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

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School so much to the welfare of mankind. Perhaps there were potential Mmes. Curies in the number, scientists, musicians, statesmen, and professional men. What an extraordinary price to pay, only to fight again twenty years later, because the first time failed! But the war must end someday and we are the ones who must not fail this time. Certainly, were having a San Francisco Conference, and certainly, were taking vital steps for a world peace. But this is only the beginning. A conference can last two weeks and men can decide what’s to be done, but it takes a good many years for entire countries to become adjusted, to adopt and execute the plans put before them. In my childish mind, w ' ars seem so needless. If people could only realize the benefits of a world peace; the opportunities it would afford every individ- ual. Stop thinking of people as just people, but think of them as individuals; think of the opportunities afforded everyone in a world at peace. It makes you want to shout at the whole world, ' Tor heaven’s sakes, stop fighting and take time out to live!” We’re here for such a short time anyhow, it seems a little foolish to waste part or all of a lifetime. ' The problem — no, the opportunity — of peace has come once more. Be- cause millions have died again, we have another chance to establish that peace. How many more times will so many people have to die before we have an- other opportunity? The beginnings of a world peace are at San Francisco now. Men have assembled from every corner of the earth once again to make this world a much better one in which to live. This time, please God, may they not fail. Marilyn Wing, ’45 These Teen-Age Hepcats OUNCE me, brother,” dig me, kid” — it was enough to drive anyone crazy in this madhouse of hepcats. I felt out of place in neat clothes, combed hair, necktie, and pants unrolled and at ankle length. It all started when my English teacher said, Write an essay on anything that interests you.” Being a conservative fellow, I got my writing equipment together and headed for the aquarium. My paper was all titled South Ameri- can Bloepidus or the African Goldfish,” and I was prepared for an afternoon of excitement and adventure. I was halfway down Main Street when I began to hear shrieks, screams, and howls. Priding myself on my courage, I crept closer. There on Main Street, inside Ye Moderne Soda Shoppe” were a crowd of teen-agers, emitting roars of glee, all to the tune of a juke box. Never had I witnessed such a spectacle. Mother had never told me, and I removed my horn rims to get a closer view. I found myself pressed against the window. In a flash an arm reached out and I found myself twisting, turning, and twirl- ing with the best of them. After two hours of struggling, shoving, pushing, and crawling, I was again in the open air. I ran till I fell exhausted. 1 dragged myself home and after two weeks of complete rest I was able to walk again — in between my shaking spells. It is my opinion that if these human bundles of energy in their baggy sweaters, bobby socks, dirty sport shoes, and rolled-up cuffs, were put on our war fronts, the war would be cleaned up in a matter of days. Pa e Tiventy-two

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School Outside I met one of my cronies, Roughhouse Mike, and he said, Did it work-” I said, No.” Sadly Mike answered, Who else do you know. ” Well, now, there was old Charlie Lamb — ” Eleanor Raleigh, ’45 My First Day In School ■jVy| Y first day in grammar school was perhaps not the most eventful of my entire life, but 1 will tell you what 1 remember best. At recess time we were given bottles of milk and I was having a terrible time trying to get the cap off. Finally a little boy whom I had already begun to admire decided to rescue me. He gave me a very superior look, pressed down on the cap, and squirted nearly half a pint of milk in my eye and down the front of my new dress. 1 thought, he was terrible until he gallantly passed his bottle to me and scrubbed me off with his handkerchief. Later he was one of my best friends, up to the time he was killed in Europe. The little boy’s name was Bud Crump. Barbara Gardner, ’45 And Now ? W HEN you read and hear people on the radio raving about economic sys- tems, national security, labor, civil service, social problems, and a world peace, what do you think of. Probably the same thing I do — Wonder what the show is tonight?” — but certainly, this post-war business of a world peace IS no insignificant issue. It is affecting the lives of millions of peoples — peo- ple in China, in Europe, in America, and even in Bourne High School. America has fought many wars; the world is always fighting. Bet a nickel the c olonists would never have bothered to fight a Revolution and pay such a very dear price for independence, if they could have taken a peek into the future, only to see more wars being fought. We fought the Revolution to win independence; fought the Civil War to abolish slavery; fought the World War — well, why did we fight the first one? If it was to make the world safe for democracy,” it was rather a futile attempt. As the rhyme goes: I wonder if the men Who planned it all were satisfied? They played their game of checkers And eleven million died!” I have no conception of eleven million people. All I know is, there are 131,669,275 people in the United States, and without the senior class, there’d be only 131,669,247, but outside of those long figures, eleven million doesn’t mean so much. They could have lived, those eleven million, and contributed Page Twenty-one

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Canal Currents, Bourne High School The days of supermen and women are here, in front of juke boxes, al! over the country. Put their restless energy to work in war factories. Do some- thing with them, anything with them! Just keep them away from us solid two- steppers. Malcolm Coady, ’45 Selections From A Diary January 5, 1888 Dear Diary, Today I went next door to borrow some sugar from Mrs. Sandburg for Mother. Mrs. Sandburg had a hard time understanding me. She’s Swedish you know, and so is Mr. Sandburg. I love to hear them talk — it sounds so funny. February 9, 1890 Dear Diary, I hate him! I hate him! Today it’s my birthday and I’m seven years old and I had on a new dress and he didn’t even notice it. Carl Sandburg, just because you’re twelve years old, you think you’re big. I’ll never speak to you again, so there! February 12, 1891 Dear Diary, You know. Diary, Carl is awful different from the other boys. Not just because he’s five whole years older than me, but — oh, Diary, I can’t explain it very well, but you know what I mean. And do you know that I like him better’n John and Harry. John and Harry are nicer looking, but Carl’s — well, he’s distinguished. He’s nice when he speaks to me. November 29, 1892 Dear Diary, Today Sister married that rich man from Virginia and now Mother says we don’t have to worry about money. I wonder what Carl is doing now. You know that he had to leave school last year to go to work. He was only 13 years old. I think of him a lot. ' April 24, 1902 Dear Diary, You couldn’t guess whom I saw today! Carl Sand burg! Has he changed! He told me I had changed and I said, Well, I should hope so. I was only eight w ' hen you last saw me and that was eleven years ago.’’ He must be twenty -four now. He told me he had taken a complete course in the School of Hard Knocks.’’ He drove a rhilk wagon, was porter in a barber shop, drove a truck in a brick yard, shifted scenes in a theater, worked in a pottery plant, washed dishes in hotels in Kansas City, Omaha, and Denver, sold stove polish, was a carpenter and painter, harvested wheat in Kansas and many others that Page Twenty -three