Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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 4 Strop Ct ar on a Goodness gracious! Where's that car? I can’t walk; it's much too far. Here it comes. Oh! what a mob! I wouldn’t want that motorman’s job. What a scramble! Hey! Thau’s my toe!” Every person becomes your foe. Listen, you. 1 got here first.” This car’s so full it’s ready to burst. Don't tell me! It’s moving! What misery! There isn’t room for tin- tiniest flea. Buz ! Buzz! Buzz! There goes that bell. Oh, look, Edie! Mary Jonathan fell.” We’re up! We're down! We’re in! We’re out! This is just like a ten-round bout. Quincy Point!” the conductor yells. And immediately comes the buzzing of bells. Pushing, shoving, squeezing through. Oh, here am 1, but where are you? Well, we are out. Oh, there you are! That certainly was a crowded car! Bf.ttina Bkina Gens I've often thought about the time When I would graduate, But now that it is very near, I wonder what's my fate. I might be like an eagle great And fly both free and high, Or maybe just a sparrow small And have my hopes nearby. However fate attends me now. I’ll do my very best To fill God’s expectations. And try life’s every test. Lots McHugh sr-j rv , ‘ page twenty-five

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cJ iue an Jj earn I really don’t know just how it happened. I was digging for my trig notebook in my locker one morning when he came by and said. Hi!” Hi!” I gulped and turned back to my search, but he didn’t go away. Who ya going to the prom with?” he blurted. 1 blushed clear to my toes and answered, “Well-wh-I- uh that is 1 haven’t been asked—yet.” How 'bout coining with me?” From somewhere way up in the clouds, a voice that I recognized as my own replied, Thanks, I d love to!” Be seeing ya then,” and he strolled jauntily down the corridor whistling and gay as usual, but leaving my heart thumping at a jet-propelled rate. How I ever got thru that day is a mystery to me. In English Miss Harper called on me twice before I knew she was speaking to me. 1 handed in my physics homework to the French teacher, and in physics all I could mutter was the subjunctive of avoir and ehe. I was in a complete and blissful daze. I’m going to the prom with Roil Larson. He’s so nice and so handsome—always full of fun and life and ready for a swell linn . Me, Sue Thomas. I can’t believe it!” I repeated this over and over to myself all day. I’d secretly had a crush on Rod all year. I thought life was just too wonderful to be real. When 1 told Mum about my invitation, she was as pleased as I. After a confer- ence, Mum and Dad agreed that 1 could have a new gown for the big event. Now I was sure that life was just too super. The next day being Saturday, I was at the Bon Ton as the doors opened. After an hour of trying on gown after gown. I had limited my choice to three- a blue chif- fon, a red and white pique, and a yellow marquisette. Another half hour passed, and I had definitely chosen the yellow marquisette. It was out of this world! Gold slippers, a tiny sequined purse, and chiffon hank’ie completed by ensemble. Leaving school on the Great Day, Rod stopped me by the Pony. See you tonight about eight. Uh—what color’s your dress?” “My dress? Oh my dress, it’s yellow,” I answered, very nervous and flustered. “Okay, see you at eight. Off he went (to the florist’s, I supposed), but rather slowly, his head down between his broad shoulders and his brown eyes gazing at the ground. Why do men always leave things to the last minute? I queried myself, but was too happy to answer. As the clock struck seven, I sat at my dressing table brushing my dark brown hair which, for once, looked just as I wanted it to. I had taken a bath and used all my best bubble bath, lotions, and powders for this Night ol Nights. My gown hung on the hanger, the skirt all pressed and full ol ripples running the whole length. Finally, 1 was ready. The dress looked exquisite, just as I hoped. Just a bit more lip stick. There—that’s just fine. And a touch of perfume. The doorbell rang; Dad answered. A box from the florist for Miss Sue Thomas, he called up, laughing. 1 practically fi ll downstairs to my corsage- dainty blue corn- flowers. How lovely they looked against m yellow gown! I guess boys know more than they’re given credit for,” I thought. Life was just too wonderful to bear. My, but you look sweet, honey,” said Dad. “I’m so glad you bought the yellow dress. Sue. It is so lovely with your dark hair,” complimented Mum. So 1 went back upstairs. Not for the world would I let Rod know that I was wait- ing for him! I sat in my room dreaming of the wonderful time I would have, but sud- denly I was aroused from my day-dreaming. The clock struck eight. Oh, hurry, Rod!” I prayed silently. Then another sound pierced the silence. Telephone, Sue.” I dashed down the stairs. Hello. Yes, this is Sue, Mrs. Larson. Oh—oh—measles!” Nancy Westhaver page twenty-four

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Early in September of the year 1943 Mergetroid Dillyrimple entered Q. H. S. enthused by the prospects ol a high school education. For some strange reason, Mergetroid’s enthusiasm was short lived, and the next day found him walking gleefully down Fremont Street, approximately fifty feet in front of a last moving Mr. Burnham... . Thus it came about that Mergetroid, on his third day of school, started searching, not too gleefully, for Mr. MacDonald’s office, which was easily found, for on the door was the name MR. WILSON in brass letters. Now that Mergetroid had decided to come to school faithfully, he found it necessary to know who the head of the English department was so at once made himself acquainted with Miss Dawes. How surprised Mergetroid was to find that, in only one term of school. Miss Dawes had changed completely even going so far as to change her name to Miss Carville! But Mergetroid was no fool; he wasn't born yesterday; with but little thought he realized that somebody else had taken Miss Dawes' place. Mergetroid found that this unpleasant habit of teacher changing extended even to the Gym. He had no sooner come to love Mr. Bowyer and look upon him as a father than he found himself with an athletic step-father, so to speak, Mr. Alvino. As a junior Mergetroid felt himself more or less of an old timer in the build- ing and grew less and less startled at the rapid succession of teachers coming into the building. Of course, Mergetroid’s great love for the silver screen soon brought about his meeting with Mr. Wilson—whom for some strange reason he now found in the office with the same name. Mergetroid has often wondered since then why, with Mr. Wilson's arrival, no one put up a sign with Mr. MacDonald's name on it. Things were getting pretty bad though. Mergetroid had to show twice as many teachers where their rooms were as he did sophomores. Of course, this situation had a great many possibilities, but Mergetroid refrained, by dint of self control, from sending any of his erstwhile instructors in search of the elevator. However, aside from a few struggles with new teachers and the inevitable battle of the Second Floor Faucets, Mergetroid spent a fairly uneventful year. His senior year however was one to remember. Somebody, later discovered to have been one of the Gremlins from the School Committee, had run over flic school with a wet paint brush. Mr. Wilson now sat in a different office, and Mr. Anderson sat in the other office (which was no longer marked Mr. Wilson”). Mergetroid had language trouble, for it seemed that no one would stay put in the building long enough to let out with a good strong “Acht!” Miss Carville, growing tired of her job and her name, changed both. Even the Gym was dis- turbed again, for Mr. McLean came back from wearing out weary sailors and started grinding the bones of all of the prospective male geniuses of Q. H. S. Another naval alumnus came back to take over his old place in the physics department. Mergetroid suffered the change from Mr. Poland to Mr. Rayner, who has an aversion to telephones and who seemed to be getting a commission from the Laurence Slide Rule Company. Yes, it was a year of change, but Mergatroid weathered them like a trooper. But it’s all over now. Mergetroid just went down to Miss Dawes’ room, which Miss Carville had occupied, to say goodby to Miss Poland, went up to Mr. Poland’s room to say goodby to Mr. Rayner, bid adieu to Mrs. Campbell in Miss Kelsey’s room, then went downstairs and into Mr. Collin’s office to say goodby to Mr. Wilson and into Mr. Wilson’s office to say goodby to Mr. Anderson. James Major page twenty-six