Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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CHIMES 25 It is my opinion that the benefits of the train- ing would far out balance the disadvantages that such a program would present, preparedness against unpreparedness; the welfare of the nation against the convenience of the individual who might be against the idea. It is the only way we can be safe against the aggressor nations of the world. BOOKS Pairicia Cahir, ' 47 Standing straight upon my shelf Are my books, my greatest wealth. ' Neath each gayly-colored cover Many little secrets hover. Most of them are thumbed and torn; Few are new and not yet worn. All do tell a lively story Of the things of earthly glory. Figures dance upon each page Here a youngster, there a mage. Some are young and gay and bright, Some are old, but all delight. Different figures represent Thoughts of igloos, nomads ' tents, Scholars, jesters, king and queen. Places we have never seen. Always happy to be read To the children just ' fore bed. By the aged who convalesce, Books are wonderful, I confess. MAY I HAVE THIS DANCE? Anne Heffernan, ' 46 There comes a time in every girl ' s life when Mother thinks it is time for her daughter to go to dancing school. I was no exception. I was a big girl for twelve, when the day finally came, and with disaster. My hair had been in curlers all day, and there- fore came out a mass of fuzz. I was heartbroken, but also hoped Mother might repent and not make me go. But no. Quick, the hair tonic! It worked wonders. The fuzz went away im- mediately; so did the curl. My slip had been in the oven drying and sud- denly seemed to be giving off a smoky odor. Sure enough, but Dad rescued it before it be- came more than slightly tanned. Finally I was all dressed and the family stood around admiringly. I don ' t see how they could have thought me a pretty child. Parental love must be blind. When we arrived, I saw some friends of mine, in their taffeta and bows, their hands held by their proud mamas. As we timidly entered the large auditorium, we were given the once-over , which aroused in me whatever it is in women that make us want to look their best before a roomful of boys. I went down stairs to the girls ' lavatory and finding everyone gathered around the one, dirty, spotted mirror, I joined them, trying to fix my now-straight hair. Upon examining myself more carefully, I found I looked a little pale, so after much mental debate, I borrowed a lipstick from one of the older girls, and smooched it uncer- tainly on my lips. At that moment I felt that I had become a woman. When I went upstairs, I found the teacher lin- ing the girls up on one side of the floor and the boys on the other. I joined the giggling crowd of girls, who were pushing and shoving each other around, trying to get where they would find the man of their fancy for the grand march. The dance started off with a one, two, three, dip, a stumble, and a quick apology. After that we had a short intermission, and then the social hour began. The boys got up and looked us over, trying to find partners who pleased them. Three boys came up and asked the girls on my left, and the same thing happened on my right. It was here I learned my lesson. Never sit in a place which is not convenient for boys. The girls beside me were laughing and talking, and seemed to be enjoying themselves. I don ' t see how they could have been at a time like this, but I soon found myself joining them. The music played on, and everyone was having a wonderful time. Fear of being a wallflower mounted and mounted. Suddenly a nice-looking boy walked across the floor. Was I going to be spared? I put on my best I ' m having a won- derful time smile. He smiled back and asked the girl next to me to dance. I never felt more depressed in all my life. Brooding over my fate, I didn ' t notice the tall quiet boy standing in front of me, asking me to dance. I looked at him with such gratitude that he must have felt like Sir Walter Raleigh, himself. As we danced onto the floor, I looked up into the balcony, and saw Mother. She breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. Daughter was not go- ing to be a wallflower after all. JIBE HO! Jack Varney, ' 48 How about going sailing with me today, Dad? I asked. There ' s a beautiful breeze on Wartuck. I ' ve planned a Httle work in the garden, Son.

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24 CHIMES programs completely filled with David ' s name; at souvenirs of parties; at withered corsages. One page held a graduation program and a senior pic- ture of Dave, which was signed Love, Dave. Linda looked at this picture for a long time. She remembered exactly how he had looked on grad- uation day, with his black hair combed down to an unusual degree of neatness and his blue eyes glancing over in her direction so often that he almost didn ' t respond when his name was called to receive his diploma. Linda sighed and remem- bered how badly she had felt when Dave went away to college and she left for art school. Nat- urally, they couldn ' t see each other so often, and Linda had been deathly afraid that Dave would meet and take an interest in some other girl. She hadn ' t known that Dave was worrying just as much about her. When the letters had all been read and pon- dered, Linda still sat on the floor with a far- away look in her eyes. At times she looked pen- sive; at other times she had a distant twinkle in her eye. It was getting toward evening; the light was growing dim in the attic and Natalie was be- coming restless, having dragged everythmg out of the trunk. She pattered over to Linda, who was gazing off into space with a few tears es- caping her green eyes. What ' s the matter, Linda? Natalie ques- tioned. Nothing ' s the matter, you rascal! I think we ' re both just hungry. Let ' s go down to the kitchen and see what we can find. Natalie very readily agreed to this and, after pushing every- thing back into the sturdy old desk and carefully locking it, Linda followed her little guest down the stairs. Thank you just loads for the cookies, said Natalie when they were both outside again. She had turned and started to go home when she suddenly stopped and asked, You ' ve always told me to call you Linda because we both like first names ever so much better than. Mr. ' s and Mrs. ' s. What ' s Mr. Blake ' s first name? Linda laughed and said, Mr. Blake ' s first name, Natalie? Why, I thought I ' d told you. It ' s David. COMPULSORY MILITARY TRAINING Donald McPherson, ' 46 One of the questions now under debate almost everywhere is the problem of compulsory military training after the war. Some are of the opinion •.hat this would be a useless waste of money and would turn us into a nation of professional mil- itarists. It is thought that it would even change our government, installing a military form of government such as is seen in some South Amer- ican countries. On the other hand there are many people who take the opposite side of the question. As every- one knows, we were caught unprepared at the beginning of the present war, with insufficient men and supplies to meet the highly-trained and well-equipped enemy. Not long ago we were liv- ing in one of the most prosperous and happy eras the world has ever known. War was the farthest state imaginable in our thoughts. True, we had started a defence movement, but the fact remains that we lacked trained soldiers to beat off the aggressor on that first sneak attack. This must not happen again. War is as likely to occur again as it did before. We may have a war within a week of surrender of our present enemies. There are many nations that are po- tential enemies. Who knows when and by whom we will be struck? The only answer is a training program to fill the needs of the country. Next, we must look for a method of arriving at our objective, a method which would not turn against us and ruin our time-proven government. First and most important is the coordination which would be necessary between the military and the political heads. The training must be in military hands and the supervision in political hands. Friction between the two could result in failure. Training would be given to every mentally and physically-fit boy the year after he graduates. The idea of four summers is not good as the con- stant interruptions caused by school or work would injure the boy ' s chance to get ahead. The accent would be on not only technical training but the physical condition of the boys. This would be beneficial to the boy himself as well as to the nation. The fundamentals of war- fare, which never change will also be taught. Militar) ' courtesy and drill will be presented. The first few months will be spent on this type of training and technical training will fill the remaining time. Such a program will benefit the boys through- out all the remaining years of their life. The discipline which will be enforced will help build better men. Also the life will build their char- acters. Complete medical and dental care will be given them, and some defects which would otherwise be overlooked will be attended to. Talents which would otherwise remain hidden might be brought to light by the numerous ap- titude tests given the new recruit. The life work of some might be found in the specialized train- ing of the army.

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6 CHIMES Why don ' t you and Terry go? So Terry and I went sailing. You take the battens, I told Terry, and I ' ll take the rest. Then we ran down the steep path that led to Wartuck Lake. We both got in the skiff and cast off. While we were rowing out to the Sea Gypsy ' s mooring, I saw two other sailboats over near Sandy Cove. They belonged to Peter and Jon Tagg. The boys must have seen me too, for they came about and headed my way. I made fast to the mooring and hopped aboard the Sea Gypsy. After hoist- ing the sails and casting off, we headed for Sandy Cove. Soon Peter and Jon came alongside and suggested a race, which Terry and I gladly ac- cepted. The race was charted from Bates ' Landing to Ted Moore ' s float on the other side of the lake. About half way to Moore ' s float we started shipping water over the coaming, and Terry be- came frightened. Peter came in first, Terry and I second, and Jon, last. We were just about ready to come about when Jon scooted past on the starboard side. In order to avoid a collision we had to jibe, and jibe we did. We turned over too. I later found out it was Terry ' s fault we cap- sized, for he had stepped on the jib sheet just as we were ready to jibe. As we were walking up the path to the house, I looked at the English setter and said, Terry, you ' re a good-for-nothing sailor! BABY-SITTING Barbara Tindall, ' 46 The best time to take care of children is when they are asleep. Of course, the pay is less then, (twenty-five cents an hour and fifty cents each hour after midnight) but the trouble is likely to be less also. If you are lucky, you might take care of a baby three or four nights, sight unseen. The first night I ever took on the job, I knew nothing whatsoever about how to handle a baby. However the evening was going swell because they had not only a radio, millions of records and books, but also delicious cookies in the kitchen. I was listening to a neat arrangement of Star- dust when a shriek came from the general di- rection of the bedroom. In fact, it was from the bedroom. Baby was caUing me. Quick as a flash I ran to his room. He was crying his head off and I didn ' t know why. I asked him a few pertinent questions but there was no reply. I called Mother. She asked a constructive ques- tion and was right. I found the diapers drying on the line in the basement. I must have strug- gled fifteen minutes trying to put one on him. By now Junior had stopped crying, but he also was thoroughly awake. We played all the games I knew, with the exception of a few that are a little too old for him, and I tried talking to him, but found that useless since my vocabulary was more complete than his. We bounced around a lot while I tried to tire him, but I found myself yawning instead of him. Finally I tucked him in bed and adjourned to the living room. I had only gotten three-fourths of the way through Rose Room when another bellow came from the bedroom. This time he was just being playful and would stop — just long enough to let me turn out the light, stumble across the room and open and close the door, when he would start up again. This lasted until his parents ar- rived home, and he was entirely unwound by then. You haven ' t lived until you ' ve fed a six-month old baby. Pablum always looked ghastly to me and judging from the way the baby eats it, it ' s just as ghastly as it looks. You try offering a big spoonful with the hope that he will eat faster, but the result is always that the larger the spoonful, — the messier the mess. My mini- mum is four bibs per meal. Baby-sitting may sound easy, but you quite often earn your pay (twenty-five cents an hour and fifty cents each hour after midnight.) Baby-sitting isn ' t all sitting. PRAYER BY THE SEA Josephine Miles, ' 48 Dear God, I love Thy beautiful sea; It always makes me think of Thee. I love it when it ' s calm as glass. And when it ' s angry as I pass. I love to see the gulls fly by. Their peaceful wings across the sky. My brother and I, we watched, and we Would see the sun melt in the sea. We laughed, and swam, and played on rocks, And fished, and rowed, and watched fish-hawks. But now alone I watch the foam, Because my brother is far from home. Dear God, who made the beautiful sea, Please God, bring back my brother to me.