Massachusetts General Hospital School of Nursing - Yearbook (Boston, MA)

Page 21 text:

I, Eleanor Delaney, to the Orthopedic Service, my fallen arches, I, Dorothy Emery, to the laundry, my fresh looking caps. I, Margaret Emery, to the Dormitory Board, a solution for my mis- demeanors. I, Hazel Bielefield, to Miss Whitelaw the position of Obstetrics Super- visor in the Middletown, Connecticut hospital. I, Grace Washburn, to some inmate of McLean Hospital, my love for that institution. I, Edna Emerson, to the Major Bowes Program, my ability to “tickle the ivories.” I, Ruth Nichols, to Caroline Singletary, my punctuality. We, Peg Ahearn and Barbara Barron, to the Irish Sweepstakes, our knowledge of Rockingham Park. I, Carol Coffin, to B.L.I, affiliates, the crackers and milk which I could always obtain. I, Marie Scherer, to future pre-clinical student assistants my constantly ferocious temperament. I, Lilian Stelfox, to some ambitious male nurse, my tennis ability. I, “Ricky” Morris, to any of the underclass students who have an excess of late passes, my “Wim, Wigor and Witality.” We, Ruth Belcher and Kay Love joy, to some discouraged student, our ability to see the brighter sides of life. I, Barbara Bitzer, to those students who frequent the Beaches in sum- mer, an extra pair of shoes. We, Emily Wyman and Janet Wheeler, to the 1936 Harvard football fans, our fur coats. I, Mildred Morse, to anyone who wants it, my long term of Relief duty on Ward E. I, Eunice Pike, to any night nurse’s roommate, my typewriter. I, Peg Robinson, to Future Big Floats, my varied experiences while serv- ing my time in that capacity. We, Kay Wilson and Irene Smith, to some struggling student, our scholas- tic reputation while at M.G.H. I, Ruth McCracken, to Major Stimson, my fond aspirations for the Army Nursing Corps. I, Blanche Ilsley, to Muriel McMurray, my whistling and singing ability.

Page 23 text:

■ ■ ■ ■ ■ B B ■ ■ ■ I, Thelma Ingles, to Doris Hutchinson, president of the class of 1937, my sturdy shoulders to carry the worries of the whole class during the three years. I, Kay Lynch, to the future Head Proctor of Thayer, a pair of soft soled shoes for night work. I, Edna Mack, to the next scrub nurse in Baker, my flirtatious eyes as enhanced by a mask. I, Dee Oakes, to Caroline Winters, my “line” with the men. I, Margaret Hazen, to Margaret Mahoney, my soft manner and quiet ways. I, Bernice Kimball, to Jane Martin, my extra late passes. I, Evelyn Lyons, to Rebecca Benedict, a few precious inches of my superb height, so that she may be able to reach the field of operation without the aid of a stool. I, Rita Keane, to Florence Perry, several round trip tickets to Nantasket with the hope that she will enjoy the swimming as much as I did last summer. I, Anne Sargent, to future long operating nurses, my ability to send bilat- eral appendices to the Path. Lab. We, Olive Robery and Marian Mahoney, to the great out-of-doors, our hilarious dispositions. I, Christine Stone, to potential gastrics, my indignant attitude toward the M.G.H. daily rations. I, Lois Gladding, to the whole world, my good-natured disposition. I, Eileen Glynn, to the Dentyne Gum makers, my smile. I, Virginia Walker, to Hollywood, my lovely Grecian nose. We, Barbara Vivian and Barbara Phillips, to Lynn Fontanne and Alfred Lunt, our undaunted Dramatic efforts. I, “Dubby” Smith, to whom it may concern, my contagious laughter. I, Ev a Borrner, to Woodbury’s Soap, my “skin you love to touch.” I, Grace Flynn, to certain overconfident students, some of my shy manner. I, Evelyn Brown, to the American Posture League, my perfect posture. I, Rene Vandersloot, to Margaret Bonnette, my most unique chapeaux. I, Marjorie Goldthwaite, to Florence Davis, in order that she may make herself heard more often, my rhetorical flights and flutterings. I, Edith Lee, to Virginia Kidder, for the purpose of future economy, my pink cheeks.