Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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17 THE (iREEN AND WHITE patient. Now I can see what that pitcher’s going to do. Eek! Why, you mean thing! Did you sec him throw that ball directly at that man with the stick? Hurray! He’s going to throw the stick at the pitcher—I hope it hits him.” “Oh. lie's only trying to hit the ball?” “Why do that? Can't he throw it out into the field?” “What, poor sap, he hit the hall out and now he’s running after it. Well, why doesn’t he run out straight instead of going around that diamond shaped jigger?” It’s all in the game? Oh, I see. You know, Mrs. Clones, I’tn sure I know all about baseball now.” Oh, I guess the poor men are tired. They’re changing around. Well, I'm sure that’s the proper thing to do.” “Say, listen. Do you allow mad people here?” “They don’t. Well, that person behind the fellow with the stick—oh yes, the batter, must be pretty vicious, if he has to have a sort of caging over his face.” That’s for protection.” His or the people's?” “You have a headache? I'm so sorry. No wonder, though. The woman side of you has been talking so much she’s drive anyone to an insane asylum.” “Oh, there’s Mrs. Bevins over there. I’m going to stand up and wave to her.” Ow! What’s that you say, Mrs. Clones? The games over?” “Well, it sure is interesting. I’ll come again. MARGARET CICERCHTA, ’31. “Advertisers Make This Book Possible” THE STORY OF DAYS Have you ever met Mr. and Mrs. Day? They live in a seven room house called “The Week,” and it stands on “Month Street.” which is one of the twelve roads that lead through Year Town,” in the wonderful country of “Time.” Mr. and Mrs. Day have five children. Mr. Day’s name is “Sun,” and this is how he got his name. Ages ago men worshipped the sun, and called the first day in the week after him. The sun was to these people the visible expression of God. and on this day. all festivities ceased, and Sunday became the Sabbath. Mrs. Day’s name is “Mon.” which is short for “Moon.” She is really Moon Day, sacred wife of the Sun. In ancient days, the people called the Goddest of the Moon, Diama. They used to think that she walked through the woods, so the woods were sacred to her. The eldest son’s name is “Tues Day.” “Tyr,” the God of War. captured the Wolf Spirit, and Tuesday is named after him. Tt is curious that the French name for Tuesday is Mardi—that is the day of Mars, who was also a God of War. The second son is named “Wednes Day.” Wednesday is called after Woden, the greatest God of the Scandinavians, who sent Ravens around the world for news. Our friend, “Wednes Dav” is a good chap, and people all like him. His motto is “Work away, Sunday will be here soon.” Now we come to the third son, whose name is “Thurs Day.” He is a big, strong fellow. Thursday gets it’s name from Thor. the strongest of all Scandinavian Gods. To prove that Thursday is not too strong a day. Thor once tried to drink a horn of water, but the more he drank, the more came into the horn. The other end was in the sea. The fourth child of Mr. and Mrs. Day is a daughter named “Fri Day.” Friday is named after the Goddess Frigga, the wife of Woden, so that she would not be jealaus. Thor was the son of Frigga, and Woden her husband, and both had days named after them. so Friday was named after Frigga. And now we come to the half-holiday room. This is the room of Mr. and Mrs. Day’s last child, named “Satur Dav.” Saturday is named after the Roman God. Saturn. The Romans used to feast and make merry in honor of Saturn. For us, Saturday is on» of the pleasantest days in the week. The week's work is done, and people go in crowds to see a game ,or go shopping in the cities, or go picnicing. or go to the sea-shore, and altogether enjoy themselves. Now, isn't the Day family a verv happy and pleasant family? ELIZABETH ROUNDS. '31. A MAIDEN’S CHOICE Which shall I choose—there are but four— Perhaps I ought to consider more. But I must choose one or leave them all • Everyone’s waiting—no more can I stall. Let’s see—the first is indeed true blue; The second ,a maiden’s dream come true; The third would be mother’s choice, I'm sure; Practical, dark, sober, demure ; The last is thrillingly bright and gay. But with age. alas, might fade away. They are all enchanting, enticingly smart— Each one has a place in my perplexed heart. Oh Merciful Heavens, direct my choice; Sneak your decision through my voice. Oh! Ye gods and great Caesar’s ghost! Which does my heart yearn for the most ? Which, in the years to come, would be More pure and spotless than the other three? ’Tis an important question which direful fate Hath brought to me now, my breath to take. An important question, and thought on long. That the final decision may not prove wrong. The time is up: My choice I'll give. For doubt is dead—May assurance long live! But stay!—On second (?) thought—I recall A little shoppe in a building tall That's down Main Street not a very long way. Guess I’ll go there—and anyway, These four coats aren’t so hot— I’ll go to that “Coate Shoppe” And see what they’ve got! MARJORIE LOIS MANLEY. '32 Mr. Carlson (Commercial Law): “How many of you have check books?” Commercial Law Class: We all have ” F. Vera: “Yeah, we take bookkeeping.”

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16 THE GREEN AND WHITE TRAGEDY OF AN AUTHOR He sat there with his pen in hand And vainly tried to think A three-page theme—that was the scheme, But all he had was ink. He couldn't think of what to write Although he tried his best, He strained his mind—he was that kind. Don’t laugh—this is no jest! Then all at once an idea came. It struck him on the dome, And underneath—broke three false teeth, And sent them far from home. “A mystery it shall be,” he cried, And started in to scribble He made a plot—'twas not so “hot.” His words began to dribble. A tragedy was next in line When he had nearly finished, The hen died—he nearly cried. His idea had diminished! A comedy then came along. But just in mind, says you? He wrote the gaff”—but couldn’t laff, He’d met his Waterloo! He dropped his pen and tore his hair. And stamped upon the floor; The neighbors mild—all cried. “He’s wild!” They rushed into his door! They took the author far away And put him in a cell Before thev went—the air was rent By his unearthly yell: “When you are making up a theme, Just take advice from me, I’ve made the test—I know what’s best. I'm sure you will agree. “Don’t try to write too many things, For if you do you’ll find That one idea—iust written clear. Beats twenty in your mind !” FREDERICK VERA. THE END OF A PFRFFCT NIGHT Shorthand homework all done Oh. what a relief! Now to write a theme. Oh, how T enjoy writing themes! I pick up my pen and begin to think of a subject. I stare into empty space, with the end of mv pen in my mouth, and try to concentrate. The radio is going on and iazz music is floating in the air. Every-body's talking at once. Oh. how can I think with all this noise going on! I shout at the children to be ouiet and give me a chance to think. Everything is now quiet again. Oh. I got one ! No. that won't do because I wrote one something like that before. Oh dear, there goes my brother playing his violin. G“e. I wish he wouldn’t practise now. What’s the big idea anyway! Now, the telephone! It’s for me! Now, who could call me up at this time? Oh, that you, Jennie? You would interrupt me while T’m trying to write a theme. What? Have T your pencil? Of course T haven’t! Gee whiz! Tt’s half-past nine and T haven’t even got an idea what to write. Now let me see—I can’t write a love story or a murder story because our teacher doesn’t like them. Now, what can I write? Well, well, can you beat it—my theme’s all finished and I didn’t even know I had one. What a surprise!. Now don’t you wish you could write a theme as easilv as that. SADIE RUSSO. ’31. “Advertisers Make Tills Book Possible” MY AMBITION To be an athlete was my wish, To stand with bat and then to swish: To play the nation’s greatest game. Was what, I thought, would bring me fame. In winter I would go down South, In summer I would travel North ; Ten thousand dollars I would earn. Tf T could have but just one turn. Tt is a game we all can’t play. Though if we practiced, it would pay; I may not be as good as some. Though I can hit the ball and run. It is the thought of getting old. Before I may have reached the goal; That from the game I must retire. Which would arouse any man’s ire. My place would then be filled by one. Who tried to play as I had done; To play the nation’s'gretaest game. Which he, too. thought would bring him fame. SALVATORE A. GIGLIO. DEAR OLD BASE BALL “Oh, Mrs. Clones, now I know spring is here. Especially when the good old base ball season comes back. I iust love it, don’t you?” Oh, of course. T understand it.” “No, I’ve never seen a game, but I’ve heard enough about base ball to understand it quite a bit.” “Don’t you think it’s just wonderful of the Frog Hollow Cubs to let the ladies in free, today?” “Oh, you paid for your ticket. (Yah, T’ll bet you did ; you're just the type that would.) “Tanyard field is a dandy place for the game, don’t you think so? Why the Cubs are playing the famous Phillip Sox today.” “You've never heard of them? Well, for heaven’s sake, please read the paper. Why, I’ll bet you don’t even know the first thing about base ball.” “You could tell me something, could vou? Ha. ha.” “Oh. look! They’re ready to start.” “Why for—say Mrs. Clones, did you see that uncouth man actually spit into his hands?” “He’s probably the pitcher? Pitcher? What in the world does he do on the team—hold water for the players?” “Pie’s the chief man of the team? He throws balls for the batters to hit. if possible.” “Good lands, Mrs. Clones, please don’t talk in riddles 1” “All-right, all-right—you needn’t get so im-

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18 THE GREEN AND WHITE OUR HISTORY PERIOD Eight-twenty, and the class has started once more ; Anne has come in and has just closed the door. She walks to her seat, sits down with a groan ; “I don’t know my hist’ry,” she says with moan. Attention!” cries teacher. Why don’t you awake?” Then she just has to smile at the faces we make. We’ll have an oral quiz on slavery this morning. This you should know for 1 gave you a warning. We’ll start from the beginning—I’ll go ’round the class ; The questions are easy and I’m sure you will pass. Hope, won’t you tell, with a great deal of care. Where first the slaves landed and how many were there?” Hope gets to her feet, looks down at her book. Then stares at our teacher with a dumb-founded look. I don’t know. Miss Sisson,” she stutters at last. “Well, then, Hope Cote, you surely won’t pass. Miss Rohrman. now surely you can beat Hope.” Anne Rohrman fidgets ’round, stands up, and says, Nope.” Miss Audrey, seeing that you’re next in the row, “I’ll ftsk for the answer which you surely must know.” Then Audrey gets up and speaks the next line, Twenty slaves landed here in sixteen hundred nine.” Oh. shucks.” cries the teacher in deepest despair, If you don’t answer soon I’ll be getting gray hair. Good grief, I didn’t know that would be such a twister.” I know the answer.” says Anna in a whisper. “The negroes first in Charleston were seen In the year of Our Lord sixteen hundred nineteen.” And so through the class the questions did speed On the question of siav’ry and the slave-holders’ deed. Till finally they reached the last in the room After leaving behind a deep trail of gloom. It is easy to see we did not take heed Of the teacher’s warning—that we ought to read Every little we could—but still how could we When the moving picture show we all went to see? Well, let’s hope that on this very next day We’ll have a lesson good in every way ; Let’s get ready with a smile for a bright tomorrow And leave a trail of sunshine—not one of sorrow. MARY MAGEE, ’32 Mr. Carlson: “Name the type of bird that is forbidden to be shot in Rhode Island.” Levy : “Stool Pigeons.” Miss Sisson: “What is a forest preserve?” Metcalfe: “A pickled tree.” Miss Sisson (in Modern European History class): “How strong was Louis XIV?” Bright pupil: I never saw his muscles.” “MAD?” Did you ever feel like me? Ever think that Life had given you a bad break? Think that nothing would go right again? Say to yourself, “Oh, I wish I were dead?” Do you ever have to run out for something for supper, have to go back, go out again, do this, do that, and then get called down for not getting the right thing? Do you sit at home, and listen to the never-ending talk-talk of the announcers, advertising some well-known brand of this, that will cure that, and has been endorsed by leading physicians, and what nots? Do you ever feel all worn out, tired, not able to sit still one minute, get up, walk into another room, slam the door, get called down for it, come back with a scowl on your face, eyes fiery and burning, lips twisted into a horrible sneer? “What is the matter with you”—from Ma. “Oh, I don’t know,” is the surly reply. Do you smile when you hear this? Remember the time when you felt, just like that, only worse, because you, perhaps, hadn’t had enough of the cake for supper, or some other foolish thing? But it all wears away after a while, even though you think, and plan that you’re going to be “mad” all the rest of your life, and are going to treat everyone the way you think they have treated you? What does it get you? You’re “mad”—good and “mad!” Rut just then some announcer tells a good joke, and —what happens? You have to smile in spite of yourself, and that bad spirit—“temper” inside you. (Yes, the radio is still on. much to your discontent.) Then its all over—the ice is broken. A smile seems to sweep away all the anger, hate and everything else that happens to be in your mind and soul. Then you think of what has just happened, and wonder how, in the whole wide world, you could have been so dumb. Why, what were you “mad” at now? See— you can’t even remember, and even if you do. you can always find the flaw in it. Of course it wasn’t as bad as you thought, and wasn’t the other party right? Certainly, they alwavs are. That’s why we get “mad,” because we are angry because they got the best of us. And isn’t it all foolish ? When little sister comes in—clear-eyed, rosy-cheeked and smiling—can you look at her and try to freeze her with one of those horrible looks? No sir! You just have to see the bright side of living. Then you take the candy she offers you, and everything’s all set for one night. It might happen again, and generally does, but just remember what happened before, and don’t let yourself be so foolish. MARGUERITE RISHE, ’31. “Advertisers Make This Book Possible” First Man: “Why are so many people insured?” Second Man: “Because they are afraid they will get on fire.”