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

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violent kick in the shins, provided that you don’t know the person, that you don’t miss your target and kick his partner instead, and that your partner doesn’t see you. II. After dancing with a girl, it is customary to thank her for the dance and escort her to her seat. It is not advisable to ask her where she wants to sit and proceed to give her a violent shove in that direction. III. When asking a girl for a dance it is ex- tremely inadvisable to whistle or to beckon to her from across the hall. Besides, the wrong one might come and you might be stuck with Lena-the- H)ena or a reasonable facsimile. W. During ladies’ choice, if you have the mis- fortune to be asked by a girl whom you do not particularly admire, it is considered bad taste to a.sk her in a sarcastic voice, Are you kiddin’?’’ V. If a girl asks you to a dance which her club is sponsoring, do not, under any conditions, ask her, When’s the funeral?” If you can’t wriggle out of going with her, submit like a gentleman. Neither will it be considered polite if you need a day or two to make up your mind, hoping to get a better offer. The girls never do ! ' VI. If you accidentally step on a girl’s feet, do not ask her if those are her big feet upon which you are stepping — even if they are big. VII. At a dance one is expected to dance, not march around in time with the music. Many a mile has been paced in that auditorium and been passed off as dancing. VIII. You will be forgiven if you don’t arrive at dances on the stroke of eight. You’ll be allowed a few minutes longer to put on your tie and suit coat. Your willingness to arrive on time and to start dancing is commendable. But we’ll allow you the few extra minutes in which to finish dressing. IX. If you meet a girl at a dance whom you would like to escort home, ask her. If she says no, don’t follow her all the way home, stepping on her heels at every step she takes. You may wind up with a black eye if she really doesn’t like you. If she does like you, — well, we’re getting off the subject. Norma O’Neil, ’49 A DREAMER ' S LIFE {DeJicaleJ to toy self) Strange — how my eyes grow dim again as blurred visions cross my face. And once again I leave this earth to fly out into space. I spread my wings and dip down low in salute to all sights I see. Gazing at each object til it becomes a phantom, drifting hopelessly. I want to tarry along the way just long enough to be A lovely ballerina — - or a sailor out at sea. But first I’ll be a senorita listening to my senior play An enchanting little violin to which I’ll swing and sway. And then I’ll visit England, walk out along the moors. Or maybe be a King or Queen, and throw gold upon the floors. I won’t forget to go to France and visit gay Paris, To listen closely to such chants. As, ”Voila la belle Julie.” The visions are getting dimmer now so I must fly once more Through heavy layers of floating clouds Back to my own front door. So another dream has ended, and I must settle down to be A funny little person Whom you all know as me. Julie D’Amico, ’47 H ' NEVER AGAIN Never again ! Nope, never will I help other people out. I used to be kind, nice to people and all that, but no more. I learned my lesson. The milk of human kindness is sour in my stomach and I’ll tell you why It was spring, the little birds singing, the flowers was growing. The old world was coming to life and I was walking through the park communing with ( 6 )

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THAT ' S GRATITUDE FOR YOU I first met Jake about six months ago. There was nothing extraordinary about the way we met. There I was, old Mike Flannery, coming home from work, as usually. It was just a little darker and the usual air of gloom around Pier 83 seemed heavier. A cold mu,st slithered about and only the eerie blast of a foghorn broke the heavy silence. Now don’t get the idea I’m afraid of the dark or of the pier district — . It isn’t that at all, because I’ve worked as a stevedore for almost thirty years. You know, a job like that keeps me going all hours of the night. Well, as I approached the Gilded Lily Saloon, I heard an unusual commotion, so I stood listening to see if I could find out what was going on. The barman came out holding Jake by the scruff of his neck and tossed him out shouting, Scram ! We don’t allow the likes of you around here.’’ Jake, I didn’t know his name was Jake then, just lay there and shivered. I know I should have left him there, but he looked so downcast that I couldn ' t resist going to his aid. I approached him with hand outstretched and said, Hi, there, fella. Kick you out, did they. ’’ Mutely he stared, then turned away. Now, look, boy, don’t be like that. Have )Ou got a home. ’’ He gave a shudder that might have been a bitter laugh, but I received no answer to that query, either. Listen, come home with me. I guess I can afford to feed another mouth.” He looked at me suspiciously, but slowly got to his feet. He followed a short way behind me; and .so Jake came to live with me. At first he would peer at me when I was absorbed in thought or in some task, but as soon as I would glance his way, he would shift and gaze in another direction. It was as though he were trying to under- stand my motives for sheltering him. I won’t say he was ungrateful. It was just that no one had ever treated him kindly before and he didn’t know how to react to the gentle treatment. Well, I guess life would have gone on then in the usual way tor us — . I would have worked so that Jake and I would have a home. And Jake. Well, 1 guess he would have just stayed on, eating my food, sharing my shelter, but never showing any affection toward me. Just about a week ago, I decided to surprise Jake, and after standing in line for three hours at a meat market, I was able to buy a large, juicy steak. I was in a jocular mood as I wended my way homew ' ard thinking of how Jake’s eyes would light up when he saw the steak. When I arrived home Jake seemed glad to .see me, but did not utter any greeting. His joy seemed boundless when he saw the surprise. I decided that we would need onions with the steak, so 1 left the meat exposed on the table, and told Jake I ' d be right back from the store. Reaching home again, I called to Jake but received no response. To my surprise, when I went into the kitchen, I found both Jake and the .steak gone. It was evident what had happened. Jake had taken his opportunity to de.sert me and to take something of value from me. Well, there’s nothing more to tell. Perhaps you will benefit from my sad experience. Never take a stray dog into your home — . Oh, well, that’s grati- tude for you ! IsABi;i.LA Koski, ’47 H: FOR BOYS ONLY There have been countless rules and regulations written on etiquette and good behavior at a dance. Many people have tried to follow these and have become rather confused. But these rules and sugges- tions which I am about to make are convenient and can easily be followed. I. If, when dancing )Ou accidentally bump into someone, it is permissible to give that person a ( 5 )

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Mother Nature. Then 1 comes to a bench tliat was a little distance away from the others. A guy was sit- ting on it and a lotta kids were running around him. I feel sorry for him, so big-hearted me .stops to say hello to him and his kids. He smiles up at me ■sorta grateful like, as if I was doin’ him a big favor. You like children.” he .sez to me. Yeah, I love little kiddies. I wisht I had .some of me own.” I’m making conversation, mind ya. Personally I can take kids or leave ’em and I’d just as soon leave ’em. Oh thank goodness!” sez the little guy. He kinda reminded me of a rabbit. Would you please watch the children for a minute. I have some business to attend to — I’ll be right back.” Then he jumps up before 1 can say yes or no and runs down the path, so there ain’t anything I can do but stay there with the kids. 1 have a sense of honor where wimmin and kids is concerned, so I sits down and talks to the kids. An hour later I’m yelling at the brats to shut up. They was tearing me and mother Nature apart. An- other hour goes by and 1 begins to think something fishy’s going on, so I asks the oldest kid what’s up. He don’t say a thing — just looks at me. Then a cop comes along reading a newspaper. This cop looks at his paper, then he looks at the kid in front of me, then he looks at me. I gets to feeling like a criminal, as if I had kidnapped all these little kids. You’re under arrest,” yells the cop and belore I can move, he’s got handcuffs on me. Come along you. Come with me, children.” We all follow him out of the park and he calls for a couple of squad cars. The cars come. The kids get in one and me and the cop gets in the other. I don’t know what’s up and everything I asks the cop he tells me to shut up. At the station I don’t see the kids no more, but I gets booked with a cell all to myself. It’s only the next morning that I finds out why I’m in this time. The cops don’t tell me; I reads it in the paper. They was big headlines saying, Children Kidnapped from Museum Tour.” The call was out all day until I was picked up with the kids. At the trial I tells ’em the whole true story but they don’t believe me. I can’t get the kids to tell ’em the truth either. So I gets sentenced for twenty to thirty years for kidnapping ’cause of what they calls circumstantial evidence.” ' I’his is my nineteenth year in the pen, sonny. Nineteen years for something 1 didn’t do, ami you wonder why I’m sour on life. Bakhara Farki r, ’47 CASES AT THE BAT How changed our family life is since the ba.seball season began and the Boston Red Sox started on the road to the pennant-ville! A year ago this time, our family was leading an ordinary life (if you call family life ordinary!). Anyway, we were all com- pletely oblivious of anything called baseball or any- one named Ted Williams. Then six months ago it happened. Life began to change. At first you could hardly detect it, but by the middle of May, the change was very apparent. Upon coming home from work, my father, in.stead of inquir- ing what we had done at school that day as he usually did, would say, Hey, boys! The Red Sox won again.” My brothers developed the strange habit of staying around the house afternoons instead of wandering off so far that it was impossible to find them by supper time. At first we had some heated arguments about the family’s one and only radio that works. I, still ignorant of the fact that the Red Sox were a baseball club and not a hockey team, wanted to listen to the 9:20 Club. However, it was 2 to 1 against the 9:20 Club, so I didn’t get my way very often. Finally my brothers convinced me that 1 ought to see the Red Sox play, and one Sunday toward the end of May they took me to see my first big league game. With that game my baseball education be- gan, and it has steadily increased with every crack of the bat. By the middle of summer, baseball was the only topic of conversation in our house. The radio was on constantly. Bump Hadley at 6:15 was a must” for all of us and at least one member of the family sat up till 11:25 each night to hear the final baseball results. I became such an ardent fan by the end of July that I even purcha.sed a portable radio so I could take sun baths and listen to the ball games at the same time. Why, even my mother learned not to say My, what a rough game!” when the radio announcer stated, He broke his wrists on that one.” (For ( 7 )