Gardiner Area High School - Quill Yearbook (Gardiner, ME)

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THE QUILL ' 15 WHA' HAPPEN? My father and I were coming back from Brunswick one afternoon when I got up my courage for the first time to ask him if I might drive the car. Much to my surprise he said, Yes. First he had to tell me about the mech- anism of the car. Oh, how interesting! I thought. I had always wondered what made a car tick. After explaining the position of the different gears and the running of the .car in general, Dad asked if I understood what he had told me. Yes, I said, although he could have been telling me how to make the Atom Bomb for all it meant to me. He told me how to start and stop. Gh, how easy it all sounded! But when I got behind the wheel and tried to do what Dad told me, it didn't seem so easy. After stalling it a time or two, I finally got going. Gee! this is fun, I said. Nothing to it. By this time we had reached Gardiner. CI really did make it.J ' I came to a sharp corner, Dad was trying to help me. Wha' happen'Z I didn't quite make it and we went into the ditch. Dad took over then. . What can you -expect? I am one of those Women Drivers. , . A - Priscilla Potter, '52 -MY MASTERPIECE With my paper here before me and my ink pen fully filled, I'll try to write somethin' for the Gardiner -High School 'Quill. Teacher says it must be 'riginal Cas it is sure to beb. It may sound kinda foolish, but then just look at me! I've thunk and thunk till I'm all thunk out, but no subject could I find. I've writ and writ but only proved to waste a lot of time. 'Course I could write 'bout the fall, or flowers in the spring, Gr somethin' 'bout the wintertime, or some such foolish thing. Or I could write 'bout the weather, or the brand new dress I bought, Gr 'bout my r'mantic love life -- now that's some food for thought! I have pondered on- these subjects, but I fear 'twas all in vain, So reluctantly I'll pass this in and sadly sign my name. - Mary Lou Grader, '52 THE NEW BIRTH Twirling and whirling, Downward gliding - Gently drifting, But falling - falling W Quietly and softly It floats toward earth, Surely a herald Of a season's new birth. How brightly, how whitely The earth's shining glow! The purest of pure - The new fallen snow! - Edward Pickard, '50 AFTER I GRADUATE Upon graduation I'll take a vacation, I'll start a migration To some other nation. For a little variation In one's duration Will give him better preparation Than just education. - Henry Atkins, '51

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14 T H E THE KID NEXT DOOR It's Saturday morning47 o'clock. I'm sound asleep with the covers over my head. Ring! I pull the covers closer R-r-r-ing! Might as well answer it! jumping up, I grab the phone and shout, Hello! Frefud, c'n ya cum out? That's HIM-the Kid next door! Four feet tall and almost as wide, he is, and six years old or thereabouts. His mother buys man's size pants and has to cut off the legs and put a gusset in the rear before they will fit him. This is his second year of school and he should be going all day now, but as his mother says, They would have one session just when HE goes to school. His cat and dog probably feel the same way, because their lives are pretty complicated when the Kid is home. When I first knew him, he might have been a little smaller but not much, but any- way he was three years younger. That was about the time he started asking to borrow my football and bebe gun. I'd say, No, and looking out the window, I'd see him hiking over the path toward his house with them. Qln 1959 his Pa hopes to see the Kid carry the ball for a winning touchdown for Gardiner High School.D He used the gun to ambush startled customers as they went to and from the neighborhood store. One school vacation he fell into the grease pit over at the filling station. After he'd been fished out, both the proprietor and his Ma wished school would start up again - quick! Last summer the Kid's Pa was painting inside the piazza. He had a big gallon can of red paint on a little stand. All was going well until the Kid wanted to help and reached for the brush. His foot kicked the leg of the stand, upsetting the red paint on the gray floor, which wasn't supposed to be painted at all. Also upset was the somewhat strained humor of Pa, who promptly gave his pride and joy something to remember a long time. Then there was the day he called on the phone and I asked, Whatcha want? and he said Pre-ud, I got a surprise for ya, and I said, Oh, all rightf, In a minute the door opened and in he QUILL came with an envelope. Inside were two pennies wrapped in tissue paper. You keep 'em, Fre-ud, he told me. Now the Kid says he is going to take violin lessons. This reminds me of the time when, after sitting long and patiently while I practiced, he finally whispered in my ear, I..et's sneak out. Maybe it'll be on the football field, or it could be at a school concert, but in about ten years from now you'll be seeing a lot of The Kid Next Door -and I'll be right there, clapping as hard as anybody. - Fred Anderson, '51 CRIME DOESN'T PAY The night was dark and dreary. Only nocturnal noises were audible to ears perked to canine alertness. The house was quiet as the family slept. But in the stillness of the night lurked two figures, each un- aware of the other. Suddenly furtive steps sounded as they made their way toward a corner of the dining-room, where a table stood veiled in the gloom of the semi-darkness. With an expression of shamelmore than, malice, the intruder reached for' a diminutive object with nervous fingers. Suddenly, he heard running footsteps descending the hall stairs. Forgetting his loot, he dashed away before he was dis- covered. No sooner had he disappeared when a small boy entered the room. Going directly to the table,Ahe took tenderly in his arms the object of the intruder's atten- tion. With it clutched in his chubby hands, he mounted the stairs. Then the house was quiet again as the two people recalled the episode of the night. The boy held his piggy-bank tight in his arms as he lay with exultant mind, thinking of how he had saved his precious Porky from the hands of a dangerous criminal. just a few doors down the hall, the dan- gerous criminal was crawling into bed, abashed and grinning sheepishly as he thought of his 'vain attempt to borrow some money from his son's piggy-bank. - Faye Hayden, '51

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16 THE QUILL A BEAUTIFUL DAY The sun was shining brightly on the lakes so clear and blue, The clouds were spread across the azure sky. The beauty of the earth shone in all of its delight, And the diamonds of dew sparkled on the grass so nigh. The silence soon was broken by daily ex- citement in the citiesg Women worked about their homes, hum- ming simple ditties. Men were rushing to their work to do their daily duties, Noticing the huge, vast earth in all its hue and beauties. But soon the silence did return as the evening drew near, And people rested in their homes with the ones that they held dear. The clouds were floating gayly past and the stars were twinkling bright, As the man in the moon winked his flirty eye and wished them all Good-night. - Mabel Brewer, '50 ALMOST THERE Before my mother passed away she would often sit beside my bed at night and tell me short stories and incidents. Cut of all those stories there is one I hold closest in my heart. A little winding railroad out in a western county ran through a town called Tripland. The trains were small and dim in com- parison to the large New York cars. But to an old man who sat cramped in an uncom- fortable, untidy coach the defects were nothing. For many years the trains had passed the small farmhouse where he had lived with his wife, Thelma. How proud he had been of her when he had brought her to this home to live with his father! Here they lived for many years, going to town on Saturday and to church on Sunday. It seemed that it had happened just yes- terday. But his husky boy did not come to meet him today and his wife's rocking chair was still, with dust undisturbed. The old man choked a little at the thought and wiped his eyes with a grimy handkerchief. Somehow Tom had persuaded him to come to live with him, but it was all so strange in this new place, which was very unlike he had pictured it. He had said nothing, but one day his son saw his wistful and pathetic face and was disturbed. What is the matter, dear Father? Tell me. Well, it's this way, Son, he said. I want to go back home. I've never been away before and - well, she's there, Tom. Today he was going back home-back to the place of running brooks and dripping waterfalls. He didn't have far to go and he was almost home. As the noise rang through- out the car, the old man slowly closed his eyes. Somehow he was coming home over the hill and down along the lane. As he drove home the cows, his son Tom came running to meet him. Red with berry stains and face dimpled with mischief, the boy approached. Somehow he could see his Thelma by the gate - the girl he had loved and would love forever. Well, I'm late tonight, dear, he said, and weary. Come, she said, you're home now. Come on up the steps and rest. With a long and happy sigh he climbed the steps and- Oh, what a relief to be homelw The train slowly sped to the station with a loud rumble. When the conductor spoke to the old man - no answer. - George Bailey, '51 GOOD-BY GARDINER HIGH Our high school days are almost goneg They seemed to go so fastg But here we are all ready now To graduate at last. Most of us will hate to gog We have had so much fung We've worked and played and studied hard, Till now our work is done. -- Barbara Jones, '50