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

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Bourne High School Canal Currents THE QUESTION After our graduation what then? What happens when boys become young men? And little girls grow up too fast? The thrill of youth! How long does it last? These are questions that are puzzling me, But my future I do not want to see. My life would soon lose all its zest So not to know I believe is best. Vivian Trench, ’46 WORLD PEACE Now our minds are filled with the thought That peace and happiness should be brought To us, though brotherhood of man. And unity in every land. This peace can only be achieved By work and strife it is believed. Through trust and faith in God and man, Hatred, suffering, and wars we shall ban. Phyllis Harrison, ’46 MIGHTY EARLE AT BAT Ginger on the mound, Earle up to bat. Ginger hurls the ball, Earle goes down flat. Earle’s up to bat again With revenge in his eyes. Past goes the ball Earle nearly dies. Two strikes on mighty Earle As Ginger hurls once more. Past goes the ball As Earle hits the floor. Three strikes on mighty Earle As the umpire yells, You’re out!’’ The crowd’s a mass of roars And Earle begins to pout. It is now inning seven And Earle’s up to the bat. Ginger hurls the ball Earle swings the bat. The ball comes flying through the air AS Earle is rounding third. The crowd is cheering more than before The ball still flies like a bird. The score is nine to seven. For mighty Earle has done his best. The team had gotten six And Earle got all the rest. Herbert Ellis, ’46 DREAM If I were rich, I would build me a home, Down by the sea where it’s whipped to a foam. I’d build it small, but I’d build it strong. I’d build it to live in for ever so long. There I would live for many a year. In peace and quiet with nary a fear. And when I died, they could lay me home, Down by the sea where it’s whipped to a foam. John Dixon, ’46 Page Twenty -seven

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Canal Currents Bourne High School EPISODES IN CHEMISTRY There is a class named chemistry Which most of the time is fun; But when it comes to writtens,” We usually feel quite dumb. There’s something about this chemistry That always amazes me; You pour a white liquid into some yellow And lo and behold, it’s green! All sorts of magic take place all the time, And this is half of the fun; But when you get that sixth unknown” All the magic is gone! It’s all very well to putter around In the lab, making quite a mess; But enough is enough,” my classmates say When I start making H S. 2 Emily Bigelow, ’47 MESSRS. STAR UR A AND COADY Messrs. Stahura and Coady kidded each other About who was the better man. One claimed he had more hair on his head So they wanted a contest then. Mr. Stahura made the rulings He was sure that he would win But the sum of the hair came out even The sum came out two times ten. Now they can’t kid each other anymore Because they both are bald. They counted so strenuously They left no hair at all. Margaret Aylmer, ’4( WISHING I wish I were a teacher smart. All problems I coiild do, I’d never have to work for grades. My schooling would be through. Instead I’m just a pupil dumb. My powers are so few, You wait; the joyous time will come. I’ll be a teacher, too!! Richard Forsyth, ’47 Page Twenty-six

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Canal Currents Bourne High School I OFTEN wonder about the study, work, and time that lie behind a few in- significant pencil marks on a desk. Think of the big tests and the little quizzes, everybody racking his braiii trying to get a passing mark while over in the corner sits the class dope. He s happily digging away at the desk top trying to carve a picture of his best girl with a pencil. Across the room is the class genius earnestly figuring out a problem on the varnished top, or if no work is necessary, he is completing his initials in block style. More often all this happens when class gets dull or while waiting for the end of the final period. A student’s head is often seen buried behind his pal earnestly completing a masterpiece. Look over by the window. That quiet little Freshman is absently drawing the three rings of a pawn-broker while watching the freighter going through the Canal. What a wonderful time one could have if he could read the thoughts that run through the minds of these great artists at the time of their earnest endeavors. John Dixon, ’46 AI! In A Lifetime i WAS reading the Society column of our town paper, when I happened to come across two names which were very familiar to me. They struck a note in my memory and incidents of five and ten years ago ran through my mind. The Baxters lived on Elm Street right next door to that white house with green blinds and the sign saying Wm. F. Morris.” The former had a little girl, Sandra, and the Morrises a cute curly-haired boy named Alan. These two were just the same age and therefore they did things throughout their childhood together. They both got red bicycles on their tenth birthdays; they both went up the high school steps as very nervous Freshmen when they were fourteen. All this may seem very nice, but who put a turtle in whose bed one hot summer’s night, and who dipped whose pigtails in ink ever so many times and as if that weren’t enough, added a coat of glue to make sure it would stick? If there was any mischief on Elm Street on Hallowe’en, it us- ually had to do with the royal Baxter-Morris battle. In high school they played many mean tricks on each other. A day never passed without at least one book missing, or a forged note demanding one’s presence at the ' prin- cipal’s office. A minor offence was locking one in a closet to which no one had a key, and one just missed two or three classes until the janitor could take the door off. Yes, many of these memories flashed through my mind as I read that item saving: Mr. and Mrs. Alan Morris — Childhood Siveethearts. Nancy Stephenson, ’47 Page Twenty -eight