Manchester High School - Somanhis Yearbook (Manchester, CT)

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ml 16 SOMANHIS Guilty, of course, I answered, without thinking. Then the law must take its course. The sentence is chopping the wood, Career, with the axe, Ignorance, night and day, all the years of your natural life. Before I could also become guilty of con- tempt of court at hearing this, two horribly de- formed creatures came up to me and while one put handcuffs on, the other fastened a chain with a ball of iron to my ankle. I was then led from the scarlet room into ans other passage that was even more gloomy and horrifying than the flrst passage I had been ln, for here were skulls and skeletons of the vic- tims who had done as I now was doing. Finally after what seemed hours, I was tak- en into a colossal room in which there seem- ed to be hundreds of trees. The ugliest of the creatures removed my fetters and told me to start chopping the trees into kindllng wood and that when I had chopped all the trees more would come down the chutes. I thought to myself, You're making a mis- take there, old thlng, for when you are gone, I'll just sit down and take it easy. I was the one who was mistaken, however, for a giant named Necessity, such as I had read about but never had seen, came in. In his right hand he carried a whip that would have reached half way across the I'00lJJ. With this he threatened to lash me 20 times if I tried to stop chopping. I could not t.ry to escape until either the day or night guard should fall asleep. .Two days later my silent prayers were an- swered when my guard lndulged too heavily in his pocket flask and fell into a deep sleep. During these two days that had seemed a life time, I had warlly examined the room and now, without having to waste time, I quickly ran to the rear of a large tree where I had seen some loose stones in the wall. I had these out in a very few minutes and I crawled through the opening I had made into the court yard-Opportunity. Just then the guard- Obstacle-awakened and to my dismay lost no time in giving the alarm. Figures seemed to spring from every conceivable place in the court. My only hope was to reach the moat- Safety-before my pursurers. Running as I had never done before and never again want to do, I reached the moat with scarcely a yard of space between the foremost guard and me. Before I had entirely crossed the moat I felt it beginning to rise. I was desperate, and being very hot and weak from loss of sleep, it seemed a vain effort to light on. Just at this time I saw a heap of soft leaves piled on the shore. I leaped from the moat into them and great was my surprise to land in my own com- fortable bed at precisely 5:45 o'clock, on Wed- nesday, September 3. I don't have to tell you but I will fjust to bore youy that I never again want to enter Nlghtmare's castle and that, to postpone that dreadful sentence of life, I have come back to finish my last year in High School. REVERIE I By Margaret Schubert, '31 Way back before you or I can remember, we we were all destined to the same end. After flourishing on top of the World, enjoying and basking in the beauties and warm sunshine, we must forsake all this for a damp cool grave, six feet in the earth. To me, a sense of calm, deep emotion ensues when I listen to people discuss graves and cold, still things. Perhaps you are dismlsted and discouraged. I relish the effort it takes to overcome any un- pleasant reaction caused by these horribly truthful facts. I can extract genuine enjoyment in visiting a grave yard. Old, forsaken ones wherein one can dream on unmolested by fellow mourners or a casual passer-by. Here, where lichen flourishes on the tombstones, where long swaying, singing grass and musty odors pre- vall, one can weave the most intricate tales like lacy silken spider webs. Soft, spongy, grassy mounds, some raised, some flat and some sunken, all show evidence of neglect and abandon. The tombstones, those last chinks of memories, display their respective epithets through the ages. Some are crumbling and overgrown by trees. Yet, all are equal in their purpose and value. So it should be. Man has endeavored here and there throughout the ages to have equality. Yet, where else does it ex- ist as in a grave yard? Some may have mon- uments more elaborate in design but real value is equal. The body is treated with all meas- ures of equality. Pauper next to nobleman may often be the romance. . Much knowledge and queer satisfaction may be derived by the reading of the inscriptions on

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SOMANHIS 15 Work: With Love. She just worships Love. They've gone to help Professor Knowl- edge. They'l1 be back any moment now. QA.: 'voice is heard outsidej. Here they are! CEnIer Love and Everygirl arm in arm. Everygirl smiles happily at them all. The curtain falls., WILLIMANTIC BY HITCH HIKE By James O'Leary, '32 Probably the most humorous event in Man- chester High's 1930 football season.was the trip to Wlllimantic. When I say trip to Wil- limantlc , I mean the covering ofthe distance between Manchester and Wlllimantic and not what happened upon arrival there. That hap- pening was far from humorous. At twelve-thirty the old reliable Connecti- cut Company bus arrived at the West Side Rec . In short order lt was loaded with eager boys and on its way. The tlrst indica- calamity in store for the players tions of the appeared at Manchester Green, where the bus stopped for breath, and a minute, apparently to get its then was started again. Slowly but surely, much to the disgust of everyone, the old bus plodded on until it reached the foot of Nigger Hill. Here the sight of the long, steep hill, or of Silverstein's cider mill which of the two no one has been able to de- termine, caused the bus to collapse complete- ly. All the players and Mr. Kelley, realizing the uselessness of the bus, crowded out of lt and spread along the highway, humming rides . As luck would have it, several Manchester High students and teachers happened along and soon most of the team were on their way again. Several other players received trans- portation ln an old farm truck, which very un- luckily, was exposed to the elements lit hap- pened to be rainingl. The driver of this truck, if it may be called that, was an Italian. On the way he earnestly questioned, Who are you playing, Willimantic or Windham? This caused a hearty laugh. Very happily and unexpectedly, everyone had arrived by two o'clock and were soon dressed and ready for the game. The wild trip up was forgotten by everyone during the game, but it will be a topic of happy discus- sion in the future. TO G0 OR NOT TO G0 By Violet Mercer, '31 It was late one night in September when I wearily crossed a moat and knocked at the huge iron door of the castle ot Sleep and Dream. Or rather, I thought it was Sleep and Dream's castle, but it turned out to be Night- mare's. A page admitted me and conducted me down a great many winding passages with candles high on the Walls, flickering restlessly and casting eerie shadows about me. Thought I to myself, Well, Tommy, me lad, I hope the bedroom this classy doorman is leading me to is more comfy than this, or. very little sleep, or dreams either, you'1l get to- night. Now what did this silly usher do but stop so quickly that I bumped him and nearly broke my nose. After giving him a piece of my mind and rubbing the injured member, I noticed that we had stopped in front of what seemed to me to be a blank wall. Suddenly and to my amazement there appeared a huge gap through which I could see a. room of tlery red. I said in a whisper, Lordy, I must have died somewhere along the road! This is what I get for not saying my prayers every night. But no, 1 thought' wrong. Still the other place couldn't be much worse than this scarlet room. When I entered the room, I saw that I was in a court room in which everything was a vio- lent red. Before I could take in all my surroundings the clothes-horse led me down an aisle of scar- let plush to a platform so high that I had a stiff neck Khonest-to-goodnessj trying to see its occupant. He was a king Cat least he looked like a king, but perhaps he was a. judge.J Suddenly my heart stood still. Seemingly from under my feet came a thunderous voice. Are you Thomas Will-Refuse-to-go? An- swer, yes or no! To my surprise the voice did not come from the door but from an old armour to the right of me. I quickly quavered, Y-yes, Sir! for I'll swear on anything you like that I saw the knife the judge held slowly falling towards my head. He said, This court is held here this even- ing to und you guilty or not guilty of desiring not to return to school for your senior year! Are you guilty or not guilty? '

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SOMA. NHIS I7 the monuments. Often it i very difficult to declpher the old written words. I can Instant- ly recall one old message which ran llke this: As you are now So I was once As I am now, you soon will be So-Prepare thyself to follow me. MUSIC WITHIN OURSELVE'S By Rum Tivnan, '31 Shakespeare has said, The man who hath no music in himself, nor is moved with the concord of sweet sounds, is dt for treason's stratagems and spoils. Of course when he said this, he said it in an inspired moment, when some sweet strain was flowing easily and rhythmically through his mind. Such a great mind as Shakespeare's, weighted with such powerful thoughts, must have known and ap- preciated the uplifting and soothing qualities of music. Something more than sleep, rest, and activity are needed for the well-balanced mind. That something is music. By mus- ic I do not mean a certain composition of a certain author or the ability to play difficult works with correct interpretations, but rather my rhythmlcal intonation that tends to alle- if lk viate the tension of the mind. In my opinion everyone has music in him- self or in his soul at some time in his day. If he ls happy, he walks with a light, springing step, probably whistling, but nevertheles walking with a certain expression or implica- tion of rhythm. Most of our actions, I think, whether we are aware of lt or not, are influenc- ed by and coordinated with that music within ourselves which is so difficult to make under- stood. Who in his life has never, without thinking about it, started to whistle or hum a tune or part of a tune? Whether it be part of aBeetho- ven Sonata or the latest blues song lt does not matter. It is music, and music which came forth from the mind involuntarily. Who has never stood on a hill with the wind blowing through his hair and leaves blowing against his face, who has never sung or bummed or whistled, or at least felt the music in his heart? Even the grumpiest of persons, whether he shows it or not, is forced to smile, at least in wardly, when he hears a good orchestra or singer. I nnd that I am forced to agree with Shakes- peare, and hope with all my heart that no one will receive the maledictions as written by him. e Ik COURTESY lsn't it unpleasant, W'hen you're walking thru the halls, To be suddenly confronted And bumped against the walls? Isn't it disgusting, When you're going thru a door, To have it slammed back in your face By the one who went before? And doesn't it distress you, When after you are wronged, To hear a. mere Excuse mel' And Und that they are gone? Now wouldn't it be better, It whom you chance to meet, Would walk with care and dignity And not trample on your feet? . Edith. Adams, '31