Ricker Classical Institute - Aquilo Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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ars a year , a convertible coupe, a little girl, and twin boys. He believes it is true love. When he visions his marriage, the orchestra is playing Here Comes the Bride as they solemnly walk down the aisle. But halfway down the aisle, the orchestra beats out the Tiger Rag. He smiles to himself, little knowing that he shall never marry this girl. When the wedding march turns into jazz, nine times out of ten no marriage ensues. This age is from nineteen to twenty five. Thus lightly touching on my theories of love, I end this. The L is for lamentable as it often is: O is for overdone as it is often written and fulfilled, Vis for vi- cious as we learn after we've left'the altar far behindg E is for everywhere because a fool is born every minute. This is my toast!! James Hayes, '42 Two Seconds to Play Come on Bud, shouted Joe Wyman as the whistle opened App1eton's basketball game. Joe, third string center, was as happy as the dark-haired boy leaping for the ball. He, a senior, had earned the right to sit on the bench and to cheer for Bud Coburn, sophomore sensation. He had made the team. Come on, Bud, muttered Joe Wyman tightly as Appleton, trailing by one point, made a desperate bid for victory. For three years he had watched from the bench as his team mates fought for victory and honor. Tonight he would take off his spot- less suit for the last time. This was the last game. Even as he spoke, Bud seized a rebound. pivoted beautifully, and dribbled down the floor. As he leaped to shoot, the opposing guard collided with him in mid air. Block- ing, two shots, shouted the referee, but Bud lay on the floor, his face twisted in pain. Coach Lewis looked at the bench, his face a mask of disappointment. Influenza A Ride on As I hurried down the steps of the sub- way entrance, I noticed with a start that my train was already in the station. I fumbled in my pocketbook. -for a dime while the crowd jostled and pushed about me. Finally I found the money and with the skill of a person accustomed to huge crowds, I wormed my way to the turn- stiles. Just as I was about to push in the coin, I was rudely pushed aside and a small boy hurried through in my place. Re- covering my balance, I Went thI'01lgh lust in time to see the doors of the train start- ing to close. With a burst of speed which I hadn't thought possible, I dashed for the train, and by a miracle, managed to squeeze between the doors. Quickly I glanced over the train. Alas, all the seats were full! With a sigh, I grabbed a strap and braced myself against the lurch and sway of the train. had robbed him of all his subs except third stringers. Okay, Wyman, make 'em good, he said quietly. Joe's mind raced madly as he mechanically took off his jacket. Three years on the bench, and now a chance to win the game was his. Three long years of drudgery and now he was going to play. Two seconds to playg ball's dead on the first one, droned the referee. Joe, carefully adjusting his feet, scarcely heard him. I'm playing: I'm playing, I'm playing, he said to himself. Slowly the ball dipped: swiftly it rose, hit the rim, and rolled off. He had missed! He would at least tie the game. Again the ball dipped: again it rose, hit the rim, and rolled off. The whistle shrilled and the game was over. Three years of practice for two seconds of action, and he had missed. He had failed. Carefully avoiding his sweating team mates, he walked to the locker room, his hair still neatly combed. Jean Pressley, '42 a. Subway At the first stop, I hurried to a seat which had just been emptied. I sank wearily into the seat for it had been a hard day at the office and I was very tired. Finally I aroused myself from my thoughts and looked at the people around rne. Even though I had ridden in subways for years, the people always appeared interesting to me. So many things were portrayed in their faces. Some appear happy and looked as though they enjoyed life immensely. Others seemed very de- jected and as though they had lost their last friend. Oh, Well, such is life! As the train stopped suddenly with a hissing of brakes, I realized that it was my station. In the milling crowd again, I stepped off the train and made my way to the street. Jean Titcomb '43

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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-

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Dates When you hear the word date, what comes into your mind? For the average group of people, especially students in high school, I could guess. Nevertheless, there is always a possibility of getting the wrong idea. Are you against dates? It's a free count- ry and you can say yes, if you wsh, but I would11't believe yon. If it weren't for cer- tain dates, you and I would have missed barrels of fun. Just in case you might be interested in what Pm talking about, listen! Doesn't the twenty fifth of Decem- ber and the fourth of July always bring enjoyment and excitement for almost everyone? As far as remembering dates of outstanding events and birthdays of impor- tant people. I'd rather not try. Have you ever eaten date squares? Per- sonally, I like time some one date square? I mind, I think versa! This brings my thoughts down to what I imagine your first ideas were. Every time I hear somebody say, I've got a date, I begin to wonder: where, what, and when? There are millions of answers to this question. You might have an appoint- ment with a doctor, dentist, or one of your friends. I don't think it is necessary to say what kind I enjoy most along with the rest of the world. Since I have a date at ten thirty tonight, I'm going to stop writing, leaving you to figure out what kind of a date I have! Louise Lowry them very much. Every asks, Would you like a always say, Yes. In my most people prefer vice- Fifty Year Mystery Solved Perhaps some of our oldest citizens of today will recall the mysterious disappear- ance of Mrs. Velma Cook, wife of Mr. Alan Cook. Mrs. 'Cook was very young and very good looking. At the time of the disappearance, Mr. Cook was helping his wife paper the din- ing room. He kept telling her that she was just in the way and before the papering was finished, she disappeared. Mr. Cook kept on papering until he had finished the room: then he notified the police. The police searched everywhere for her: de- tectives were all over the country, but Velma 'Cook remained hidden. Alan Cook became so tired of being questioned that he had a nervous breakdown. During Mr. Cook's life his wife had not been found. He lived to be seventy years old. After his death people would neither buy or rent the house because they believ- ed it to be haunted. -Some people even went as far as to say that many times a week they could hear Velma singing as they passed by the house. Ten years after Alan Cook died and fifty years after his wife's disappearance some- body bought the house. Of course the peo- ple that bought the house cleaned it before moving. One day while tearing the paper off the dining room, a secret door was found. When the door was opened, a terr- ible vision struck their eyes. There on the floor lay a skeleton. Beside the bones was a letter which went this way, Nov. 2, 1891 Whoever shall paper this room next will find my wife, Velma. You can tell the po- lice or anybody that I killed her. My reason is this, I read The Tragedy of Macbeth. Macbeth got away with his mur- ders for a long time. I hope to be dead by the time my murder is found out. Alan Cook Mary Dwyer '42