Rockport High School - Tatler Yearbook (Rockport, ME)

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16 THE TATLER In a good story I relax and let my- self become a part of what I am read- ing. If the ending does not suit me, I am free to substitute my own to challenge the author's solution. Whether I accept what is written in a book or discard and replace it with my own version, I always feel that I have been indicated new roads to cri- tical thought for my next literary ex- cursion, and heartily agree with Thoreau that a written word is the choicest of relics . Judith Young '59 FACT OR FANCY? 'It's hard to separate what you have heard your parents telling when you were young from what you remember yourself. One of my earliest recollec- tions is of my brother taking me to to the movies. We would start down the hill and get halfway there when I would want to go home. My brother would turn back with me, whereupon I would say that I wanted to go .to the movies. Finally arrived at the theatre, I would cry to go home again just as the movie got interesting. One day my mother stood at the door until we got out of sight and heard me start in on my brother. She called us back and, boy, did I get it! Some of the time I think I remem- ber these things but when I hear Moth- er talk about them, I begin to think that I am picturing the incidents from her words. Gary Henry '62

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half sleep. I was puzzled. Who could that be at this hour? No one was at the door. How I wish for tomorrow and Lenore! She was so beautiful and sweet. Sighing, I went back to my book to forget my heartache. I heard the tapping again. The curtain fluttered restlessly, filling my heart with ter- ror. Whoever you are, I cried, Pre- sent yourself! Silence greeted my outburst. Did I dare hope it might be Lenore? I whispered. Silence was my answer. Again the tapping sounded, but this time it seemed to come from the window. I whirled around and a raven stood before me. He stood per- fectly still. Suddenly, I grinned at this grotesque bird. Nevermore, spoke the bird. He'll fly away with the others, I said. Nevermore! replied the bird. Then, as if forced by some unseen object, I burst forth with these ques- tions. Will I ever find a cure for my grief and sorrow? Is she in Heaven and will I ever see her again? Nevermore, was the answer. Get out! I shouted, Get out! Nevermore, the bird said undis- turbed. Then and there, I knew I would never be free of my mourning for Lenore. Barbara Smith '60 HASTE MAKES WASTE Arriving home from school, I went into the house and hunted for some- thing to eat, found a piece of choco- late cake, and went upstairs to change my clothes so that I could go down to the corner and tease the girls. Down in the kitchen I saw an aluminum dish full of maple syrup which I had col- lected the day before. This I set on our new electric stove to boil, went off and forgot it. When George Dinsmore and I re- turned about an hour later and opened the kitchen door, there was so much smoke in the house that we couldn't THE TATLER 15 see our hands before us. We groped our way into the dreadfully smoke- filled room and through the house. I thought the house was on fire, but when I could faintly see a red spot where the electric stove was, I sudden- ly knew what the trouble was: I had left the electric burner on high and the sap had boiled over. We opened the doors and windows as fast as we could find them. Then I shut off the electri- city, picked the pot off the stove and threw it outdoors. There wasn't any bottom in it, it had melted. The house was a dirty, smoky mess. The smoke had even gone upstairs to the bedrooms. But the stove was the most pitiful sight. The syrup had burned into the enamel, the electric burner was all black, and the top of the stove was warped into a sag in the middle. My mother was heartbroken but my father wasn't the least bit an- gry with me, to my surprise. A little later when things calmed down, we worked together and got the black scraped off with razor blades, and after the metal cooled completely, even the warped middle rose up to its normal shape. Donald Hamalainen '62 ON READING A BOOK To me, reading a book is a challenge. It evokes comparison of my interpre- tation and opinions with those of the author. I have often picked up and discarded a book whose title dissatified me be- cause it did not adequately describe the book. On the other hand when someone whose opinion was interesting enough to stimulate me has recom- mended a book, I have read it under the urge to compare my thoughts with those of the other reader. By means of word pictures and illustrative anecdotes I am given a glimpse of, perhaps, life in another country, ideas and opinions on politics or religion, and even of personal ac- centricities.

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Top. loft to right: V. Ulmer. G. Norbcck, J. Young, A. May, J. Cliandlvr, E. Bachelor. M. Erickson, G. Kee, L. Whitney, S. Bragg. Erickaon, C. Pendleton. B. Robinson. R. Garrison, K. Crockett, Cram-, C. Goodridgv, P. Simonton. From: D. Hanna, S. Hanna, Annis, R. Andrews. W Middle: B. Erickson, R R. Sims. J. Graffam, T S. Upham. S. Ward. J Farnu-r, D. Hamaiainon, L. Ames, D. UilT1l'l'. N. Young, D. Pound. MAJ 0RlC'lVI'lC Standing, li-it to right: Suv Goodridgv, Cqimli' Qillllllllillgx Bi-x'01'ly Clough. Linda- .lamv iisirrows. Marin' Cavzmauuli. Sandra lVlol'lm1, Ruth Pivim-. Gcraldinc Pound. Kiwciiiigi Norma Hi-atlm.