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

 - Class of 1946

Page 11 of 44

 

Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA) online collection, 1946 Edition, Page 11 of 44
Page 11 of 44



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Page 11 text:

standing, sympathized with me. In the end it was tliis kind, elderly woman who helped me to get the spirited little black mare which I now have. Also, if it were not for my parents, the most understanding and .sacrificial ones in this world, I probably would be the unhappiest, rather than the happiest girl alive. My horse Yobe and I have been going steady for exactly twelve months at the present time and we celebrated our first anniversary on November the third, nineteen hundred and forty-six. I .still have three years of high school to complete, but I am already planning my future. Once I wanted to be a private secretary, thinking I might even get the position of sitting on the boss’s knee; but realize now that I want my future to include horses, so I hope that I shall be able to have a riding school and send people home, not sitting on pillows, but with the .satisfaction that they are learning to become eque.s- trians, also. Norma Martinsrn, ’ 0 CONFESSIONS IN FRESHMAN ENGUSH In the first grade our teacher was gcx)d to us. Her name was Miss Healy. I brought her an apple every day but my mother had to stop me because we were running out of apples. Robert Holly What! Apple polishing so young! Since the first grade my nickname has been Bony.” If you have ever seen me you know why. Joan Hinds Would that we had been there, too. I can just hear my mother’s friends exclaim, Isn’t she cute and fat!” Mother told me a baby looks healthy when its fat. All I can say to that is I cer- tainly must have been a healthy baby. A. Weckstrom Cheer up! N.ipoleon did all right. Since I am of the female sex I cannot tell my age, but I wish I were twenty-one. Rose Bu.scemi And at 21 ? Then came high school! My first day I was afraid to turn around. Betty Howe Oh, for the good old days! The best part of the day was when Norma went out in the middle of the arena at Boston Garden to meet Roy Rogers and receive her prize. j. Paananen Wheaties? In the eighth grade we had dancing lessons every Wednesday evening from 6:30 to 7:30 for ten con- secutive weeks. I had a wonderful time even though I made many mistakes. B. Prie.st Save the first dance for me! I was a bouncing baby boy; I get that way because ever) one dropped me once too often. R. Dargiewicz Good squash player, eh. Two cartons of cigarettes was the amount my father smoked on that fatal morning of January 2, 19.32. He changed to cigars after he saw me. Cigarettes have made him feel sick ever since. A. Viola What is it now. Scoop, a pipe? The proudest day of my life came when I graduated into the second grade. F. Penniman Wait til 19‘ 0! On one occasion when my sister was invited to a party and was almost ready, I took her party dress and threw it into a bath tub full of water. This « made her and my mother very angry. D. Dimcry Can’t understand why! At the age of five I was in a kiddies” beauty con- test. No comments. You must realize that a lot can happen in nine years. M. O’Connell Oh what a beautiful baby! When I was five years old my parents wanted me to go to school. Children my age were allowed to go if they could pass a test. I took the test and was asked if a mule could kick me and if 1 could tie my shoe string. G. Parker and” or while” ?

Page 10 text:

ttiose ot you wlio have not been bitten by the base- ball bug: He broke his wrists on that one” simply means in baseball terms that the batter bent his wrists as if to strike at the ball and then changed his mind at the last moment. See how much I ' ve learned ? Ah, yes! Our family life has certainly changed! Elinor Case, ' 47 ODE TO A PENCIL STUB Ah, what things thou hast done In this weary world of cares! Thou hast made more journeys Than any mortal dares. Thou hast heard intimate conversation.s. Thou hast written many a theme: Thou hast composed notes romantic Causing many an eye to gleam. But now thou art so weary And bruised and battered too; Thy life on this fair earth Is very nearly through. So hail to thee, a martyr, Though now unknown you be; Some day this fickle world Will rise and cheer for thee. Barbara Barker, ' 47 AN EQUESTRIENNE IS BORN Fourteen years ago, in the small, practically un- known town of Stow situated in the sylvan stretch of land between Hudson and Maynard, I was born. It was on a wintry day in the month of February, the date being Friday the thirteenth, nineteen hun- dred thirty-two, that the population of the United States was increased by one. No one realized, looking at my then chubby, twenty-two inch frame, that I would grow to the height of five feet, eleven inches within thirteen and one half years. But, unbelievably enough, I did. That is perhaps the reason why my mother could always find me in a crowd. My life, from the time I was born until I was eleven years of age, I consider uneventful, until on a beautiful day in September, a few days before school was to open, something wonderful happened which was to change the whole course of my life and make me forget about everything else. I went horseback riding with a friend for the first time. I had been riding before, but I wouldn’t consider being led about on a pony really riding. That Saturday I felt like a queen. I learned to con- trol my horse and post, which is a very important thing to learn if you are riding a horse with an English saddle and do not want to sit on pillows for a long while afterward. For two hours I had the most wonderful time in my life and realized that horses were my ideal. From then on it was horses, horses, I couldn’t concen- trate on my schoolwork; movies became very boring, and everything else in the world became a blur. I went around in a daze, dreaming of horses. My new interest was thought by everyone to be just a silly infatuation. Then one day in the Daily Record I read of an art contest which was being sponsored by that paper. For three long years I tried in vain to win a prize. Then, on the last day of the contest in the fourth year, I hurriedly sent in my entry. My hopes had long since deserted me and all I could do was to pray that I would win a prize, even if it were not the pinto horse. Some days later, while reading the list of winners, I noticed a name that resembled mine. Yes, there It was: ’SECOND PRIZE— NORMA MARTIN- SEN.” After looking again to make sure, I joy- ously announced the good news to my parents. The following Saturday, with one of my friends, I was on my way to the rodeo with the two box seat tickets which had been given to me by the Daily Record. And when Roy Rogers presented me with the second prize, a beautiful Stetson hat auto- graphed by him, and shook my hand, my heart fairly jumped for joy. Finally my love for horses grew to such heights that my emotions were uncontrollable. I wanted a horse as I had never wanted anything in this world. Closely I scrutinized the horse ads every Sunday and planned how I would earn the money to keep my horse once I got it. I gave up horseback riding and spent many an hour talking” to the horses on Red Acre Farm in Stow, a rest home for horses run by a group of very kind-hearted people. Soon I became acquainted with the lady who lived in the large white house near the barn. I told this woman, one of the organizers of Red Acre Farm, of my love for horses, and she, being very under-



Page 12 text:

A PERCEPTION BY NIGHT A slirill whistle pierces the air, a long black form that glistens in the dark looms out in the distance; Although indistinctly, a faint wavering light is dimly seen, and like a huge worm, crawling on its belly, it slips on through the soft night, the sleek dark phantom of the midnight train. JuLii; D’Amico, ’47 MEMORIES M onday mornings gloomy and blue E ndless homework everyday M arks we strive so hard for 0 utside activities R eport cards and red tickets 1 ncomplete work E xaminations S ports and socials These are the memories that never will die; These are our memories of Maynard High. Ann Marie Morton, ’47 WHO CAME BACK? f That dingy house upon the hill Is haunted, so I’m told, ’Cause late at night when stars are bright. The ghosts in it unfold And float around that old graveyard, ' A singin’ in the cold. So don’t ask me to explore that place! Do you think I’m that bold? C’mon, let’s go! 1 get the creeps Just lookin ' at that place! Oh, well, okay, if you insist. I’ll tag along in case — But something tells me now, that when We get there we’ll be chased By ghosts, and haunts, and goblins, and -- Say, you’ve a determined face! I’ll let you go knock at the door. If you don’t mind. I’ll wait Right over there where I’ll be safe. Just outside the old gate — But then, on second thought. I’ll go, ’Cause being alone I hate. I wish that you would change your mind. Soon it may be too late. Hey, wait for me! Oh, gee, he’s gone Inside and I’m alone! I’m right behind you — on your heels! Good gosh, that door does groan ! Huh? Where’d he go? Hey, Johnny — Hey Gulp! What’s that funny moan? It sounds like ghosts — John can’t be far - I wish that I were home! Hey, John! Yoo-hoo! Hey, there! John ny! An echo’s all I hear! Now I can plainly understand Why this house causes fear! There goes that moan again — I’m scared! It comes from over here. I’m not leaving till I find him. How did he disappear ? I thought I heard that weird crying In this vicinity. My gosh, it’s dark! I’ll watch my step ’Cause I can barely see. I - - HELP! I’m falling through the floor! KER-ASH! My back! My knee! YEOW ! Who’s breathing on my neck ? ! ! 1 think it’s time to flee!! But I’m so scared I’m petrified, I can’t get on my feet! Who — who is that? What do you want? It’s WHO? Why John! We meet! Oh, brother, am I glad it’s you. And not a ghost I greet ! You frightened me out of my skin. My heart quadrupled its beat! 1 thought that I would soon pass out With horror and with fear; So you fell through that decayed floor. And that’s how you got here? And that was you moanin’ away? Well, now I’m glad that’s clear! But ju,st the same I’ve got the creeps. So LET’S GET OUT OF HERE ! ! Raymond ' Van Vorse, ’47

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