Petersham High School - Hilltop Yearbook (Petersham, MA)

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uHaving called for my friend and finding her not ready, the maid saying that her mistress would be down within five minutes, I was shown into the library and commenced to wait the five rinutes with a glad heart. Of course, as usual, the five proved to be fifteen, but fin- ally my companion descended, and I must give her credit for applying only the amount of glamorizing materials as bofits a woman of her years. WHaving directed my chauffeur to a fashionable cafe of which I had heard spoken, we were immediately trans- ported there. Being relieved of our wraps at the check doon we then entered the gaily-dressed throng and soon settled ourselves at a well-positioned table. After or- dering a dinner. which any member of elite society knows to be delicious but not at all digest ble, we turned our attention to the orchestra. Uwe both determined that the group was a fine one and that the members followed every cue from the direc- tor's baton. We also admired the courage and zest with which they attacked the uncouth utterances of jazz. How the pianist kept from crashing completely through the piano, how the trumpeter kept in contact with his instru- ment, and how the drummer managed to make so many and so varied thuds and crashings became a mad whirl to me. Great relief was felt on my part when a waltz tempo was struck and we moved out over the floor. Wwhile returning home at the scandalously early hour of twelve, we both reached the conclusion that people should not forget their age but live within its bounds.n Frederick Snow 'b2 HSHING A fisherman I am - by Joel My pole is my best friend, you know. I can catch them small and catch them big. On the latest tackle or an old fashioned rig. And than there is my lucky hatg I'd have no luck at all without that. I can shellnc a pole or wind a guide, And tell whore all the bin ones hideg Or I can toll you wondrous tales About tho lost ones big as whalesg But if I como home with bulging croel, We all sit down tova delicious meal. Paul Radasch '44 u. . '- '- K 1 . Pun, I .Img 1, . -V , , p H A W' W 1 k ' .J '...4 in V - -- , f- Q w - ,. ' N ' ' il fs f Lv' L1 A V. . rs . .- - ll 4-z 'r ' 3 rr aff-. . -L . F

Page 31 text:

I K . . 'ma smash .axfxm Our faces are glum as we filo in, And take our seats with :ever a qrin. We'd like to take it on the lam, But wo've got to take this darned tram. Advsrbs, adjectives, pronouns, and verbs, And a hundred other wschliar words r Buzz and whirl around our .ou6s, And our lives scum filled with horrors and drsads. We gaze at the shoot with s puzzled frowng And our whirling heads whirl faster around, Hopefully, desperately, striving to think, But the last of our hopes socm ready to sink. We put down our pencils, and claw at our hair, And rub our hands, till our Knuckles sro bars. Us loostn our tics, and roll up our slctvcs. If someone, somewhere would answer our pleas! The strain, tho suspcnso, will drive us berserk, say! the guy 'cross tho aisle, why not oory his work? But Kiss Semyle's watching with crafty oyo, Just waiting to stop some oho trying to soy. The swost Grits down oach favored brow, But wo'vo got to got this done somehow! Straining, striving, cursing, crying, What should we write, nlayingn or nlyingn? Our minds whirl so fsstg the clock moves so slowg Only one more question, our hopes start to grow! But the Question itsslf wats us nsarly grow faint: nhrito a two-page thomh on The History of Taintnt A paragrarh written, we urs roaiy to scream, Oh why in tho world, can't this fust bs-a dream? will we ever bo abls to finish this thome? Thore's more to the Hhistory of paintn than would seem! But at last it is ovcrg the theme is Cone, - Wo're bathed in sweat, but victory is won. We sag and staggor out tho door The Exam is gone fortvormorol Kenneth Richards 'LL ' QQQfQi1w i?bfl5ff1gFitgQg?wg,fj1'3pl'i ,li Y rf n-u H mumnmmmmmuV ' ' 3537