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

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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 )

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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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They scour each secret from your soul, As you vow you’ll play a different role, For in this light you are revealed. And the good and bad from you is peeled. As the stars come out. Every human can make an error. And hide himself in realms of terror. He fools his friends, he fools the world. But out ’neath the skies, the truth is hurled. When the stars come out. |m II ' D ' Amk o, ’47 The Past Comes Back The snow floated down and the fire crackled noisily, as the children amused themselves watch- ing the white snowflakes fluttering to the earth. As Grandma Reaves watched the children laugh- ing gaily, she knitted slowly, for her old fingers weren’t as nimble as they had been before her ill- ness. She smiled at her daughter-in-law who passed the door on her way to the kitchen. Watch- ing the children who looked so carefree made her heart fill with warmth for them and she thought of her own childhood. Karen Dulmont was her name then when she attended the town’s only school that stood be- tween the church and the town house. Nothing exciting ever seemed to happen in little Pelington so she had thought, until one day a new boy moved into town. His family came from the East and seemed to be more wealthy than the rest of the townspeople. She remembered how en- vious all the girls were as the new boy was as- signed to an empty seat beside her. She learned that he was Bryant jonathan Reaves, a tall, refined looking boy with brilliant blue eyes that danced with laughter. After school was over she had shyly asked him it he would like to go with the others to the old skating pond. One ot the boys, who had to stay after school, loaned him his skates and otf they had run to enjoy a pleasant hour. The next day they went skating again but something happened to spoil the tun of the day. Having finished tying on her skates first, she had ventured out farther on the ice than usual. Sud- denly she heard the ice cracking all around her and before she could think to get to safety, she plunged sc reaming through the ice into the freez- ing cold water. She had never forgotten the sen- sation that she had felt when the dark, cold grip of the water .seemed to pull her down-down-and down until she thought she would never rise. Luckily she had risen to the top again and emerged where she had gone through. When the others had seen her disappear, they started to scream for help but Bryant, darting sw ' iftly, risking all odds, had dashed to the edge of the hole regardless of his own safety, and had pulled her up as she emerged for the second time. From that day on they became fast friends. When Bryant came dowm with the measles, it w ' asn ' t long before she had caught them and was as sick as he w ' as. It was Bryant who helped her w ' ith her arithmetic problems, who carried her books home for her, w ' ho tied her skates on for her, who pulled her sled up the hill for her, and who became her best beau. As the years passed he w ' as always there to lend a helping hand, sometimes teasing her, other times feeling sorry for her, or laughing at some funny incident that had occurred. Just then her thoughts were interrupted by the childish voice of her granddaughter, Mary Ellen. Nana, tie this ribbon for me, please. Billy pulled it out.” There you arc. It’s all fixed,” said Grandma Reaves. Smiling her thanks, Mary Ellen hurried back to her perch on the chair by the window. W ' hen the May Party preparations began she was asked to go with Bryant. Never had she waited and planned so for an event as she planned for that. Of course, she had a new white formal gown for the occasion. She felt so proud as she waltzed gaily around the floor of the ballroom. She had been chosen May Queen that night. At last the long awaited day of graduation ar- rived. It had made many an eye water to see the young men and women receive their diplomas from the principal of the school, old Mr. Whimplestooker. It was after the ceremony w ' as over when Bryant had presented her with his old signet ring won in a game of aggies, as a token of their friendship. He had planned to become a lawyer, and so in the following month he had gone to study law. When Bryant had become a full-fledged law ' yer he asked her to marry him, and in the following year they had been quietly married by the same village parson who had christened her. Their parents had given them a ( 26 )