Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 26 text:

ALARM CLOCK You villain! You Simon Legree! At the instant of my greatest triumph In a world where I am revered. Your shrill, rasping voice Insistently penetrates. In the low hanging blackness Of the early winter morning; Your fluorescent hands and numbers Gleam and glower and leer. Telling me That the awful moment is here. Grace Quilty Illustrated by the Author OH. TO BE A MAN! When I was small — still in short pants, I dreamed to be of age, When I could learn to drive and dance And earn a weekly wage. When I was small — with much to see, I dreamed to be of age. When my own master I could be Outside of any cage. The final goal of my fond dream — To reach my eighteenth year And to rejoice at leaving school — Would bring the greatest cheer. I've reached my eighteenth birthday now But yet I do not gleam. Tomorrow Uncle Sam will call. It’s A nightmare — not a dream. Joseph F. La Croix Singer . Binc Crosby

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IVild Styles of 1945 Girls love a uniform! (So do boys) In fact, they like them so much they wear the uni- forms themselves to school. Of course, there are styles to suit everyone, male, female, glamorous, so-so, — let the chicks fall where they may. Girls’ outfits are really the most unusual. For instance, there’s the regulation-wool skirt, sloppy joe, white dicky, and. of course, loafers and bobby socks (Oh, Frankie!) The girl who wants to be different wears her boy-friend’s size 42 lumberjacket, ski-pants, and shoes to match (an especially tasty touch is plaid shoelaces). With this outfit usually goes straight black bangs to simulate the Queen of the Nile (and So many go cross-eyed trying to look slant-eyed! tsk-tsk!) Speaking of hair, there’s no lack of it around here, with most of the able Grables wearing theirs in curly splendour half-way down the back (and what fun the guys sitting behind them in class have draping it off their desks). And this isn’t the worst. The poor girls are thought to be dopes because they can’t raise their hands in ( lass from the weight of all those silver slave bracelets (less than three on each arm and you’re not hep, Jackson!). The ladies are also keeping the engravers busy with name, address, and phone number on every gadget they own— (wait, maybe after the war, we ll have walkie-talkies to broad- cast that information) . But—don’t think the boys are inno- cent of weird costumes. Oh, no. Haven’t you heard of the latest fraternity? It’s called “Brothers of the Hanging Shirt- tail or The Polka-Dot Pinball Boys”, and to be initiated you have to own one of those gorgeous red and black checked shirts we’ve all seen enough of. Failing this, a Reindeer sweater or an oversized bow-tie might get you in. Watch, all members must have no less than three inches padding in each shoulder (the password is “Onward, Sons of Sinatra” but don’t say we told you). Well, you get the idea. That’s what they’re wearing this year. We’re not talking about the next, but the way things are progressing, we wouldn’t be surprised if — well, we just wouldn't be surprised! Marii.yn Cutler - vr Magazine .......... ‘‘Life”

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POWER OF MUSIC Music, is it in your power To soothe man's soul and mind From the awful aches of war? Can you make men forget What they have longed to rub From their eternal sight: The bloodshed, horror, and The ghastly things of war? In peace, tis yours to make All men forget their daily tasks, And hold them enchanted in your arms, And hear the sounds of heaven Ring forth from Paradise. But now, () Master of man's soul and mind. What can you do for tortured minds and souls? As often as I wonder, I know that men will wonder too, II you can make an earthly soul Live in Paradise, if only For a fleeting moment of time. Virginia Riks SEA SOUNDS The most enjoyable sounds in the world arc not new sounds, freshly cre- ated in the last century. They are old sounds that men have heard for thou- sands of years. One could hear them in Portsmouth harbor in the year 1750, on a pirate ship in the Caribbean deep in Spanish Main, on one of McKay’s im- mortal clippers rounding the Horn in the teeth of a gale . . . These sounds of ships — the rig- ging, the surging water, the shouts of men, and the cries of gulls are the same the world over—and have been. To sit on the warm lee deck in the toasting sun with the boat hove over and propelled by a fresh, clean, salty wind. . . . To see the bubbles on the wave-washed deck — diamonds on a green velvet backdrop. . . . To hear the wind in the rigging whistling softly — moaning. . . . To listen at night in a quiet, dark harbor, to the squeaking of the blocks, the slapping halyards, the groan of strained timber — while the gentle oily swell rolls in from deep water . . . very deep water . . . water rolling in the same majestic swells as it did five thousand years ago. . . . I like sea sounds. They have the dignity of great age. Harold Borns Illustra led by the author Radio Program Bon Hon-.