Lincoln School - Lambre Quin Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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llltlst fortunate golfer in the lamily, as he seemed to have a natural inclination for the sport from the beginning. Coll' means to him. then, lcmg summer evenings of enjoyment and of close ccmlpanionship with his Father. .Xs for me. I consider golf the most frustratf ing game I have ever attempted. However. in the oll' season I Iincl my attitude a little more tolerant than it would be if I had just come oll' the course. It seems to me that one has to have a great deal more patience than I ever ltope to possess to play this fascinating game well. Perhaps it is Mother, though, who is the most allected by this game. Having no pro- pensity whatsoever for any kind of sport, she was destined either to spend long. lonely hours at home or to Iincl herself pulling over hill and dale. trying to keep up with her fam' ily aucl the little white golf balls, I believe THE ROOT Young kids have all the luck-and the money, too. I might acld. At least that is the way it is in our family. Before my brother Rusty was born, I used to be the John D. Rockefeller of the Jones girls. It seemed that visitors always had a few pennies to give to this poor, sweet child who looked with plead- ing' eyes at their pocketbooks. Too, Mother frequently gave me bottles to take back to the store, and I even sold eggs that my hens had laid to the neighbors. It wasn't that my weekly income was of such great figures, but that I learned to save and save until my bankroll equalled those of my older sisters. Of t'0llI'SC, I had not yet acquirecl, as had Dot and Di, the taste for such frivolous things as sundaes. lipsticks. combs. and movies. .Xt times I was extremely miserly about my finances, aucl would not even consider lending' to those who had ncme. without receiving' at least ten per cent inter- est in return. Once in a great while. how- ever. I would become overwhelmed by nn wealth aucl would feel sorry for Di or Dot's insolvency. My room still contains silly knickknacks which I bought ati outrageous expense from tny sisters. Mother never in- terfered in these transactions, for she felt that I would eventually learnt the value of such things. Had I only learned a little bit sooner. that I was being swindlecl, my pociketbook might not look so bare as it does today! Iti was inevitable. though, that Rusty should the aspect of the game that annoys Mom the most. though, is the fact that she is practical and unfortunatelv does not possess a golfc-r's mind. If she clicl. she would realize that the weather is never inclement on a golf course. QNote the golfer's adage: It may be raining everywhere else, but the golfer rests assured that on his favorite course the sun is shin- ing. j Mother has, however, found golf advantage, ous even to her. lVhen she Iincls herself long- ing for a few days' vacaticm. all she has to do is dangle the map of an attractive golf course under lJad's nose, and oil' they go to enjoy it. On the whole, I feel that this most famous ol all .'XIllL'I'li'2lll sports has brought a good deal of enjoyment to all four members of nn . 1 . family-yes, even to me. Rat: I,llNNII'Y. '51 OF ALL EVIL come along and take my place as the youngest jones. Now the visitors give him their pen- nies, while I sit in the background envying the increasing' weight of Rusty's bank. Last Christmas, Rusty received a little cash register. This batik actually adds up the dimes. nickles, and quarters as they are put in. It never fails to fascinate everycme who sees it on the kitchen table, where Rusty put it as a reminder. Xllhat he doesn't tell them. however, is that they won't get their mcmey back until the bank contains ten dollars. By that time Rusty hopes that these people in their second childhood will forget to collect what is coming to them. One would think that having the bank on the kitchen table would be enough of a hint. but no, Rusty has to pass it around during my mother's parties, hoping that somecme will get carried away with him, in his jovial mood. and deposit great sums of mcmey into this racketeer's toy. However, I cau't give others all of the credit for the increasing value of the bank, for Rusty himself has worked hard shoveling' walks and saving his allowance. His diligence warrants real ccmimenclation. Hence, each week I grow more and more sure that the young kids have 'it' as dimes. nickels, and Quarters flow into this chilcl's an- swer to Big Business. IJICISORAII Jones, '53 S ixty-seven

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BUGS Some folks can't stand bugs. Others like 'em. l'm impartial. Don't mind lookin' at 'em or touchin' 'em. but I wouldn't much care to be overfamiliai' with 'em. But bugs are kinda interc-stin'. Now farmers hate bugs 'cause bugs chaw the crops in the fields, like 'tater bugs, 'nd corn borers, 'nd sech.-Wfell, bugs gotta live best they know how. They gotta eat some- thin'.-An' lots of ladies don't like bugs 'cause bugs aren't always purty. But then. neither are lots of ladies. Most li'l folks like bugs-maybe 'cause bugs are li'l, too. Ever watch a li'l feller first time he sees a worm? l-Ie'll pick it up, an' his eyes 'll get big as the moon. Y' can jest see he's tryin' t' figger out which end's which. Maybe he'll put. the worm back on the ground an' watch it wiggle away. Like as not, though, he'll see how the worm tastes. XVell, society won't miss one worm, anyway. x'Vll?lf'l'C you stjuirmin' for? Guess nobody likes ants. XVhat's an ant? XVell, he's the nasty li'l guy that always comes to picnics with his ants 'nd uncles 'nd cousins. Nobody ever invites 'em, but they come jest the same. '1'hey get into the 'tater salad an' just 'bout ever'wheres else. .-Xn' boy, do they got pow'ful nippers! All right, so you say ants's pests. X'Vell, you jes' listen here. 'l'ry an' step on a li'l anthill some day, then stan' back an' watch. Purty soon a bunch of the li'l critters 'll come marchin' big as you please through the hole, all carryin' food an' eggs. Meantime, more of 'em are busy makin' a new roomin' house by carryin' one grain of sand at a time, an' fixin' it jest right. 'l'hen the whole kick 'nd kaboodle moves in, an' you'd never know anythin' had gone wrong in the first place. 'l'hat's teamwork. INfell, you say, what good's a mosquit- terP All they do is nip ya an' make ya itch. All I can say is, if there weren't any squitters there wouldnt be a Liars' Club. Ever hear the story 'bout the thing that landed in an airport in Texas? 'llhe fellers pumped two hundred gallons of high-powered fuel in it b'fore someone realized it was a stjuitter! You still say bugs are dumb. O. K., what about a spider? look at 'im, you'd think he didn't have a brain in 'is head. But you oughter see a spider spin a silk web, so deli- cate-like, you can't imgaine. Back 'n forth. back 'n forth, hour alter hour. 'l'hat's pa- tience. Maybe you pr'fer the arts t' bugs. Rather listen to Beethoven than think about a bug? l'Vell, bugs can even make music. Nothin' more beautiful than a cricket concerto on a summer night or a sewin' bee sonata on a hot afternoon. You still don't like bugs? 'l'hat's up to yon. Bugs can teach you a heap about livin'. An' long as a bug minds his business. l'll mind mine. jovtziz Pi-:'ri-:asoN, '53 LUNNIE'S DEFINITION OF GOLF Mr. Webster has defined golf as being a game which consists of striking a small ball with clubs having heads fwooden or metalj into a series of holes , Qnine or eighteenj sit- uated at varying distances on a course with natural or artificial obstacles, irregularly in- terposed. This is all very true, but I would like to tell you what golf means to the mem- bers of my family. 'I'o my Father, golf was more than a mere game. It was a source of complete relaxation, fun, and good fellowship. I say wus' because that was what Dad had intended it to be when he started to play this trying game. Now, I am afraid it has become more a means of complete exasperation for him. It seems in this vexing game that, the more one plays. the more faults one finds to correct. For in- Sixty-six stance, Dad had taken private lessons to cor- ret his slicing. He practiced for hours, mum- bling all along that his instructor clidn't know any more about correcting this fault than he did. After many hours of complete concen- tration, however,--practice makes perfect is more true of goll than any other sport-he managed to perfect this phase of the game, only to find out the next day that his putting was miserable. Now, we are Zlpt to find him. almost. any time, with a sheepish grin on his face, practicing his putting on the living-room rug. As you can see, golf is extremely exas- perating to Dad, but, also, it provides an in- teresting challenge. To my brother it is a moderate sport to enjoy with his Father. who is now too old to play baseball with him. Bill has been the

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MIRACLE OF PATIENCE lhe sun was bright and wartn on my lace as I parked I7ad's convertible in the hospital parking lot. 'I'he car clock pointed to six minutes ol eight and my clean. white cotton unilorm snapped and crackled as I stepped out ol' the lront seat onto the gravel driveway. I was very aware of the new whiteness of my shoes and stockings as I walked carefully up the steps to the wide glass doors, and I was immediately conscious of the difference be- tween the hospital rooms and corridors and the outside world. Inside. a clean antiseptic smell assails the nostrils and even the voices have a new and strange pitch. I signed the registry book in the ollice and walked down the corridor past YVard A to- ward the elevator. A little boy whom we all called Sammy came toward me from his room further down the hall. He was seven years old and had been crippled by Inlantile Paral- ysis at the age ol' lour. Doctors and special- ists had said that he could never walk again, but, under tl1e patient. loving care ol these nurses, he was taking his lirst steps. Nurse, Nurse, look! he called to me. I'm walking! A miracle ol' patience this was. I was carried up to the third lloor on the slowest elevator in New England. I was glad. for it gave me time to run over my list ol routine duties lor the morning. Routine, did I say? No! I was wrong in that, for there is a new turn, lor better or worse, every day in each patient. Ifrom every room came a cheery HU or Good Morning! and the appreciation ol' those people echoed alter me down the hall. 'I'wo doors, however, were closed and noth- ing but the dread quiet ol silence came lrom beyond. I carried wash basins. towels. and wash- cloths to eleven patients: helped them while they washed, lelt them alone to the hot soapy water or. in some cases. bathed them. One elderly man who needed special care had had a series ol' lung operations. Intra- ienous injections day and nigln were his only sustenance: he had had no loocl or liquids lor lilteen days. .Xlter his bath. his bed was made up and he watched my every movement. When I had linished, he murmured Thank you. I appreciated those two words more than twentv Ilowerv speeches or compliments. Slxlt wtgltt My next patient was much more ol a prob- lem. .X young man, he had been badly smashed up in a plane crash and had lost the use of his legs. My job? It was to get him interested in lile again. .Ks I entered the room, he didn't even turn from his hourly occupation ol' staring out the window at the garden below. Good Morning, I said, screwing up my eourage at the thought of what lay ahead ol' me. How are you this morning? Great. lust great. lor a guy with no legs. he retorted bitterly. I moved around the room, automatically tidying it and making the bed. As I glanced down at the rose garden, I remembered see- ing I1is personal history record. X'Vhen he was in college. he had taken science courses per- taining to botany. I, ttmmm. It's too bad. I ventured, we cIon't have a horticulturist around here. I heard the nurses saying that all the ivy plants in the Nursing Home were dying of some un- known disease. Glancing sideways. I saw that he was no longer staring into space. He must have thought about it quite a while, lor. when I brought lunch in, he turned hesitatingly and spoke. I studied plants in college. Maybe I could take a look at them lor voug that is, il' you can bring them to me. I 1 .Xs a matter ol' lact. we have some ol' the plants downstairs. I raced over to the Nurses' Home and brought back a brown, withered plant and a stack ol' botany books. IVIIUII I lelt lnm he was sllllllg up m hed. a diseased plant in one hand and a book in the other. .Xs I lelt the hospital I remembered the little boy on crutches and what patience had done lor him. I wondered il. by bringing a new interest to a crippled young man. I, too, could work a miracle ol' patience. Ittnrrn Ionmsow, '53