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

Page 11 text:

THE PIONEER PAGE SEVEN others of the blackbird family there, the cowbird and grackles. The pussy willow now peeps from beneath the case of brown that kept it warm all winter. When we look at the meadows we see that the hardy dandelions have first given to the beau¬ tiful world their share of color. What’s that! It sure did scare me. It is a bird with a peculiar zig-zagging flight. It’s a snipe ! It did not fly till we almost stepped on it. Last week I saw his cousin, the woodcock, in the damp woods at the north of the town. As we walk through the fields of grass, we hear the flowing or bubbling notes of the bluebird. See how busy he is, probably taken up with the duties of housekeeping. Yesterday while doing my homework out in a field, I noticed a flock of about thirty-five tree sparrows probably leaving for the mountains. The pine grosbeaks are also flocking together. Doesn’t the note of the song spar¬ row, in that scrub brush over there, cheer us up. His melodious notes are telling the whole world how happy he is. Look up in that oak. Do you see that purple finch? He is courting. His little pinkish crest is raised and his wings are hanging limply. Why, his entire body shakes like an ice wagon going over cobblestones. Look overhead. There are five sharp-shinned hawks and above them is a red shoulder or, as the farmers call him, the “henhawk.” The first hawk does some harm but the latter should not bear that fake appellation. That hawk catches more mice and other harmful rodents than any trap can cap¬ ture. The world is wonderful in the spring or any other season if one looks at it as our great President “Teddy” Roose¬ velt did; he writes: “It is an incalculable added pleasure to any one’s sense of happiness if he or she grows to know even slightly and imperfectly how to read and en¬ joy the wonder-book of nature.” Ross Chapin, ’32. A TELEPHONE CALL “Oh, my dear, did you go to the game last night? You didn’t? You certainly should have. It was the most exciting game I ever saw. There were some of the cutest boys on the opposing team. Most of them weren’t as good looking as our team, of course. “I really don’t remember what the score was, but I’m quite sure that we won. It will be in the Chronicle next week, anyway. “What did you say? There’s a fear¬ ful buzzing on this line. Oh yes, of course he was there. Why didn’t you come? Oh, I forgot you had that essay to write. It’s funny how teach¬ ers will pile up homework on a night when there’s a game, and it’s still fun¬ nier how anyone could stay home and do it. “Oh, someone is trying to get this line. Well, never mind. Let them try. What? Oh, no, it couldn’t be as im¬ portant as what we are saying. Do you think you can go to the movies with me tomorrow night ? Report cards come out the day after and I doubt if my father will let me go for about a month after that sad day. Oh my dear, you’ve got nothing to worry about. “I have an hour in detention tomor¬ row so I’ll be able to do most of my homework then, no doubt, if there are¬ n’t too many others there. My teach¬ ers say I talk incessantly. Do you know what that means? I looked it up in the dictionary but I couldn’t find it. I don’t think I talk much, do you? “Did you get any valentines? I got some, and one was fearfully cute. I won ’t tell you over the phone whom it is from. The verse was so cute that I learned it. It is: “Tell me quick, before I faint, Is I yours, or is I ain’t?” “Isn’t that cute? I’ll show it to you

Page 10 text:

PAGE SIX THE PIONEER A HAUNTED HOUSE Translated from the Latin Once upon a time in Athens there was a spacious haunted house. Through the silence of the night the sound of chains, at first at some distance, next from nearby, could be heard. Soon a ghost, a long bearded and long haired old man, exhausted by hunger, appear¬ ed. He wore and shook chains on his hands and feet. There were gloomy nights for those who lived in the house; through the day the memory of the image remained; sickness and death followed. At last the house was deserted and wholly left to that mon¬ ster. It was advertised for sale, but none Avished to either buy or hire it. There came to Athens the philoso¬ pher Athenodorus. He read the post¬ er. He asked the price, learned every¬ thing; then hired the house. When night came, he ordered a couch placed in the foremost part of the house, de¬ manded tablets, a stilus, and a light, and dismissed his servants. He was alone. At first, the silence of the night, next cha ins were heard. The writer did not raise his eyes. The noise increased, approached, now on the threshold, now inside the thresh¬ old it was heard. He looked up and saw the ghost. It stood and beckoned with its fingers. The philosopher or¬ dered it to wait for a short time, and again worked with his stilus and tablet. He did not delay long; he lifted the lamp and followed the ghost. The figure walked with slow steps, because the chains hindered him. After the ghost arrived in the yard, he suddenly left his companion. Athenodorus placed a sign in the place. The next day he went before magistrates who knew about the ghost, and advised them to order that place dug up. There were found there hones and chains. These were collected and buried publicly, nor was the ghost ever seen or heard afterwards. B. J. ’32. EARLY SPRING IN OUR FIELDS and MARSHES Let us go to a swamp this early spring day and see what is to be found. After that we will take a trot through the fields, for it is now quite easy to discover birds due to the bareness of the shrubs and trees. As we come to the edge of the marsh, we notice that the lines of John Burroughs are quite true. He says, “First comes the redwings a chat¬ tering in the marshes.” What do we hear but a noisy clacking and many other strange notes among the cat¬ tails. See that gorgeous fellow perched on the tip-top of that alder, singing his fascinating spring song “o-gurg-o- lee-e-e.’’ We do not know whether the man is singing of his gladness in getting away from his wife or not. But the female does not come for about three weeks after the male has made his journey from the South. Look! They are not all redwings, There are some with a longer tail and a dusty color, with no red and yellow on the wings. We see the white eye that helps us to distinguish this friend as a Rusty—blackbird. There are also

Page 12 text:

PAGE EIGHT THE PIONEER sometime. There goes that buzz again. maybe. So long.” I guess we had better stop, don’t you? Click. Goodbye and I’ll see you tomorrow C. K. ’32. SPRINGTIME MUD Mud is something which seems to belong with the spring just as the Rob¬ ins and violets, and I like it (except when it comes above my rubber-tops). It is not the watery, black mud of the winter which passing automobiles splash on your best silk stockings. It is a yellow-brown, thick, creamy mud which pulls at your rubbers when you are in a hurry. There is the garden mud, too, which you find when you are working in your garden, or -digging worms for fishing, or walking in the woods. The garden mud is a lovely, moist re-d-black. It feels warm and has that delicious, earthy odor which is, I think, one of the best things about spring. It makes me think of new leaves, tulip and jonquil buds, pussy-willows, violets and all the other lovely things that accompany spring. The worms seem to enjoy it, too, for they wiggle around most con¬ tentedly. In the woods the mud is very black and moist, and oozes through the decaying leaves. It makes a de¬ lightful, squashy sound as I walk. It has a leafy, woo-dy smell which makes me take long breaths, and wish I lived in the woods, especially in the spring. Springtime mud has a use which is a great deal of fun. I often long to go back to my “when I was very young” days and make mud-pies, as the children around my house do, for the nice, soft mud, which is just the color of my rubbers, makes the best mud-pies possible. But since I have outgrown that sport of little girls, I must be content with enjoying this lovely spring-time mud in the ways I have told about, which are really quite sufficient. J. M. ’31. (Editor’s Note :—This theme has been selected from the examination papers as one of the best examples of how a person’s mind will work under stress.) “TO THE PIONEER” 216 2 W. Genesee St. Auburn, N. Y. March 16,1930. To Friends in R. H. S: Hi! (It does seem good to say this because out here no one savs anything but “hello” or “good morning.”) I do just wish you could hear what Auburnians think of Reading. My ears tingle when people say they never heard of Reading, Massachusetts, but, of course, “it must be larger than Au¬ burn.” (Anything smaller than Auburn is, to people out here, just a one horse town.) There are between 1600 and 1700 pupils in the High School. Quite a few in comparison with R. H. S! There are many things that would stand im¬ proving, but, on the whole, the High School has redeeming features: we