Reading Memorial High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Reading, MA)

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THE PIONEER PAGE THIRTEEN if I could do as good service.” “Umbrella Sam.” D. B. ’28. And from that day he was called A COLD BATH BEFORE BREAKFAST It was a crisp, cold morning in Jan¬ uary. As I jumped from my bed, I felt unusually ambitious. “Guess I’ll take a cold dip,” I said half-aloud, and followed my words by opening wide the cold water faucet. The water flowed in torrents, and a drop splashed on me. Ooh, how cold it felt. I shivered, and my arms were all gooseflesh. “A little drop of innocent water shall not prevent me from my bath,” I said to myself. The tub was full. Now I would show how heroic I was. I put one foot over the edge of the tub and paused before dropping it into the water. Apprehen¬ sive chills crept up my back, but ignor¬ ing them I made a desperate attempt, and succeeded in putting one toe into the icy water. The toes of the other foot now were in the water. Slowly, hesitantly, my feet went deeper and deeper, and oh, how they ached! I could never take a dip in that icy water. I had decided to take it though, so I did. Holding my breath and gathering my courage I made ready to plunge in, when suddenly I slipped. Straight into the tub I went. I got out quicker than I went in. One cold dip in the winter would suffice for a lifetime. D. G. ’28. CLOCKS Have you ever been alone at night, and suddenly become conscious of the incessant ticking of the clock? It may have had a cheering effect on your lonesome spirit, or it may have jarred your nerves and made you want to heave the clock through the window. It is interesting to note the many different tones and moods the clocks and their varied tickings may show. The friendly Big Ben in the kitchen ticks away the long hours of the day, his black face shining in the sunlight. At night he stands guard, and gleams through the darkness with an eerie greenish light. The little ivory bedroom clock is a quiet sentinel, and, unnoticed because he lacks the magic power of giving light in darkness, ticks softly, yet reck¬ lessly, as the precious hours of sleep fly by. His face, when seen in the daylight, is a wee bit awry, because of a careless workman’s neglect. But it gives him a happy-go-lucky air, and makes him pleasant to look at, a relief from the monotonous straight¬ ness of the features of other clocks. In addition to these, there is the school electric clock, whose tick is dully mechanical, and dreadfully slow. The office clock is another slow clock, drearily ticking off the hours of work. But all ticks change sometimes, and even these guardians of the working hours hurry a little, and life goes along with a hop, skip, and jump. Then, when the time for work is over, and we leave to do pleasanter things, the clocks must go on ticking. Just imagine staying in one place, with but one thing to do, day after day and night after night, just tick, tick, tick! E. M. ’28. HAUNTED LIBRARIES I wandered into my library one day, and as I sat in my deep armchair by the fire, I looked around at the shelves filled with my friends, the books. Whether I dozed or not I do not re¬ member, but suddenly the room seemed peopled with characters of long ago. I saw Plato, the great Greek philoso-

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.«11111111111111111111 mi 111 ii mi ii i ii PAGE TWELVE THE PIONEER Fair and Warmer Mr. Halpin—(in geometry) : If you’re cold you’d better close the window. Parsons : Oh no. I’ll be warm in a minute. There’ll be enough hot air when the class starts reciting. A Heavy Grudge Mr. Halpin—(after blackboard ruler has just fallen down behind his back) : The next one who throws anything like that at me had better watch out. Original Mrs. Flower: Who was Antony? Skidmore : Heselton was,—the last time we read. Continued Performance Rastus : “Whah yo’ gwine?” Sambo: “Home.” Rastus : “Home ! Ah thought yo’ and yo’ missis had a ruckus dis mo’nin’.” Sambo : “Yeah—huh. But Ah done jes thought o’ somepin’ mo’ to say.” (Exchange) Safe Either Way Anxious Old Lady: “I say, my good man, is this boat going up or down?” Deckhand : “Well, she’s a leaky old tub, mum, so I shouldn’t wonder if she was going down. But then, again, her b’ilers aint none to good, so she might go up.” (Exchange) Nothing But the Truth Employer : “What was your former line of work?” Applicant: “I was an organist.” Employer : “And why did you give it up?” Applicant: “The monkey died.” (Exchange) Our Own Funnies Mut and Jeff—David Bowers and Frank Howard Pearl—Pearl Holmes Rosie—Lucille Ware Freddie the Shiek—Charlie Sweetser Mac—Albert Mussels Smitty—Lee Zwicker Harold Teen—Cy Weeks Lillums—Eunice Albee The man in the Brown (??) Derby— Malcolm Bredbury Boob McNutt—Billy Willson Desperate Ambrose—Ambrose Knowl- ton Spark Plug—Donald Johnson Joe and His Car—Joe Carter and Plis Car Gas Buggies—The Sunkist, The Purple Taxi and the Doodlebug 11 n mm ii ii 11 m i immmiimimmiiimiiimmimium i minimi mu nut i mi i iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiiiimmmmiiimiiiimiii 11 m iiiiiiiiiiiimimmiimii mu imiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimiuiiiimi “UMBRELLA SAM” I’ll tell you how a young fellow in school came to be called “Umbrella Sam.” At the school he was always trying to shield some one in some way. “Take care there!” he would say. “Next thing your ball will go through the window’, and then you’ll be pun¬ ished.” It was said on the school ground that Sam w r ould lie awake all night studying how to keep a play¬ mate from getting a whipping. I don’t know whether that was true, but I do know that he w’alked two blocks out of his way just to prevent little Kitty Gray from being scared by Butcher Adam’s fierce dog. “Ho!” Sam declared, “I’d just as lief go this w r ay every night.” “He’s keeping the storm off Jimmy,” said a boy one day, pointing to w’here Sam stood with his arms around the trembling little fellow, while big “Bully” Smouse stood over them shaking his fists and threatening. “He makes a pretty good umbrella,” said the teacher. “I should feel proud mmimiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmiiiiiiw

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PAGE FOURTEEN THE PIONEER pher, teaching students in the Agora at Athens, and saw Socrates pass by, teaching some friend or pupil of his about his beliefs in after life. Then the scene changed and I saw Pericles, supervising the building of the Long Walls in Athens, just after the war with Sparta. As I watched entranced, the picture was gone, and I saw Greece in its last days. Then Rome took the stage, and Caesar came to view with his great political reforms and institutions. The years passed swiftly on as Rome was conquered by the Gauls and Germans. There was an intermission here, and I -wondered sleepily if this was due to the fact that some books were missing. I must get them I thought. Then I suddenly perceived Ivanhoe and King Richard fighting in the Holy War, and Ivanhoe finally winning the hand of the beautiful Rowena. Then George Washington entered and the battles of the Revoluton were fought again. Next the Civil War, with Lee, Sheridan, and Grant. Soon dark Spaniards and Cubans took their places, and the American army entered led by Dewey and others. I watched the battles and hardships as eagerly as I had read of them. The World War came next and I listened to General Pershing and Field-Marshall Foch as they talked over their plans, and saw ' our boys as they sat around their camp-fires at night. Just as quickly as it had begun, the scene changed back to times of peace and inventions. Breathlessly I watched Franklin, Morse, Fulton, Bell, and Edison working on their experiments. As I bent over Edison’s shoulder, w ' hile he held an electric bulb, he suddenly held it close to my face, and it went off wdth a loud bang! I leaped to my feet and stared at the four walls, lined wdth books, which surrounded me. It was only a falling log that had awak¬ ened me. As I looked around fondly on my book friends, I wondered how anyone could possibly dislike reading. Books had been my companions many a long rainy day, and if I should ever miss their dear, friendly covers and worn pages, I should feel lost indeed. A library, and especially a library haunted by ghost people, as mine is, is the most interesting thing a person can have. L. W. ’30. ATOMS Have you ever stood by a huge building, the Woolworth Building or the Washington Monument? Have you ever walked across any of the New York East River bridges and cal¬ culated how small you are as a unit of the world? To ourselves we are “quite the berries,” but do we matter to the world or even to our small circle of friends? One of the first times this idea was brought to my notice was in New r York. I had gone up to the top of one of the many big buildings. Looking into the street below, I could see a typical example of the city’s rush hour. Cars made their way up town; now and then to be tied in a traffic knot. Swarms of people reminding me of excited ants made their way to stores or restau¬ rants. Each and everyone of them no doubt thought of his own importance. Through Times Square thousands of people pass daily. The Woolworth Building houses enough people to populate Reading. In this great tide of humanity, one is just an atom. The next time I made note of our smallness w y as at the beach. I had walked halfway to the Point from the Coast Guard Station and wanted to get a good view of the place, so I climbed one of the high dunes. This was about fifty feet above the beach ending in a small table-like top. In back the nearest habitation was an author’s small shack ; ahead of me was the point. To the West lay the great marshes and to the East the Atlantic stretched to France. No one was within miles of me ; the only sound was the booming of a huge surf. Then I