Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 17 SPRING Nancy Wordell, ' 39 I think spring is the loveliest time of the year. Everything wakes up and all the world seems to sing a refrain. The lawns, so long a withered brown, begin to take on a fresh green look; the baby buds swell and swell until one day they burst, or slowly unfold, according to their nature, into sweet, dainty, green leaves. The pussywillows open in the marshes, and crocuses and daffodils glow in rainbow array; and when a gentle April rain splatters down and the sun shines through, we see the never-equalled phenomenon of the real rainbow. Then the rain stops and the sun glows like a fiery ball until the tiny rain-drops on grass and leaves catch the beams and make the whole world sparkle with millions of nature ' s dia- monds and the air fills with the earthy smell of growing things. Glorious Spring spreads a carpet of buttercups and daisies over the fields and brings romance, in all its beauty, to the world. The birds begin to come back; you thrill to your First Robin of Spring, and you wist- fully watch him as he flies away. Perhaps you can hear the birds calling back and forth for their mates; and if you look closely, you may see them weaving the most exquisite homes on earth. If you live in the country, you watch the fields being sown and the soft green tips coming up to make the whole country-side a vast checker- board of varying greens. If you live by the ocean, you watch it change from the dark sullenness of winter to the deep, laughing blue of spring. The sand seems to vibrate with new life, and every rock seems to glisten with some magic brilliance. Even if you live in the city, you can see and feel unmistakable signs of spring. The lowly grass, bravely pushing its way up through the cracked pavement, heralds the spring; the trees in the park and the bright beds of tulips sing their ode to spring. The small children riding in the swan-boats on the pond, the pigeons and squirrels, all contribute their part to the festivities. Spring is the time when young and old, alike, play and romp and go exploring. Spring is the one time of year when Nature surpasses herself and gives the world the beautiful glamour and true sense of Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men, the sense of love. A Sensitive Soul Sexton and Appleton were seated in a crowded trolley. The latter, noticing that Sexton had his eyes closed, said: Aren ' t you feeling well? I ' m all right, said Sexton, but I do hate to see ladies standing. Mr. Atkinson: What is a racketeer? Susy Hill: I suppose it ' s one of those tennis professionals.

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16 THE CHIMES CITY PARKING Maugaret Soule, ' 37 Have you ever tried to find a place to park a car in Boston somewhere near your desired destination? If you haven ' t, you ought to try it about four o ' clock some afternoon. A short while ago I went in town with my father and it took us fully twenty minutes to find a piece of curbing slightly less than twenty feet long. It may sound queer that this should be so hard to find, but we don ' t like to leave our car next to a red or yellow curb. We drove slowly past our destination, hoping against hope there would be a space near it, but there wasn ' t. We moved on, both keeping our eyes wide open. Oh! There is a place, I said; but when we got nearer, I saw a sign that said No Parking from 7 A. M. to 6 P. M. , and, as it was only 4 o ' clock, we rode on. A little farther along there was a space about forty feet long, but there was also a sign that said Taxi Stand — Two Cabs. We didn ' t con- sider ourselves in the taxi class — at least our car isn ' t checkered, even if it does do a great deal of taxiing. As we crept along, I noticed that we were going down Beacon Street, and there were over a dozen buses parked here with Special on the fronts of them. I learned that there was some kind of a labor dispute going on and people from Taunton were consulting or maybe insulting the Governor. Look! Isn ' t that a space? asked my father; but when we reached it, we saw an innocent-looking hydrant nestling on the curb. There is a car that is going out, I said; but it was a woman driver, and she decided to stay put. As it is a woman ' s privilege to change her mind, we could say nothing. That car is going out, and this time it ' s a man, said my father; but the car ahead of us had seen it too, so we had to keep going. By this time we were beginning to get discouraged, especially when we saw one car occupying a space large enough for two cars, but we finally found a space with no paint on it, no signs near it, and no hydrant. Now we had to walk over half a mile to accomplish a very simple errand. When we at last reached our destination, we saw a place directly in front of the store we were going to. Although it was difficult, we managed to rin and bear it. The only thing I can suggest is — when you want to park in Boston, offer a prayer first, and then keep your eyes peeled.

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18 THE CHIMES POWER DIVE Bernard MacKenzie, ' 39 Bob Spencer, test pilot for the United States Army, stepped out of the administration building at Roosevelt Field, New York. He strode up to Hangar Seven where mechanics were busy wheeling out a trim low-wing fig;hting plane. A dignified-looking gentleman, dressed in a brown suit and slouch hat, stepped out to meet him. The man was Alexander P. De Seversky, president of the Seversky Aircraft Corporation, and designer of the sleek ship that Bob was to test that day. Bob had been testing this plane for a week and today he was going to put it through the last stages of the tests, the power dive. Good morning, Mr. Seversky, chirped Bob. 1 hope it is going to be a good morning for my plane, Spencer, re- plied Seversky. I ' m sure it will, said Bob. Spencer ' s job on this last test was to try to tear the wings off the plane in a terrific, steep power dive from twelve thousand feet up. The Seversky Pursuit that Bob was going to pilot was already considered the fastest mili- tary plane in the world, and if it stood this test the Army would grant a contract for seventy-one of these planes to the Seversky Aircraft Corpora- tion. Seversky held Bob ' s hand in a manly grip that hurt and said, Okay, son, everything ' s ready. Good luck! Thanks, Bob replied; he turned and strode out onto the tarmac where his ship was warming up. The long slanting rays of the morning sun dazzled Bob as they were reflected off the silver wings of the sleek fighter. He slid back the sliding hatch and climbed in. After waving to a few of the Army pilots that were gathered around the edge of the field, he closed the sliding hatch. He released the wheel brakes and taxied around into the wind. Gathering speed rapidly, soon he was off the ground and going up in wide spirals. In a few minutes he was just a speck in the sky, to the little crowd below. Up, up he went into the crisp blue air of the New York sky. He went up until his altimeter read twelve thousand feet; then he flattened the ship out and prepared for his speedy descent. He took a deep gulp of delicious air, then slammed the stick forward and opened wide his throttle. The ship responded to the controls instantly, whipped over on its nose, and roared downward. He watched the air speed indicator climb — one hundred, one hundred fifty, two hundred. Bob was yelling aloud now, as all pilots have to do when they are in steep power dives, to relieve the air pres sure on their ears and chest. Three hundred, three-fifty, three-seventy. If the wings were going to come