Madawaska High School - Owl Yearbook (Madawaska, ME)

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Page 10 T H E O W L Nil gh 'O buculatez fur pntbia It was S-pringg there could be no doubt o-f t-hat in the hearts of those who were eager for its arrival. A robin, thrilling its life away on a scraggy limlb, caught the first rumor of Lady Spring's advent, and decided it was high time the worllfd should kno-w about it. 'Cynthia Gale, factory--worker for The Howell C-hoicoilate Corporationff ileft the build- ing when the whistle blew. She went down the ugly stone steps, Cwhich allways seemed to echo to her unwilli-ng feet like jail stairsj, swunrg the heavy iron gate about on its hin- ges, and stepped out to the pavement of the street. If there was a bud popping out on one of the trees, Cynthia G-ale did not notice it. In fact, she passed the pretty robin haughtily by, and made the littile bird cock his head in a funny fashion and remark My, what a sour creature! Cynthia had no time for Spring and its tomrfo-olery, and that was a-ll. No, she wasn't old, nor was she tired of life. She was just a poor working-girl w'ho spent a tweelve-hour day in a hot, sometimes very hot, factory, bending over pots till her back ached, her head whirled and her k-nees were rea-dy to cave in. To dip, test, eat and even to dream chocolates was her life. She hated the sight of a chocolate. On her way home, Cynthia paid no atten- tion to the numerous attractively-arranged Shop-windows. There might have been a dress, hat or coat there that would have set any other person's heart aglow, but not Cyn- thia's. She had no time for clothes. She knew her old drab suit was shabby, her hat lifeless and terribly out of shalpe due to rain and snow. Her shoes were sfcurffed, worn down at the heels and a bit too wide. The on-ly thing that mattered was to get home. Home was a one-room apartment where a sour landlady expected prompt payment every mo.nth, with no -questions asked. Cynthia let herself into the building. She went up three flights of rickety stairs, passing numerous similar apartments where a fight was going orn, or somebody was cooking come-d beef and cabbage. Rea-ching her door, she opened a very bulky purse, took out a key, unlocked the door and went in. In a short time supper was ready. It con- sisted of a glass of milk, three crackers and a bit of cheese. Th-is feast was carrie-d to a table. upon which a typewriter rested. Next Cynthia s-lippevd off her shalbby coat, pulled off tlhe equally shablby hat, bit off a piece of cracker, took the cover off the machine, and things began to hum for two hours. A waste- paper basket was filled during that time, and crumpled paper lay everywhere on the floor. The milk was still untouched' when the clock announced the time as 9:30. At :last the typewriter stopped. Cynthia pul-led the paper out of the machine, piled the typed material together, drew it into a large envelope, slipped on the old hat an-d coat and left the apartment. I With the imlportant 'contents in the envelo- pe safely under her arm, and waulking toward The New York Times Printing Office, Cyn- thia smiled and muttered aloud : . These three weeks at that chocolate fac- tory were terrible ! It was worth it tho'. l bet the boss will pay me well for this. Choco- lates - ugh!! But I got the lowdown and all t-he boss wanted about Howell' an-d his plant, even the secret of making that new kind of caramel chocolates. Oh Boy! When J. B. Howell sees this in ther morni-n,g's paper, I bet he will think twice about hiring strange girls - especially women- reporters. We-ll! here's the office. Now I'll just lay this before the boss 1 and tfhen little Cynthia is taki-ng a nice long vacation at the Beach - with pay. Oh! I must hurry. I arlmost forgot I had no supper. I have a busy day ahead of me tro- morrolw too. First thing I have to look for a new boarding house o-n Park Avenue, and then make a trip to Madame Yvette's Dress Shoppe? M. T. C., '39. Leo james - VVhy don't they have insane asylum in Arabia P Aldrie -- Because there are nomad people there you sap. +8 BV'

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IO THE OWL Page9 40 Q0- LITERARY BILLY AND THE SPINACH FAIRY Spinach was the most distasteful vegetable that Billy could think of at any time, an-d es- pecially on this :lovely sunshiny day when he was sent to bed just because he wouldn't eat any. I'll never eat another bite of that horrid old green stuff! Ouch! Billy looked about, and there on the quilt was a tiny woman with a funny little green hat on the side of her head, and a 'long dress. Timidly Billy asked, Who are you? Where do you come from? I live here . said the fairy. You live here! But I don't see your home! The .little woman laughed and said, I'm a fairy. I have lived here for a long time. My family lives here also. Would you like to see our home? Billy said he'-d be delighted. So the fairy touched him with her wand and said, Now you are one of us. When Billy looked at himself he was much surprised to find that he was just as ti-ny as the fairy. When they reached the fairy's home and Billy saw an old man who had a head like a potato, he became frightened and said that he wanteid to go back. But the fairy told him not to worry, because the 'potato man w-ould not hlurt Billy. She said that he :looked like that because when he was a youn-g boy he would not eat his potatoes and vegetables. Tlhey went into the next room, and there sat a toothless old woman whose long nose had a big hoook on the end of it. Billy ran behind the fairy. Don't be scared, sai-d the fairy. She won't hurt yo-u. She looks like that because when she was young, she wfoul'dn't eat her carrots or spi-nach. Tfhey went on to the next room, and Billy saw two jolly and handsome men rise to meet them. Billy like-d them, and pret'y soon they were alll playing together. Then the fairy said it was time t-o go. Billy told the fairy that he liked the two men best. Those men ate their vegetables and lots of slpinach when they were young, said the fairy. After the visit to the fairy's home, Billy always ate his spinach so that he might grow up to be a handsome man. Mildred VIOLETTE, '39. THE LEDGER SPEAKS I am a piece of Ledger paper. My home is in a big thick work book owned by the varaious friends which are ca-lled journals. We are all commercial p-upils olf Madawaska High School. I have many other friends which are called journals. We are all treate-d very much the same. Each day we are handled about by boys and girls who write upon Aus very -cruelly. It is not the wri- ting we min-dt so much, but it's the ink. When a careless boy topples over a bottle of red ink on my cilean face, t'hen crumples me up very harshly, and throws me in the wastepaper bas- ket to join all the other bits of useless trash, I feel 'like leaving those si-lly bookkeepers and let them keep 'books without me. T-hen we would see how far they could get along with- out me. :Perhaps your do not think I am useiflul enough to talk about. Well, let me tell you, I keep the accounts of all the important men you deal with. I also tell you the worth of your business, so you see I am a very impor- tant little- fellow. ' ' Germaine MICHAUD, '39 YANKEE DOODLE'S POODLE ' When I first met Yankee Doodle He had a little yellow poodle All it could do was yelp and bark When Yankee took him to the park. The little yellow poodle . Looked up at Yank-ee Doodle And his eyes seemed to say Who do you think you are anyway One day the little yellow poodle Went up to Yankee Doodle And grabbed him by the leg As if it was a wooden peg A yell came out of Yankee Doodle As he picked up the yellow poodle He grabbed him by the neck And started in to give him heck Yankee's litle yellow poodle Wriggled loose from Yankee Doodle. He shook himself and ran away And has not been seen since hat day. Harvey LACOMBE, '40 .,- ,vw ---. ME - Qllf ff O1

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'THE OWL Pagell 'Ill If Jfrum The eps nt a ppetnriter Oh mel Yes, here comes the janitor. I do believe school is -over for today. What a relief it is just to sit 'back and enjoy yourself for a cou-p-le of hours, especially when a person has been driven just as hard as one possibly can go all day long. No, believe me, life is'nt all a bed of roses for a poor typewriter like me. You ask me why I am sighing? Uh it's nothing much, except taht that horrid girl who uses me so often just forgot to put on my black coat again. Now I'll get all dusty once more and get 'blamed when my keys get all clogged up. No wonder I look like an old out- of-'diate Ford car. Woe is mel when I think -hofw pretty and new I was a couple of years ago, I feel just like crying. I shall never forget the -d-ay I came to Ma- d'a-waska High School. I w.as a pretty bla-ck machine just out of the factory, with great ideas amd ambiti-ons for t'he future. One day as I sat thinking happily off where I wounl-d go to 'be used, an old broken down typewriter who sat beside me, turned and said, Why are you smiling like a basket of chi-p l? Oh , I answered, -because I'm so happy. You see its 'my turn to be moved out today. My old comnpanicn scowled back at me and muttered J-ust wait until you get kicked around like I ha.ve. You'll change your tune. I merely laughed and knew this would never happen to me. You see, I was going to be of service to mankind and, of course, mankind would be 'good to me in turn. Well - the day arrived. I was pick-ed up by a large man, packed in a stuffy w-oo-den box and carried out to a large truck which stood in the factory yand. I re- memlber I ha-d albout twenty-five other com- panions, all new and shiny like me, but I be- lieve I was the happiest. I hummed a little as the tru-ck sped on, and thought I was very important. About three days later we arrived at our dlesvtination. At least it was my destination. The other twen-ty-four were to be used else- where. I will miss my companions, I thought, as I was again carried from the tru-ck, but the world around me was so bright that I k-new I would be too busy seeing things to miss any- one. It was a school where I was to be used. I knew that now, for didn't the man say This is Madawaska High School to another man, as I entered. I will admit I was a bit homesick as I was placed on a lange desk by myself. There were more typewriters arou'n-d me, but none was as young an-d bright as I. I knew this was the typing room and here was to be my home, so I tried to make the most of it. I had a long talk with myself that night. I was'n't going to be homesick for the factory. My motto was to be Service - always, and' I w.asn't going to 'break down until a long, long time rpassed. But -- all good things must en-d and I'm afraid this is what happened to my amlbitions. It was the next morning that things began to change. At first I was half scared out of my wits by a bell that rang, and then I almost died when a troop of noisy boys and girls came into the room. I tried to smile but I'm afnaid' I was very near tears when a very big boy came up, plumpe-d himself down in a chair next to me and started dru-mmi-ng on my keys. I didnft like this treatment but had to res- pond, for wasin't Service my motto? I lost many an illusion in life that week. I found out that I had many enemies, and one especially kind. friend who was a sweet, gen- tle., Commercial teacher named Miss Booth. She helped .me over many a rough spot, but how I suffered in the hands of some of those boys anid girls? At first I was in constant de- mand. The other old model typewriters were le-ft and' I was use-d incessantly. This made my other fellow types j-ealous of me and' I led a dogfs life. But ml've grown up l'l'OW. I don't complain much, not even. when I get pound-ed around because the typist makes a mistake and blames it on me. I d-on't get angry when a person who intends to write Mary jane Brow-n writes blu jamb plkmrb instead. You see, I just have to take life with a smile. I'm old now. I'm not used much, so I sup- pose I',ll be taken back to the factory one of these days. But after all my motto is stil-l Service Mertie CAHOON, '39, 4.1 ,