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

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Literary And Then Goodbye I guess I’d known him all my life, or at least as far back as I can remember. It wasn ' t one of those boy next door situations, although we had gone to the same school together. I can remember him in the first grade with half of his teeth missing, covered with freckles, and as fresh as could be. Not exactly fresh, daring was more the word. Even then, all the fellows used to swarm around him and look to him for leadership because of his bold courage, and that ' s how it remained. He was always the most popular boy, the best athlete, and the boys followed him around as if he were some sort of a god. As for the girls, any girl would give her right arm to go out with him just once, including me. He didn’t bother much with girls though. He was too interested in sports and keeping his grades up to passing level . . . until Martha came along. She came to our school in our senior year. It’s hard to describe Martha. She certainly wasn ' t the cute type, but she had a beauty that always seemed to re- mind me of a Grecian goddess: flawless skin, spark- ling green eyes, and features molded to perfection. Her hair was the color of a shiny new copper penny. She was like something out of a dream, one of those dreams where you never want to wake up. Right from the beginning he looked at her as I’d often wished he looked at me. It wasn’t long before Martha had him wrapped around her little finger and tied in a bow. She was supposed to be going steady with him but every once in a w’hile she’d get sick of him and start going out with someone new. He’d mope around like a lost dog, but she always came back to him after a week or a month and he’d be there waiting. Then we had our Christmas vacation. Two weeks of fun for most, but to me it was just two long weeks when I wouldn’t see him. But one night I met him on my way home from the drug store. He walked me home and told me how Martha was away visiting relatives over the holiday. He didn’t have to tell me she was away. I could tell just by looking at him. He had that sad, wistful look in his eyes and didn’t look anything like the happy-go-lucky boy he once used to be. I asked him in for hot chocolate that night but he said he had to go home and write a letter. And I knew that letter was to a beautiful girl who had hurt him more than once. Isn’t it odd that you can beat a dog, but if the dog loves you enough, all you have to do is speak a kind word or give him a friendly pat and he’ll come back for more. Time went by and school started in again. Every- one came back with renewed interest and all the stories of what they had done over the holidays; and Martha came back with an engagement ring that she had been given by some Romeo she had met. Have you ever had a tooth filled? The dentist keeps grinding and grinding with that needle. It hurts, but you don ' t say anything, you keep it in, until he hits the nerve, and then you holler. Martha had been drilling for a long time now, and she finally hit the nerve. He didn’t finish school, a boy with a good future, certainly college material, but instead he joined the navy. I saw him once before he left when he came over to say goodbye to the family. I walked outside with him that night when he left. I wanted so much to tell him all the things I had crowded up inside me but all I did was wish him luck. And then he was gone, and a part of my heart went with him. He turned around and waved when he got down by the street light but I wondered if he was waving to me, or to a girl with flawless skin, sparkling green eyes, perfect features, and hair the color of a copper penny, the kind of a girl you dream about until sleep overtakes you, like fog creeping over a city. . Barbara Thumith, ’52. Arise and Shine The time: 7:00 — any day of the week. Oh no! So soon? I just got to bed ! Still there’s that ringing noise in my head. Darn clock ! It’ll never break down, Though it’s the oldest contraption in town. I remember Miss Barre’s talk the day before, Concerning our last minute rush for the door, So I decided to arise and try my best, To make my appearance at eight with the rest. (22 )

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of communist Russia. These writings are the founda- tion for communism and are studied by communists everywhere. The principles of communism, as ex- plained in them, cover the way the communists gov- ernment should work and the use of force to gain control of other government. But,” many say, how do these apply to American communists. Aren’t they peace-loving American citizens?” No, for the most part these people are in sympathy with the Russian ideals and government, and will sabotage our defense to help that government. American communists have many plans for doing us harm from the inside. They may become especially dangerous if they receive a secret government job. American communists work hard. They control many organizations, not by being a majority, but by being present at every meeting and always voting. They try hard to persuade other people to their view- point. Some of these people wish to back out after they have learned how communism works, but they are caught in the web Communists of Russia threaten us with war. As the situation stands now, there is little chance of any- thing but war with Russia. No matter how black things look, however, nothing is hopeless. This sit- uation is very similar to checkers. One side seems to have lost the game. All is dark on the horizon, but one false move of the opponent who didn’t clearly see a full picture of the circumstance, and the former side is winning. The communists in Russia are few compared with the non-communists. All the poor people are anti- communistic because they have seen what communism has done to them, — ground them into the dirt. So, although it looks as if w r e must have a w-ar with Rus- sia, we can say that we have allies in many countries, including possibly, the anti-communists of Russia, if they have a chance to revolt. One way to defeat the communists is by an active support of our government. Work as hard as the communists do, and you are almost sure of victory, because people prefer the freedom we offer to the slavery of communism. Do You Have It? A friendly manner, a cheerful smile, the ability to make friends easily, good sportsmanship, all of these make up the foundation of that one word that means so much to everyone, personality. Every boy and girl of high school age wants to have a good personality. Why is it, you ask, that this one word means so much to so many teen-agers? Well, here is your answer. Good personality leads to the one thing we all dream about and that is being popular with the gang.” That’s about all every boy and girl w ' ants at this particular age. But personality is really doing more for you than just making you popular. It is building the foundation of your future no matter what it may be. You may be looking forward to nothing more than a happy married life. If this be your choice of a future, personality will help you to make more friends and to enjoy yourself more with them. Many more of you will be just ordinary clerks or will work in factories. Personality will enable you to get along better w ' ith the people you work w ' ith as well as your customers. You will have more of a chance to better yourselves as, more than likely, you will be the person who w ' ill increase sales, create a friendlier feeling between the employees and create better understanding between the employer and em- ployees. And then there are the chosen few who will really make good in this world. They will be our doctors, our lawyers, our teachers. They will be mingling with people at all times. Just think of what would hap- pen to these people if they didn’t have a good per- sonality. Would you like to go to a doctor who never smiled? Would you like to have a teacher who was always angry? No, of course you wouldn’t; and neither would anyone else. You should be able to see by these few points what personality means to each of us. So try to be friendly, cheerful, and a good sport and see how much hap- pier you can be. (21 ) Patricia Meister, ’52 Pat Wehkoja, ’52

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The hands on the clock read five past the hour, Just forty-five minutes to take a shower, Also brush my teeth, find somethmg to wear, Get dressed, then do something with my hair. Now for the shower — fifteen minutes anyway, Thank goodness, that’s over with for today. What next? Now ' s the problem. What to wear! Let me see. The blue skirt ? No, that has a tear. The plaid skirt? But what blouse will I wear with it? No, not that. Better get something that will fit. I know ! I ' ll wear the dress with the green trimming, At least in that I won’t seem to be swimming. Okay, that’s settled. It must be late. Am I seeing things ? Not five of eight ? I’ll swallow my breakfast quick as a Hash, Now for the daily hundred-yard dash. I grab my books, run down the street. Believe it or not, I just made my seat; Right in time to hear the bell ; It s eight o’clock and all’s well ! Margaret Sweeney, ’54 The Orchid As John St. Clair, eminent and world famed ex- plorer-horticulturist rolled out of his cot on this long- awaited day one could easily see the look of anticipa- tion in his eyes. As usual he was covered from head to foot with grime, sweat, and mosquito bites. It was all because of his fanatical search for the black orchid.” For twenty-seven years he had gone through every jungle accessible to man. Now he was going to traipse through a completely unexplored region sit- uated on the Panama peninsula. All this he was going to do merely because a half civilized native had said he knew where such an orchid could be found. St. Clair called together his bearers and told them that the region they were going into had never be- fore been entered. His loyal and trustworthy bearers immediately set out. For many days and nights they hacked their way through underbrush that seemed to grow up behind them as fast as they cut it down. At night the cries of cockatoos, the roar of the jaguar, and screams of the red howler was too deafening to let one think. During the day the dank, musty, moisture-laden air almost suffocated them. The black orchid,” St. Clair’s life long goal, was at last found. Not just one, however, but a large field of them. Their scent was so sweet as to be sickening. St. Clair put some in a preservative and returned to civilization. He was acclaimed the world’s greatest explorer- horticulturist since Shamus Lee, the Irish explorer. John St. Clair did not bask long in this glory, though, for the orchids had turned pure white be- cause of the preservative. And as white orchids were common his tame soon turned to obscurity. His rise to glory lasted no longer than his orchids. William J. Pierce, ’52 The Reward Gail Conley was a pretty girl of 24. Her ambition was, and always had been, to be a great concert pianist. And now her goal was almost achieved. She had been studying for 16 years, 10 years with a piano teacher back home and 6 years at the Conservatory. Her first concert was to be in three days, Wednesday evening, May 21, 1945 at 8 o’clock. Tomorrow Gail was going into Boston. She was going to buy her shoes and dress for the great event, and she was also going to run up to Symphony Hall and go through her program for the last time. After she had finished her shopping tour and her practice session, she boarded the train for home. Gail was tired, but she was so happy, the weariness just didn’t seem to matter. She could hardly wait for Wednesday. How she had worked and longed for that day! How she had dreamed of it! All of a sudden the train began to sway back and forth and the next thing Gail knew she was in a bed. As she looked around she saw that she was in a hospital room. But since she experienced no pain, she didn’t have the slightest idea why. Just then a nurse bustled into the room. When she saw that Gail was conscious, she told her the story of what had happened. The train engineer had some- how lost control of the engine and they had crashed. Just about everyone aboard had been injured and taken to the hospital. Gail, it seems, had been found lying on the floor with her hands pinned under iron rods which had fallen amidst the confusion. She was injured on no other part of the body except for a few minor scratches on her forehead and chin. This was too much for Gail. She started to sob violently while the nurse was speaking. The nurse had expected this, and not knowing who Gail was, thought she was consoling her by saying, But just think, after the amputation, you’ll be able to do everything again.” Amputation!” screamed Gail. ( 23 )