Norwell High School - Shipbuilder Yearbook (Norwell, MA)

Page 14 text:

12 THE SHIPBUILDER DETAQHED THOUGHTS ON LIFE As I was conversing with my own thoughts the other night I could not refrain from transcribing some of them to my closest friends as readers. My first thoughts presented themselves just after a basket- ball game, for it seemed as though sports and life are very closely connected. One goes into a sport heart and soul with every energy hoping to win, while another would stand on the -outside, fearing to enter lest he be hurt. So it is with life, a man enters into it with every possible effort, trying his ut- termost to come out on topg while another slouches along in a carefree easy manner, caring not whether he win or lose, tak- ing the sunny and pleasant side of everything and keeping exclusively away from everything that hints at hard work, or anything disagreeable. I wish that every man would have ambition enough to try for some goal in life no matter how trivial it may be. The word ambition presents another train of thought, and I wonder whether or not it is good for man to have ambition, in some cases ambition may drive one on to do violent and bloody, wicked deeds. If a man is ambitious enough he will stop at no ends until he has accomplished what he strove to do, or has died in the attempt. On the other hand if a man has no ambition he is very likely to be too willing to sit by and see the world roll along without him, he has no desire to be in the rush. Sometimes I wish myself far away in a distant wood all by myself with no trouble and plenty of literary material, this desire comes to me when I do have a minute to stop and think. Day after day it is the same, hurry and push, snatching a few hours' s.leep now and then, only to away to the same world of people striving to get ahead of one anotherg and in many cases each trying to deceive the other. I have written my thoughts and now can compose myself to meditate on another subject, and so the world goes on still hurrying and rushing along, none the better or the worse for my humble thoughts. D. J. G. '27. FACE YOUR DEFEATS . - Why did you fail in geometry? Why didn't you 'land' that job you wanted? Why didn't you 'make' the team? Perhaps your failures are not your fault. But probably they are. Better find out just where you fell down. Then you can pull yourself up short the next time you make a 'try-out.' A boy can learn from his failures but he can't win by dodging. Face your defeats. J. C. '30,

Page 13 text:

THE SHIPBUILDER 11 OUR SCHOOL N stands for Nobility, best ever known O stands for Occupations, done without groan R is for Rank in which Norwell stands high W is for Worthy, upon us rely E stands for Education, obtained at our school L stands for Loyalty to every rule L stands for Luck which never is lacking H is for Haughtiness, no one is backing I is for the Ignorant who here never start 4 G stands for Greatness in which we take part H speaks for Humanity, shown in each heart S is for skill, quick as a dart C is for cleverness, with which it is done H stands for High standard which welve all won ' O stands for Origin, the best has been made O is for Others we're ready to aid L means Love for every one here Put all together-the best school This Year. A. B. '27.. WINTER SCENE One brisk morning in December I walked to the pond to skate. Old Mother Earth glistened under the white mantel of our first snowfall. Each tiny crystal glittered diamond- like as the rays of Old Sol fell upon them from an unclouded sky. The bare ugliness of the trees and underbrush was transformed into gleaming beauty, while the original splendor of the evergreens was rendered more picturesque by the weight of their snowy coats. The only activity was an occas- ional flurry of snowflakes and of small snowbirds. Out of the red chimneys of the houses the smoke curled lazily up, indicating warmth and coziness within. The whole scene was one of cold, calm crispnessg which soon changed into one of life and color, for as I neared the pond I saw a number of boys whoseefforfs with brooms resulted in a large square of gleaming ice. At one end of this square glowed a small bonfire, kindled with twigs and brush they had brought from home. As I glided over the smooth ice I thought what a real pleas- ure winter was to those who enjoy themselves in the great Out of Doors. E. F. M. '28,

Page 15 text:

THE SI-IIPBUILDER 13 WOULDN'T IT BE FUNNY IF: Irma were a Ham instead of a Bacon. Robert were White instead of Brown. Marian were the Ocean instead of the Beach. Hilda were a Lincoln instead of a Maxwell. Myrtle were Tombstones instead of Graves. Alice were a Bud instead of a Blossom. Cynthia were- some Bluebirds instead of some Robbins. Lyman were Washington instead of Lincoln. Russell were Blueing instead of Whiting. Charlie were Hacken' instead of Holden. Orran were a Bottle instead of a Cann. Fred were Dull instead of Sharp. Charlie were a Farmer instead of a Smith. John were an Alderman instead of a Sexton. . Litchfield were a Skunk instead of a Weasil. M. G. '27. TWILIGHT ON THE NORTH RIVER Everything is rapt in silence as the sun slowly sinks behind the trees which border the North River, leaving a crimson path in the sky. The motionless water of the river forms a mirror in which the stately trees admire their bright-hued autumn dresses. Now the silence is broken by the shrill caw of a crow as it flies lazily over the water seeking its nest for the night. Again the silence is broken by the faint chug of a motor boat as it winds its way along the river. Now its echoes are resounded through the forest. As the boat draws farther and farther away the sound of the motor is lost in the distance. Everything is peaceful once more. The river lies like a sergentg the sun casting its last golden and crimson rays in the water. The shadows of the trees become longer and longer as the sun slowly sinks from view. Now the twilight has changed to darkness, but although it is rapt in obscurity the North River flows on ever winding toward the sea. E. H. '29. TO A MORNING GLORY Morning Glory thou are the messenger of dawn. Thou openest very early to greet the birth of morn. We know not what our joy or sorrow is to be - But may the morning's promise be ever fair like thee. E. C. '29.