North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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6 MANET ride more. Therefore. they ride like huge bun- dles of blankets along the streets of our fair city. They are. in fact, very reliable ther- mometers. Each sweater represents a twenty degree drop from seventy degrees and when it is zero they add an extra garment for good measure. Because these boys ride bicycles, do not get the idea that they are behind the times. Far from it! Their bicycles appear upon iirst glance to be commonplace, it is true, but a closer examination reveals all sorts of nick- nacks and gadgets from electric horns to colored banners. The former might explain why we jump from our shoes at. the tremendous shriek of a horn and look around only to see one of our fellow students crouched threaten- ingly over the handle bars as if he were driving a motor cycle. I suggest that we connnemorate the faithful- ness of these boys by a statue Cplaced in the middle' of the school lawnl, similar to the his- tory book picture of Balboa discovering the Paciic with his sword upraised in one hand and his other hand placed benevolently on the shoulder of a boy who is leaning against a bicycle. One may assume that he is showing him the shortest way to Quincy or giving him some sort of a theological lecture. AND WAS THE N. P. IMPRESSED? By Helen Vandeleur, 11-3 4'XYhat is the groaning noise coming from that classroom? asked the Xew Pupil as we passed 310. Only the groans of the pupils after they have heard the rabbit sausage story for the forty-ninth timef' I responded. Rabbit sausage story? Please explain. You know, the one about the rabbit sausage with some horse meat mixed in. Proportions 1-1. One horse to one rabbit E 'Do you hear that often? Only every time the Law of Definite Pro- portions or something similar comes up. was my answer. But- a word of explanation is necessary. I was escorting an X. P. Cnew pupilj about the building. You know, showing her the layout and giving her a few helpful hints about good, bad. and indifferent teachers. I have found that one sure way to make a friend for life is to give an X. P. the low-down on what, like Prosperity. is just around the corner. The X. P. entered Christmas XVeek so when 1 was proudly displaying our libarary she asked who was responsible for the mistletoe in the doorway. Why, my dear. l said. that was put there by optimistic members of the Senior Girls' Club in the hope of waylaying Mr. Smoyer, who has his office in the library. But no, he Wends his scholarly way, never realizing the trap that is laid for him. I went into the library one day for the express purpose of ambushing him. In- stead, he came out as 1 went in and we met about two feet outside the door. He looked blank when, in disgusted tones, I exclaimed 'Darn, too late'! So. after telling the X. P. the sad story of my blighted hope, I took her into 203, and who was presiding over the study hall but Mr. Foy! I introduced the N. P. and after popping out again I told her about the wound that Mr. Foy 's literary self incurred when he found one of his younger, very much younger, English pupils reading a story called Marriage by Capture during a study period. XVhy, Mr. Foy posi- tively blew up. His face acquired a very vivid scarlet and he treated the poor boy to a lecture on discrimination in the selection of reading matter. All this merely because a young hope- ful wanted his romance a bit be-times. 1 next decided to show the X. P. the audi- torium, the cafeteria, and the gym. There was no cause for hurry, and anyway. I hadn't pre- pared my math review home work. VVhen we got into the auditorium the X. P. seemed in- terested in the green and buff squares on the rear wall. I explained that they were part of the acoustic properties. 1 didn 't explain further because she didn't ask. Perhaps she knew more than I did about it. By then it was lunch time, so 1 took her to the cafeteria. Oh, isn't this grand! she exclaimed. You even have wash basins down here. The pupils at Xorth must be shining examples of exterior cleanliness. I shame- lessly answered that of course we were. I neglected to tell her that after the school spent so much money on the wash stands the only time that water was ever run into one was once when an inquisitive individual wanted to see if they really worked. Perhaps we would use them if there were any towels. How are the pupils of the feminine gender going to dry their hands on two by four handkerchiefs? Perhaps none of us ever feel the need of performing mid-day ablutions. But they serve one purpose in that they do impress strangers. But to resume my narrative. Vile bought our lunches. My friend, the X. P. seemed pleased with the menu. There is no denying the fact that our cafeteria service is above par. Vile bought California chicken pie CTuna Fishl, and my friend desired salt, as indeed did I. The question: How does one get salt? I always use much salt at home but can never even smell any at school. It would be a good idea if the pupils could have the use of the salt cellars. Maybe teachers are God 's chosen people, but we must have our salt. All I hope is that it is not wilful negligence. I should hate to think that some-

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MAN ET 5 I used up my limited knowledge of politics with Dad. Now how a young person like me could be expected to chat meaningly on politi- cal hash incomprehensible to most of my elders is a riddle. Yet Dad certainly expected it, and I struggled through. Then Jimmie tthere's always a Jimmiej, would rapidly diminish my baseball stock in long eulogies of heroes. Mother being busy at supervising her daughter, I was saved from further conversational hard- ships. Then Betty would trip into the room, and I would depart with a possessive arm looped through hers. I murmur on the blessings of a worthy family, I extoll the very excellent features of the maiden 's dress, make-up, et. al. tThough dating from the Ark this method never failsb. I act the good listener to all her appealing patter and her naive babbling, for this is a requirement of good conversation. All in all this phase is not too trying. Moreover, a car will lessen the amount of speech necessary in this trip. Once at the ball the orchestra, the guests, and decorations are all suitably considered. Friends and new introductions provide us with still more material. All that comes is grist to our mill. Now before continuing let me stress a point in my -outlook. The dance is unmis- takably connected with the act of love. A girl may with propriety be clasped in an embrace at a dance. The orchestra blares. bleats, and whispers of love even as it did in the staid old Vienna days in different fashion. Yes, above all, one brings another suitable for the bestowal of one's affections, either at present or in the future. So the love element in conversation cannot be detoured even though it enter in only an aubon. Thus I have found it necessary to adopt certain tactics, but because of various complexes I succeed not too greatly. Talk lapses, although I occasionally dart a personal thrust before retreating i11to my shell. I have often hoped that the ethereal dream in my arms realized that my insane remarks arose from a desperate wish to preserve conversation. I am not able to provide an easy flow of pleas- ing little nothings. Yet I know the girl is not interested in poetry, mathematics or such out- lets. Therefore, though I assure myself that I am happy, a dense fog of impenetrable reserve separates us. Every day conversation seems like a pun in a funeral hall. Under these con- ditions my bravado is not so easy. I feel capa- ble of sweeping her off her feet if I once burst into my oratorical vein. However, I tremble at thought of a lengthy continuance of amours. I am not able to provide light talk and dare not pour out the passionate discourse of which I am capable. Finally, the farewell number is droned, and we depart. Oh, spare me these parting mo- ments! Action and not speech is much more advisable, is it not? I, however, an incurable introvert, am far too timid in action to permit a graceful withdrawal. Impending difficulty loosens the chopped-up speech. I talk insipidly of stars and moon, fearing the approach of Betty 's front steps. Ah, steps of portent, steps of wondrous meaning! Here they are, and here are wel She breathes a low thank you for a happy evening and talks ever so idly while I say rather untruthfully that I had the best time lever. Now a kiss is accepted as the cus- tomary action at this point, but such a simple osculation would have driven me through th- earth's floor. Ah, nol I filled long moments with queer grunting expressions wh's, ers uy's and ah ts, and slipped away with my col- lar stiff against my neck. ON RIDING BICYCLES TO SCHOOL By Arthur Schuh, 12-1 Here is a piece of writing which conforms 'to the requisites of the liunioi-ous essay. The author success- fully treats his subject. at fair length. in a rather delightful style. giving a decidedly original interpre- tation of certain phases of bicycle riding which makes the essay amusing reading. Years ago when we were unpretentious seventh and eighth graders many of our number shortened the distance between home and school by riding bicycles. After attaining the honor and dignity of th P ninth grade most of the pedal pushers laid aside their trusty vehicles and trod their weary way to school rather than risk the chance of being seen in such an undignitied pose as one is apt to assume while riding the afore mentioned vehicle. However, there are still some stalwart, sturdy, and unspoiled lads of the upper grades who continue to propel their velocipedes school- ward every morning. As we, who disdain such a primitive mode of conveyance, are laboriously making our way towards the two-thirds finish tl school house, these two-wheeled knights speed gracefully by us, unhindered in their purposeful progress by all the twists of fate and weather. They have hardly ever been known to shirk their chosen task for anything less -than a fiat tire. This remarkable example of physical and mental fortitude which passes us every morn- ing, cannot, as you see, fail to inspire us. The plucky gladiator do-or-die look in their eyes makes us think of VVashington at Valley Forge. Their stamina and fearlessness make us realize that all is not lost and that perhaps we too. by a similar application of will power, can learn the valence of strontium. These bicycle riders have learned from ex- perience that the more clothes a cyclist wears, the greater are his chances of remaining tit to

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MAN ET 7 one was maliciously depriving me of my salt. One day in the seventh grade remains in my memory. I bought a salad minus salt. I went. over to the teacher's table where Mr. Collins was sitting alone. I asked him for the use of his salt. He gladly acquiesced. So I was able to enjoy my salad. But that didn't provide salt for my saltless companions. Maybe The meek shall inherit the earth, but I got the salt. Anyway, despite this sad luck the N. P. enjoyed her lunch. Afterwards we made a trip to the gym and the girls' locker room. She was surprised to see what nice individual showers we have. The N. P. appreciated the story I told her about the girl who ran to the gym teacher and cried, HI can't take a shower to- day.', 'tVVhy not?,' asked the instructor. There 's no curtain on my shower, was the reply. Just then the bell rang so we started up- stairs. The lines were passing. Single tile and one way traffic were in order on the stairs. Suddenly a clatter was heard and two fel- lows, one very tall and the other well built and of medium height came racketing downstairs going in the direction opposite to that which the lines were taking. The N. P. raised her eyebrows and said, And who are the young Lords of Creation who defy all obvious traffic rules? Just a couple of athletic heroes, I said. The cops wouldn't allow us lesser mortals to do that. Just as I was whispering these comments came the gruff command, Quiet there! Witli a resigned expression I left the .N. P. to make her own observations. By this time the N. P. had seen all there was of consequence, so I turned her over to her divisional teacher and wended my weary way toward my next class. CC LEGAL FICTION By Lawrence Reid, P. G. A venerable P. G. airs his exalted opinion in brilliant satirical fashion, and we are obliged to agree with him. Something seems to have gone wrong within the complicated turmoil of modern business. Either the sales promoters have bungled their persuasive presentations or else Barnum was right. Advertisers have evidently overlooked the fact that the normal member of the buying public is willing to give fair consideratoi to any product if its need and merit are made clear. Salesmanship is not an argumentative campaign based on the assumption that no one wants to buy anything and that people must be tricked and cajoled into spending, their money. Perhaps it was the recent economic upset that forced manufacturers to use the kind of adver- tising that now overruns almost every news- paper and magazine published in this country: absurdly superlative claims veiled seductively behind vague and enticing neologisnis. Down- right laughability has replaced a good part. of the dignity in advertising. ,W Q- if I -I ' was ll' 1,9 if L' 4 .1 kj 7 Es , Q? - in . 1.-:..n..... , me xl i Lawrence Reid Vile have before us a serial cartoon in four vivid acts, condemning us Americans as a foul- smelling race. The first scene pictures a much dejected young man seated on a park bench with a young lady whose inclined nose seems to point to the fact that she is sorely displeased with her would-be lover. In the next install- ment the proverbial little bird is telling the gentleman the cause of the difficulty. This revelation is simply these two portentious in- itials: HB. O. Surely there is no need to, ex- plain the meaning of this euphemistic abbre- viationg for has it not become a household word? The third act. is an artistic representa- tion of the young man in the process of laving his personal self with Lifebuoy. The sequel shows him once again with his lady friend. Her attitude seems to have changed, for her eyelids are lowered and she is actually permitting the ardent swain to caress her silken cheek with his pursed lips. This touching story has for its title HA Mended Heart, a tale without words. Turning the pages, we find warnings to for- tify ourselves against odiferous exhalation, tinted toothbrush, curvilinear spinal column, sepia molars, and all manner of nasty things. VVhat an altogether horrid breed of humans! VVe didn 't object to the inter-billboard argu- ment between Luckies and Old Golds because we weren't particularly interested in the com- parative mildness of primitive Mother Nature nor in the possibilities of improvement on her. Nor were we startled when Chestertields re- vealed their micrometric longitudinal and dia- metrical dimensions Cthough we hardily knew why the size should make them satisfyj, VVe 've wanted for a long time to meet the young lady