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

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Seven By Mary E. White, ’43 1 Not thirty-six can the answer be When seven are taken from ’43. Gone to fight for the freedoms four, Into the conflicts unceasing roar, Into the battle for you and me, Are seven members of ’43. 2 Each heard the clash of the battle din ; Each answered the call as it come to him. Services different, but objects the same, To the rolls was added each student’s name. In the air, on the land, and on the sea Are the young recruits of ’43. 3 No, not thirty-six can the answer be When seven are taken from ’43, But the war must be won, And the strength of our young Will bring us the VICTORY! At the time this poem was written there were seven boys of the Senior class in the service. Sails The sun rose lazily from the calm sea and looked down upon the tiny village snuggled in the cove. Gradually the village seemed to come to life as the sun climbed higher and higher into the sky. From a small white cottage there appeared a young girl about sixteen years old, in blue dun- garees. She stretched her arms and took a deep breath of the salty air and a feeling twinged through her body — a feeling that made her glad to be alive in such a beautiful world. Boots then walked down to the shore and gazed across the cove. A slight breeze arose and made ripples on the blue surface. Today was the big day for the young mariners of Dover and surrounding seacoast towns. Every year the Workshire Boat Club held a sailboat race amongst the boys and girls of Workshire County. The race started at the harbor of Dover. Salem Sands, twenty miles down the coast, was the destination. This was Boots’ first year of competing. Her brother, Bing, had won the cup last year, and now Boots was to be his assistant, to have the thrill of the cold, salty spray on her face, the wind through her hair, and to see the sails above her swelling in the breeze. She sauntered back into the house, where her brother was eating breakfast. You’d better hurry, Bing,” said Boots. We’ve only got four hours before the race begins and we’ve still a lot of work to do.” Yeh, and if the breeze doesn’t grow stronger, we’ll probably be stuck in the harbor for four more hours,” grunted Bing. At last he finished his oatmeal and they started off to the harbor. Already there was much activity on the small sailboats that dotted the bay. Boots and Bind boarded the Elizabeth,” christened that after their mother who had died the year Bing’s father bought the boat for him. Hi ya, Lucky!” called Bing to a fellow across the way. You’re going to need plenty of your name to beat the ' Elizabeth’.” Aw, you don’t know what competition is until you’ve been up against ' The Spray’,” yelled back Lucky. Boots and Bing set to work preparing the Elizabeth” and were ready just in time for the starting signal. The sails filled and they started out the har- bor. Boots could hardly believe that she was really here beside her brother at the wheel. Look, Bing, the sky is clouding up and the wind is so much stronger!” They had been so busy working that they had not noticed the sudden c hange of weather.

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THE SCREECH OWL 5 Did you hear that they are going to make us work on farms this summer? I, for one, shan’t, anyhow!” Me neither, I’m not going to sweat in any hot field for anybody and maybe get sunstroke. Nothing doing!” At first I agreed with them most heartily, but the more I pondered the question, the more doubtful I became. Soon I came to the con- clusion that those girls and I typically were thinking only of our own side, ignoring com- pletely that of the farmer and consumer. We all agree that because of the rationing of canned foods, housewives are turning more and more to fresh fruits and vegetables, which as yet have not been rationed. Should they, however, be- come scarce, they would soon be subject to ra- tioning. This misfortune can only happen when the farmers, because of lack of farm help, must leave their crops in the fields to rot. This is a tremendous loss to the farmer, not only finan- cially, but because he realizes that he has failed in his duty to supply food for our people and allies in ravaged Europe, China, and Africa. This fact causes many small farmers to close up and seek work elsewhere, a calamity which must be avoided. Thereore, because of the shortage of manpower, it falls upon us, the students, to assume responsibility in such a crisis. Girls may speak of spoiling their complexions in hot fields, but I can say from personal ex- perience that the fresh air, sunlight, and exer- cise derived from working outdoors in summer play an important role in keeping one healthy throughout the year. So when the question of farm labor arises, let us be prepared to go and say in unison We’re ready!” Sirkka Koskinen, ’ 44 . m Warriors of Today — Builders of Tomorrow The United States Army, Navy, and Marine Corps are made up of men and boys — yes, I said boys, for seventeen and eighteen-year-olds are not men — from all over the United States of America. Among them can be found almost every kind of race, every form of human nature, and every religion that exists. To every single one of them, the life in the service is hard, more so to some than to others. To him who has had to do no work in his life, who has had to face no hardships, it is most difficult; while to the one who has slaved to earn his living, who has worked hard, it is fairly easy. But all, weaklings as well as he-men, will come out of the service better men than when they went in. The process of changing from a frail, frightened boy to a strong and daring man is extremely difficult, but it is well worth the effort when we analyze what the soldier of today will be in the post-war world. We all realize that the war must end sooner or later, and that when it does the present large Army of the United States must dwindle down to a smaller fighting force. What will all these ex-soldiers do? They will become private citizens, leading a quiet life, just as their parents were before this war. Only they will become better citizens than their forefathers, because the present United States fighting forces are not only being trained to become fighters, defending their country from the grasp of the dictators, but also to be good, plain, honest citizens. In the Army, Navy, and Marines there is no such word as can’t” and conse- quently, when the men leave these branches of the service, there will also be no can’t in their civilian lives. Thus, when some great national crisis arises, the men now being trained how to meet every emergency will settle it with less difficulty than in the past. Therefore, when you next see a soldier, don’t think of him only as a fighter but as THE BUILDER OF TOMOR- ROW.” Roy Helander, ’ 44 . Thanks! To the business men, who, by their adver- tisements in the pages of the Screech Owl, have enabled us to publish without interruption for the past sixteen years, we extend our heartiest thanks. To the teachers and students we also express appreciation for their co-operation in the fur- nishing of material and in the sale of the magazine. Their comments and suggestions have been of the utmost help to us. — Staff

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THE SCREECH OWL 7 Bing looked down at the once blue water, which was now black and rough. If it was like this here near the coast, what was it like out in the open sea? With a worried look and a scowl on his brow, he looked ahead at the dark, swirling water. Be prepared for anything now, Boots, warned Bing. Boots knew by the sound of her brother’s voice that all wasn’t pleasant ahead, and the race might even turn out to be disastrous. She looked around and saw the other boats tossing about on the waves. They were third in the race, but if a storm were coming up, would they even be able to make Salem Sands? A drop of rain — and another and another. The rain came pelting down and a gust of wind nearly swept Boots off her feet. Boots, take the wheel and hold her steady!” yelled Bing through the howling wind. I’m going to lower the sails.” The other boats could not be seen through the down-pour of rain. The sea rolled and waves lashed against the sides of the boat. The Elizabeth” was taking her beating with the sturdiness and vigor of an old time warrior. They just had to pull through the storm and reach the harbor first. To win the cup two years in succession meant so much to Bing. Boots, Boots ! Help ! ’ ’ Fear gripped her heart. She turned around just in time to see a wave wash Bing over the side of the boat into the swirling black waters. She let go the wheel and rushed to the place where she had last seen Bing. Oh, why wasn’t there someone else on board? She could see his head rise and sink. There was the life belt. With the ship tossing and rolling so, could she throw it to him? She must hurry! A wave came rolling over the deck of the boat. It knocked Boots off her feet, and she slid dangerously close to the edge. She grabbed the rail and raised herself, gasping for breath. Now another wave came higher and higher and crashed down on the deck. A blast of wind ripped off the top of the mast and Boots leaped aside as it fell to the deck. Bing was now quite a distance from the boat. Boots grabbed the life preserver and with all her strength flung it over the side. Her broth- er’s head went under and then rose again. He clung to the preserver. Boots began tugging. How she ever managed to get him aboard with- out falling into the foamy brine herself, she never really knew. It must have been the hand of Providence. Bing was in no condition to sail the boat. She must carry on the rest of the way alone. Thank heavens ! The rain had ceased, but the wind still blew strong. She took the wheel again. They had gone quite a way off their course. It was no use trying to win now. No boats were in sight. Probably all were now safe in the harbor. If only there hadn’t been a storm. The Elizabeth” was a speedy, sturdy sailboat and Bing was a great sailor. She could picture Bing and herself standing there on the shore with the golden cup in their hands — but it was only a dream. ' i here was Salem Sands ahead. The sun with its warmth shone again on the blue sea. The shore was crowded with people cheering and waving their arms. Why were the people waving at them? Oh, why hope? It couldn’t be — but it was! They had won! The next day, sprawled in a soft, comfy arm chair with her legs flung over the sides, sat Boots. She was engrossed, gazing at a picture of a smiling young girl. Bing, they should have let me comb my hair first before they snapped my picture,” said Boots smiling. Ann Hamlin, ’44. Nightmare Last night I dreamed I went back to Fabre Heights. The rain pelted relentlessly down on the long and steep private road that led to the mansion. The fabulous brick house had seen many such storms in its youth, but still it stood on the rocky cliff high above the churning sea. I hunched over the steering wheel of my coupe and pressed my foot down harder on the acceler- ator. To add to my tension, I could hear the waves breaking against the foot of the cliff. I left my car a short way down the road as Boyd had ordered me to and dashed for the gate. From a cottage on the other side came Josh, the gate-keeper. Dressed in an ancient rain- coat, he stood motionless for a long moment. The corners of his eyes formed crow’s feet as he squinted through the rain. With a toothless grin he opened the gate to admit me. As the door of the house opened, a stream of eerie yellowish-green light showed on the wet path.