Needham High School - Advocate Yearbook (Needham, MA)

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THE ADVOCATE L9j XX X C4 'x iv I T X M xxx fx r 'N , N L. f , I - THE HAPPINESS THAT WAS PALUCHPS Royal Abbott, T33 Timidly Paluchi shifted his weight from foot to foot and sought to conceal l1is eagerness. ul never had the chance to study under a lllllSl0l',7, he pleaded, Ubut, ah Cod! He who has seen the sun setting over the towers of St. Elmo in Napoli would play the violin even without teachingf' The color that had been rising to his wizened checks began to recede and he continued more calmly, G'lVfy teachers were--just teachers. l know lim not equal to the more difficult tech- nique, but still-- and his voice trailed away into Wistfulness. The Director considered. Paluchi was getting pretty old. Already he seemed to totter slightly, or perhaps that was just imagination. Wxielllw the Director somewhat briskly ejaculated, H1711 let you play your precious fiddle at the next concertfi Then, not wishing to dampen the little manis joy by appearing harsh, he added more cheer- fully, lt won't require any skill you havenit got. The numbers on the programme are, l imagine, quite familiar to you. The little Italian rushed excitedly away after profusc thanks that threatened to become embarrassing to the Director. The evening that Paluchi had awaited for a life-time arrived. He precipitated himself into the orchestra pit and shortly afterwards the conductor's baton started the music that raced Paluchi's mind through all the fantasies of creation. The music was light, rapid, and soon Paluchi saw himself as the little boy running again in the streets of lXapoli, playing naked around the fountain in the market-place. For an instant the notes of his score looked like the drops of water that he had splashed so gleefully at the young girls, who carrie ostensibly to till their pitchers, but really to gossip in the warm sun and shake their black hair with laughter. Then the score once more took on its formal black and white correct- ness, and Paluchi, looking at the conductor, felt the warm soul of his violin leap and quiver at every beckon of the leader. Then the music became softer, was sus- tained mainly' by the violins, and its slow sensuality' quickened the poundings of blood at his temples. The color mounted to his cheeks with the increasing fire of the music, and before his eyes young men and supple black-eyed girls were dancing in a courtyard to the low song of violins. He remembered those nights, so warm, yet quickened by the cool wind, the soft laughter and voices, the gaiety, the love-making, and high above all the ancient ltalian moon. Nowhere in the World was the moon so passionately beautiful as in his Napoli. The figures suddenly vanished and Paluchi t 1

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f8j THE ADVOCATE A DISTURBING HUMOR Jessie Stewart, '33 What is this we hear about the Home Economics and Manual Training departments being abolished from the High School curri- culum? Let's hope it is just a rumor, for many pupils would thus be deprived of their favorite subjects. ln these times of depres- sion, many girls are finding it hard to make a place for themselves in the business world and may well turn their attention to the home. How can one pass the time more profitably than in creating some article of clothing fand with the price of cloth, today, this would save quite a little moneyj or in preparing some luscious morsel to tempt the appetite? Home conditions are not always suitable for learning and practisingg it is, therefore, entirely up to the High School to see that those pupils interested, are adequately encouraged to develop their talents in this field. High School prepares us, not only for higher education, in math or dietetics, but for conducting ourselves properly and gracefully. What is more essential to us than the rules of etiquette? Girls do much entertaining at home, and it is fitting that they should be taught how to perform their duties, as hostesses and as guests. Table manners are also necessary if one would be a success socially, yet even such fundamental training is 'often neglected in the home. Another important factor taught in this department is marketing. Although pros- perity is just around the corner, no one is, as yet, ready to throw away her money. ln school, we are taught how to get the most for our money and how to buy economically the things necessary to keep our bodies healthy. The pupil is also taught to concoct dainty dishes for invalids and how to arrange their trays in a tempting manner. These functions may prove more useful in the education of a girl than foreign languages, mathematics, or history. Of course, every- thing has its place. However, when a young woman comes to make a home of her own, her efficiency as a capable housekeeper may help materially to make a successful mar- riage, and after all, a hungry man cannot be fed on Spanish verbs. We may live without poetry, music and art: We may live without conscience and live without hearty We may live without friendsg we may live without booksg But civilized man cannot live without cooks. He may live without books-what is know- ledge but grieving? He may live without hope-what is hope but deceiving? He may live without love-what is passion but pining? But where is the man that can live without dining? -OWEN MEREDITH. OH, FOR A WALK! Eunice Whitaker, '33 Picture an ordinary spring day, with its mud-puddles and soft, oozy ground. Or think of a winter day, just after a snow- storm, when the sun is beating down and melting the white drifts, transforming them into rivulets, brooks, and lakes. Then im- agine a procession of laboring students plod- ding southward along Wiebster Street, de- spairingly taking to the street because of the condition of the dirt sidewalk. Automobil- ists toot their horns impatiently, glare at the unfortunate offenders, but what can a poor pedestrian do? Surely it is better even to risk sudden death at the hands of a driver than to brave the agony of sinking deep- deep down into swamps of black muck or of wading and plowing through dirty oceans with muddy beds. The dream of these patient pilgrims is of a white, shining concrete walk, winding to the ultimate goal, good old N. H. S. This visionary walk would defy the sloppiest weather to turn it to mud, would disdainfully watch those same streams of water run grace- fully from its back, and would proudly bear up the heaviest owners of the feet that would march gaily along it.

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f10l THE ADVOCATE heard a fanfare of trumpets and the muffled drumming of many feet. Uniform followed uniform in seeming infinite procession, then crash and shock and tumultuous din, agonized cries and hot oaths sworn against the God who would allow such carnage. The stench was overpowering and he nearly reeled, but as suddenly as it began it ceased, and the music became cold and emotionless. A maiden clad in purest white armor moved gravely across the battle field. The violins were carrying the melody again, and Paluchi felt something of the awe and moving great- ness of that white hgure of Death. Tenderly she touched a body lying on the battle field and the soldier rose and followed her. The sorrow of ages was upon her brow as shc passed, and Paluchi felt a magnetic im- pulse and tried to follow her. Meanwhile the violins soared higher with a coldness of tone that transcended the finite and took on some- thing of the infinite. Then-a burst of music as the programme ended, and he was follow- ing her along with many others. It was thought strange by some in the audience that one violinist moved not at all, nor rose to bow with the orchestra. RADIOS Fred Shaker, 734 Buzz! Crackle! Snap! I am alone in the house and listening to my favorite program on the radio. The radio begins its daily protest to the usage it receives. I wouldn't mind it so much if it would happen while someone else is listening to it, but it always takes to these spasms when I am sitting beside it. At the beginning of the usual procedure I grimly resolve, with the integrity of ,my ancestors at Bunker Hill, either to stop that infernal noise or the radio. So, with fire in my eye, I search for the hammer, screw- driver, and monkey-wrench. After a very aggravating search for the hidden weapons, I finally discover them in an obscure corner. My ardor somewhat daunted by the search, I return to the radio. On hearing again its angry growl, my dampened ardor soars to the unattained heights. I peer into the bowels of my patient and begin operations on the tubes. After removing them, I place them at a little distance from the cause of my indignation. I then take out the screws and nuts. Some of the nuts show fight and, not being able to move them with the wrench, I take to the hammer. As my arm rises for the third blow, the traitorous head takes leave of the handle and makes a forced landing smashing the complete set of tubes. Nevertheless I continue to remove the nuts and screws until I have a miscellaneous col- lection. Not finding any apparent ailment in my harsh-toned patient, I proceed in my attempt to replace its vitals. After many grunts and the wasting of much needed energy by my somewhat strained vocal chords, I succeed in getting a fraction of them back again, but much to 1ny dismay I have more parts than places to put them. just then in bursts the rest of the family. After my paying for eight new tubes and a Grst class electrician, my enterprises are very much stunted for the next few weeks. Now I turn on the radio and listen contentedly to the pent up explosions of '4Crackle! snap! buzzli' saved for my special entertainment by the diabolical mechanism. THE WAY TO LIVE Mayola Wall, '34 To be today the best I can, And see each duty through, To fail no friend, or anyone, But simply be true blue. To leave the cares of yesterday Wrapped up in clouds of hope, And make tomorrow's brilliant dawn Contain a wider scope.