Camden High School - Megunticook Yearbook (Camden, ME)

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26 HMEGUNTICOOKH gave the orders to his wife, who was his office nurse. He then made his regular calls on patients and had office hours in the afternoon. It was just another day in Dr. Randolf Mor- rison's life. The same old routine, but he never grew tired of it as he loved Pine Valley and his friends there. This was the only kind of life he knew. He was just finishing his supper of Hredflannel hash this favorite dishb as they had had a vegetable dinner the day before. He was read- ing a newly-published book on the modern medical care when the old country phone rang three, his home number. His wife answered and she said it was Dana Warner, a friend that lived five miles away. His wife had burned herself quite badly and it was so painful that he had to ask him to come out there immediately. This was his duty and it was all in the busy day of the doctor, he never minded as this was the life he knew. He was there until 12:30, as he stopped to talk over the crops that were going to be planted. When he reached home, his wife met him on the porch and said that Tammy Morre had called and that it was an emergency. Tammy was a boy of twelve and lived three miles from the doctor's home, it seemed odd to the doctor that Tammy would call this late for him. It must be Tammy's mother as she had been ailing, but she was all right the last time in the doctor's office for a physical. Any- way, the doctor started out. Tammy met the doctor on the porch and showed him to the sick pa- tient. Tammy led the doctor to the stable and on the Hoor lay Tam- my's horse. Tammy explained his horse had been sick all day and Tam- my, unknown to his mother, called the doctor to give him some medicine to make him well again. The doctor was no horse doctor but gave him some medicine, which would do until morning. Tammy, with tears still in his eyes, thanked the doctor and said the horse was the dearest to his heart. The doctor smiled, for he un- derstood. Nona Talbot '50 ON TRIAL Judge George D. White stopped his car beside a hitchhiker. Hop in, son, he said. The hitchhiker, a lad about ten, just stood in the twilight and looked at the judge. He carried a coat and a little zipper bag. Without a word he climbed into the car. Running away ? asked the Judge when they were rolling along the highway. The lad didn't answer and for sev- eral minutes it was so quiet you could almost hear yourself think. The Judge continued, You must have a good reason for leaving home. I've had lots of cases like this and we al- ways seem to get them cleared up. Let's pretend I am acting as judge and you explain your case to me. I knew your father very well and I think I can present his side of the story. Want to try it, John ? Very well, Your Honor, John said, never taking his eyes off the highway ahead. First complaint is that my parents treat me like a six- year old. I'll be eleven in June. They just don't seem to care about me. I have to be in bed early and some- times Mom isn't even home when I come from school. Another thing is money. I asked my Dad about an al- lowance and he said I wasn't old enough to handle money. The boy was silent. Are there any more complaints ? asked the Judge. John shook his head, meaning there weren't. Well, he went on, I think that your parents are only trying to shel- ter you from the cares of the world. One doesn't realize when so young all the troubles and misdeeds going on in the world. I'm not a child any more, replied J ohn, 'Tm getting older and I want

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CAMDEN, MAINE l 25 a push of the skipoles, and went five feet, then-BANG, she disappeared in a drift of snow. Now my turn to laugh! Well, we tried again and with good luck we got to the bottom successful- ly, and after that we got along all right-except for a few minor de- tails, like a broken skipole, etc. ! ll At 5 o'clock our mission accom- plished, we started home, with a good day behind us, and many bruises with us!!! Joan Salisbury '50 IMPRESSIONS OF CHILDHOOD Four-year old Tommy Gross was getting to be more than his mother could cope with. Every day, during the last week, she had told him to stay right around the back door. A few moments after she had gone in the house, though, he would disap- pear in the woods below the house. She had threatened all sorts of things, but they seemingly had made no impression. One sunny morning Mrs. Gross was just about at the end of her pa- tience. Tommy had gone again. She picked up her little instrument of cor- rection and set out to find Tommy. I'll teach him to disobey me, she said aloud as she crossed the lawn and into the woods where she hoped to find him. She had a definite plan of attack. It consisted of stealthily coming up behind him and catching him in the act of whatever it was that was tak- ing him away from home at least once every day. Tommy, she called. No answer. 'Tommy Gross, you answer me, she called again. Here I am, Mama, came the voice of Tommy from the distance. I'm over here behind the big tree that my swing is on. Mrs. Gross, who had abandoned her original plan of attack, now ran up to Tommy. She saw that he was leaning over something small. He had a little fat and some old cake feeding it to the small object in front of him. Tommy stood up as his mother ar- rived on the scene. At the foot of the tree lay a little sparrow. The bird evidently could not fly, and every day Tommy had been feeding it. Mrs. Gross picked up the Sparrow and carried it into the house. After many days of loving care the bird finally flew the table to the flew around the delighted as he rise and fall. One day he Don't you think we ought to let him go back outdoors? Mrs. Gross had been trying to tell Tommy that they couldn't keep him in the house much longer, but she hadn't wanted to take away his little pet. The next day they took the sparrow into the woods again and let him go. He fluttered happily and flew away. Every now and then, though, he would come back and sit on the windowsill and 'sing his beautiful song of happiness for them. Kathleen Dority '50 again. First, from floor, and then he room. Tommy was watched its wings asked his mother, SO DEAR TO MY HEART Dr. Randolf Morrison was Pine Valley's leading citizen. It was a very small valley and he was the only doctor for miles around. He was con- sidered very kind and also smart in his profession. It was April 10, and about this time of year in Pine Valley he was kept very busy on calls for colds, rheumatism, and such cases. It never failed as every year had been the same in all his twenty-two years as a doctor in this little valley. Dr. Morrison slept overtime this morning as his new Westclock alarm clock the neighbors gave him last Christmas didn't go off. He never liked those confounded modern me- chanicals anyway. Besides, his other clock suited him fine as it ticked so loudly you never did get to sleep, so naturally you didn't sleep overtime. He dressed and went to his office, which was upstairs in his house, and

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CAMDEN, MAINE 27 to be treated like any other boy my age. The car stopped outside a two- story house. Well, John, my boy, I will speak to your mother and see about all these things. You put your case over very well. The boy's face was shining with joy and pride. Gee! thanks, Dad, he whispered. Peggy Connelly '50 THE MISSING LINK The fog rolled in from the harbor in a thick blanket which enveloped the dimly lighted street. From a far corner, a man walked slowly along. As he came nearer, I noticed that his collar was up and his hat was pulled down into his eyes. Also his clothes were shabby and unpressed. It's funny, I thought, what a difference two years could make, just twenty- four short months. Maybe you won- der what connection I have with this man, well, it's a long story . . . Several years ago this same man was president of a large importing firm. The world lay at his feet. Oh, yes, he was important, very impor- tant. But as all great men, he would meet his downfall. It all happened one night when his junior partner was found murdered. It wasn't one of those carefully-plotted story-book murders, because all the evidence pointed towards one man. News- papers flashed the headlines-- Presi- dent of Importing Firm Murders Partner . The reason was supposed to be money. It seems the senior partner was discovered by the junior partner embezzling some of the com- pany's funds. A quarrel started and in the confusion the younger man was killed. All this was reported by the janitor, a man of no importance. During all the publicity it was re- vealed that the black satchel contain- ing the embezzled money was miss- ing. Even after futile days of search- ing it wasn't found. But still the trial continued, and the president was found guilty and sentenced to two years' imprisonment on a decision of self-defense . . . As he spoke, the rays from the street light played on the figure of a wealthy-looking man. He was well- dressed and on his left hand was a large diamond ring. But let us trace this speaker back several years, to the night of the murder. At this time an insignificant janitor burned a small black satchel and moved to an- other town. Could this be the same man, now prosperous, living off the spoils of another's murder? He moved along down the street with a knowing smile on his lips. Because here was the missing link to a por- tion of the police files marked- Money Missing. Betty Thurston '50 ONE OF MY WILDER DREAMS I was walking along a country road one day when I noticed a sign on the lawn of a very expensive-looking farm. It read, Am Selling Every- thing at Great Sacrifice-Moving to S. America? Out of curiosity I wandered into the spacious barn where most of the selling seemed to be taking place. There was nothing very interesting and I was just turning to go when I sighted a Harley-Davidson 3-wheeled delivery model sitting under the raft- ers with a price of 310. I immediate- ly dug out the major part of my earthly fortune and bought the rig. I was just starting for home, which was about 11 miles away, when I saw C. Joyce standing beside the road, looking very folorn. His car had broken down. I offered him a ride and he very skeptically accepted. We tore off down the road and shift- ed into high. At 65 the machine hopped into automatic over-drive! It leaped ahead throwing gravel from under the drive wheel. Joyce, with his glasses hanging from one ear, was screaming, Faster, faster! At every bump in the road, fand there were plentyl my hand jerked the throttle open a little more! When we