Somerville High School - Radiator Yearbook (Somerville, MA)

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A FAMILIAR EXPERIENCE? Judy Helmund ’58 Dashing into the house and waving a slip of paper in her hand, Lee crashed loudly into the table. “I got it, I got it!,” she cried “Oh,” said her father with a look we miglit interpret as crestfallen. “Isn’t that lovely, dear,” Mother managed a little more enthusiastically. Her look was only vaguely apprehensive. “Oh. Dad, can’t I please take your car to- morrow, please, please, P-L-E-A-S-E ?” “Well, ah, I really don’t know. . . Oh, all right, I suppose so.” Next morning Lee dashed out proudly, dangling the keys of the Mercury from her red-tipped finger. As she slid behind the wheel, she surveyed those sharp, pointy, vicious fins. “Glad I don’t have to back out of the garage,” she thought. The motor turned over smoothly and soon she was sailing down the busy street. Sud- denly it dawned on her that there was no one beside her to tell her what to do or to use the dual control, if necessary. “Oh, doggie, don’t run out in front of me, P-L-E-A-S-E,” she murmured, as a little dog ran unconcernedly out into the street. “Oh, darn! I would have to come out just when those little kids were getting out for lunch. And, of course, there’d have to be a train going through. O-hhhh, what made me stall right here? Look at that whole line of traffic. A-h-h-, finally. Oh, please sir, stop blowing your horn. This street is so busy and I simply hate to cross it in Dad’s new car. Oh, all right, here goes. E-e-e-k! Whew! That was a close one. Now, that I’m on a nice quiet street, I can relax a little. O, good grief! Fire en- gines!! Now I should pull over to the right until they pass. But there’s no place! Ah, here’s one. What? Oh, that’s where the fire is? So sorry. A-h-h-h, just around the block and I’ll be home. All I have to do then is put the car in the garage. Oops! hit the hedge. There, I guess I’m okay now. Wonder if I’ll make it by that door. There! Well, that’s over. Wonder how I ever got a license? Hi, Mom, I’m home.” “Hi, dear, how was your ride?” “Oh, just wonderful! — not a bit of trouble.” CLEAR THE STREETS THEY’RE COMING! Edythe Fishman ’58 Noticed any bent stop signs lately? Per- haps our new car is to blame (or should we say the driver). In this two-tone blue 1958 Nash Rambler Somerville High School stu- dents are learning to drive. Mr. Gerald Dona- hoe is in charge of our Nash, while Mr. Paul Giroux teaches with the Chevy. Once a week the pre-driving groups meet for a class in 307 to learn the principles of driving. They also get the opportunity to apply these principles by getting behind the wheel itself. If you happen to see Mr. Donahoe or Mr. Giroux at the close of the school day, they might be discussing the incidents which happened while they were teaching. To quote Mr. Giroux: “Ruthie’s a girl musically inclined. The pedals of the car not hard to find. She used to drive staccato style; Now she operates with cunning and guile. Efficient Margie, the way she drives, Her instructor will never get the hives; She turns around, goes down hill— Her driving ability abounds in skill. Marilyn drives deliberate and slow. Along College Ave. to the rotary we go. Now this circle is round we all agree, But to Marilyn sometimes it seems not to be. Peggy McQuaid, I dare say, Has added to the instructor’s head of gray; She always stops the car on time But why, Peggy, on a dime?” The others taking the course have their faults, too. However, we are sure that in due time they too will turn out to be effi- cient drivers. Twelve

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patient. Joey was due at seven thirty and by eight I began to get mad. At nine I headed for my room completely miserable. But after a certain telephone call I had more reason to be mad. But this time it was myself. You might be wondering what happend to Joey. Well, of course, he had to help out at the church supper! What else! A SAI) STORY Evelyn Ells ’58 It all began one afternoon when my charm- ing sister Doris swiped my peanut-butter sandwich. Happening to see her out of the corner of my eye while I was getting a quart of milk, I quickly slammed the refrigerator door and also closed Benjamin Alexander Hamilton Ells I’s tail in the door (Benja- min is my cat who always runs to the re- frigerator door when it’s opened). In my haste I left him there and went tearing up- stairs along the upper hall after Doris, who reached her bedroom and slammed the door in my face. Hearing a faint “meow,” I re- membered Benjamin and zoomed down the hall towards the stairs, slid down the ban- nister, and landed on a pillow left there for this purpose. I jumped up and reached Ben- jamin in two seconds flat. He was cared for promptly. Since I needed something to do to keep my mind off the sandwich, I trailed upstairs to my room and tried to pull out the table drawer in order to get Chlorine’s fish food. As luck would have it, I pulled the whole table over. The gold fish bowl on top smashed to the floor and Chlorine disappeared down the register. When the supper bell rang, I again flew down to the kitchen. During the meal I choked on a chicken bone and Doris, seizing the opportunity, pounded me on the back un- til I was black and blue. After supper and an unsuccessful attempt to steal out without doing the dishes, I pain- fully climbed the steps to my room to tackle my German. I though I was playing football and tackled the ink bottle on my German book. Angrily I snatched up the “Radiator,” flopped on the bed, and fell asleep reading a “Sad Story” by Evelyn Ells. THE FIRST SNOWFALL Joanna Michel ’58 He will not mind me stopping here To wotch his woods fill up with snow. From Stopping by Woods By Robert Frost Walking along on a chill November eve- ning, I glanced at the bare, upstretched arms of the trees which only a few short months before were covered with leaves. I thought how gaily the colored flowers had bobbed their dainty heads in the warm summer breeze and then how slowly they had withered with the coming of autumn. As I gazed about me, I realized that Nature was getting ready for another season — winter. One morning soon, people would awake to find that Nature had performed one of her most splendid works. They would behold the first snowfall of the year. The roof tops would be covered with snow against the pale blue sky. The whole town would be wrapped in a blanket of sparkling whiteness. Afterward, children would be heard as they gaily enjoyed sledding, skating, snow- balling or skiing. The youthful artistry of freshly built snowmen would soon be evident. As I was returning from my walk, all these things came to my mind. Then sud- denly to my amazement, I realized that while I was walking, tiny white flakes of snow were starting to fall. Though I had not noticed it before, the upstretched branches of the trees were no longer bare but were slowly being covered with glistening white snow. Yes, the long months of anticipation were over — the first snowfall of the season had come! Eleven

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A FALLEN LEAF Louise Price ’58 Once I was part of yonder tree, And ’neath the summer sky, I proudly nodded and looked down Upon the passers-by. RAINFALL AT NIGHT Louise Price ’58 “Pitter patter pitter patter”—softly beats the rain. As it prances, whirls and dances on my window pane; Tapping lightly on the glass—laughing with the breeze, Dancing to a merry song that drifts among the trees. Gently, softly now it taps—“Come out with me and play!” I hear it call so merrily—its song is light and gay, And as I jump from bed and at the window stand, I see the tiny raindrops as they dance in silver strand. Twinkling, sparkling, glistening—they fall upon the leaves, And with silver splendor they softly clothe the trees; The moon so high up in the sky is shining through the mist, And rosebuds proudly lift their heads, with dew their petals kissed. A blessing only He can give—this rainfall from above, Enfolding, caressing, feeding the earth—His token of boundless love . “Pitter patter, pitter patter”—softly beats the rain, As it prances, whirls and dances on my window pane. Ah yes, that tree so lone and bare— Her branch was once my home; But now I lie upon the ground— Withered and ugly and lone. Yes, from the branch I slowly fell And fluttered gently down, And as I reached the cold, hard earth I uttered not a sound. Now I am stepped on, crushed and torn By the rush of the passers-by, But as they pass I say nothing—alas! I can only resignedly sigh. For soon the air will grow more brisk; The days will colder grow, And Mother Nature will make for me A grave of whitened snow . . . But once I was part of yonder tree, And through the summer’s day I nodded proudly and looked down On those that passed my way. BASKETBALL LUNCH TIME Carol Amann ’58 “Now for homework!” teachers shout, But it’s too late—they’ve all gone out. The bell has rung, no time to loll; The lunchroom is the common goal. They push and shove and shout and cry And then you see them zooming by; It’s mighty lucky they’re not killed— The lunchroom is so quickly filled. Seats are claimed by the first ones there— The late ones never find a chair. Books are tossed they know not where— Oh! My cake! Don’t throw it there! Oh, how standers beg for seats— But standing really is a treat; For pushed and squeezed—those in their seats Can hardly move or talk or eat. But all are happy—none complain As long as time for lunch remains! Barbara Lamb ’58 As I enter the halls of learning And greet the hep-cats all, Im told I won’t amount to much ’Less I like basketball. To tell the truth, I never liked What seemed a silly brawl; That game they all go nuts about— Yes—I mean basketball! And then one day a handsome lad So strong and straight and tall, Invited me to watch him play And brother—did I fall! f i With tender words his plays he named- The score I don’t recall, But from that day I’m nuts about A game of basketball! Thirteen