Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 18 text:

si Day of Disaster Did you ever experience a ba-a-a-d day? They go something like this — you awake, stretch luxuriously, and get a cramp in your leg. You drag yourself out of bed, and, unable to find your slippers, tiptoe across the frozen floor to the bathroom, where you promptly step on a piece of soap and crash unceremoniously. This, pal. is only the beginning. After a cold breakfast (Mother was out late last night so you have to whip together a tasty bowl of wheaties) you race to the bus stop to watch that inhuman Eastern Massachusetts monster coughing carbon monoxide derisively back at you. You arrive late for school, naturally, and to top it off, a certain somebody noticed that you walked down Codding ton Street, instead of running. For this you must report at eight o'clock the following morning instead of eight-fifteen. Of course, nobody seems to take into consideration the fact that the road was icy, you had on your leather-heeled shoes, and you fell only four times between the Square and the school. Once in school, mis- fortunes tail thick and fast. Every teacher seems unusually tyrannical. When you fell the third time on that ice, you must have lost your English homework. You get the broken chair in the Physics class. During lunch, an orange meant for some- one else, slugs viciously into your physiognomy, and you suffer a ruptured dignity. During the bus ride home, someone gets the bright idea of having a catch with your shoe. Ah, youth! The bus driver waits at your stop while you hop pelican-style all over the bus looking for the missing appendage. That night, after a delightful repast of cold beans (Ma is out to Red Cross), you find that the Physics notebook you just had to work on has been left back in your desk; your pen blots at the very end of a meticu- lously prepared biology paper; a French test is due the next day; and you develop insomnia that night because you forgot to study for it. This little dissertation, of course, is only concerned with a mild case of Disasteritis. There is only one cure for this terrible malady, but don’t try it, because suicide is against the law. -c.-n ,.- James Powers

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BLUES IN THE NIGHT Agony! Intense, unrelenting agony! The air is thick with nauseating squeals and groans that taper into sickly moans. Shrill crescendos, Implanting visions of dire chaos: Of Knights in armor clashing in mortal combat; Of savage revelry; Of mournful wailings of banshees: Of wild c ries of beasts in the jungle; Of Heaven’s thunderous rebellions. And then, Silence. Band rehearsal over! Robert Fruzzetti Illustrated by the author FEBRUARY SNOW By night The sleeping city—luminous Is draped in a shawl of snow. The snow disappears into puddles and slush Revealing the dirty streets By day. Phyllis Lamkri Subject ........... Men

Page 19 text:

WISHFUL THINKING I could be a great musician And play a clarinet. I could be a politician, Lake graft without regret. I could be the King of England. I could also be a poet. Hut if this is an example. Nobody’d ever know it! Fioren o Fertili SEVENTEEN I like to wander — silent, all alone — 'Through friendly forest, dim and filled with power. It gives me strength to fight and plan and live My life as it should be. But then I think Of joys and happiness I had in years Long past, when I was just another child Whose only care was of a broken toy. I sometimes wish that I were back again — Back to a life where work and play are one. And when the thought returns to me of hopes, Desires of which I dreamed in days gone by, I find I suffer just as much again — and will — Until the age of seventeen is passed. Annette Savard FEAR It is a living thing — Awesome and black — Consuming those who enter its grim jaws. There is no greater, No lesser degree. A child’s fear of the dark — A soldier’s fear of death — They are the same — Terrifying . . . Inescapable . . . Arlene Brackett