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

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12 THE SCREECH OWL stopped short. Well, for heaven’s sake! He had been trying for hours to think up a good excuse, and here was the best one ever! He called again to the policeman, and in- structed him as to what he wanted done. First, ril-mm, let me see. I’ll - I’ll - I’ll sue him. That’s it! Sue him! For a $1,000 too! I’ll drag him into court! I’ll make the headlines! Hit and Run Driver! That ought to please the little woman. Imagine ME being on the front page!’’ The officer took down every detail and then, after inquiring about Temple’s condition, hur- ried to pick up the owner of plate number D 116. Phil whistled all the way home. He didn’t even bother to wipe the dirt from his coat. That was his evidence! As he passed Dolly Turner’s house, he took one of her prize mud pies and smeared it over his trousers. Then he practiced limping. If the wife had any doubts this time, he would certainly do away with them. The grandfather clock chimed 8:30 as he entered the drawing room. Funny the Mrs. wasn’t around. Ma be she was preparing for his execution! Well, he’d catch her unawares and tell her all about the accident. He limped into the sitting room, and there sat Mrs. Temple. Without hesitation, without even sensing her attitude, he began relating the story. Not one detail was overlooked. Surely this would soften her if anything would ! After he had finished, he looked at his wife for the first time. Why was she looking at him that way. He continued to gaze at her, not because he liked what he saw, but because he had to look. There was murder in her eyes! She clenched her fists, and her eyes shot hot coals. He glanced away, and as he did so, he spied something that looked too much like an official paper. With his eyes glued on his wife, lest she should attack from the rear, he fumbled for the paper. What the — ! It was a summons to appear in court the following morning. The charge was — hit and run driving! The sum- mons dropped to the floor. Slowly he began to rise from his seat, uncertain of his balance, and although he did not look, he knew his wife had risen too. Her eyes had not once left his face. He backed one step, two steps. So did Mrs. Temple. He pleaded with his eyes, but there was no response. The looks she gave were enough to kill anyone! It was a matter of life or death. Phil knew it, and he decided he wanted to live a little while longer; at least until he had increased his insurance. With a bound he stumbled out the door yelling at the top of his lungs, Officer! Officer! Help! Help!’’ Times I’ll Never Forget by Florence Dudzinski, ’40 The time I worked in my father’s grocery store and a lady, who talked faster than Arlene Harris, called up with an order. Everything was fine, that is, everything except that I forgot to ask for her name. The time the Baker came into the store all smiles and so hypnotized me with his charm that I forgot I was supposed to get a dollar change, and so did he. The time I fell down a flight of stairs at home and almost broke my neck, never mind my leg, and my father came out and asked me what I was trying to do. The time I woke up in the middle of the night with smarting eyes and a sore throat, and see- ing the room was filled with smoke, I pretended it wasn’t there or at least I hoped that it was com- ing from the chimney. An hour later I woke up to find there was a fire in the cellar, and it wasn’t in the furnace. The time I gave a customer her package, counted her change into her hand, thanked her, and then found out she wasn’t my customer at all. The time the telephone rang and a masculine voice asked for me. What he said couldn’t be meant for me, but I listened. Then some rude person interrupted, and I was cut off. Just because her name was Florence, too, and she was on our line, I didn’t see any need for that. The time I waited in a line of twenty-five people to get my father’s pay and then found out I was at the wrong window when it was my turn. The time my girl friend and I decided to go up to my house to get a library book. We took the key from underneath the mat and went into the house. We got the book and were just about to leave when I discovered two candy bars.- I called to her, but an awful thumping upstairs stopped us in our tracks. One mad dive for the door and we were down at her house. We met our sisters and told them about it. They claimed we were crazy, but they turned right around themselves and went downstreet. The commotion in the house proved to be Laura and Olga, who had heard us come in, and when

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THE SCREECH OWL 11 ing in the bottom of my heart as I realize how wonderful and great Mother Nature is. As I return to the welcoming light of the fire, I hope that there will be many more such beautiful and enchanting nights for my friend and me. Brothers by Edwin Lilja, ’40 Germany in the middle 1920’s. The country had just settled down and was beginning to make progress in the period of reconstruction following the Great War. Germany was a republic now, with a man at their head whom everybody liked and called Papa” Hindenburg. Smoke belched from factories, food was again plentiful, everybody seemed contented. The peo- ple were confident they would never suffer again as they did under the rule of the Kaiser. If we went down Berlin’s beautiful Unter der Linden to the district where the middle-class people lived, we would find that the Rosenbergs were living side by side with the Schultzes ; one family was Jewish, and the other German; but what difference did that make. The children played with each other, and frequently the Frau- leins Schultz and Rosenberg exchanged the latest gossip over the back fence. Herr Rosenberg owned a small siore which comfortably sup- ported his little family. Herr Schultz was a po- liceman at a nearby station. Then came the putsch of Herr Hitler and his followers. Strict regulations were set down. Rumors spread that Hitler did not like the Jews. Hitler deprived the people of many of their privileges. To make sure there would be enough food in case of war, he had new diets plannef for the Germans which nobody was to disregard. At the Rosenberg door, one night, came a quick succession of knocks. Quick, Fraulein! Let me in.” It was Frau- lein Schultz. Hitler is after the Jews! The police are scouring the neighborhood.” There is only one thing to do,” offered Herr Rosenberg. Take the children, get to Bremen. From there go to England and take the first boat to America. Take all the money we have on hand. Do not reveal your identity to anybody. Change your name to, ah, er, let’s say Heimel.” It was a tearful good-bye. While the family was escaping, Herr Rosenberg was placed under arrest. At the police station he was put in the cell and told that he would have to wait for the lieutenant. When the latter arrived, he went to the cell immediately. Astonished, who did Ros- enberg see but Herr Schultz himself! Why, he’s no Jew, release him at once!” barked Schultz. After he had been released and had a chance to talk with Herr Schultz alone, he asked, Why did you risk your life for my sake. I don’t care as long as the family gets to America and has a chance to begin life anew.” Patting him on the back Schultz said, We have been brothers for a long time. Even the Fuehrer cannot part us. Get to your family at once; they need you badly. I will arrange pass- ports for you and yours will leave Berlin on a pleasure trip to America. Nobody will suspect. Do not forget to write.” Herr Rosenberg couldn’t speak for a few minutes, tears welled in his eyes; finally in a cracking voice he said, I will never forget — brother.” » How to Get in the Dog House by Frances Shymonowicz Phil Temple looked at his seventeen jewel pocket watch which his wife had proudly pre- sented him for Christmas with sixty-five of his hard earned dollars. It was 7:30 and dinner was at eight. He certainly would catch it this time! He gulped down the last of the whiskey and soda and dashed out of the saloon. Time cer- tainly did fly when you were at Clancy’s. Oh, well, I can tell the wife I was at Cl . Oh no, that would never do. Not for Phil’s little lady it wouldn’t.” He knew just how she would confront him. The thought sent a chill up his spine. Hands on hips, mouth tense, eyes blazing, her foot keeping time, she would wait while Phil fum- bled for an excuse. He walked on and on, and with each step a new alibi was born. He just couldn’t find one that would impress his wife. Unconsciously he stepped from the curb, to the street. Like a flash of lightening a car appeared from nowhere and Phil was thrown into the gutter. The driver didn’t stop, but the number plate was easy to remember. D 116! Phil gasped for breath, and between each gasp he called, Help — Police!” A traffic officer appeared, and after procuring all the essential information assured Mr. Temple that he would secure justice. I’ll sue him! I’ll drag him into court by his ears! I’ll — I ' ll” He

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THE SCREECH OWL 13 they heard me say I was going to take the candy bars, decided that that was the last straw. The time a photographer asked me if he could take my picture for a magazine. For the cover?” I asked. Well,” he said, ”not exactly. You see I’ll probably use your left eyebrow and someone else’s face.” SUB-LITERARY DEPARTMENT VERSE AND WORSE To the Class of 1940 by Priscilla Marchant, ’42 Dear Class of Nineteen-Forty, Just a word or two From a poor, forgotten Sophomore Who sends best wishes true. How oft I’ve looked upon you With envy in my eye As you’ve strolled so nonchalantly Down the halls of Maynard High. As the spotlight falls upon you. We see you carefree and gay. May you always be as merry As you travel on life’s way. Your high school career is ending Soon graduation day will come. For you it’s only the beginning Your life will have just begun. From you, dear Class of Ninteen-Forty Will come people of many kinds. Some of you’ll no doubt go forward And others may be left behind. But may you ever prosper Being right in word and deed. From your garden of advancement May you pull out every weed. I’m wishing you just loads of luck I’ve said that oft before. What could I say that’s more than that? Signed, A Sophomore. fit » My Dream Castle by Mary Ellen Punch, ’42 After a hectic day of trouble When I’m often tired and cross My thoughts fly to my castle Where I am the only boss. Around this haven of peace and rest Is an invisible castle wall It guards and protects my secret thoughts And keeps them safe from all. It makes no difference why or when I always feel the same — I’m sorry that I have to leave But awfully glad I came. So — when I feel blue and discouraged My troubles fade into a dream And go to that mystic castle Where I am the ruler supreme. Lamentation of a Freshman by ' Tittle Me” ’43 I Here I sit in the study room Peaceful as can be Wondering why the Senior girls Never look at me. II I’ve been in High School seven months And I study all the time. But the way the upperclassmen stare You’d think I’d done a crime.” III Whatever happens ’round the school The Freshmen take the blame; And another thing that worries me They don’t call me by my name. IV They say, Hey squirt come over here.” And unwillingly I go, I wish, just once, they’d say to me, Want a bite of candy, Joe.” V You’ve bothered me enough this year So why not leave me alone, I wish that just once in a while In peace I could go home.