Lyman Hall High school - Singer Chronicle Yearbook (Wallingford, CT)

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THE CHRONICLE 11 FINDERS KEEPERS Jim Blake walked slowly down the main street of a large city, just as he had done every day for the last ten months. As he paused to watch a girl arrange a window display in a bakery, he remembered that he was hungry. Except for a few slices of dry bread, which he had finished three days before, he had not eaten for ten days. Jim Blake was nineteen years old and discouraged. Fifty miles away, in a small town, his widowed mother was very sick, and he could do nothing to help her. He was without funds and had been without a job so long he wasn’t sure he still remembered how to work. About a block below the bakery his foot kicked a small object into the gutter. He walked slowly over and picked it up. It was a billfold made of fine leather. Slowly he looked inside. There was no identification card, but another pocket contained five hundred dollars in bills and small change. J m Blake lay awake late that night on his cot in the Salvation Army lodging rooms. With that money he could put his mother well on the road to recovery. He said to himself, “Finders are keepers.” Somehow those words did not sound right. He reasoned that he needed the jmoney far more than anyone who could go around with that much money in his pocket and no identification card, but his early training told him that he could not keep the money. The fight in his mind was long and bitter, but in the end he decided to do the honorable thing, and at last he fell asleep with a feeling of joy in the fact that he had done right. When the public library opened the next morning, Jim Blake was the first one inside. He went to the newspaper rack and picked up the local paper, where he found what he was looking for and went back outside. Once more Jim Blake walked slowly down the main street. An hour later he knocked on the door of a small cottage on the outskirts of the city. A young man about twenty-one years old answered it. He identified the billfold to the satisfaction of Jim Blake, who handed it over to him. The young man asked Jim to come in, and they sat talking awhile. The man, John Morse, explained that he had a job, but that he was taking the day off to search for his money. The money, he went on to explain, had been drawn from the bank to be sent to his sick mother. In turn Jim Blake told about his own mother, who was also sick. Three days later Jim was sitting behind a huge desk, hard at work. Mr. Morse had told the whole story to his employer, and that man, impressed by Jim’s honesty, had given him a job. This all happened in July. Now it was December. Jim Blake had taken a week off to pay a visit to his mother. She was now enjoying much better health. Jim Blake had known what it was to be poor and suffering; so he rose early Christmas morning and went about his task of giving clothing and food to those he could. Of course, he did not have too much himself as yet, but he gave what he could to make others happy. That night Jim Blake lay down rejoicing in the good he had done that day. As he fell asleep, he thought back over the past year and decided that his biggest and wisest decision had been that “finders are not always keepers.” Alfred Bradford, ’33

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10 THE CHRONICLE THAT STARRY NIGHT Have you ever read that story in rhyme Of the Christ child born long ago? That tale which we hear time after time But always love it so. Well that is what 1 am going to write In a meter unheard of before, And I shall tell of that starry night Which we read of in Bible lore. When the wise men saw that Eastern Star, They hastened to where He lay And after traveling wide and far Found Him in His bed of hay. The place was transformed with a radiant beam, And a halo appeared in the air; A city in Heaven the place did seem, For the Christ Child was dwelling there. They knelt by His bed and worshipped Him there In this place now sacred ten-fold, And bowing their heads in a moment of prayer, Gave Him frankincense, myrrh, and gold. If some will think of that story of old When our Christmas comes ’round this year It will bring to their hearts great joy untold And brighten life’s burdens with cheer. Beatrice Cass, ’33 CHRISTMAS DREAMS It was eleven o’clock Christmas Eve. I was reading A Christmas Carol and enjoying the visit of the first ghost to Scrooge. As I reached for another apple, a voice spoke. Startled, I looked up quickly and beheld the twin of Scrooge’s ghost. He said, “Come with me. You have been a good boy this year, and I shall show you Santa’s workhouse.” We climbed out through the window and sat upon an enormous snow flake. It seemed to me that we traveled but a minute when we came to a large snow house high up in the clouds. Upon entering we first came to the Sled Department. Heaps upon heaps of sleds were here, each one with a tag on which was the receiver’s name. I looked eagerly for my name but could not find it. Next we went into the chief house for toys. Here Santa met us. He personally conducted us around, introducing us to his helpers, the elves. I really believe I made a good impression on Santa, for he smiled and beamed at me; and when we were about to enter the Adults’ Department, he said, “I wish to make you a present of—” Then came a familiar ringing in my ears, and I awoke to find myself seated before the fire place, the unfinished book still in my lap. Who can tell what the gift was to be—perhaps a bicycle or a watch? No one knows; I least of all. Gordon Bellafronto, ’35

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12 THE CHRONICLE GOOD OLD SANTA It was Christmas Eve at Mr. Brown’s house. After a scanty supper Mr. and Mrs. Brown gathered around the fireplace with their five children—John, twelve; Frank, ten; Mary, eight; William, six; and Joan, five. Hard luck surely had found their home; for Mr. Brown, a machinist, had been out of work for six months; and Mrs. Brown, who earned a little money by her sewing, had just gotten out of bed after three weeks of illness. Mr. Brown was sitting very quietly while Mrs. Brown was making curtains. “Oh, Mother, tonight good old Santa comes,” shouted little Bill. Mrs. Brown sighed and laid down her sewing, saying, “I only wish he were coming, William, but I got a radiogram from him yesterday saying that his reindeer have colic and will be unable to make the trip.” “Don’t worry, Mother; good old Santa will find a way,” replied Bill. At nine o’clock, Mrs. Brown, with tears in her eyes, had tucked her children into bed. She knew that their stockings would be empty in the morning. Mrs. Brown had just started sewing again when a knock was heard at the door. Mr. Brown opened the door, and Santa Claus stepped in. On his back he had a big bag full of candy, fruits, and toys, which he dropped on the floor, saying, “Here is a little something for the children. Please accept it with my best wishes. I am rich in money but not in happiness. I have at last found out how to be happy. Good-night.” Mr. and Mrs. Brown murmured their thanks mingled with much surprise and joy. Bright and early on Christmas morning the children arose. Their eyes sparkled with joy as they beheld their many gifts. Little Bill, between spinning a top and eating candy, said, “I told you Santa would come. He never forgets. Good old Santa!” Robert Loring, ’33 MERRY CHRISTMAS Christmas afternoon! The Joneses have a lighted tree, and around its artificial roots presents are heaped—presents for Jack, for Betty, and for the little baby—presents for and from relatives, neighbors, and friends, and presents for each other. Jack has the briefcase he wanted —yes, and the camera, too. And Betty really has the beaded bag and the little fur jacket for which she craved. The Joneses and their guests have partaken of a bountiful feast with the usual oversize turkey, nuts, fruit, and spiced cake. And now, this crisp, clear afternoon, Mr. Jones is taking Jack on a pilgrimage of good faith. They are taking a huge basket of food to the charity center; they are taking a bouquet of flowers to the hospital. Jack is also taking Bill, the old crippled fireman, for a drive. After that. Jack is going down to the club to help distribute Christmas cheer to those who are in need of it. In this way, the Joneses are keeping the true Christmas spirit. Mary Jasinski, ’35