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

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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.

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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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The comfort of mother love, and a feeling of sadness for the little boy whose mummy had gone away” and then snuggling closer to the comfort- ing circle of mother’s arms, enjoying the feeling of closeness and security. Saturdays, spent in someone’s back yard playing cops and robbers,” hide an’ seek,” tag,” skinning knees and elbows, and all the other joyous moments of childhood are part of a memory that I shall never forget. Memories. I’m glad that I am ( hained to such pleasant ones. ISAHR I.A Kf)SKI, ’47 4 ? Modern Inconveniences Wife — Operator, can you get me my husband? He’s out somewhere in his car. Operator- -what’s the number? Wife — He’s Robert Metz and he drives a La- fayette Nash. Operator - I’ll have to have the number. Wife — I can’t recall the number, but it’s a brown car with no grille. Operator You ' ll have to look in the auto-to- home phone book. Wife - But we haven’t got a phone book yet. It’s not my fault if the company is .so slow. The name is Robert Metz, and it’s a Nash with one front headlight bent. I hcrc ' s a cute little squirrel tail on the antenna. Operator— Sorry. I tan’l put through a home to-car call that way. Wife Is that so? V(Tdl, we just paid $22 to have that phone put in and it’s too bad if the company can’t give us a little cooperation . . . Operator- Do you wish Information”? Wife What for? She wouldn’t be out in the car with Robert, would she? Oh, here it ' s! - I just found the number on a desk pad It’s 78 x 41 2 anti-skid white w ' alls. No, that must be the tire number (LUtimately the wife finds the num- ber and gets the call through.) Robert (going around a curve) — Yes. Hello. Aw nuts! Why dontcha look where you’re going ya big stumhlebum ! Wife- Why, Robert! Robert Hello, who’s this? Scram, ya fathead. Nobody crowded ya! Wife — Robert! Such language! This is Irene. Robert —Oh hello, Irene. Oh, yeah? You and who else? G’wan, go jump in the lake. Wife — Don’t you talk to me like that, Robert Metz ! Robert — Sorry, Irene, dear. I wasn’t talking to you. Some guy just gave me some lip. Go on, honey. Have any trouble getting me? Wife -Trouble! I could get you easier if you were in a runaway balloon. Look, I forgot to tell you this morning that Mr. and Mrs. Bunny — Robert What missing money? Louder! There’s a truck load of junk behind me and one of those 1 926 Model T’s ahead of me. Wife— I said 1 forgot to tell you about Mr. and Mrs. Bunny who (There is t)o answer. She jig- gles the hook) Operator Number, Please? X ' ' ite 1 had my husband on the phone, but you I ut us off. Operator- 1 lidn’t cut you off. He must hace detoured. Wife - Robert wouldn’t detour in the middle of a conversation. Robert (suddenly) - Here I am, Irene. I just went through a tunnel. Motorcycle (.op (pulling up unobserved) — Hey, you, pull over! Robert ' Phis is very rude of you, officer! Can’t you see. I’m busy on the TF.LHPHONL! Policeman (.scratching his head) —Huh? VC ' hat will they think of next! Well, this is one call that will cost you more than a nickel! Nanc V Wi c KSI 10 )M, ’49 + ♦ When The Stars Come Out As the sun sinks slowly out of sight. And darkness steals in through the night. Surely there’s no entrance made so grand. For, as it prompted by some human hami. The stars c ome out. Millions upon millions spread about. And even the slowest of lovers is rout From his sleeping post, to go and see I ' he miraculous splendor that is to be As the sta rs c ome out ) ' ou may hide your sorrows and drown your fears. And thus you can go tor years and years. But once you venture neath the skies. And try to seek cover with feeble lies. The stars rome out ( 2S )