Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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30 Reflections Nancy Gilley, ' 49 All is still, except for The gentle lapping of the water against the hull: The distant cough of an idling engine; The soft murmur of a radio on a nearby boat; The distant moan of the horn of a passing car; The hollow sound of my heart beats as I fold my arms And lean against the mast. All is dark except for The lights from the town reflected in the still waters : The flashing beacon standing guard at the har- bor ' s mouth; The phosphorescence gleaming forth where the blackness of the water is disturbed: The dim lantern barely i lluminating the mast- head; The countless number of stars shining serenely down at me as I stand And gaze wonderingly back at them. All is peaceful, except for My mind, racing incessantly over The world And life And love. The Lonely Way Joy Hamlin, ' 49 The dog was beautiful. His coat of fur had been brushed carefully and it shone with good health. He lay obediently at the boy ' s feet, pant- ing slightly, ears cocked, his eyes glancing in- terestedly around him. The boy, who was about fifteen years old, sat on the park bench, eyes closed, feeling the warmth of the feeble spring sun upon his thin, long body. Occasionally his hand reached out tentatively to pat the dog ' s head, as if to reassure himself the animal was there. In answer to the elderly woman ' s question, he replied courteously, by all means to sit down in the remaining space. With a sigh she placed her bundles on the ground and slowly relaxed. That ' s a fine lookin ' dog you have, she said with a friendly smile and a faint Irish brogue. ■ ' Thank you, replied the boy with a polite smile. Have you had him for a long toime? she queried. No, he said patiently, only a few months. After this statement, she seemed content to sit silently, watching the pattern on the cement path made by the rays of the sun shining through the leaf-heavy trees. Around the two quiet people buzzed the noise of the city, but each was obli- vious to the sounds. One was deep in a habitual shell, dreaming of something he would never possess: the other remembered and was glad for the happy and sad memories she cherished. In front of the bench was spread a playground which attracted many children. The mutter of their excited voices occasionally rose to shrill cries. At one particularly stridant outburst, the boy looked toward the playground, a little eager smile curving his lips. But when he glanced away, the patient, blank, almost lifeless, expres- sion had returned to mold his features into a strongly-matured cast. A football suddenly bounded up and stopped at the boy ' s feet, causing the dog to rise instantly, growling a warning to the strange object. At a motion of the boy ' s hand he sank to his haunches, watching warily. A youngster from the playground yelled, Toss it over here; will ya? The boy got up slowly, reached down and picked up the ball hesitantly. With a graceful sweep of his long arm. he threw it straight to the lad ' s impatient hands. With a thanks thrown casually over his shoulder, the little boy returned to the waiting players. The boy remained standing, staring at the playground. Beside him, the woman looked up at him. and with motherly curiosity, she asked, Why don ' t you go out and play with them, son? For a moment he made no reply. Then he an- swered, Guess I don ' t feel quite up to it — yet. Setting his shoulders in a proud, straight line, he said, C ' mon, Buck, let ' s go. As the dog rose, he grabbed hold of the harness and walked un- erringly to the nearby street curb. The dog turned, his body against the boy ' s legs and they both stopped. After looking to the right and left, he advanced slightly, telling his master the way ahead was clear. Advancing Frontiers Harold McAvenia, ' 51 Deep forests, lush grass, wide rivers, bounti- ful game — for these things man has always yearned. It was this dream of the perfect home which led the pioneer always forward toward new frontiers. In the beginning the eastern sea- board satisfied his craving, but one look at the

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29 that to do something, they should do it well. They also realized that at some time or other, our way of life would be challenged to defend its theories of government. For this reason they drew up the Constitution to the best of their abilities. It has lasted from 1776. No other country in the world can say that of their Constitution. Our Consti- tution was drawn up for the protection of the common, everyday person, who should be the nucleus of any country. Why is our democracy worth defending? Why in less than half a century have we twice gone to war to defend our way of life? What makes men sacrifice their lives and families for it? These are but a few out of many more ques- tions that the person who has never known de- inocracv asks himself. Take any main street in any section of our country, and you will see what America really means. You will see ordin- ary people possessing freedoms unheard of in other countries. Go to any church on any Sunday morning and you will see millions of people wor- shiping their God as they deem fit. After mass walk into a newspaper stand and l)u your Sun- day paper. In what other country in the world could a common person become president of his nation? This is what makes America a Democ- racy, — worth having, worth defending. My Favorite Place on Earth Barbara Best, ' 49 My favorite place on earth is the one at the end of Lighthouse Road and the beginning of Rebec- ca Road in Scituate. At this historic site there is a lighthouse with a home adjoining it. It is the fa- mous lighthouse at Cedar Point with the bronze plaque on it bearing the inscription, SCITUATE LIGHTHOUSE Built 1810— Lighted 1811 Simeon Bates, Reuben Bates, James Young Bates — Keepers Rebecca and Abigail Bates — daughters of Simeon called The American Army of Two This lighthouse is built on rocky ground with water a few feet from it. There are two break- waters going out from this peninsula, one in towards the harbor and the other more towards the sea. The former was built of rocks which have very flat tops. It is said that twenty years ago when the breakwater was new it was so level you could ride a bicycle over it. Now after many years of surging tides the rocks have shifted so there are large cracks. The other breakwater was built in 1941. It is much wider and longer than the first and it has a beacon on the end of it which flashes once every four seconds. I think it is most delightful to sit on the con- crete platform of this beacon at the end of the breakwater and watch the water either swelling or breaking over the rocks below. To the northeast there is nothing but water and more water. Of course there are boats, some sailing along lackadaisically and others just skimming over the water. Also there are many, many lobster buoys which I always like to think of as stepping stones for someone to walk on. Now and then a seagull gracefully glides by. Looking up the coast to the north-northwest, 1 can see as far as the Glades, and looking down the coast to the southeast, I can see as far as Fourth Cliff and Humarock. These places are the extreme parts of Scituate on the coast. Behind me is the harbor with all kinds of craft, — sail boats, dories, skiffs and outboard motors, fishing boats. Coast Guard boats, and all sorts of launches and cruisers. In back is Sand Hills with its crowds of people and its rambling cottages. Whenever I think of Scituate as my home town, I always see the lighthouse. No doubt this light- house at Cedar Point will always be my favorite place on eartli.

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beauty aiul f(Mtililv of the laiiHs l)ey()nd the mountains awoke new desires in hini. The race was on ! This age-old desire has meant something dif- ferent to each generation. To my great-great grandfather in the earl lOfh century it was rep- resented bv the Erie Canal with its towpaths and heavily-laden barges. When life along the canal became too civilized, great-great grandfather moved west with the Mormons. His growing family of nine boys became absorbed in the carving of a new frontier. The quest for adventure lured my grand- father to the land of cottonwood and sagebrush where he worked as an engineer to help reclaim land vvhich has since become the center of citrus production in the Southwest. Few viewing the lower Rio Grande Valley today would dream that only two generations ago it was the land of the pioneer. My father satisfied his desire for the new, the different, by going to sea. He was too late for the days of sail, but there were no seamen ' s unions to ease the way of the man in the foc ' sle so he suffered the common hardships of the seaman in the early steamship days. I, too. find myself dreaming. At present I see Alaska as the last of our geographical frontiers, but there always remain limitless frontiers to be reached through the medium of science, possibly even in other worlds. For the coming generations there are the prob- lems of atomic energy, the conquest of Antarctica, and the stratosphere. Such is the life-blood of a nation. A Thrill Elliott Barrett, ' 57 There we were, standing on the platform wait- ing for him to get it over with. He had us standing in rows, four abreast, waiting, just waiting. We hadn ' t committed any crime, but there we were herded up in a bunch like a lot of sheep. You may ask, Well, what were you waiting for? We were waiting for the man in the brown tweed suit to pull the trigger. He had said that he would if we didn ' t watch out, and now he was going to. In a gruff voice he said. Don ' t any one move an inch or you know what will happen. And then all of a sudden there was a blinding flash, and someone in front of me groaned. But I just laughed. We had finally got it over with. The class pictures were taken at last. First Date Joan Keltell, 50 I ' mbkellas danced ever where. Ladies ' red and green and plaid umbrellas bobbed in and out amongst the blacks and browns of the men ' s. Cold, wet rain(lro])s pelted against the soaking faces and dollies of the rushing, pushing crowds and then dripped oil liie ends of und)rellas. It was five o ' clock, just in the midst of rush hour. Bobo was trying gallantly to hold his mother ' s huge, plaid und)rella over his head while he clutched several bundles in his arms. On top of these purchases, a small oblong box with a cellophane flap was dangerously tilting against Bobo s nose, making him sneeze every now and then. But Bobo didn ' t care. From the top of his whiffled brick-red hair to his muddy shoes, he was a mass of thrills and excitement. In two hours and forty-six minutes he would be at Su- sie ' s home. He would talk to her mother and father while she fluttered and fussed. She would probably take little, sidelong glances at his sud- denly-handsome face while he ' d describe the latest technique of the city ' s star football player. The crowning moment would come when he ' d hand her the corsage, extend his arm, and escort her to the car, with an air of sophistication. How handsome, how devastating he ' d be! She would never, never guess this was his very first date! Overcome by the thrill of his dreams, Bobo didn ' t realize he had passed his car stop. The clang, clang of the trolley ' s bell woke him with a start. Realizing his mistake, he dashed over to the trolley which was a good distance away. The corsage box dropped once in a puddle, but the flower wasn ' t ruined although the feather stick- ing out from the brown bag was bent out of shape. He reached the trolley just as the last person dropped a nickel into the slot. While he fumbled in his pockets for the fare. Bobo managed to close the dripping umbrella and dump his pack- ages on the nearest seat. Then, after a few seconds of frantic searching. Bobo looked at the im- patient conductor and with a worried smile, said. Gee, mister, can you change a five? - ■ « In another part of the city, a grandfather clock in the corner of a well-furnished room was strik- ing seven. All was quiet. Except for the sound of Susie running water in the bathroom, of Mrs. Cranston washing the dishes in the kitchen, and of Bobbie banging away in the cellar, no noise disturbed Mr. Cranston as he read the evening paper. As the seventh chime died away, a shrill, muffled voice called from the bathroom.