Fryeburg Academy - Academy Bell Yearbook (Fryeburg, ME)

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The tficadenzy Bell 29 I was indignantly telling Mr. Davis I did not like fish. I appeared ready to tackle the heaviest guy at Notre Dame. With a shudder I put it down and started to pick up the next one. Then I remembered this was the one in which I had been laughing. I dreaded to look at it. Then Rae spoke up and said, 'IOh, that's good. Gee, that is wonderful? FRANCES BUSWELL, ,gr GRAMPA I VVANT to take you with me to an old-fashioned, fifteen-room farmhouse. Now probably you will say, What in the world are we doing here?,' You will find this rambling dwelling occupied by a little old man with bright blue eyes and a head full of stories. He is short and' has a great shock of white hair. You can imagine his looks and appearance by recalling someone you know who is seventy-three. He greets you with a cheery Hello and invites you in. Before you can ap- preciate the man, I must tell you something about him. He never eats eggs, so he says, because K'Had Harmon ate so many eggs he Hew up in a tree and they had to shoot him to get him downf' He likes to smoke his pipe so well that he says he would go without eating his meals if he could have his pipe. He stays at home most of the time because Hthese cars they have nowadays are dangerous, make me feel like a chicken in a coop on the way to 'ailfi He thinks very much of children and does everything he can to help them. One day he was Working vigorously on something, but he wouldn't tell us what it was. When it was completed, we had a cute little doll's carriage made of odds and ends that Grampa had found. He has also made small wheelbarrows, axe handles, hammer handles, stools, and even baseball bats. i He has a perfect mania for picking berries. Every summer he takes his berry pail and starts out to pick all the wild berries he can find for miles around. Some- times he stays out all day. This story would not be complete without mentioning his dog. He thinks more of her than anything in the world. She stays with him day andnight. He has taught her to shake hands, and he talks to her as if she were human. Grampa is not famous, rich or handsome, but he is kind-hearted, thoughtful and helpful. He will do anything to help his friends and his family. He taps shoes and repairs harnesses. He is the general handy man for the town. But if a tool is lost or left in the wrong place he has a fit. His quick wit and bright sense of humor draw people to him and he is much thought of by everyone. They say to him, I see you shaved this morningf, Yep, shaved before lightf' His short gray beard makes him look quaint and distinguished. We are always amused by the countless stories he tells of what he has been

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28 The Vfcaclcmy 'Bell execution, but in that split second the grin had faded. I shuddered to think of the results. But that was only one picture. There were still two more to be endured. Look- ing up, I was surprised to find that Mr. Davis was gone! Thinking that I could relax for a minute I heaved a deep sigh, slouched in my chair, and lowered my head. Suddenly a loud roar exploded in my left ear. Whirling around, I saw Mr. Davis towering in back of me. Please, my dear, straighten up! What do you think this is, a rest hour?'I I straightened with the speed ofa Sabre Iet and tried to calm my jangled nerves. Suddenly a shiver went up my spine as a hot, clammy hand dropped stealthily on my shoulder. Drop this shoulder down just a bit, pleasef' he said. I dropped it. Apparently satisfied Mr. Davis stalked across the fioor and crawled under the fiapping black cloth. Again my eyes became frozen on the camera. Out popped Mr. Davis. Now look right at me, please. Don't look at the camera, or youlll spoil the picturef, I finally located the wiry little man about halfway between the camera and one of the glaring lights. I-Ie was staring wildly at me. Thinking I had done something wrong again, I quickly lowered my eyes. This brought another ex- plosion. Will you please look at me? How can I take your picture with your eyes down? Up went my eyes. Mr. Davis, while holding my eyes in a hypnotic stare, asked me if I liked fish. How was I to know that I was supposed to say A'yes while he snapped the picture? This would have given the illusion of a smile! The dam- age had been done, however, as Mr. Davis had snapped the picture despite my negative reply. In desperation he agreed to take the next one in a sober pose. Thinking this one would be easier, I kept my eyes on Mr. Davis and followed him each time he moved. I was determined not to let him out of my sight. All went well until I detected a slight movement out of the corner of my eye. It came from the di- rection of the dressing room door. There was Marlene peeking at me through the half-open door. Her look of anxiety was too much for my over-worked nerves. Despite my efforts, I felt a grin creeping across my face. I burst out laughing. Too late I remembered poor Mr. Davis. The picture had been taken. With a very discouraged look on his face, Mr. Davis motioned for me to send in the next one. We lived in a mixed state of constant dread and anticipation for the next week. When our proofs finally arrived we tore open the packages and fearfully lifted out the folders. My first proof was the one that had the half-faded smile on it. I looked as if I had just swallowed a glass of lemon juice. With an agonized groan I picked up the second one. This was the one that had been snapped while

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30 The Academy 'Bell through in the last seventy years. My family all say that the world needs more people with a twinkling eye and a kind heart like our Grampa. VIVIAN SEELYE, '53 A YANKEE CUSTOM OLD Ned Brown, the village blacksmith, lounged idly in the warm sunshine, chewed on a cud of tobacco, and whittled. Behind him in the shop were a broken carriage shaft, a pile of junk iron, an old carriage wheel, and many miscellaneous articles to be mended. He was not a lazy man, but he liked to sit and whittle and think, just like any good New England Yankee. It was to this quiet scene that Hank brought his automobile to a screeching stop. Bounding from the car, he spotted Ned and dashed up the drive. In his hand was a broken javelin shaft. Mr, Brown? he shouted. Um?,' Here,s a broken spear that's got to be fixed right awayf' Receiving no reply, Hank shoved the broken shaft into Ned's lap and said impatiently, The coach has got to have this fixed before three o'clock. There's a meet this afternoon with South Paris, and we've got to furnish the javelin. This is the only one we've got, and we can't keep the whole team waiting. Can you do it?,' Nope!,' NOP But why? stammered Hank. Busyl,' But please, Mr. Brownf, said Hank. Misunderstanding his silence, he added, The school will pay you. I said I couldn't do it for youf, growled Ned and kept on whittling. They would have done it in the city where I came from,' said dejected Hank, as he retraced his steps to the car. South Paris had arrived, and already the people had begun to assemble to watch the meet. The coach and Mn stood at one end of the field when Hank stood up. Coach,', he said angrily, I can,t get anywhere with that old man! Honestly! When I took the spear up to him and asked him to mend it, he sat there and told me he couldn't do it. 'Too busyf he said! He was just whittling when I got there, and .... H The angry boy was interrupted by Mr.,', who threw back his head and laughed heartily. Running his hand through his graying hair and mopping his brow, 'iMr. said, Now Hank, you go back to Ned Brownis, and this is what I want you to do-.H The Hank who drove up to the blacksmithis shop the second time that after-