Houlton High School - North Star Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS By Sally Packard We were arriving at home for the Christ- mas holidays. The smooth runners of the sled made a crunchy sound on the snow as the spirited chestnut horses pulled us merrily along the road, homeward bound. A merry twinkle was in the eyes of the driver when he heard our laughter ring out in the frosty air. The weather-beaten sled plowed its way through the sifted snow, up hill and down dale. We passed farm houses partially snowed under and all having a peaceful, silent atmosphere about them. Now we were rounding the big curve, dashing across the short, straight stretch with sleigh bells ringing clearly in the snap- py air. The large white farm house, with the green shutters at the many-lighted win- dows, was indeed a pleasant sight. Smoke was curling lazily out of the two huge stone chimneys. Behind the house stood the red barn, half buried -in the newly fallen snow. Two pine trees by the corner of the house, heavily laden with snow, spread their beau- tiful branches as if ln a welcome.. The straight path leading to the front door looked as if it had been shoveled early that morning. .As snow had fallen again, the imprints of tiny feet and dog tracks still lingered on the fresh, shimmering quilt. Jumping from the sled and running to the porch, stamping our feet to keep warm, we could hear Buster's joyous bark inside. No sooner had we reached the door when it was thrown open, and a warm light shone out on us all. In the doorway stood our mother, welcoming us with open arms, THE DRUNK By John Putnam There was a man whose name was Bill Who now and then got drunkg One night he had imbibed too much, And in his thoughts was sunk. He started walking home that night, But couldn't guide his feetg One Wobbly foot was on the walk, And one was in the street. A cop then passed him on his beat. Why, Bill, he said, you're drunk! Thank God for that! then Bill replied. My leg was broke, I thunk! ACCIDENTAL DEATH? By Jean Way A man on his way to Missouri Said, My brain is loaded with worry. He went for a walk Off the end of a dock. Accidental! - or so said the jury. -1 THE ENGLISH CLUB

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PRIVATE CORRESPONDENCE By Ardith Smith Peggie Darling, I'm simply bubbling over with news- about me, of course-and it's so thrilling I can't type it fast enough. Woe is me! Now I wish I'd been good and learned my keys the way Miss Wallace told me to. But, you know me-the original bug-a-boo. You remember me telling you about getting two bids to the Lynn Prep School Victory Dance and not knowing which one to accept? Well, that's settled, Bud FINALLY asked me! Tomorrow night's the big night, and I can hardly wait! Honest, Peggie, I'm more excited over this dance than I was over in first formal-and that's saying a lot, isn't it? You know, I think I have a bad case of it and That Ain't Good.. fSong title-but it fitsl Of course, I have a new dress, and is it a honey! Woo! Woo! There was an awfully cute yellow one at our pet shop, but Bud says I remind him of the angel who didn't use Rinso when I wear yellow, sow naturally, that was out. This is a pale blue chiffon and, as you've probably guessed already, blue IS his favor- ite color. Bul-you will have to admit-it is my best color too, so-no wise cracks, please. It has a long waist-line and, modest as I am, I must admit I look like a million bucks in that type of a dress. It has an extremely full skirt which is gathered on the long- walst line just below the hip bone. The neckline is high and gathered, while the sleeves are long and fairly full. Velvet bows of a deeper shade of blue are scattered in a hit-and-miss maner over the skirt. My slippers make me feel just like Cin- derella, even though IIERS were of glass wear my sweetheart locket on a ribbon of wear my swetheart locket on a ribbon of velvet, too. I won't have a corsage. The boys are giving the money they would have spent on flowers to the Red Cross. It real- ly is wonderful, of course, and gives girls a great chance to feel like martyrs of some sort. Well, Hon, it's after 1:00 a. m. and I do need a little beauty sleep-believe it or not Hso I'd better close. Forgive my mistakes - wish me luck - and write soon. All my love, Alice THE GIRLS' GLEE CLUB

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THE SCHOOL SPEAKS By Frances Clark, 1945 Boy. do I ever have fun watching kids come to me every day with their ears red. and shivering all over! I know everybody's gossip and whom they like and dislike, what teachers they have, subjects. and just about everything you can think of. When recess comes, everybody rushes down to the auditorium to watch Virginia, Jean. and Jeanette dance. You see, I know most of your names, too. They aren't the only kids that dance. Anyone who wants to cang only I suppose some of the small freshmen would rather sit hack and watch until they are a little olderg but of course there are exceptions. I see all the basketball games free, while you have to pay twenty-five cents or get an activity ticket. At the games, I practically fall apart with everybody hollerinf: and screaming, Fight, team, fight! or Come on, Houlton! There is another time when I have fun, alsog and that is at the dances down in the gym with all the kids talking and having a merry time, and especially with Rod Palm- er's orchestra swinging and swaying it. I just shake all over as though I were danc- ing right with the others. I go all through winter this way, having a wonderful time until graduation day comes, and the seniors leave me. Oh, but new fresh- men kids come in, and I meet new friends, the next fall. Well. good-bye now: but you better watch out about what you say, because I'm all 0 mrs. and I might tell. THE MURDER OF SLUG BOSTROM By Arlean Taylor What was that? A scream! Another one! It came from the locker room. Policeman Tomilson rushed in. He found Pookey Steen. her face as white as her cheerlead- ing suit, leaning against the wall. What's the matter? he yelled. Look! she gasped, pointing to the op- posite corner. There, lying face downward, was the body of Slug Bostrom. A stream of blood trickled out from her chest. She was dressed in her basketball suit, her sneakers partly laced. Evidently, she had been leaning against the wall, lacing her sneaks, when she was shot and fell for- ward. The gun must have had a sllencer on it, or someone would have heard it. This was the night of the big game be- tween the,Houlton Roberts and the Portland Crooks, to- see which team would get the state championship and the free trip to the White House. Slug, six feet and over inches tall, could not be outguardedg therefore, she was the high scorer for Houlton. Someone wanted Houlton to' lose. Policeman Tomilson called Inspector Barnes. When Inspector Barnes went into the locker room, he found Shirley Titcomb rummaging through Slug's bag. What are you after? he asked. N - - n - - nothing, she replied meekly. What's that in your hand, and where did you get it? he demanded. This is mineg it's my compact. I let Slug use lt, and now I want it. Well, I gotta go. 'Bye. Walt a minute, yelled Barnes. I under- stand you were S1ug's best friend. What can you tell me about her? Did she have any enemies? Well, I heard Kathryn Gilland and Rena Hatfield say they were tired of doing all the work at a game and having Slug get all the praise. They wished they could play one game without having to throw the hall to her all the time. Fine, Anything else? Someone on the other team might like to see her out of the way. With her gone, they could easily win and- What's this? he asked interrupting her and picking up a bloody handkerchief. On it were the initials, A. K. 'Nobody .on our team with those initials. Must belong to someone on the other team, Shirley replied. Ba.rnes, with the handkerchief wrapped within his own, hastened to the hotel where the Portland girls were staying. 'Whose initials are A. K.? he demanded. Mine, peeped a red-haired girl from the lounge.