Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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t 14 THE LAUREL Time slipped by rather swiftly. Our food was of the best and there was suffi- cient, thusly one's desires were satisfied. There were also many boxes from home containing articles from mirrors to jack- knives, from candy to mince pie made from mother's new recipe. Orange com- bats also aided greatly in driving away the depressing air. Christmas arrived on time and found me still sojourning at the 'hospital I was asked by a lady whose face was embel- lished by a few thousand convolutions what I would like for Christmas. Think- ing it a joke I answered, UA fountain pen. Imagine my surprise at being the recipient of the same on Christmas day. How little we make of our opportunities! Well, eventually the injured member re- cuperated sufficiently to allow my return home and return home I did. Hospital life is a novelty for a wthile but it soon gets lonesome and I was very happy to return to my secluded, quiet home in Walton's Mills. Ever since this incident took place the Ford has served me well and faithfully but it can never make amends for the pain and loss of time it cost me. I always shall look upon it as a deceptive creature, with grim tragedy lurking for a successful op- portunity in order that it may again hor- ribly multilate me. Even after a pleasant trip with the motor functioning properly and all going well I cannot completely dis- miss t'hese suspicions from my mind. George Hobbs. TT A Stone's Throw I IT is sometimes interesting after we have outgrown our baby days to look back over many incidents- that happened in our childhood. Nevertheless it sometimes brings a twinge of shame. The cause of this particular event was my ungovernable temper. As far back as I can remember I always wanted 1ny own way and when as a child usually got it, for my brothers and sister would often rather give in to me than to see my temper started. Nevertheless it was many times a source of much amusement for them, espe- cially my older brother -who sometimes considered it a great joke to arouse my anger. I freely confess that it was a very easy thing to do and moreover, being a girl and younger than he, my folks usually considered fhim at fault. I always thought I had gained the upper hand if I could get him in wrong. To tell the truth I felt proud of my temper and I certainly made use of it to gain my own desires. It was a source of much worry on my mother's part, who tried in every way imaginable to teach me to control it. But being of a stubborn nature I thought myself very smart to be the possessor of suclh a temper and instead of trying to remedy it, I often encouraged it. One day, however, I came to find out what a really beastly temper I did have and in what it might result if I did not control it. I remember very distinctly that it was a wonderful summer day. One of my girl friends and I had been playing house and had made mud pies. A short distance from my home there lived a boy about my size but younger, wit'h whom I often played. This day I happened to be feeling like lighting, After my friend had gone home, this boy came down to play and unintentionally kicked our carefully made mud pies. If I had been reasonable I would have overlooked it but I immedi- ately grew angry instead. After a few words we began to throw mud at each other as fast as possible. Of course, never having tried to curb my temper, a thought to that effect never entered my mind. My only thought was to pay him back for de- stroying those pies. Our scrap soon devel- oped into a stone fight. The boy, mean- time, was called to supper and as he passed through their garden toward Ehis home he was lost from my sight in the corn which reached far above his head. Foolishly we

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THE LAUREL 13 INTERESTING BITS OF OUR EARLY LIFE My First Poem T was a dreary Friday morning. The rain peltered down with quiet deter- mination on the hosts of brown leaves which were falling from the nearby trees. An atmosphere of restlessness pervaded the classroom. But the old clock on the wall seemed to pursue with a more mono- tonous trend its continuous tick, tick, tick. The minutes passed slowly. A paper rustledg and there was heard the low dron- ing voice of a boy reciting. And yet under all a strange silence, I leaned lazily back in nIy seat, wondering, if it would ever stop raining-why one must go to school -if teachers always conduct themselves as they tell us we must. Suddenly a bell rang. Clarion and shrill it pierced the thick drowsy atmosphere. I sat erect, the instructor was speaking. If any of you feel that you can, or would like to try, I would like to have a poem for our Good English Club Paper. A poem! The words burned in my brain. Could I? The sheer bigness of the thing overwhelmed me and I started guiltily. Of course it was all nonsense. I, Meclora Hogan, writ- ing a poem! Aibsurd. And yet something whispered, Why not? The moments Hew by as in a dream, and I found myself home-thrilled with intoxicating hope. VVords tumbled over themselves in eager- ness, incohercntly at first, to be sure. Then they sang swiftly, maddeninglyg faster and faster my pencil flew until there it was in childish scrawl, my Hrst poem. How I loved it for it was my own-my very own! New worlds opened before my eager eyes. The dreariness of the day was changed into mystic, joyous beauty. Every rain drop glistened witlI a new luster, every swish of the giant elms was music to my ear. Life was glorious. Crude, trite though it may be, still it will always be a lovely t'hing in my memory. My first poem! Zlfledora Hogan. My Ford THIS story is made possible by a Ford, just a common, ordinary Ford, not as good as the new ones and not as bad as the first ones. In fact I ride to school every morn- ing in this same automotive contraption popular in earlier years. 'Dhis story begins with a very excellent Thanksgiving morning. It was morning because it seemed the right thing for it to be. The day was such as our poets write about, but I Yhad work to do. The chief task was, crank Miss Ford. After two or three hours of physical strength had been exerted, the inevitable happened, Liz kick- ed, breaking my arm in Hfteen or twenty places, I really have forgotten the exact number. The usual procedure was faithfully car- ried out and I found myself in the clutches of our family physician. My arm was set but it failed to heal properly. After sev- eral settings had taken place the doctor decided that to insure perfect results I should go to a hospital. My father and I prepared for the trip and journeyed to Portland by rail. I could tell the intersec- tion of every rail, every jar was registered in my aching limb. We arrived in Portland and I was taken to the Children's Hospital, the inmates varying in age from one day to twenty-one years. The arm was set again and many X-ray pictures were takeng it was also placed in casts of various kinds and sorts. The one trouble was, I was obliged to re- main in bed. The doctors were very kind to me except in a few instances when they would sieze my arm and strike it several forceful blows asking if the procedure hurt. You know how doctors are, espe- cially surgeons, very kind and thoughtful. My neighbor in this physician's paradise claimed all doctors were ex-pugilists. I often thought he was correct in his con- jecture. The nurses were exceedingly nice to us. However, I will not give any eluci- dations of their treatment of us. Q

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THE LAUREL 15 continued to throw stones. Suddenly I heard 'him scream and a moment later saw him emerge from the corn. To my horror I saw the blood rushing down his face. It was the only time in my life that I felt like fainting. I think then that it Was more because of shame than for any other reason. It Was about the first time in my six years of existence that I felt truly ashamed of my temper. The stone had struck the boy just a bit above the eye and I have often thought since that my lucky star 'Was surely shining on me that day for if the stone had gone a bit below its mark it would surely have hit him squarely in the eye. It Was necessary for him to have a few stitches taken in the cut and in a few days We were playing together as usual. Nevertheless the shame of allowing my temper to govern my mind and actions so completely, stayed 'With me for some time. As far as I can remember that was the first really important lesson I ever had in learning to control my temper. It cer- tainly was a lesson for I shall never forget it and it has helped me immeasurably to curb my Worst Weakness. Ella Hujf. YY My Sister I WAS about seven years old when I first realized one of my great desires. I had always been the only child and much Was my chagrin When my greatest friend had a little sister. Returning from play at her house I -would always lie on the bed and cry for hours at a time, simply because I had no playmate. If anyone has ever felt this Way they Will know how unhappy I Was. Nearly every day in school, some teacher would ask, How many have little brothers or sisters? I looked at my desk each time to keep back the Hood of tears that was always pushing With increasing force. Each day, the desire grew greater until one day I found it fulfilled. I-Iow happy I Was. I think I experienced one of my greatest joys on that day and it has been more or less influenced on my life since tlhen. How sweet she looked to me all Wrapped up in a Wooly White blanket. I 'Wanted to take her and play With her but shewas too small. I Watched her grow and it seemed to me that 'she did something new each day. I loved her from the Hrst time I saw her and delighted myself by doing things that Would please her. I remember When she first tried to talk. How happy it made me to have people ask me if she Were my sister. f Now, as I recall these delightful days I am reminded of what I might have been had I not been granted this favor, a lonely child, always pensive and unhappy, think- ing only of myself and misjudging the World in general. How unhappy I would have made my mother and father 'Who have always done tlheir best to make me happy. fNor has this influence lessened, but it has grown as she has grown until it is one of the most vital in my life. Arlyne Clark. My Laddy I WAS, undoubtedly, the most content or satisfied with myself at the age of eleven, when mounted on Laddy , my pony, We stood aloof and gazed with utmost superi- ority upon my friends. Tlhere was pride not only in my own eyes but also in Lad- dy's for We could challenge any pony for miles around to race and With perfect security We would infallibly come in first. Not only this but on meeting a school- mate,- Whom I did not particularly care for, a Wicked little thought 'Would Hash to my mind and on rushing up Would kindly ask her if she Wanted a ride. Delighted with t-he opportunity and thinking how kind I Was she Would spring to the saddle but fate did not favor her for in less than two minutes I was triumphantly, galloping away While she lay on the ground Where