Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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i' LAUREL if thought of ways and ways but there was always a catch in each answer to the problem. Finally, after considerable thought Pax decided to make the weasel and the rat into rugs for the fioor of the League of Nations hall, and the skin of the War God into a doormat for everyone to step on. Thus were the mighty humbled. George Besson '45 ENGLISH NIGHT ELL, Mom, another night to be with you. It's just the same here in Eng- land-peaceful, quiet, and so like the farm. Take that tree over there. It looks like old man Harlow's maple that we guys used to tap, just for fun. And that house reminds me of the one Mary and I dreamed up down by the river. We even had a room in it for you though we never told you about it. That was the same day the Kid came down with the mumps. Remember? She came running down to tell us. Didn't think about my never having had them. I got 'em right after. It was the day before the County Fair and Mary almost went with George Moore. I hired somebody to take her. We always did funny things in Centerville. Remember the day you took all the egg money to town and bought some new teeth? We'd been after you for months to do this. You looked awfully cute. Pop had to hang onto you because of the effect you had on the mailman. Or was it the tax collector? Gradu- ation day came quickly, too, didn't it, Mom? I'll always remember the speech Ioe Collins gave. He said, All of us are going to fight for what is ours then help our neighbor keep hisf' I've remembered this in every raid, every bombing, every fight. It was sort of a motto or shrine. Ioe must have been thinking about that speech when a sniper got him at Guadalcanal. I met his pal, Mike Iones, the other day. Re- member him? The kid who lived down by the railroad tracks? They said he wouldn't amount to much. Well, Mom, America has changed him in this war. I-Ie's a Looey g yes, Amer- ica will receive a tribute from me for that. I always liked Mike. We bowled together at Stovinsky's a lot before - Stovinsky! I-Ie was a good guy. Six sons in the service. The day he received his last naturalization papers-that was the same day word came of his third son's death. That's the way things happen. Well, Mom, you'll have to stay and wait for me 'cause I'm off again. Tonight we bomb Berlin. Barbara Ialbert '45 THREE MAGIC CHESTS HREE magic chests I open each night. Four out of every five of you have three chests just like mine. My invisible brass-bound chests are not so large, but a magic chest need not be large to hold many things. I open my chests one by one. The first is my chest of memories. This contains all my memo- ries, good or bad. As I lift the lid, memories overfiow the sides of their prison. Each night I have many different memories, but seldom a night passes that I do not have sweet memories of my mother. Some night scenes of different movies come out of my chest. On others the May baskets and tobogganning parties and the fun I had Freshman Reception and how silly I felt when I had to ask a strange boy to dance with me. The time I picked beans. What I did last summer down at my aunt's. This is only a part of the contents of this first magic box, but now it is time to open my second chest. This is my chest of the future. Although the past is interesting, I find the future more en- chanting. As this one is opened, I see that it is almost as full as the first. Out of this chest I can see the future world. My home and my husband. Things I am going to do tomorrow are all planned in this second box. If it rains, I know what I'm going to wear and dog or if the sun shines, it's all in this chest. My life is planned in this box, but it doesn't stay the same, for one night I may be an interior decorator and the next a seamstress. Every night my lessons for tomorrow are discussed. My memory and future chests hold about the same amount, for each night a day of the future has come and has faded into a memory, and each night I see a day further into the future. My third and last chest, if you haven't al- ready guessed it, is my chest of dreams. The contents of this chest are made up from both memories and thoughts of the future. Often my dreams go back to the past-the time when I was a little girl and fell from a horse. In life I

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'A' LAUREL 'A' Finally the spokesman stepped forward again. Uses wanta white fella tell uses two words ' Rosevell' speakum, he muttered. Oh! replied the Marine, all he said was - ' My friendsf The natives didn't understand at all. The Marine broke out laughing in a hysterical voice. One by one the natives joined in until they all were laughing. They roared and roared. Then their spokesman stepped forward and put his arm around the tall Marine's shoul- ders. When he had stopped laughing he bel- lowed, Uses think this 'Roseve1l,' him some fella, and uses think you from 'mericy O. K. Only fella from 'mericy able tell such story as first one you tole about. Carlton McGary '44 Sardis, 42 B. C. Portia, my loving faithful wife, When thou receiv'st this epistle, Marcus Bru- tus will probably be among the good and valiant Romans in the Elysian Fields, for on the mor- row we engage Antony and Octavius in a battle to the death on the plains of Philippi. I pray that thou wilt pardon and forgive me for my abruptness on the morning of the Ides of March. My brain had been drawn into the dank, musty, swirling depths of a whirlpool by many sleepless, thoughtful nights. If I spake harshly to thee, please forgive me. I was not physically sick, but my mind was tortured that I must kill a dear and loving friend. I pray that thou dost not condemn me. That foul deed was not done with pleasure. Mine heart ached for the brave, noble Roman I had to kill, that all the great empire that is Roman might be more free. I durst not have told you my task, for fear thou mightst have turned me from it. Mine arm that held the sword was loath to thrust it into great Caesar's body. However, my mind overpowered, in the silent battle, my trembling arm. The look of anguish and won- derment that clothed Caesar's countenance as my reluctant sword pierced his breast will re- main in my mind even after death has claimed me for its own. I am not afraid of the grim, dark, dismal scep- tre of death, but what will befall thee, dear Por- tia? I shall pray with all my heart, body, and 30 soul for thy deliverance from evils. So, good Portia, farewell for ever and ever. Thou hast been the gentlest, bravest, kindest, most beauti- ful, and most loving wife ever to grace the face of earth. I pray that I am worthy of thy love. Your sad but loving Marcus Brutus. George Greenwood '47 HOW PEACE CAME TO THE WORLD Time: The year 2500 ' Speaker: Father Time In the year 1914, the God of War, Mars, and the God of Peace, Pax, had a quarrel, which Mars, being the stronger, won, temporarily. Pax, however, was growing stronger with every passing minute and by the end of 1918, forced Mars to terms of surrender. Pax wrapped Mars securely in ropes and thongs and threw him into a deep dungeon. The bonds that Mars was wrapped in were made of the League of Nations so Pax thought he had his enemy secure. By 1920, however, a weasel, whom we can call Mussolini, had started to work on the bonds of Mars, and rope after rope fell loose. In 1933 another bigger rat, whom we can call Adolf, started working on the bonds of Mars. Some of the biggest ropes fell loose in '35 and '37 and the last large rope holding the War Giant was separated in '39, Mars was free! Completely free! By December 7, 1941 he had set the entire world on fire. The God of Peace, Pax, had not been idle while this was going on but had begged a boon from lupiter. Pax was a peaceful god but once aroused he was a better fighter than any of his brothers. Pax was thoroughly angered by the War God's antics and he became determined to put an end to Mars, no matter what the cost. Securing the aid of his allies, Sam States and Iohn Bull, he crept up on Mars' castle through the back door fthe Balkans, on a dark night. Here the fighting was fierce and many gallant men died, but Pax won the field. Having cap- tured the War God, Pax then had the problem of what to do with him. lt must be something not too cruel but severe enough to punish him for the enormity of his crimes so that he would never again cause any more trouble. Pax

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i' LAUREL 'A' was just scared but in my dream I was hurt very badly. Sometimes they are about current hap- penings like the time when in my dream the laps took over Farmington. The cause of this dream was that I had read about the cruel tor- tures that the Allied fighting men had suffered. These are two examples of the many dreams I have. When I said that I opened my chests each night I did not realize that this was not quite true because some nights I do not open anyg on others I open only my chest of the future, on still others it's my memory chest, and again I open just my dream chest. It all depends on how long I wish to stay awake. Virginia Tardy '46 THE QUARRELLING HORSES Once upon a time there were three herds of horses. Now the different herds were always quarrelling about which was the most beautiful. One herd thought they were the most beautiful because they had lovely coats of black shining hair. Another herd thought they were the most beautiful because they were white and showed up more. The third herd was made up of brown, black, and white horses so they simply declared that they were the odd bunch and couldn't claim any beauty. The fairies overheard the discussions and de- cided to do something about it. So one night when all the horses were asleep the fairies de- cided to have some fun. They came to the first herd and scrubbed up their beautiful black coats and made them look shabby. One fairy had an idea, so they all ganged up and started pull- ing the horses, ears until they looked unnatu- rally large. They then went to the second herd and with their brushes and paint went to work painting stripes over them. They left the third herd as it was because they hadnit bragged. So to this day there is the donkey, the zebra, and the horse. Pauline Phillips '45 CAREER I want to be a stenographer, To work the day long by an open window, To feel the balmy breeze, While my fast moving fingers Pound on the small black keys. I want to hear the racing rhythm of strokes 32 And answer the rude, impatient telephone. I want to write letters on clean, fresh paper And take dictation in shorthand's curling characters. That is the life! And as each day ends, I will eagerly await the next. Irene Paradis '45 0m December 13, 1943 Hi Pa, How's the old trapper? I hope you haven't a sore throat the same as Alabama greeted me with. The army is lots of fun, but I'd just as soon be with you. You were right when you said I'd be tough. We're going to get heck for eight weeks. We've been issued gas masks, rifles, packs, etc. The junk all weighs around 80 pounds. It would be good if the pack contained beaver instead. I haven't been on the rifie range yet. I hope I can shoot straight. I've practiced enough so that I can put the Garand, or M.I. together blindfolded. I found out that in the army you help yourself or not get along. I can't run up and see somebody to put in a spring. It's leap and jump all the time. It's lots of fun when we sleep outdoors. Each fellow car- ries a tent half. When we get ready to set them up, two people get together and form one pup tent. After the tents are pitched the rain- coats go next to the ground, then you, and then a blanket. Sometimes it's cold and we sleep fully dressed. We usually hike five or six miles into the woods before we pitch the tents. It's noisy around this camp, because of the machine guns and rifies, etc. going bang! bang! in the distance. There are a lot of airplanes around here. I wanted to get into cooking, but I could- nit, so I'm in the engineers as a carpenter. There are a couple of big mouths around here. We shut them up, though. I hope you found most of your traps and are catching a lot of beaver skins. I hope I'll be catching some next winter. Write when you can. . Lonnie, fThe skunk private, Contributed by Mabelle Comstock '44