Fryeburg Academy - Academy Bell Yearbook (Fryeburg, ME)

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30 The Academy Bell THE PARTY THE room was crowded with people, all talking noisily and busily. He glanced around for a secluded corner in which to relax for a few moments, and his eyes lighted on the doors leading to the veranda. Wonderful! he thought, it will be much cooler out there, and besides the people will never miss me. I really don't understand their conversation any more. It's been too long since I shared their outlook. The doors were open a trifle, and he glimpsed the vague outline of Blanche. Her slender, erect figure was hard not to recognize. I-Ie noticed Mil- dred across the room look at him as if she wished he would join her, but he glanced away quickly and slipped out to join Blanche. 'lHello, he said. Are you enjoying this clambake at all? She turned her head slowly in his direction as if reluctant to bring herself back to reality. Why yes, she said quietly. It's a little different from what I ex- pected it to be, but I think I am enjoying it. Especially now. She raised her eyes with a shy look, quite unexpected. The man looked at her with hidden admiration. Blanche always, somehow, still surprised him. Despite all the years he had known and loved her, he could never quite understand this fair, tall, aloof-looking girl. He realized suddenly that she was really very beautiful. With one last smile, she left him to join the party again. And who was that handsome lass to whom you were speaking? said an amused voice behind him. Startled, he turned around to Hnd himself gazing into the merry, brown eyes of Mildred. That,', he smiled, was Blanche. Oh, she smiled back, a little shade of uncertainty in her manner. Do you suppose that she is enjoying herself, Bill? It's so different from what she is used to doing. I do believe, however, that she is quite the most attractive girl here. Excepting my hostess, the man stated firmly with an affectionate tone. Blanche meanwhile moved gracefully from group to group. She wished sud- denly that Mac were there, but, of course, the crowd was just a little out of Macls class. lust as well, really, as he'd never behave like a gentleman. More the out- door type, she thought, like me. She looked across the room to where Mildred and Bill stood absorbed in con- versation. They were nice people, she thought, for parents, but gee! they just couldn't understand that she'd much rather spend her fifteenth birthday with Mac, her Scotty, than at an old party with all those drips. FLORENCE Woon, ,49 MY GARDEN ACQUAINTANCES ONE afternoon during the summer of 1938, while I was walking through my back yard, I spotted what I thought was a smooth elliptical stone, half buried in

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ew f. ,. I P if U K? QE t- fg View J aa? it 1 literature .y.g.x.y.g.g.g.y.-53.5.y.y.y.y.y.y.g.x.y.y.y.y.y.y.x.y.y.g.y.g. FROM ONE WHO KNOWS WHEN God created man to inhabit the universe, he did some very careful plan- ning, trying to form a perfectly synchronized machine of Hesh, bones and muscle. Little did he ever suspect that his product would dream up devious methods of self-destruction. Somewhere through the long course of history, someone found that, by binding long slats to his feet, he could travel over snow much faster than his legs could carry him. From that day on, man has never been the same. Yesterday afternoon, at 3:10, I began sliding down the long, white path to de- struction. I hadn't been on skis for over three years, but I was as good at falling down as I had ever been. You'd be surprised how easy it is to remember that part of skiing. Getting up the slope of Pleasant Mountain was simple enough. I'm an expert at holding onto a cable and being dragged up a mountain by sheer force. At the top of the tow, I turned and looked down upon my destination. Down there, ,way down there, lay the parking area. I gulped, knowing that the only way I could get to the car was to-I closed my eyes, said a quiet prayer for the salvation of my soul, and pushed oFf. Have you ever seen a woodchuck poking his head out of a burrow? Well, substitute a snowdrift for the burrow, me for the animal, and draw your own conclusions. Multiply this scene about thirty times and you will have a perfect picture of my Saturday afternoon activities. Toss in a few dozen bruises, several sore spots, and a cold, perhaps you can understand why I'm hob- bling around, swathed in Ace bandages, wincing at every step. Please accept a friendly warning from one who knows. Skiing is a fool's pas- time, an amusement for someone whois off the beam. It is a cold, painful, mur- derous method of self-inflicted torture! Excuse me, did you say something? Of course I'd like to go skiing this after- noon. Can you wait a minute while I put a fresh coat of wax on my skis? I couldnat get any speed at all with them yesterday. BETTE-JANE GRIERSON, ,4Q

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The Academy Bell 31 the mud. On picking it up, however, I discovered it to be a box turtle. Ever since this time I have been extremely interested in turtles. Being a geologist, and having the opportunity to go on many field trips during the summer months, my father was able to supply me with the majority of my collection. Late one afternoon of that First summer, after having been on a trip to south Iersey, he returned with an orange crate containing eight different sized tortoises. This really got my collection under way. At one time during my period of collecting, I had a total of twenty-two box turtles. Since some of these turtles had individual characteristics of their own they each had a special name. Ex- amples of these names are Aunt Minney, Crawly, the first turtle found, Crawlus, Big Boy, Squirticle, Princeton, Elmer, and Speedy. The reason I was able to accommodate conveniently so many turtles is the terrace which is built onto our house. The main difficulty in keeping them in- side the enclosure arose when one of the gates would accidentally be left open overnight. One morning my father discovered such a situation and called my at- tention to the fact. Frantically we rushed out into the back yard and began the search for the escaped turtles, and, after hunting for an hour or two, only Big Boy was left unfound. Two weeks later, however, a friend of mine, who lives three blocks away, discovered him crawling across his front lawn, and, recognizing him as a member of my collection, returned him to me. The process that a female turtle goes through before and after laying her eggs is extremely interesting. Late one autumn afternoon I observed that Crawlus was busily occupied digging a small hole near the edge of the garden. She would back down into the hole, and then, with a quick Hip of her hind legs, would send out a little spray of dirt. Because this was such a slow procedure, her digging continued until it was too dark to see what she was doing. On going to the loca- tion the next morning, I was amazed to find that there was no trace of the earth having been disturbed. Crawlus's camoufiaging job was perfect, so I drove a little stake into the general area to mark the spot. When spring rolled around the turtle population of the terrace was increased by five. Turtle races proved to be a good source of amusement for the neighborhood children. Each child would pick the turtle he thought to he the fastest. Then all the turtles competing in the race were placed in a box which was then turned over in the middle of the terrace. The lucky ones landed right side up, but others, less fortunate, would be dumped out on their backs, and sometimes they would- n't even bother turning over until the race was completed. The object of the race was to see which turtle could reach the edge of the garden first. Because the com- petitors themselves were in no hurry whatsoever, the race was even more inter- esting. One turtle would strike out across the lawn with determination written all over his face, and then, Hve feet from the garden he would stop, pull in his legs, and just sit there, craning his neck around in the breeze. In the meantime some other turtle, not so aggressive at first, would slowly overtake him and move into the garden, the winner.