Fryeburg Academy - Academy Bell Yearbook (Fryeburg, ME)

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g4 The ef4C6Z6f611'ly 'Bell By the time the bandleader had finished his opening speech, the bright sun- light streaming through the trees had already forced all except the few who were lucky enough to be shaded for the moment to mop their brows and fan themselves with the printed programs. Peter and I walked forward and raised the trumpets to our lips. I could feel my legs tremble and wondered if Peter's were too. The slowly moving programs stopped, and all eyes were glued on us. We started to play our piece, America, the Beautiful? The boomff-ruff-oof-blah-fff-brr-urr-ruff that emitted from my trumpet startled me and electrified the audience. They were too surprised to respond im- mediately with anything except a blank look of wonder. We started over again. This time all I could manage was a succession of squeaks amid muffled tones and blasts of air. A burst of laughter followed, and clapping and jeering greeted my efforts. Mine was the melody part, and I was on the verge of tears. Mother's eyes glistened sympathetically, and she dabbed at them with the corner of her green silk handkerchief. The expression on my father's face plainly showed his amazement at the unexpected turn of events, and Gramp was laughing heartily. Alice clapped and giggled with the others, but Iane did not look in my direction. She had a very vague, far-away look in her eyes, as if something beyond the limits of the park had suddenly commanded her full and undivided attention. She had obviously disowned me as any kin of hers. By this time I couldn,t muster enough breath to blow the trumpet at all, and I realized that the only way to avoid the catcalls was to sit down. I did so, my lips quivering, leaving poor Peter to carry on alone as best he could. I kept my seat throughout the concert staring Hxedly at the knot in the Hoof under the drummer's chair, not daring to look at my friends or relatives in the audience. It was not until afterward that I discovered I had put the valves in the instru- ment in the wrong order. I wouldnit tell anyone except my parents and teacher, but Alice overheard. So within a few hours all my friends had heard about it, and my mistake was the subject of much teasing for a long time to come. MAYNARD SEELYE, ,52 A DAY IN THE OPEN THERE was paper-thin ice clinging to the reeds along the weir bank the morning I slid my battered old canoe into the chilly river for the long trip downstream. Tom, my faithful old retriever, lay at my feet in the canoe. It was an early Oc- tober morning and the foliage was ablaze with red and yellow from lack Frostis palette. The air was clear and had the clean, tangy taste that only a fall morning can possess. Old Tom's nose was a-twitch with the wonderful smells drifting to him on the lazy breeze from the nearby uplands. We were after duck or snowgeese or the highly valued honkers. Even as we dropped swiftly downstream in the early dawn light, there were large Hights

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4 Nj .- ts l I MY DEBUT NEVER shall I forget my first appearance in the annual town band concert. This concert was the great event of the year, and Peter Watson and I were to play a trumpet duet as the opening number of the program. My family was looking forward with pride to my appearance. They, poor souls, had endured my in- cessant practicing for weeks without too much griping. I had practiced nAmerica, the Beautifuln for the last time that morning when I decided to wash the trum- pet. I did a thorough job of cleaning it and finished by removing and wiping the three valves which are nearly alike. All was apparently in readiness for the after- noon. My new blue suit and the carefully pressed red and white jacket which members of the band wore had been neatly laid out on my bed. Perhaps I'd better try it once moref, I thought, thinking of the trumpet, but just then mother called. '6You'd better come along to dinner now, Roger,', she said. If you can't play that thing by now, you never willf, So I scurried along. The concert was to start at 3:00 and by 2:45 the bleachers and chairs which had been moved into the park were all filled. Sitting on the wooden platform in the center of the park, I looked out over a varied audience-elderly people sit- ting placidly anticipating the performance, small children scampering about or pouting to restraining mothers, worried parents, proud of their children's ac- complishments, bored parents who were sighing disinterestedly at the thought of the ordeal to which they would soon be subjected. Mother was obviously proud of her son, as she exchanged greetings with near- by friends, and father seemed pleased too. My whole family was seated in the third row so they could see and hear everything. Gramp, uneasy in his best clothes, bore the look of stubborn doubt which he had assumed from the first of my musical career as a trumpeter. My older sister Iane in her new pink taffeta dress was exchanging long and frequent glances with her boy friend Bob on the other side of the aisle, while Alice, the younger, when she wasn't making faces at me or tittering over some private joke with the girl behind her, was gazing listlessly about the park trying to catch someone's eye. MJ

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The tffcadcnzy Bell 25 of geese in their true V -formation, winging their way toward the far distant southland's ponds and streams. Once, as we poked out around a bend, a half dozen blacks jumped into the air and hit for points upriver in a glistening harmony of white breasts and blackish wings. As the noble birds were wildly beating their wings for more altitude, I was mechanically following the lead drake with my shotgun. As the ducks wheeled over the tree tops directly to the port of us, I realized that they were too far out for my usixteenf' I wasn't disappointed. You wouldn't have been either if you could have witnessed the anxiety of those waterfowls in their struggle to escape the dreaded hunter. Soon we came to the grassy sleuth that was the inlet to the big marsh. As Tom and I stepped carefully ashore on the bank of the tiny inlet, a Hash of brown glory spiraled from beneath our very feet! The dog was immediately at atten- tion, but as for myself, I was too startled to do anything but gaze through the branches where the grouse had disappeared. Old Tom was rather disappointed in me, and said as much in his reproachful expression. We were soon settled snugly in the duck blind with our decoys floating around out in front. The day passed quickly with many flights of duck and geese wing- ing over us. At the end of the day, four ducks had fallen to my gun along with a giant speckled uhonkerf' Old Tom was quite pleased with himself, when we returned to our canoe in the late afternoon. The sun was settling down behind the sugar maples on the river bank as I guided the canoe to a landing in front of our pickup truck parked on the bank. I soon had the canoe and equipment loaded, and Old Tom and I turned back toward the river and the setting sun for one more look. There was never a sight more beautiful than that long V of Canadian Honkers dropping across the face of the sun, as with cupped wings they settled down toward the big marsh and a long, safe night,s rest and feed. I turned away with a glad heart. Never in my life had I seen nature portray herself as gloriously as in that day afield. IAMES R. LACAscE, '52 THE HERO Two seconds before the final buzzer, Rickie found himself holding the ball about forty feet from the basket. Taking a step to the side, he Hung the ball desperately at the hoop. The ball sailed upwards towards the metal hoop and, as the buzzer sounded, dropped cleanly through the cords for the game-winning basket. Delirious teammates and spectators mobbed him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him. Some of the boys grabbed him and hoisted him to their shoulders while others sought out the coach. Rickie felt his heart beat- ing and knew he had experienced the greatest thrill in sports. He was the hero tonight, fighting and hustling throughout the whole game, and keeping team