Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR BERTHA A. RAYMOND A TRIBUTE A rare teacher and a great influence upon the youth of our city has passed away in the death of Bertha Raymond. Hundreds of our boys and girls have worked with her and for her, and to each will come memories of her sweet character, her fairness of judgment, and her high ideals. Her loss as a teacher will be great, but her loss in the larger life of the school will be well nigh irreparable. Hardly an activity of the school failed to come under her guidance and influence. At graduations, class day, class functions, debates, dramatics, patriotic and social events, and school entertainments, hers was the guid- ing hand, and from her came the last word of instruction and advice. The excellent deportment of our young people in public performances, their straightforwardness and simplicity of style were in a large measure trace- able to her high standards of criticism and her wonderful personality. Tenacious in her belief that the best one could do was none too good, inspirational in her ability to encourage those with whom she worked, patient with weakness, abhorrent of things unbeautiful, faithful, loyal, and ) above all a true friend to pupils and teachers, Bertha Raymond leaves a place in the school no one can fill. We live in deeds, not years: in thoughts, not breaths; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

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SOMERVILLE HIGH SCHOOL RADIATOR 0 Isaac Lamb By Winthrop H. Root, 1919 T was truly a summer day! The ther- mometer registered 105 degrees in the shade. June had merged into July and the fresh green of the land was paling. We,—Lem and I,—lay under the big maple in front of the farm house, where we were staying for the summer, too ener- vated by the heat even to go swimming. We seemed to have lost interest in fishing or any other of our usual means of passing the time. Then the house door opened and the farmer joined us in the shade. “Hot boys?” he queried. “Why don’t you go swimming? Too hot! Well, did I ever tell you about ‘Isaac Lamb?’” Our negative nods brought forth the following story, which I have tried to transcribe from his peculiar idioms to ordinary English: “You remember Thurston? Willis Thurston? He used to own this farm and I used to work for him before I bought it. Well, he had a lamb— just learning to use its horns. The lamb was called Isaac. Why lie called him that 1 don’t know. At any rate it didn’t fit. ‘Little Pepper- box’ would have described him better. “One morning, after milking, Willis set the pail of milk down in front of the barn and went back for some reason. When he returned to the door he saw Isaac standing, head lowered, as if to charge on the pail, evidently attracted by its shining surface. Willis shouted and ran for the pail: so did Isaac! Isaac reached it first and a white sheet of milk went up into the air like spray. The morning’s milk was lost! This angered Willis and he kicked at Issue. The next instant he found himself sitting in a puddle of milk with a very much bruised ankle. Isaac stood off a little way and watched. When Willis looked up Isaac trotted up to him and bleated most innocently. Isaac—I guess—had a sense of humor which Willis lacked. Later. Willis went to paint the barn doors. He had an eye for vivid colors and had chosen a flaring red. He set the ladder against the barn and. paint can in hand, climbing up began to streak on the red liquid. It was pleasant work to paint in the shade and Willis was enjoying himself exceedingly when he felt the ladder shake. Looking down he saw Isaac rubbing his head against it. He paid no attention until the lad- der shook more violently. “ ‘Isaac, go away, can’t you!’ “Isaac looked up and bleated his approbatio of the suggestion. Just then Willis knocked t extra paint brush off the ladder and as it fell struck Isaac on the nose. He was startled a.. jumped back. Then he saw the ladder, and think ing it responsible for the insult, charged i Things became chaotic! The ladder fell and Wil lis with it. He says he saw a whole sky full of stars. “Sitting up dizzily, he passed his hand over his head. Tt was soaking wet! It was his own blood! He sniffed suspiciously and passed his hand through his hair again. Red it certainly was, but not blood. It was ‘Huxtable’s best paint. Guaranteed not to fade or wash off.’ And Isaac! Shades of the lamb that went into the ark! Isaac resembled no creature on earth. His white wool was changed to a vivid and blinding red. Ilis ears alone stuck up like flags of truce on a bloody battleground. But in spite of it alf his raucous voice bleated his sympathy for Willis. “It was Monday—not blue Monday, but red Monday, for Willis—and Mrs. Thurston had just hung out the family wash. Leaving Willis fallen, Isaac stalked like a conqueror into the front yard. The cat was sunning itself on the front steps, but,