Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

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THE SCREECH OWL 13 have never had more than casual ac- quaintances ; I have never had an in- timate friend.” If we did find such an unusual character there is but one answer we could give him, “You have missed one of the most beautiful things this life has to offer you.” A pal is the most intimate type of a friend. One to whom you confide all your joys, sorrows, and even your thoughts; one whom you trust . It is human nature to want one per- son to go to for comfort when we are blue and discouraged; when we have become tired or bored with the rest of the world. It is then that we want to have a place where we know symp- athy and understanding will be found. It is even shown in the case of the very young child who loves some par- ticular toy above all others. Who, al- though dazzled at first by a new shiny plaything will turn ultimately to the old, faithful teddy bear or rag doll. But this close friendship is accom- panied with an ugly jealousy that springs up at the slightest and most illogical provocation. Not jealousy of material things that the other posses- ses but at the imaginary slights for which one is forever on the watch. It is the bitterness that accompan- ies all felicity. It is that which makes us recognize joy, for without this severe reminder we would forever look for, and never find, happiness. Edna Paine, ' 29. The Forest Primeval I A splash of water, a bubble, a wave; A rising echo bold and knave ; A sudden crash, a wailing cry, A moan — a shriek — a sobbing sigh ! n A rustle of leaves, a hissing sound; A sudden leap and rushing around; Silence, awe ; a stir — the breeze, A sudden wind — a crash — a tree ! Ill We can but wonder what beings creep In the forest primeval and deep ; On and on, all year around ; For ever and ever the echoes resound. Irma Ryssy, ' 28. The Yosemite Falls Downward, downward, downward, pours the water in a never ending stream. Dashing over the rocks in a constant flow, the current pours over the lofty cliff, hour after hour, day after day, year after year, on into eternity. As this scene meets our eyes, it carries to our minds some idea of the majestic grandeur of Nature herself. As we gaze on this imposing scene, we realize how truly great is the world about us, and how inconsequen- tial we ourselves are. We see the stream, falling tumultu- ously over a vast precipice, to a tur- bulent and boiling pool beneath. The spray and mist, bathed in pure sun- light, burst forth with a display of colors unrivalled in iridescence. The turbulent waters, flowing quietly away from the foot of the rag- ing cascade, pass through the restful peace of the forest and the cool calm and shade of the masterly oaks and hemlocks. On either side, this cataract is flanked by massive cliffs, carved by the tools of Nature and hewn by the hands of Time. Their stern, gray and sombre hue lends a picturesque and fitting background to this galaxy of the shades and tints of Nature. Nor is the art of the Yosemite Falls one of painting and sculpture alone, but also, it is one of music. The roar of the water, tumbling angrily over the precipice is mightier than the greatest of symphonies, while the quiet harmony of the stream, flowing serenely on its way, cannot be dupli- cated in the airs of the greatest of masters.

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12 THE SCREECH OWL it was intended by him to be a s 3 anbol of the Screech Owl. By a unanimous vote of the student body, it was de- cided that a letter of thanks be sent to the donor. The Screech Owl staff wish to take this opportunity to thank Mr. Reid for his gift. The owl is now placed in the library, a fitting place for the syrnbol of wisdom. May it instill in the minds of the students of M. H. S. the value of sagacity and repose. Edward C. Feams, ' 28. Our Vacation It happened in the glorious month of July, on a most wonderful summer day. I set forth with the antiquated liivver, our family relic, and the fam- ily, dog included, to spend a much anticipated vacation by the sea. We were to camp out on the beach, so the car was loaded down with camp apparatus. The family was so anxious to get started, that we went a day ahead of schedule. Amid the shout- ing of farewells and the barking of the dog, we majestically rode away. Oh, weren ' t our neighbors jealous of our coming vacation at the seaside! One long stretch of roads, a breath of salt air, and we were there. We selected one of the most en- chanting spots on the Atlantic coast, and here we pitched our tent beneath a group of sheltering trees. We were a quarter of a mile away from the surf but we could plainly hear the water pounding up the beach. Tlie first day was one of explora- tion. The whole family turned out, and we hiked up and down the beach seeking pearl-producing clam shells. We managed to locate only a few tiny land snails and then learned to our great disappointment that pearls were very scarce here. In the late afternoon we gathered driftwood for an evening camp fire. Seated about the blazing logs we would tell all the tales we had ever heard or read. The pounding surf made mysterious noises and enthusiasm waxed high. Despite inconveniences my family became so attached to this gypsy life that when it was time to depart I found it hard to persuade them to re- turn to the hot city. Finally we de- cided to break camp the next day. We were congratulating each other for the wonderful weather we had been having, for it had not rained but once the whole two weeks we were down there. Even then it was only a slight drizzle. We went to bed that night at an early hour so that we might be fully rested for the home going journey the next day. About one o ' clock in the morning I heard a terrible crash. I started up. The door of my tent was wide open and some terrific force threw me back in bed again. I was thoroughly frightened now. I made another try and was successful. The terrible force that hurled me back in bed again was — the wind. Just as I got to the entrance of my tent the wind gave a tremendous blow and the tent fell down on me. When I had man- aged to wriggle out of the mess, I staggered toward the rest of the tents. They were down too. After I had rescued my family from under the numerous tents, the hurricane had almost subsided. Was my family ready to go home ? I’ll give you three guesses. C. C., ' 31. Pals What is there in life more precious than the deep friendship that almost always exists between two young peo- ple during their school career. It is so seldom that one finds a person who can honestly say, ‘‘There has never been a sacred friendship in my life. I

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14 THE SCREECH OWL As one turns away from this mag- nificent scene, one cannot help but realize that the greatest of beauty is to be found in Nature. Edward C. Fearns, ' 28. Leap Year One February morning in the year of nineteen hundred and twenty- eight, Abigail Brown found herself in the clutches of fate. Just yesterday Abbie was a lady of great fortune but today everything was different. How foolish she was to trust that glib Major Van Dyke when he advised her to invest the Brown fortune in his radium mine. The mine was a fake, her money vanished with the false Major, and she found herself penni- less and friendless. It was beyond her ladylike manners to go to work. She had not a relative or friend to turn to. In the depths of her despair her muddled brain struck a happy idea. This was Leap Year! Why not exer- cise the traditional right of women and get a husband to support her. A rich man was her only salvation, she must propose. Craftily Abbie planned her cam- paign, she would attend the Charity Ball although she had not “stepped out for years. All the rich bachelors of the town would be there. She would start with the biggest and the best, and propose to every available man until she found one who would accept her. Abbie flirted desperately with every bachelor “daddy at the ball. After much maneuvering, she induced Mr. Bigbug to sit down a dance with her. Now was the time to strike. Abbie asked Mr. Bigbug very demurely if he would like a wife. The bachelor realized it was Leap Year and hast- ened away. This did not discourage Abbie, she decided to try Mr. Er- widow a widower. The widower was ready to confide his sorrows to any- one. Abbie got into a conversation with him very easily. She asked him if he intended to get married again. The man exclaimed with horror, “Not another woman for me! Alas, our Abbie had failed again. She imag- ined everyone was laughing at her. She was losing her temper. Biting her lip to keep back the tears, she ran home. Oh, the disgrace of that night ! Poor Abbie and her Leap Year pro- posals ! What was this? Abbie opened her eyes, she was in her cozy bedroom and her alarm clock was going off at top speed. The pro- posals were nothing but — a dream! Abbie ' s heart beat joyfully — pro- posals and fortunes. Bah! Helmi M. Hiipakka, ' 29. Rather Different Yes, he did look rather odd as he walked down the village street with that limp now almost imperceptible, but which still added to his somewhat singular appearance, his general habiliment bespeaking complete dis- regard of personal appearance, his pre-occupied manner unconscious- ness of his surroundings, followed by that queer, shaggy object, which, by its antics, evidently aspired to the name of “dog . John Harwood had always been, well, rather different. By one of those unaccountable tricks of fate he had been born into a respectable, common place, in fact very prosaic family, where, somehow, he didn ' t seem to fit. No tie of sympathy bound him to the rest, for his nature, utterly in- consistent with theirs, could not be understood. Serious in advance of his years, highly sensitive, contem- plative, reticent, a dreamer by nat- ure, a barrier separated him from them into a world by himself, a world of dreams. Tameness acquired in early childhood aggravated his nat-