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

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School my voice and said, People Will Say Were in Love.” They sang it, and how! 1 thanked them and shakily walked on. I finally reached the grocery and still in a trance, I went in and up to the counter. But instead of our grouchy old grocer standing there, there stood Helmut Dantine! I was supposed to get some liver, but who can talk about liver with Dantine around! I managed to gasp out the words, take my change and liver, to go stumbling out. As I passed the post-office, I went in to see if there was any main. There was, so I went over to the window and who should wait on me but the lovely red-headed Greer Garson. This was too much. I grabbed the mail, ran out, and started for home lickety split. I began to think I was crazy and my nerves were all shot. As I ran up the road, a car came up along side of me and slowed down. The door nearest me opened and a masculine voice inquired, Would you like a lift, young lady. ” 1 stopped. I knew that voice!! Hadn ' t 1 heard it hundreds of times before! I looked at the speaker — straight into the face of Walter Pidgeon! I thought, I really am crazy,” and let out a shriek. But no, it wasn’t my scream I heard, but the ringing of the bell, which meant that third period was over. No wonder I don’t know anything about Hamlet! Edith Haslam, ’45 TONIGHT FOR ALWAYS Tonight as I sit by my window And gaze at the stars far above I am basked with the silvery moonlight And o’erwhelmed by the beauty of love. I pray, as I watch with amazement The wonder of God’s glorious night. That He will grant me faith and courage. The strength to do that which is right. Waiting and working and dreaming For the future and all that it brings Of new service, deep love, and more guidance For those glorious, abiding things. Anna Gibbs, ’44 Page Twenty -five

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School In The Doghouse One day Mr. Walter Kins came home with a long, long face. He dragged his feet one after the other up the long winding path to his palatial abode. Beth, his wife, and his little spoiled brat of u son, Pete, were waiting anxiously at the window. Run, run, Petie dear. Run like mad and get Papa’s slippers and new red bathrobe that you spilled indelible ink all over ’cause you can tell he’s awfully tired and worried tonight.” Okay, Maw, but 1 forgot to tell you that I stuck chewing gum all over Papa’s slippers.” It didn’t take long for Pete to arrange Pop’s things and by the time Walter opened the door, all was in harmony, at least temporarily. Walter gave Beth a misplaced wet smack on the nose and for the only time in five years, six months, and thirteen days he totally ignored little Petie, the poor dear. Well, Beth, I’ve sad news indeed, today. My draft board has finally caught up with me. You remember I tried claiming that I had heart trouble, but they say I can’t have heart trouble because I haven’t even got a heart.” Poor Beth! No wonder she could never tell if he really loved her or not. Hey, Pop! Pay some attention to me,” hollered Petie. Not now. Shut up for once, you model child.” Well, dear, to rush up matters a bit, I must leave tomorrow morning at six o’clock.” Oh, Walter, you can’t! I won’t let you go. How can Petie and I ever find enough to eat without you?” Oh, I have provided for you. There are plenty of bones buried in the garden. I w ' on’t need them in the W.A.G.S.” Catherine Handy, ’44 If It Were Only Real! It was a warm, sunny day. My mother asked me to go down to the grocery store to get something for supper. I was rather reluctant to go as I hadn’t finished an article on Walter Pidgeon that I was reading. However I went. ( What else could I do! ) It was a w’onderful day for walking so I decided to give my bike a rest. The store was two miles away but I had all afternoon so I could take my time. I sauntered along, and about half a mile from home I saw a group of men working on the road. They were all loudly singing. I had never heard such a wonderful medley of men’s voices before. As I came nearer to them, I stopped and stared open mouthed. For I recognized among them the voices of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Nelson Eddy, Dick Haymes, and John Charles Thomas. I thought I was seeing things, but no, they all introduced them- selves and sure enough, that’s who they were. ( I kept staring at Frankie! ) They asked me what I’d like to have them sing. By this time I had regained Pa e Twenty- four

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School LINES ON A SHEET OF PAPER Sometimes it’s necessary to do something hard and You don’t wanta, And you struggle along simply because you know That you hafta. Such a problem is writing a poem for an English Assignment. It can make the gears in your head go out of Alignment. Poems are not easy but an essay is not Any easier, And I’d rather write poems ’cause they’re quicker And lazier. So as long as a poem is all that the teacher Required; I wouldn’t write any more, even if I Were hired. Anyway, I’m tired. Charles H. Harris, Jr., ’44 BLUE MONDAY” I lay there dreaming of Frankie, He was singing only to me. He was crooning a sweet love song. As we sailed over the sea. Next I glimpsed Orson Welles. He came riding towards me Charging on a great white horse. And picked me up by force. Just as I was dreaming of Tyrone, I heard a piercing sound. It was Monday morning again And my alarm had come unwound. Edith Haslam, ’45 MY MODEL T” I think that I shall never see A car as rattly as my Model T; I was tearing down the road ’bout half past four When Bang! Crash! Boom!” and off fell the door; I soon got it on and started off with a swoosh. But stopped very quickly when I collided with a bush; Once, rounding a corner, the motor (?) gave a sigh And I hopped out and looked to find the gas tank dry; After a long, long push up the steep, steep hills At last I got home and took my vitamin pills; Now, take my advice and don’t be enticed To buy an old Model ”T”, no matter what the price! David Norris, ’44 AN EPISODE Joe was a fat man, Jim wasn’t thin. They both were trying To get in. Through the door Of a hall. Then there started A terrible brawl, Jim swung first, Joe swung last; Joe’s left thinking Why go so fast?” Herbert MacCombie, ’44 Page Twenty -six