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

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THE CHRONICLE 9 islands highly enjoyed the situation. Since they had had experience with Becky’s tongue lashings, they merely waved as they sped by. Becky slept on the hard ground under the shelter of a few scrubby little bushes. The next morning the boat swooped by — circled around — and stopped within hailing distance. “Did you have a good night?” John Thomas asked cheerfully. “John Thomas, are you out of your mind?” she exploded. “You come right over here and take me off and then you put a clean shirt on !” So — he tossed her some more sandwiches and left her to storm. This went on for three weeks. Becky in desperation turned to weeding the few plants on the island. Soon people going by would call annoyingly, “How is your garden today, Becky?” At home everything seemed to be going awry, but John Thomas wouldn’t give Becky the satisfaction of knowing he wasn’t doing too well without her. At last she promised to behave. John Thomas, thereafter Tom. took her home, and it is said that they lived happily ever after, but no one ever forgets to inquire for her garden. And so the story goes until this day. Jf.ax Morrison, ’38 The King of Winter Sports Let the snow come, for wherever there is snow, skiing is hailed as the king of winter sports. Before we join the crowd on Neighbor Jones’s hill, let’s stop awhile to learn what this fever is all about. Shortly after one of our recent snow falls I was skiing along the tip-top ridge of the highest hill in town. As I stopped to look off through the clear cold morning air to the distant hills beyond, a snow-covered freight train wound its way along the track to the south. Still farther away could he seen a rushing, prosperous city with ships upon its sparkling harbor. As the sun rose higher, I felt as though I were a little superior to the ordinary walks of life, which went on day in and day out. 1 wondered just why I should at that moment have on my feet a pair of skis. The answer; 1 was afflicted with a fever. About four thousand years ago in Scandinavia, skiing originated as a simple but new form of transportation. In recent years ski fever has spread to thousands of people, who have made it a hobby and favorite pastime. Skiing is a red-blooded sport for all who love the thrills of swooping at breath-taking speed down hills, through narrow trails, and over brooks to the fields below. If you are looking for competition, you will find plenty of

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8 THE CHRONICLE The Tale of Becky’s Garden (A Legend of Lake Winnipesaukee) The moon rose high above the mountains across the lake. Dark shadowy islands rose above the silvery folds of water. A warning beacon on a tiny island just outside the harbor blinked endlessly. Up on the porch the gang of young campers settled themselves comfortably. Peter Piper’s famous cookie jar stood in the place of honor. It was said around the lake that only once had anyone ever known Peter’s cookie jar to be empty. That was when he bought nineteen pounds of cookies on Saturday morning, expecting them to last until the Tuesday supply boat, and had so many visitors that they were all gone on Monday morning. Peter always had swarms of company who came to sit and eat and listen. When anyone was introduced to Peter, he was also introduced to the cookie jar; and after the introduction he was expected to help himself. The gang sat and munched and waited expectantly. They didn’t have to wait long. Peter put his feet on the porch rail and stared out at the beacon light. “Do you know why they call the beacon rock Becky’s Garden?” He looked around but everyone looked blankly at him. “Well, it was like this. Over on the mainland lived John Thomas, whose wife always called him a stern John Thomas, and his wife, whom he always called a most undignified Becky. They simply couldn’t get along. Becky nagged and scolded until the neighbors all laughed at such a hen-pecked substitute for a husband. Then one day the worm turned, as worms will. John Thomas decided that the last straw was coming and that he was going to dodge it. One June day he got the demuring Becky into the motor boat. She fussed and fumed for two solid hours of skimming past the most beautiful scenery in a section noted for its beauty. As they were heading back, John Thomas skillfully slid the boat up to the rock where the beacon is now. The whole island is only about four feet wide and eight or ten feet long. John Thomas put on his sternest look and said, “Get out.” Becky simply looked at him, dumbfounded. John Thomas hadn’t ordered her around since they had been married. “Get out,” he said again. “Hurry up. I can’t hold this boat all day.” Becky was so surprised she stepped out on the rock. John Thomas shoved the boat away, tossed her a packet of sandwiches, and delivered his ultimatum. “You’ll just have to stay there until you promise not to nag nor scold. Also, you’ll have to accept the fact that I am boss.” With that as a parting thrust he sped off. At first she wept; then she stormed. All the neighbors on the nearby

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10 THE CHRONICLE it in skiing as this sport requires proficiency in jumps, stops, and turns. When the skier has conquered these requisites, the glitter and beauty of a new life in the winter outdoor will be open to him. “Skiing is easy, but we need to pour over our catalogs and rummage through the numerous sporting goods stores to select good equipment. Poorly made equipment is a severe handicap and often discourages the beginner. Besides a good straightgrained pair of skis and poles, a well-built harness is indispensable. Now as the skier’s speed rapidly increases as he descends from the ridge, the valley below will soon be reached. However, if he should suddenly turn into a whirling cork-screw and find himself rolling in a snow drift, he, as well as the laughing onlookers at the foot of the hill, will have had a good time. Quentin Hoyt, ’38 — o — Winter Set The lacy snow was coming down To form a blanket on the ground. The fir trees with their boughs outspread Received the snow from overhead. The far-off meadows showed at night As the moon bathed them with silv’ry light. Across the fields the fence post stood With a cap of snow like a pointed hood. Looking at this scene at night Fills me with joy and pure delight. Virginia Adinolfi, ’38 “Honesty Is the Best Policy” (A modern George Washington) Tom knew that he could wait until after school was dismissed to ask Jimmy about the basketball game; yet something prompted him to ask just one question about the game. He thought it was safe to ask as the teacher’s back was turned. He succeeded in asking the question, but he didn’t receive an answer as the teacher’s sharp ears had heard a voice in the silent room. Very distinctly she said, “Whoever has just spoken, while my back was turned, please raise his hand.” Tom knew that if he raised his hand and admitted the talking, he would