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

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THE QUILL 9 no holes in them, but something was wrong. He got up, went out, and walked along, not noticing where he was going. The trucks. ears. and buses rattled along the dark streets. One car went by, filled with noisy. laughing, high-school boys and girls. Those were the days! Then he had had friends. fun, and faith. He was the star football player. Probably everyone but him had forgotten that day when they played Cilecath High. The day he had run thirty yards for the winning touchdown after play- the last quarter with a broken wrist! But what difference did that make now? He had been a success then. In fact, he had been a success until just a year ago. Since then he had met defeat after defeat. He had lost friend after friend by asking for favors and for jobs. Suppose IXIary Anderson' was like him. Suppose she didn't have any friends or any job. YVell, it was too late now. He had spent the money. Wfhat about the social security card and the picture of the little, old man with the horn-rimmed glasses? But no, if he took those back, she would know that he had spent her money. She might even call the police. Still ..... Norman Shields walked slowly, hesitating- ly. Once he almost turned, as if to go back. He kept on, however, and finally found himself in front of a large, brown building, which was obviously a rooming house - a cheap one. He went up the walk and re- luctantly rang the bell marked 'fAnderson.,, He rang a second time, more firmly now. Finally, on the third ring, the door opened and an old woman peered out at him. Sorry, young man. You're about an hour too late. Mary moved out bag and baggage about ten o'clock. She got a telegram saying her uncle died. Left her some money I guess. IVhat you callin' on her so late for? No, ainft got no forwardin, address. Did ya. know ...... ?', But the landlady was talking to thin air. Norman Shields was already half way down the walk. He quickened his steps toward the little room that somehow didn't seem as dreary as it had before. f'Do unto oth- ers as you would have them do unto you. Suddenly he smiled at an old man who was passing by. Perhaps the smile had little meaning to the man, but to Norman it was the beginning of a new way of life. Tomorrow he would get a job. -Barbara Dessler. '52 THE NIGHTMARE All I can remember of the beginning is- well, slowly rising from a dark mass that covers me, rising into a strange warm light that seems to be coming from a round gold ball hung above nie. I feel as if I were just being born. A month, two months, I continue to grow. Before me those of my kind grow along with me, not moving, not speaking. By Heaven! What is this? A monster - a huge hideous monster 4 coming, coming for us. Wfe stand silently, showing no sign of fear, for we cannot. One by one we are torn from our places. Almost a part of us f- this refuge 4 the only place we've known, but what cares this monster? Well, today I was spared, a brother, a sister, and many friends were taken by this friend. Sparcd another day - another night! Maybe tomorrow Ifll join the other un- fortunates who have gone before me. It is three or four days before the uMonster comes again. This time I feel the pain of being ripped from my home, thrown along with my kind into a round, deep prison. After collecting all of us that he wants, he carries us within his great portals. I remember being put, along with the rest, into another dark place. Slowly I notice that it is getting warmer, warmer, my body is wet, the heat is becoming unbearable. Then darkness, deep, sweltering darkness! Then after an eternity I awake. I can hardly see or think - my body is drenched. Through the steam-filled prison I can see that awful face. My companions, some of whom seem to think no more in life, lie amid the steam. One by one our wasted bodies are taken into the open air again, but not to free- dom, for we are placed on a flat hard sur- face before another great giant. He lifts me up. I see the great powerful jaws widen and then feel the excruciating pain of hav- ing flesh ripped, literally ripped, from my body. Again and again relentlessly the mon- ster tears at my body. I can not think very clearly. All I can see asI lie mangled is the grinning, drool- ing jaws of my assistant. Again my mind stirs as I lie upon the ground, dying, lost to the world. And then in a flash, through half gather- ed thoughts I see the world before me.

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8 THE QUILL Perspiration streamed from his face a. the full force of the sun,s heat hit him Dana brought out a handkerchief and wiped away the perspiration, realizing he'd better be moving on if he was to return to his car by dusk. He shifted his fishing pole to his other hand and with a medium fast pace moved from the clearing into the shady protection of the trees. It was dusk when he returned to his car, parked on the old dirt road. The night brought small relief from the heat of the day, for it had a dry warm breeze. Dana finished lighting his cigarette, blew out the flame of the match, snapped it in half with his fingers and then ground it into the dirt with his heel. He stood by the car for a while watching the night cover the forest. Far off he heard the screech of an owl and another scream - the fate of a rabbit - the balance scales of nature. The stars were out in full array giving no hint of a coming storm, a storm that would be welcome. Dana, finishing his cigarette, which he also ground into the dirt, slid into his car and started on his way home with a satis- fied feeling. He had good reason to feel happy, for three large trout were resting in his creel. He closed his eyes for an in- stant and could almost taste the baked trout. Mom sure does a swell job on cook- ing fish, he thought - with which he quickly opened his eyes, realizing if he didn,t stay on the job of driving, he would- n,t be around to enjoy those fish. Now it is the month of September and Dana is returning to try his luck again in the field of fishing. It is a typical Septem- ber day, blue sky, a brisk breeze, and the kaleidoscopic colors of the trees - when suddenly the woodland silence is broken by Dana's car bumping along the dirt road. He had been delayed in making a return trip to his fishing hole because of the start of school. As Dana turned, or rather bounced around a bend, he noticed a sudden change. The shrubbery and pines were not as green as they usually were. He slowed the car and admired the autumn colors of the scat- tered trees, wondering why the pines and firs were so listless. An idea of what might be wrong hit Dana like a shot, but then he added that there was rain just last week! However, as he turned around another bend in the road, Dana saw that his uhunchf' had been right. Hundreds and hundreds of acres were burned! Plant and animal life had perished. Started by what? A match or cigarette tossed by a careless fisherman, most likely! Dana felt a sense of pride come over him. He could feel secure that none of his cig- arettes or matches had done this. He al- ways made sure they couldn't. Going on, Dana approached the spot - here he had left his car. He could hardly recognize it! Making his way carefully among the cemetery of trees, for he realized the danger of walking through a dead for- est, Dana soon stood by the once cool stream. All that was left was a stream bed, the shriveled bodies of fish and a young deer which had sought refuge from the flames. Dana stood there a while, hardly be- lieving this was true. But it was! Who could do a thing like this? He shook his head slowly and just as slowly made his way back to his car. As Dana started towards his car, his eyes chanced upon a badly burned piece of paper. He stooped and picked it up. As the sun beat down upon his head, Dana smiled wryly when he realized what it had once said: 4'Break matches, and '5Make sure cigarettes are out.', Sally-Ann Forsythe, '52 THE GOLDEN RULE Norman Shields walked along in the glare of the late afternoon sun. He walked quickly and looked up at the tall buildings, trying to forget how hungry he was. Suddenly he slipped, and glancing down to see what he had stepped on, saw a small, blue purse. He picked it up and looked at the identification. Miss lVIary Anderson 46 Maple Street Holyoke, Mass. He then took out the small roll of bills and counted out twenty-eight dollars. For just a moment he hesitated. Then he stepped de- terminedly into a small restaurant and ordered a full-course meal. When he had finished eating, it was getting dark and he had to walk four blocks to find a men's clothing store that was still open. l'Vith his purchases in his arms, he started for the dingy, little room where he had lived for the past three weeks. Tonight he could face the landlady and would not have to sneak up the stairs. Norman Shields sat on his narrow bed and looked at his packages. His stomach was full, his landlady was paid, he had a whole shirt, new shoes, and stockings with

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10 THE I'm well and fresh and yellow, but low, itls true, this ordeal I must go through. It's a shame that such should happen to a lowly ear of corn. -Erwin Houdlette, ,53 DAYDREAMING The sunshine poured through the win- dow. A peaceful air prevailed and the teacher's voice made a soft, drowsy back- ground for it all. I saw a big bug rise, shake itself, stretching one leg - then an- other, till all sixty-odd were unkinked. It crawled across my desk, but the little crea- ture was unable to climb upon the paper I spread before it. So it just sat and looked comically surprised and with a deep sigh it took up life's burden and moved on. I was at this time very interested in what it would do if I tickled its ribs. It just looked at me, being used to such things from its long experience as the mascot of the schoolroom. f'What was Caesarls next move, Dick? the teacher broke in. c'He stretched his leg and winkedf, I replied promptly, watching the little fel- low. I didnlt think it was a bit nice for the teacher to send me out of the room. -Richard Groder, ,55 THE LIGHT BULB The light bulb is a ball of glass That hangs down from the ceiling. It,s quite important in my life Though it hasnlt any feeling. When I come in real late at night And the house is all so dismal, I fumble round for this small ball, Hoping that I won't trip and fall. When at last I find the thing And think I've been so quiet, Out calls my mom with words that sting, 4'Can't you be more quiet?,, I yank the string, The light goes Zing. Oh, heck, I broke The gosh darn thing! -James Ronco, '53 MISTAKEN IDENTITY I walked into my room Without a worry or a eareg I took my seat, put up my books And-oh, I just sat there. My teacher looked around our room, Her eyes, they shone with glee And then she came, right up the aisle QUILL And-handed it to me. 'fFailure Notice was what it said Right at the very top- I wished the floor would open up So through it I could drop. But what was this I saw! I To me it looked so fine- It didn't belong to me at all But to the boy behind. -Harvey Mason, '52 THIS IS BASKETBALL I had been out of school for a week and my gym class had started playing basket- ball during the time of my absence. When I returned I was pushed onto the floor and informed that I was a forward. I guess that I must have been more back- ward than forward, but someone kindly told me just to shoot the ball into the basket. Justl the girl said. Whenever I tried to do this little thing a guard would jump in front of me and start imitating a windmill. During the first two weeks of playing this game I never scored a basket. In despair, the instructor finally made me a windmill -er, a, I mean a guard. I was doing all right until suddenly there was a mad scram- ble and somehow I ended up holding the ball. My old forward days came back to me! I tossed the ball up, and it went through the basket beautifully. The world fell on me when someone told me that that was the other team's side. Everyone started asking me why I did it and what side I was on. All I have to say is that it is only human to make a mistake, and how can I help it if I'm more human than most people? Margaret Bull, '55 THE LONELY SUBSTITUTE On a long cold bench- As hard as can be- That's where they'll always put A little guy like me. All alone-without a friend- It's just a mystery Why they never want to play A little guy like me. But I wonlt quit, no siree- It's against my constitution, And some day I hope they'll shout Time out-substitution! -Michael Murphy, '54