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

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Lindy was never so humiliated in her life. Probably he’d be telling it all over school tomorrow. Lindy Harken, mother’s helper, the gal who’d rather sit with the kiddies than go out with a boy. Suddenly she got mad. He was looking at her queerly. She faced him. Go ahead and laugh if you want to. But a promise is a promise. Mrs. Powell called me a week ago to sit with Rickie.” He kept on staring at her. You mean,” he said slowly. That when you once make a promise, you never break it no matter what?” She gulped, said firmly, Not if I can possibly help it.” Oh, why didn’t he go? But, he was coming closer — wanting a better look at this quaint specimen, probably. Look,” he said, hurriedly, no one’s ever turned me down so flat before. It got me think- ing. About you. It well woke me up. I ' d always meant to date you — - when I got around to it — always thought I could, easily. I called you tonight after Jinny Roberts got a cold and her folks wouldn’t let her go.” I - I guess, ” he went on, that I wouldn ' t have thought much about it if you ' d accepted as I expected. No well now I think a lot of you, Lindy.” Hi,” .said Rickie, paddling out t o the top stc|i. Me here, too.” A blooming triangle,” groaned Kip. Laughter bubbled up in Lindy. ' Oh, my heavens, he ought to be in bed!” She pushed Kip gaily toward the door. You’ll have to scram. You’re interfering with my career.” Hey, wait! pleaded Kip. I want to ask you something important. Will you go with me to the prom two weeks from tonight? Are you free?” Lindy took a deep breath. It just happens — I’m free that night.” Then will you?” It’s a promi.se,” she said solemnly , and I al- ways keep my promises.” That’s my girl,” said Kip. Look, suppose you give me a buzz when you’re ready to come home, and I’ll walk you - is that okay ? ” Very okay,” said Lindy. When the door closed, she looked up at the chubby figure at the top of the stairs. Hello, Cupid,” she said. My Hero See how tall he stands, the boy I love! But whose love I cannot hold; He’s neither wild nor unrestrained. But charming, sweet, yet bold; I love to watch his hands, his eyes. I love his clean brown hair, I love the very air he breathes. And cool, crisp clothes he wears: Even in his dungarees My hero .seems to be A daunting, dashing, daring man. )ust back in from the sea; And from afar my hero comes, I stare as in a spell, I could hear him coming ten miles away! This hoy I love so well! His familiar form now comes in view ' . But I am in a trance As I sadly watch my hero take His girl trienil to the lance. [mil D’Amkc), ”17 + ♦ A Freshman ' s Head (A Steele from Addison) Examining the material already in the first stages of dissection, I found it to be like any other. But upon cutting the brain in half, I saw ' it was full of holes and recesses that were still in an immature stage of development. In time per- haps they w ' ould have been filled w ' ith intelligence, knowledge, common-sense, experience, and the like. ' I ' hc matter already formed w ' as folded and w ' ound in such a way that it was easy to sec the Ereshman w ' ould spend most ot his time straight- ening it out. It seemed to be composed of some strange substance, which, oddly enough did not absorb anything, licpiid or solid, although it was soft and spongy. Another remarkable feature of this head was the exceptionally tough and thick outer covering of the skin, which was not pierced, no, not even dam- aged by the many pricks, blows, and kicks that I gave it. Noticing the ears, well-lormed and like any other person’s, 1 w ' as astounded when 1 put my pencil through one car and was able to draw ' it out the other. It surprised me to find the tube connecting the ears was so straight and direct. ( 2 ) Rosf Tfrra.si, ’49

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Lost Date Lindy Harken was all ready to leave when the telephone jangled. It wouldn’t be for her, of course. Indifferently she picked up the receiver. Hello? ’ Her hazel eyes widened. Yes.” Her hands gripped the receiver. ' h ' es, this is Ij ' ndy Harken speaking.” The voice that came over the wire went through her like a pleasant electric shock. Kip Baker’s! Why, he was star quarterback of the football team, practically the leader of the Lincoln High crowd. Calling her! Then she told herself sensibly to be calm. Probably he just wanted to know the geometry assignment for tomorrow. (.onfidently his voice came over the wire. W ' hat was he saying? Did you say a skating party” she stammered. Oh, I’d just love to! When?” Her voice faded. You mean tonight - right away — as soon as I can get ready? Oh, I thought well, you see, I have something else on, sort of. Oh, of course. I’d rather go with you, only well, maybe I can get out of this other thing. I ' ll call you back in a few minutes. Kip! Bye!” She whirled from the phone, checks flusheii, eyes glowing. She dashed into the living room. ' Mother, guess what? she cried wildly. Kip Baker - practically the cutest boy in school has asked me to go out tonight and 1 have to call Mrs. Powell and tell her 1 can’t sit with Rickie tonight.” This young man called you only a few minutes ago?” asked Mrs. Harken. Well yes, but this is important. Mother. Maybe Mrs. Powell’s engagement means a great deal to her, too,” said Mrs. Harken quietly. Other- wi.se she probably wouldn ' t have i ailed you so far ahead.” Oh, Mother! I knew you vouldn’t understand. Just think, of all the girls in Lincoln High, he in- vited me for the skating party!” Mrs. Harken with a hurt look in her eyes said. You do what you think is right” It wasn’t fair. Tears sprang into her eyes. Brush- ing them away, she flung open the directory, stabbed at names and numbers, and dialed. Hello? This is Lindy Harken. I’m sorry, but I’m not able to come tonight after all. It just didn’t seem to work out. I know. But honestly, I can’t manage it. Well — goodbje.” She tumbled the receiver back in its cradle, caught a .sob. There! It was done. Out on the streets of Lincoln snowflakes floated down, softer than whispers. She went down Lin- coln Park, watching the houses, turned in through a .snow-ridged gate. Mrs. Powell opened the door before she had a chance to ring. Oh, I’m .so glad you’re here! I was terribly afraid that perhaps — but I know you wouldn’t let me down, Lindy.” Of course not. Mrs. Powell,” said Lindy, man- aging a smile. Mrs. Powell gave her a quick hug. You’re a darling. I’ve got to rush. My husband’s plane will be in soon and I promised to meet him with the car.” She nodded toward upstairs. Rickie’s all tucked in, asleep 1 hope.” Alone, Lindy sat rigidly, staring at the closed door. Tears were beginning to tremble on her lashes again when a long wail came down the stairs. Two year oM Rickie had wakened. She brought the little boy a drink of water. She was singing, Santa ( laus is cornin’ to town” slightly off key when the door bell whirred downstairs. Peering through the glass door panel to see who was outside, she choked. Kip Baker! It couldn’t be. Her clammy palms skidded on the door knob, as she wrenched at it. Kip stepped in, swept off his skating cap. He looked at her uncertainly. Look, Lindy, I hope you don’t mind my coming here. Your mother told me where you were and I thought .” Hi, man,” Rickie interrupted loudly at the top of the stairs. Hi, yourself. Butch,” he said.

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The amazing part of this experiment was the mouth. Upon close examination, I found the muscles connected to the brain were not used at all, but the muscles which ended in a hollow cell were used most strenuously. The eyes were no different from yours or mine, except that I di.scovered that the eye muscles were hardly used. This of course, could be because of either of two reasons: (1) the Freshman never bothered to notice any- thing in particular (2) most of his time was spent in sleeping. On the wh ole, the rest of the head was like a Senior’s, except for the unusual section of the brain that was filled with pictures and thoughts of trivial and unimportant things, but relating mostly to the opposite sex and other people’s business. With this I scooped up the entrails and de- posited them in a can labeled trash.” So ended my informative experiment of that strange object, the Freshman’s Head. ( HARI.OTTI ' : I.FHTO, ’17 Hi + Recipes What are Freshmen made of. Why blushes and wiggles And funny face.s. Minute boys And untied shoe laces. What are Sophomores made of? Why giggles and titters And glam’rous gals,” Brainless boys And inseparable pals. What are Juniors made of? Why make-believe dignity And unattended dances. Missing books and The cjueerest romances. What are Seniors made of? Why sense and muscle Plus brains and poise. The prettiest girls And the best looking boys. Barbara Parker, ' 47 Chained There is an old mountain ballad which imparts the homely philo.sophy that we are all chained to our memories” . . . Then to go on, one could quote the time worn phrase truer words were never spoken,” for, unless we absolutely delib- erately try to forget them, memories are with us always, ready to transport us to days we can never relive. Take childhood, for instance. My first memo- ries revolve around a small, thriving community whose chief industry was a steel manufacturing plant. At the time, ignorant of the effect it had on my life, I was content to lead a merry ' play- hood,’ interrupted only by the countless scrubbings I had to endure so I would remain my God-given color. To me, the dash mother made to gather clothes from the wash lines was a game, although I vaguely realized that the dark cloud which clung to them after a night out of doors was unpleasant. This then is the type of town which occupies the faintest portion of my childhood memories . . . The daily walk taken in mid-morning would in- clude a brisk rap on the window of the butcher shop, a tweak of the grocer’s cat’s tail, an ice cream cone at the corner variety store, and the curb, five paces away which saw the inevitable drop of the cone and a skinned knee . . . The sequel was always the same, a howl, tears, a kiss and soothing words, and a new cone, with mother’s guiding hand helping me over the small ups and downs that passed my childish pathways of hfe. The first pet. A cat, picked up on some ex- ploration to an unknown neighborhood. The love, the care, and then the sorrow when Kitty,” not ungrateful, but merely homesick, wended his way to his original habitat. The love and the desire to attend school will al- ways linger among fondest and most amusing memories. My invasion of high school, armed with a Sears, Roebuck catalog, and wearing battle garments of bathrobe and slippers, and pursued by a bevy of frantic parents and teachers. My victory, which resulted in an invitation to spend a day in high school. The hasty packing of a large suitcase and the words hurled with defiance, I’m never coming back. I want to see ’people’ !” A solemn hand- shake and goodbyes, a haughty slam of the front door, a sniff of the cold air, and then a very timid four year old tip-toeing back into the fold.