Milo High School - Breeze Yearbook (Milo, ME)

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-1-'ffrff -Y: ' 15' , 'IX X X f 'k--.. A . ' 2 'ff f' -g if' ,, Laid -,,.'V',, 7 QIgdifflgffgif,QfgiilbiifftifjfiiQ5?Q5fQgf24 ' x -A'A- ' - f' r faq? Q5LX5X5JEpQQ2yfUl5QLyyga3yQ5jVfyf 'lzh it A-ff QQ .,'mi1fsgfA'fQlef,-'- - S-,Q -N gt.. xv fa- , , V. fd' y Jes-lf , ' T QQQNZQX' '-,TI Frsffjfrif -NXT f:.:1,,T 41,2 'EJL -Q'l.,'j5Ef5. 'LQ..k':l?:: 'f'2f: THE INDIANS CALLED IT BIG HILL The darkness of night was beginning to fade into the gray of dawn as I reached the crest of the hill. I halted to gaze into the North at the scene there before my eyes. The forests- lay in darkness, but there to the north, like a rose tinted pearl on an ebony background, was Katahdin, its snow covered sides reflecting the morning sun's rays that had not yet reached the lower levels of the forests. As I stood gazing at this beautiful sight, my mind wandered back to the early Indians, who, too, had stared in awe at Katahdin. To them it was not just a mountaing it was a living, breathing spirit. Hadn't they heard it speak and sigh when the storms roared down its slopes? Hadnft they seen it hurl thunder and lightning from its' summit? They called the spirit in the mountain Katahdin, coming from the words keght or kit, meaning big, and adene, meaning hill. A great many legends grew about Katahdin and have been handed down from generation to generation among the Indians, Perhaps the most authentic known today are those told by the Penobscots, a tribe of the Abenakis, who inhabited this part of the country. This is one of the most popular of the legends. ' e t H Many years ago there lived a beautiful princess named Red Rose. Although she had manylsultors, she chose none of them. One day, an immense Indian came to her and carried her to the mountain, There, inside the mountain, she dwelt happily with Katahdln for many years. By and by a boy and a girl were born. Desiring to show the children to her parents, she begged Katahdin to allow her ,to return to her people. Katahdin said she could go, and before they left, told her that whatever the girl wished would come true, and whatever the boy pointed at would fall dead, V e When they reached the village they found a great famine

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spring. Only 3 ' . '- fy , - 'Q . s V WHENSPRINGC0M'ES,V Spring is a lovely time of year, To me, as to millions of others, it is the best time, the time of year when every- thing should look bright and new, and men and women and boys and girls should be happy. Here, in America, we do apprec- iate the world in spring time, but in other countries people are too busy to notice spring at all. In the cold winter months, we, over here, look forward to the time when the world will be made beautiful, when the March, winds will paint her cheeks' a rosy pink, when April will wash her hair to make it soft and lovely, and May will put a wreath' of flowers in her hair. Yes, the world is surely beautiful when it is all dressed up. Bu it isn't being made beautiful by the winds and it is being destroyed by bombs and fires. t over there rain. Instead Only an American can know the freedom of an American boy or girl can say, Wwhen spring go on a picnic, or we'1l ,nwhen spring comes.N In o WI! spring comes.W It mu not knowing if you'll hav . All of it seems so wro play ball, or we'll Yes,only we can say, boys and girls say, to be in such doubt, comes, we'l1 skip school.W ther countries st be horrible e that game of ng, but if it ball or that picnic wasn't meant to be, would it be that way at all? It seems so very unjust now, but there will be rewards for all those boys and girls and their mothers and dads in good and better things when the time comes. And then those three uncertain words, 'If spring comes,W will be erased from 'their lips forever, and they with us will enjoy the beauty,the freedom, the happiness of spring, and join us in saying, 'When spring comes.W O - O V Gertrude Cook 'AB p ON BROOKS There are three different kinds of brooks that I know of. One of them laughs and plays as it travels on and on. Another is still, sad, and sometimes gloomy' And the 'last brook is just between. It laughs and plays a little, and at times is still. Brooks that laugh, play, and sing are the best brooks of all. They look as though they never have a care in the world as they travel on to their ddestinatlon. These brooks know that adventure lies ahead and they're in a hurry to get there and find out what it is, The second brook is still, sad, and gloomy. This brook doesn't want adventure.' It wants to stay where lt. is and think sad thoughts., It knows if it hurrles it wonft have a good time. It thinks the first brook is too happy, p CContinued in Alumni Section!

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4 lx.. 'if' --if. la' 1'-T' er-fx, L ,fx sy I. ,-, , , . Q .F- ,L 'X ,. sag v 5, -1 3. fr., .I , xyw. over the land, Remembering, her father's gift, the little girl wished that the forests were full of game. Immediately deer filled the woods. s The little boy then pointed .his finger at them, and they fell dead, A There was great rejoicing in the village and, the Indians lived in peace and plenty for many years under the protection of Katahdln and Red Rose. I ' ,Many moons have passed, and the red men who once roamed the forests are gone. Yet the legends of Katahdin live on forever, and to those who love its stories, it is simply the uB1g H111.W c . Gertrude McKus1ck '44 I A wkamms HOUSEHOLD p 'For heaven's sake,Ellen,don't throw that tin can away! IYou know I want to save it with the rest of the scrap p11e.' This came from Mrs. Blake, the mother of the family of six who-lived in the attractive white house on Piney Lane.I WHey, Mom,W cried the ten-year old Terry, Wwhere in the dickens did you put my old football? The boys and I are gonna play out back for awhile. What? Oh, Mom, you d1dn'tl Well, gee whiz,why did you have to give that away for rubber salvag1ng?W IThus, Terry went back to his friends somewhat downhearted. H Mrs, Blake's voice came again from upstairs, 'What's that, Mary? No, you can't make fudge tonight for your crowd, You know I don't have any more sugar than I need now that 1t's rationed. You'll have to make something else,' At four-thirty that afternoon, Mr. Blake came home from work. He had just settled down to reading the paper only to be interrupted by his seventeen-year old son's voice, WHey, Dad, how about letting me use the oar tonight? I'd like to take Sandra to the movies. Huh? Oh, no gas. No coupons left at all? Well, I suppose we can walk.W 'Rod, I do wish you wou1dn't keep putting off writing to your brother. You know how lonesome he must be to hear from you now that he's over across. He is just as anxious to hear about your football and other games as you are to play them, So won't you please write him ton1ght?U Thus was the life of the Blake household during ware ' ' Marylin Buck '44 time.