Ricker Classical Institute - Aquilo Yearbook (Houlton, ME)

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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

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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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THE AMERICAN DREAM You live where your mind puts you. I live in my own land of glory- Touchdowns, last minute goals That go with a school boy's story. Now my mind travels far away Across the Pacific waves, To the shores of embattled Luzon And MacArthur's stalwart braves, On to the island of Singapore And Great Brltain's fighting Toms, The whines of shells and ack-acks, The crash of falling bombs, Where the air is grey with gunsmoke, The cry of Phllipino guerillas, The roar of bomber squadrons, The formidable Jap glotillas. I take the place of an Aussie Or a warlng Chinese lad Or at a bomb vlctlm's funeral The place of a mourning Dad. I sit behind the White House desk And feel the burdens of our Boss Or of a worried soldier's Mom Knitting for the great Red Cross. I find myself reloading, firing In the arti1lery's raging swell. Firing, reloading, sweating Roaring defiantly, Give 'em Hell! I race the world around. Now I'm a pursuing Red. I started and suddenly blink. I find myself home in bed. As I feel sleep creeping close, I kneel and humbly pray, Oh dear God our Father, Preserve our U. S. A. James Hayes, T0 ARMS Forward, youth, to arms! Can't you hear the country's call? What will you do With this challenge before you? Our country needs you all. Airplanes, bombs and guns! Adventure lies before you. It's a struggle, it's a game With victory, death, and fame: It's a call for strength anew. Fill your places! do your duty! You have democracy to preserve! You cannot shlrk From this great work. Be strong and brave! The chance to serve. Onward, youth, to the foe! Liberty, justice, freedom for all. There's a great inspiration: The life of a nation. To arms, it's your country's call. Glenna Newman '42 A STUDENTS VE-R-SIIION OF THE 23rd PSALM Miss Watson is my teacher, I shall not pass. She maketh me do hard problems in algebra class. She leadeth me t.o the board where I have not studied. She restoreth my quizzes with bad marks: Yea, tho I walk thru the hall and corridor, I shall do no evil, for Mr. Hayes stands there with his deficiency list and paddle- they comfort me. l?J She prepareth a quiz for me in the pres- ence of my classmates. She anointeth my head with knowledge. My brain runneth over. Surely to goodness and mercy I shall not graduate, And I shall dwell in the house of Hayes forever. Joan Green '45 THE FIVE Hall, in his childhood days, Used to think of various plays, Now his eyes are for the basket, He shoots with marksmanship fantastic. Pearce with his light and curly hair, Down the floorboards he does tear, He thinks of Joy ln her seat, and Smitty says, With Joy we can't be beat. Titcomb, lEd, with his serious face, After the ball he sure does chase. Into the basket he does shoot: A girl in the bleachers yells, He's cute. Next comes Kenny, slumped but tall He too is after the ball. In his corner pale he stands Waiting to lend a helping hand. Luther Smart, he isn't tall, and he can't reach half up the wall, But he gets the rebound which is best, and passes to Moe to do the rest. Joan Green '45