Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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10 THE GOLDEN-ROD To the Golden Rod Doris Bohanan, F.’29 Oh Goldcnrod—you artful pest, You make us work with toilful zest. You make us wrinkle up our brows And twist our features into frowns; Causing us to scratch our head For inspirations almost dead. Then when we’ve written something rare It’s handed back with best of care. On each one—sometimes—a mark nuitc fine As if to sooth and ease our mind, But inwardly, we wonder why Such splendid talent is passed by. Oh, Goldcnrod, you surely aim To be worthy of a Quincy name. CONFESSIONS OF A TRAVELER Elsie Eagle, J.’28 1 am a girl, I must confess, who likes to travel. Are you that kind of a girl ? Do you sit and dream of a majestic steamer plowing her way to another world, with you aboard ? I do! Can you sit on the deck, watching the clouds and the sky, with not a care in the world? I can! Or have you plodded along on a queer little donkey at the Grand Can- yon as T have? Why, I ride in a gon- dola every time I visit Venice. Do you? I can even turn all France, England, and Spain upside down and still find time to roam the Orient. Can you ? Yes, I’ve scaled the Alps in record time, And even sailed right down the Rhine, Ah, I’ve traveled miles just in my mind—have you? ECHOES FROM THE WAVES William Paterson, J.’29 It was a warm summer’s day, the third of June, in the year 1914. My mother and I sailed from Boston on board the “Pretorian” for Glasgow, Scotland. The weather was ideal for sailing, and we en- joyed the trip thoroughly. During the day we had our deck chairs placed in comfortable positions, and the deck stew- ards saw that all were wrapped in their robes. We spent the time in reading and conversing with the other passengers, for all are like one large family on board ship. During the day we also played shuffle board and ringers on the deck. At night we sang and danced and listened to concerts, in the music room. On Sun- day morning religious services were held. We sighted a French fishing fleet at work. The ship slowed up and a small boat from the fleet drew along side. Two buckets were hoisted aboard. One of them contained mail to be brought to Europe, the other some fish for the cap- tain. We continued on the journey, sighting one or two steamers at a dis- tance. We passed two enormous icebergs but kept at a respectable distance, and the captain said he “would be glad to be some distance out of their course before darkness settled down.” We arrived safely at Glasgow nine days later. We were having a delightful holiday with my grandparents, when the war broke out, cutting our visit short. We thought it best to get back to the United States before America should enter the war. At that time no one knew what a day would bring forth. Well, it was one thing saying, “we’ll go back,” but it was altogether another thing to try to get back. We booked on several ships, but the Government stepped in before each sailing and took over the ships for transports. We finally booked on the “Sardivian.” The name certainly fitted the ship, because it was a small, old ‘tub’ about the size of a good sized sailing yacht. The captain tried to make us feel happy by telling us that she had been a first class boat forty years ago, and that Royalty had sailed aboard her at one time. However, that did not help us any when we ran into boisterous weather and a raging sea. The so-called boat was rocking and swaying first on the crest of a wave, then with a sudden rush into the trough. The captain said that she was a good submarine. She went under at Mo- ville, Ireland, and came up at Cape Race,

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 We often see longer flashes which are caused by the trombone player who pushes and pulls all the while. We re- ceive all the wind that is used up in the playing of the great horns. Each player has a portion of dark sky for his music sheet and writes his own notes with a colorless ink, which shows up quite plainly on the dark sheet. Having played a certain piece of music each player takes a convenient cloud, wipes off these liquid notes, and wrings his cloud; we receive a shower of notes each time the band plays. When the band passes by the last thing we hear is the farewell rumble of the drums in the distance. HOMEWORK Doris Scott, J.’28 I wonder if any of the teachers in Quincy High School, or any school, ever think of the hard work and the long hours we poor unfortunate students have to go through with day after day? Home- work and then more homework! Nearly every night it is the same old story; once in a while I manage it in the afternoon so I can have the night free, but the usual routine is this; Supper, dishes, and then homework; no rest, mind you, be- tween any of them. The tirst question is how and where to start. As usual there is bookeeping, shorthand, English, and history. (It's funny some brilliant person doesn’t think of letting us have the privilege of carry- ing home a typewriter in order to prac- tice a few hours each evening on type- writing.) The first thing to be done is the easiest and quickest; we must always save our thoughts for the hard studies, history and English, for instance. The other subjects follow in rapid succes- sion. When everything is all finished, sleep is not far away (neither is morn- ing), still if a person tries to stifle a yawn in school, the teacher is bound to make a remark about going to bed early and getting some sleep for a change. After sitting about five minutes try- ing to straighten my back, I make a trip to the pantry and end a very delightful evening. Of course, next morning I have a table full of books, scrap papers, ink- bottles, and pencils, and pens, to greet me as a faint reminder of the night before. At «S.15 school starts for another day, and at the beginning of each period my hard work of the night before is collected and more work assigned. It’s the same old story, day after day; just as an animal at a treadmill, we are kept going all the time. Trying to Study Clementine Edwards, J.’28 My heart is not here upon my work; I’ve tried, but I can not study. I see the pages, I read the words, But it all seems very muddy. I’m thinking of everything but my work, I'm away in a far off land, I'm wandering the fields, I’m dreaming dreams, Instead of trying to understand. But wouldn’t you rather dream, I ask, Than study a dry old book? So I think and dream of summer days As I sit in my favorite nook. Raggedy Ann Florence White, J.’28 1 Her eyes are bright and sparkling, The color's a delightful tan; She’s not very good at talking, But she can make you understand. 2 Her hair is short and curly, A shiny golden brown; Her teeth are lustrous and pearly. And perfect all around. 3 Her step is light and dainty; She can beg and please a man; She speaks for things,—not faintly, She’s an Airdale—is Raggedy Ann.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 11 Newfoundland. This certainly seemed true because the ship was almost com- pletely covered with the waves all the time. We had one terrific storm which lasted for three days, during which time no passengers were allowed on deck. The captain and the crew kept vigilant watch day and night, and not a light was allowed in any of the state rooms after dark; all the port holes were darkened also so that no German warships might detect her. Most of the passengers dreaded to lie awake at night and hear the officers on watch report every little while, “All’s well. To sit up all night and listen to this would make one’s blood run cold. What a different scene from our jour- ney across in June. We were glad when we reached Boston, not only on account of the bad weather, but also because of the many dangers on the Atlantic at that time, owing to the activities of the Ger- man submarines in those waters. POMPEII, THE CITY OF RUINS Mary Infascelli, J.’28 To visit Italy, my parents’ birthplace, has always been my fondly cherished hope. My father, who was born near Pompeii, has related so many stories of this city that to me it has almost become a reality. I can close my eyes and see Pompeii in its ruinous state. It has the aspect of the ancient Roman city, the streets being straight and narrow. The most picturesque street of Pompeii is the old road from Naples to Reggio. According to ancient use the dead were buried along the sides of the roads and in this street many monuments are to be seen. The street of Abundance is perhaps the prin- cipal street of Pompeii. It is straight and narrow with raised pavements, on which are some fountains made of lava. Of the street of Mercury, which is narrow like the other streets of Pompeii is situated the Temple of Apollo. This temple is dedicated to the worship of Love. It was constructed before the Samnite epoch and is surrounded by col- umns which originally were of the Doric style, but afterwards were restored and transformed with stucco into Corinthian columns. In the House of the Faun everything is of great artistic taste. This house de- rived its name from the antique, beauti- ful, and renowned statuette found there. This statuette is now in the museum of Naples. Of all the houses in Pompeii the House of the Vettii is the most important be- cause of its painted decorations. This house was discovered several years ago. All the pictures, statues, and household utensils are in their original places and give to the house something living that fails elsewhere. At the entrance to the excavations, a little museum has been provided, where a part of the antiquities found during the excavations have been preserved. The greater part, however, and almost all the most important have been removed to the Museum of Naples. On the street of Nola is the house of Marcus Lucretius, a noble man. This house is remarkable because of the beauty and elegance of its decorations, paintings, and statues. To see, not only to hear of, this ruined city is my one great desire, and I hope that some day my dream will come true. TRAVELING BY GAS Mary Aulbach, J.’28 It was a custom of mine to visit my dentist twice a year, and as I had no real work done at these times, I rather enjoyed it. My dentist was a fine look- ing man, tall, with blonde curly hair, nice blue eyes, and a smile that certainly at- tracted everyone. All my girl friends were secretly in love with him, and al- though I wouldn’t admit it, I think that I had a few symptoms myself. Ouida,