Searsport High School - Windjammer Yearbook (Searsport, ME)

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THE EFFECT OF THE PRINTING PRESS UPON THE WORLD Books! Those insane articles which con- tain the root of hate for all teen-agers-! Those articles th-at burden our arms every night and start our minds in a revolution with the victrola, TV, or other forms of in- teresting amusements! See what the teen-agers owe to William Caxton, a man who set up the printing press in England many years ago. But the people of his time considered him quite a fellow, Tom Jones, instead of writing upon the ter- rible surface of parchment with his feathered pen, now became able to print a mass of material by a press. The people of the Renaissance were able to satisfy their great curiosity and desire for knowledge. With the broadening of the world -at this time there came a broadening of man's mind. Magazines and newspapers were later dis- tributed in large amounts and brought the happenings of the world before the eyes of man. The Common Man was unable to obtain an education. He w-as unable to purchase the pages of knowledge which were published before the printing press. These pages of knowledge were small in quantity and could be purchased only by the wealthy class. However, thanks to William Caxton, the common man, too, could invigorate his mind and take part in the belief of humanism of the Renaissance period. The printing press has indeed been a great inliuence upon the world of yesterday and the world of today. It led to the publication of pages of knowledge which led to belief. This believing then aroused a spirit of curi- osity which led to thinking. Thinking, of course, has led to everything we see around us. Thinking has led to o.ur World. Books! Those builders of civilization which pushed America forth! Those finders of Democracy and builders of brains! Those invention makers and upathfinders ! Those goal obtainers and opportunities in disguise! Look at what the teen-agers do owe to William Caxton! Let's reimburse him! How? By using them! CAROL DAKIN '59 DUTY In the life processes there are many phases of duty. However, one's greatest obligation is to oneself. If you or I must help others to satisfy our consciences, then we are fulfilling a duty to ourselves. It is human nature to retain selfish motives behind all one does. Therefore, in the ultimate, one's duty to himself far overshadows a like obli- gation to others. In compiling the duties to self one must make himself desirable to himself. He may do this in several ways. He might do some small but nevertheless gallant service for another. This is a gigant.ic ego-inflater and lifts the benefactor to a status of supremacy. After all, one cannot feel worthy of -a. place among his fellow men unless he convinces himself he is beneficial to them. Of course, when one performs these little, unselfish services he sees only the magnitude of his supreme character and personality being dis- played, little realizing the important func- tion this is to him for keeping his glowing goodness bright and shiny. If asked his ideas of duty, one, with an air of self-righteousness, would naturally list his obligations to family, authority, man- kind, and government fwhich is most absurd of all.J I hardly think one would state that his greatest duty must be performed for himselfg that he was an individual and there- fore must satisfy his own feelings and de- siresg that he knew not why he was born, but as long as he was here, he was going to fullfilvl the greatest duty of all and find out w y. But he couldn't very well say these things, could he? What if someone-his friends- heard him and condemned him? Why, he would be banished from the realm of the natural and- cast into the black 'void of de- nounced radicals! Must one so constr.ue the idea of duty that it becomes superficial-a crusty covering over the true motives behind? RUTH BLAKE '59 A SUMMER'S BOATING At the first part of the summer I was busy scurrying around trying to get the last min- ute things completed on my craft. I com- pleted it about two weeks after school stopped.

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OF ALL SAD WORDS She kissed him goodby and stepped into the cold darkness. He closed the door behind her and went into the living room of his apartment. Glancing at the clock on the mantel piece, he picked up the phone. He dialed a number and, after a few seconds, spoke into the phone, Bill, she just left me. If you hurry you can reach her just as she gets to the corner of High and Main. He laid the telephone down and went to his favorite chair. He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He spied the bottle of bourbon on the table and with nervous hands poured- himself a drink. The strong, cold bourbon settled him somewhat. The clock, sitting on the man- tel piece, ticked loudly in his ears. In order to settle himself he took another drink. All types of thoughts were running through his mind. Sally, his wife, walking to the liquor store, would soon reach the corner of High and Main streets. He could' see the huge black sedan, driven by Bill Carter, come speeding around the corner. He heard her scream and saw the car smash into her body and crush it to a hopeless mass. Her face, in the stare of death, looked up at him, and accusing him, laughed in a horrible way. The loud ring of the telephone brought his senses back. He stood facing the phone in a state of horror. He picked it up and put the receiver to his ear. The voice of Bill Carter stabbed his brain. It's done, said the voice, I hit her dead center. He didn't answer for a moment because his mind was still playing tricks on him. He thanked- Bill and hung up. He poured himself another drink and swallowed it with difficulty. Nausea started to come over him and his mind played more tricks on him. I killed her just as sure as I am standing here! The words came out of his mouth like steel coming out of a furnace. He lit -another cigarette and, blowing the thick, gray smoke out through his nose, walked toward the door. He moved out into the cold darkness and sat down on the steps which led to his apartment. He counted the cars as they went by, trying to forget Sally. He could still see her face, covered with the marks of a tire, staring at him accusing him of murder. His eyes, playing tricks on him, followed the never ending stream of cars as they moved toward thc center ol' town. llf: took one large drag from his cigarette and snapped it into the street. Getting up and walking into the house, he said, Why haven't. the police arrived? They should have been here ten minutes ago. Trying to settle his nerves was no easy matter. He tried reading a book and then playing solitaire, but with little success. Finally he dozed off. In his sleep he could hear Sally's voice, call- ing out to him. I loved you Joeg I loved you very much, but you killed me, Joeg you killed me. He woke up screaming. The cold sweat was running down into his eyes. I can't live without her, I just can'tl He shouted out these words as he ran toward the bathroom. He stumbled and fell on his face. Getting to his feet was no easy matter be- cause his head was swimming. He opened the medicine cabinet with nervous fingers. He spied the bottle of sleeping pills sit.ting there in the cabinet. He opened them and took five, and then five more and washed them down with a glass of water. He lifted the bottle up to his lips and filled his mout.h full of the little white pills and again washed them down. He walked slowly into the living room and lay down on the couch. The sweat was pour- ing o.ut all over his body. His heart felt as Skit were trying to break loose from his ,y. He heard a noise in the hall and then a voice. It was Sally's voice. He could see her moving toward him and he felt her lips touch his cheek as she kissed him. Joe, she said, the most terrible thing happened down town tonight. I almost got hit by a car. I would have if it hadn't been for a girl pull- ing me out of the way. She saved my. life, Joe, but got herself killed-. The car hit her instead of me. Joe's head was whirling now and he couldn't think straight. Sally looked at him and screamed, Joe, Joe, what's the matter? Joe didn't hear these words of horror because he was being captured by a black swirling cloud taking away all of his senses. Lights blinked before his eyes and then the pain left him. Darkness moved over him and it was good. CARLTON SMITH '60

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With the help of several people in town, I moved my boat down to the water front. I think the minute the launching operations started I received the biggest thrill of my life. This started a summer of excitement, enjoyment, and some hardships. One event which seems to stick in my mind is this: One day the water was fairly calm and there was just a little wind. The wind blew harder and the waves grew larger as the afternoon progressed. It was very excit- ing to ride on the wild bay in my creation. My creation withstood large waves bow first as well as sideways. I felt very proud that it was my boat and that it was seaworthy as well as comfortable. One day when I felt more adventurous than others I got five gallons of gas and I took a trip to Belfast. The only place I could find to tie up at was underneath Belfast bridge. To me this was a disgrace to a city the size of Belfast and also to a city with the history which Belfast has. I observed many things on the trip back. I stopped at the beacon light which is at the mouth of the harbor. It is larger than I expected it to be. I found the light is run by sixteen batteries which the Coast Guard changes frequently. I tried sailing my craft by tacking a blanket to two oars and by holding it up like a sail. This did not work out very well. I found the landscape to be very beautiful in some places but in others it looked desolate. I found that the 1'ive horsepower motor I had was not quite large enough to push the boat very fast. The returning trip took approximately three and one-half hours. I took two trips to Bel- fast during the summer, usually having a few companions along. Once on one of my trips into the harbor I met two large fishing boats. They made three large waves which were thrilling to ride over. Another trip I took was one to Stockton harbor and around Sears Island. I was all alone on this voyage -and as I traveled along enjoying the scenery my motor began to cough and sputter. I poured all the gasoline I had left into the gas tank. It didn't look like enough to get me back and I didn't have an anchor, so I prayed. When I reached my mooring there was only about enough gaso- line left to fill a cup. I found that boating consists not only of pleasures but also of hardships. The fiber- glass which I put on the keel peeled off. This of course caused the boat to leak. I had to bail it out frequently. Getting the boat back to the garage was no fun, either. It had to be hauled out of the water and loaded onto a truck. After I got it home another task was getting it unloaded and into the garage. This short essay gives another person some idea of how my summer's boating went. DAVID O'DONNELL '59 HUNTING EXPERIENCE The early morning dew was still on the grass. The sun peeking over the rim of the mountain made yellow streaks in the sky. The barren trees made crackling noises as the wind blew among the branches. Suddenly through the trees appears a figure clad in scarlet with a rifle in his hands and his ears alert for the sound of approach- ing game. He stops and listens. Quietly he jacks a shell into the magazine. Then swiftly through the underbrush comes a streak of brown. It comes clear of the underbrush and stands broad-side look- ing straight at the red-clad figure, his great horns extending high above his head and his sleek brown shirt making a dim shadow be- yond. He stops for a few moments. Then with a dash of white he is off. The hunter brings the gun to his shoulder, there is a loud crack and the beautiful form falters in his graceful run and goes down. There he lies with a red stream running down his glossy coat and making a pool on the ground. Then, as his legs give their last effort to flee, the life goes from his body. The hunter removes gleaming steel from its sheath and as it goes into the throat of the animal, he moves no more. He lies silent- ly 5 his life has come to an end like that of an unraveled sleeve. The hunter removes the shells from his gun, bends over, picks up the limp form, slings it over his shoulder, and goes from the woods only leaving the shadows closer to the ground and the sun's rays in a straight angle in the sky. The dew has gone from the grass as the life went from the deer. EDNA WEI.CH '59