Ricker Classical Institute - Aquilo Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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Nightmares If I were a psychology student, it would not be necessary for me to introduce you to my plight. For I would have within my power the ability to analyz and remedy the malady which seizes me in its grip many nights. In short, I am a victim of nightmares. To verify this statement ask my ex-roommates or my sister who I'm sure will be glad to give you their View on the matter. Because of that very fact I prefer to touch your chords of sympathy first. .After all, I feel the nightmare, while they only see it doing its dirty work on me. I feel it in its horribleness! Strange that each one presents the same situation, smothering! Sinothering in varied and numerous ways, ridiculous perhaps, but very much a reality to the sufferer. The feeling of security disappears: a sense of smothering pervades the whole atmosphere. Some intangible force seems to rob me of that life giving airg it press- es on me harder, harder. I scream agalin and again: louder and louder. The screams end in wracking sobs. I fight for my life, trying desperately to reach a window. Then I awake .partially to find myself pulling and tugging at a closet curtain, mistaken for a window, or on the floor thinking I was under the bed with a suit- case placed so that I couldn't get out. Always there is that feeling of something over my head shutting out life. 'Perhaps I am in the cabin of an airplane unable to get out. Ridiculous? Yes, but very real. dealing sledgehammer blows right and left, much to my sister's discomfort. Then half-awake, I cry quietly, apolo- gizing to my roommate for disturbing her sleep-remember just half-awake. At last all is well until the next night. If any psychology students or professors read this please straighten this situation out. Tell me why these night mares persist in caus- ing one thing-smothering and what ls their cause. I do not know, and my dear readers, it is most probable you do not either. Gloria I-Iartt, '42 On Relatives How boring life can be to the teen age! The time of youth when the mind is turn- ed to style, the keeping of that slim figure, and the thoughts of that last date. The long awaited for afternoon when the family along with your kid sister has gone out, has come. This is a splendid time to reminisce and also to concentrate on writing that letter addressed to Camp Dix. You are just seated comfortable with your heart plunged full into this non-laborous task when the door bell rings. Perhaps it is that new boy whom you met last night, and quickly you rush to 'the door. But Alas! The company is quite -different from what you expected. It is Grandmother, Aunt Lucy, an old maid at that, and of course one of those pesky cousins of yours. Grandmother has been living in the country and has come to visit for a few days. After a shower of kisses and How are you, dear? , What are you doing? , and God bless you, child , you bring them into the parlor. Here the fun or should I say torture begins. Aunt Lucy espies the picture of your latest on the piano. Grammie gasps as she sees that it is a uniform. Don't tell me you're taking up with a soldier! she exclaims. I'll have to talk to your mother about this. Why, it's a disgrace to my family! Then she goes on telling about this and that type of boy and not to trust any of them until I begin to wonder how she ever became so low and disgraceful as to get married herself. About this time Julie, your cousin, comes across some snapshots of you and Tommy. Oh look, Aunt Lucy! cries Julie. They are almost kissing in this one. You scream and rush for the picture only to get crit- icized for that wild temper. More than ever Grandmother is determined to have a talk with your parents. The next thing that these old-timers no- tice is your beautlful figure. Grammie says, Why, child dear, what have they been feeding you? You're as thin as a rail. Then you explain to her that is is the style and that all girls aim for a slender form. She speaks of the size they used to be and how nice the neighboring girl looks. whose one hundred and forty pounds make you shudder. All winter you have been growing your hair to the length with which you are so time out from cut off two or never received your life! have you come pleased. Aunt Lucy, taking her snooping, tells you to three yards. Oh, you have such an overhauling in all Aunt Lucy would like to over tomorrow evening. She has learned a new stitch in crocheting and would like to teach it to you. Nevertheless, you sim- ply have to refuse because you have adate to go bowling. Bowling! cries Grammie. Oh, oh! What's this generation coming to? After about half an hour more of antagonism. your people finally come. This is certainly a relief. Relatives! Relatives! How can their criticism and sarcasm ever be avoided! They disapprove of everything you do. They have a million questions to ask con- cerning your boy friend. Silk hose in the winter is vanity. I could go on with the list. but probably most of you have had similar experiences. Therefore I present a problem for the scientists to solve -- How can our old- fashioned relatives be educated to this modern world? Glenna Newman '42

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Scheme of Revenge The huge, black locomotive sped stead- ily on through the night. Its form could be dimly outlined against the dark horizon. Nearer and nearer it was coming to its fate. 'On board, travelers slept peace- fully, wholly unaware of the impending tragedy--that is, all except one. Travers sat smoking in the lounge car. He might have appeared very calm to any fellow passenger -- had there been one awake. But within him there was a tumult, for he knew what was coming! Moreover, the scheme had been conceived in his own brain! He was risking his own life, wicked though it was, to gain revenge because of his hatred for another! Would he be just- ified in doing so? His eyes twitched ner- vously as he thought of this. He wore the frightened expression of one who looks ahead in fear of his own fate. Suddenly, that fearful expression changed to one of irony. Would he, Travers, be Death's vic- tim instead of the one whom he intended? Would some wicked Fate decree that it was not for him to live longer? Foolish thoughts! His chances were greater by far than those of his victim's. Gradually now the train began to slack- en speed. Now was the time for action. He knew they were nearing the bridge which only he under pressure. knew was ready to crash He stood up and pushed through the door of the car to stand a moment on the platform. He reviewed the details of his plan surely and quickly. He had taken one big chance, to ride as near as was safe to the scene of the wreck, to make sure of his victim's presence there. Presently, with the agility of a cat, Travers swung himself from the steps to the ground below. His move was timed to a few seconds. He had barely time to coll- ect his thoughts before the inevitable happ- ened. Travers saw the sickening bend of the crippled bridge under the weight of the cars. He saw the horrid mass of steel. human bodies, and water after that deaf- ening crash. He put his hands to his eyes, realizing now the greatness of what he had done. He stood silent a moment. Then suddenly his eyes became glazed. Pm glad! he shouted hysterically. Glad, glad! And even in the din following the crash his mad, shrieking laughter could be heard piercing the night. Deane Ingraham '43 On Getting In After Midnight l wonder how many of us have ever stopped to think of the different methods which the so called night-hawks employ in entering the house after midnight. First, there is the per on, let us call him type one, who comes quietly up to the front porch and tries the door. Upon finding it locked, he doesn't try the back door as you would think but punches the door bell and remains on it until father staggers down and opens up. Then there is type two who prefers to avoid one of dad's midnight pep talks. This person gently tries the front door and upon finding it locked tries all the windows. Of course, thesd also are locked tight. Father al- ways did take unnecessary precaution against burglars! Ah, the cellar windows! Yes, there's one wide open! Isn't that just like those who are too precautious! Stealthily type two edges through the narrow slit and carefully lets himself down to the cellar floor. Now he gropes his way through the dark until he finds the cellar stairs. He stumbles slowly up them until he reaches the kitchen. What a re- lief! Of course this type two doesn't turn on a light! He doesn't have to do so be- cause he has done this so often he knows just Where to step. lAt least he thinks he doeslj Carefully he proceeds through the kitchen into the dining room and parlour. As yet he has encountered no opposition but walt! What's this? Yes, one of Junlor's toys which he forgot to put away. Does our prowler step on it? Of course not! He steps over it and creeps carefully up to his room. From here he lets out a sigh of relief. Safe again! At last there is type three who is the extreme opposite of type two. He has a key to the front door but he certainly doesn't creep up to it. He stomps up to the door and noisily fits the key into the lock. Does he hesitate about turning the lights on? Well, I guess not! First he clatters and I mean clatters out to the kitchen for a drink. Then he turns the radio full blast while he dlsrobes and hangs his clothing on all the furniture. After this procedure is finished, he extingulshes the lights and clomps upstairs. Still whist- ling he starts to undress tl mean put on his pajamasll At last he's in bed and things are once more quiet. What a re- Iief! Well my friend, which of these types are you? None? I didn't think so! Of course you are always in bed at that late hour! Dorothy Flynt '42

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So1dier's Return It was a cold, bleak, winter night. A northern gale was blowing across the hills and down through the narrow valley up to the door of a little tumbled down cott- age. All was dark except for the dim rays of a small oil lamp, which shed its beams through the broken window pane. A frail old lady was sitting in her rock- ing chair before a small, bright fire which played briskly about the wet logs in the fire place. Nothing could be heard except the howling of the wind and the gentle purring of an old cat which lay quietly at her feet. Her thin tired face was bending over a torn Bible which she held in her wrinkled hands. She was thinking of her two sons, one of whom had been killed in battle. Her youngest one had been called to serve two years ago. Six long weary months had passed since she had heard from him. Was he still living? Would he ever come home again? Oh, God, why did they have to take him? War was so cruel, so uncertain. Was this the way God plann- ed things to be? She opened her eyes and they fell on the words, Peace on earthy good will toward men. Peace on earth-- her son fighting to help ruin thousands of lives? Good will toward men--every nation striving to outdo each other? Thus the old lady sat thinking of her son, and little did she realize that two miles away a lonely looking figure was wading through the deep snow across the little valley. The fire was dying down, and the oil in the little lamp was nearly gone. The old lady fell to her knees, and there in the stillness of the night, she prayed to God to take care of her boy. The fire had diminished to a small bed of ashes. The light went out, and on her kneees in the dark the old lady still prayed. Suddenly she was aroused by a step on the door sill. She arose, and peering out the window, she saw a lonely figure look- ing in. Her heart leaped into her throat. Was it ---- ? Oh, God, had he returned? She opened the door, and with out-stretched arms she drew her only son to her breast, thanking God that He had brought him safely home. Evelyn Smith Love Let's raise our steins in a toast to love. To our sleepless nights and our exuberant daydreams. l, myself, being no great phy- siologist, cannot delve too deeply into this everyday occurence of two lonely hearts combined .into one great wave of passion- ate ecstasy. T do not know the feelings of this engulfing wave that causes sleepless nights, dreamy eyes. and chins and cheeks of blushing boys to become smooched with the war paint of their, as I see them, Amazonian companions. Thus warned of my ignorance on this subject, I partake to explain my theory. First let us take the story-book form, which to my limited knowledge, seldom happens. This form is love at first sight. Now a boy meandering down the street, notices a beautiful girl sitting in a parked out of state car. Suddenly between he and that girl's face framed by the auto's win- dow, there appears a beautiful scene. The organ of the church is softly playing and the best man and bridesmaids are there in wedding attire. He hears the beautiful words, I do, which in reality, is the mere cooing of a frightened pidgeon. Again his vision focuses on the girl and she smiles. She smiled! She smiled! Rushing to the car, he becomes acquainted with her and they have supper together that night. Home in bed we leave our meandering boy. Now straight walking with a quick step, he's quit smoking, drinking, and swearing. The magic wand of Venus has touched his heart without a second wave. Ages for this type are from sixteen to sixty. Then comes the very common species of puppy love. Before I delve, into this phase, I would like to say that I consider the word, puppy, very unappropriate, becau e dogs are smart in their belief that there is no love. They smell each other and take mating as a matter of na- ture's doings. Now puppy love is a very outspoken, unmodest form of l'amour. -In every school room, at every soda fountain, every place where young people congre gate, the unmistakable signs appear--blush- es, titters, holding hands, empty soda glasses, and fond cow-like gazes. Notes and letters in this stage are a very important element. These passionate, shall I say rather dangerous manuscripts, are over- flowing with 'Love and Kisses,' 'I Love You's,' 'S. W. A. K. 's,' 'Sweetheart's,' and all the other beautiful words of love. This is the type of romance in which the boy sees another girl and although he now is in the folds of love that radiate from his present feminine companion, two weeks later he is writing the some notes and giv- ing the same gazes and sighs to another girl. The ages for this form are between twelve to sixteen inclusive. Now comes thc college boy love. He been going with this charming, exotic for almost a year. He feels that their ments together have developed linto an en- has girl mo- undying solid structure of love now cased in his beating heart. He has dreams of a job, holding down ten thousand doll-