had been doing? If he could only know that the chap was going to face the consequences that he must have realized he was taking upon himself when he had aided him, for he was knowm by all to be the doctor who had rendered invaluable research brain service to humanity. Mein Gott!” then he could easily sacrifice his life; if he only knetv the cause would be saved! Page Eighteen