Spaulding High School - Red and White Yearbook (Rochester, NH)

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THE RED AND WHITE 9 as if to say, Humph, what silly birds! They never seem to agree. Unfortunately, peace and harmony of this sort is seldom allowed to take its course. This time it was the in- sistent jangle of an irritable fold alarm clock that shattered the quiet- ude. The rabbit left for parts un- known as the aforementioned clock sailed out into the garden and came to rest right side up after an as- sisted flight of some seventy feet. Bed springs creaked as the propul- sion agent of the alarm clock turned out of his springy bower, fully pre- pared, bloodshot eyes and splitting headache included, to meet the chal- lenge of wind and wave. A low moan escaped the flabby lips of our hero as he fondled his aching head. A loud clump, clump clump sounded as he stumped off to the shower room. Here new groans and vulgar complaints about the cold wa- ter, the management, the evils of drink, and women in general, did their bit to irritate late risers in other parts of the club. Finally, after many unsuccessful attempts our hero managed to get into nautical garb and stumble off down the imposing dock. Crummy 3rd, a small 'express cruiser, lay alongside bumping against the piling. As usual, our he- ro, who for sake of the story is J. Wellington Birdbrain, had neglected to place fenders between his expen- sive craft and the dock. Friction had done its dirty work. Some of the spotless finish had been rubbed badly but not so much so that Cap'n J. W. B. couldn't repair it. No siree, no trouble at all, he muttered as he walked confidently to the paint locker. I'll touch 'er up in no time. No time like the pres- ent, he thought happily, for getting things done. He returned from the paint locker with a can of paint and some brushes. A water pail standing in his path seemed to be in imminent danger of being stepped in, but he carefully sidestepped this obstruction. After opening his paint he balanced it on the narrow coaming around the fore- deck as he sat astraddle the narrow- est forward part of the foredeck, painting merrily. A larger Diesel yacht camel in past Crummy 3rd's dock piling up huge waves in its pro- peller wash. i' The first two or three waves he hardly noticed, but the fourth lifted the stern fully three feet. J. W. B. went heels over head, paintbrush, and paint with him into the troubled water. He came up blowing and spewing. By and by, he managed to climb over the stern of his boat. When he had changed into dry clothes he suddenly remembered the extra paint he'd set on the cabin top. Oh, what a relief! he sighed, I remember that I covered it. At that moment a drop of some- thing Wet hit him on the nose. Rain? Nope, paint. - J. W. B. had reached the same con- clusion and with a muffled sound that seemed to 'be half way between an oath and a prayer, he rushed forward to investigate. Oh no, was his weak remark. Well, I was going to paint it any- ways, he added in a small voice. Two hours and several hundred oaths later the cabin top was finished in a sickly pea-green. This color was so horrible that every time he looked at it he became sick to his stomach. Now, he was ready to start the en- gines and cast off. Carefully, he edged along the alleyway between deckhouse and coaming and dropped gracefully onto a banana peel. The resulting skid was instantaneous and truly amazing. It took him clear across the cockpit where he grounded against some fishing gear carelessly strewn around. When he had picked the fishhooks out of his person he made another attempt to get to the

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8 THE RED AND WHITE Coming into sight of the station, the dog stopped and refused to go farther. No amount of coaxing would induce him to follow me. So, giving the dog an appreciative pat on the head, I started for the sta- tion. Bill, the Mountie in charge, had seen me coming and met me half way. Looking back, I saw the dog still sitting on the last rise, watching me. You know, Bill, if it wasn't for that dog, I could never have gotten here. I would be lying frozen some- where up north of here, but thanks to that dog, here I am, alive and O. K. Bill looked at the hill, then at me, and again at the hill. Turning, he looked blankly at me, and scratched his head. Joe, he said, You bet- ter come inside. There is no dog there nor are there any dogs around here, except for my two brown sled dogs. Looking back as Bill closed the door, I could still see the dog, sil- houetted against the rose and gold sunset. Was he the Ghost Dog? I . Blind Date GERALDINE MOON Dear Diary: 6 230 P. M. As I sit here in the quiet warmth of my bathtub, I'm wondering what he will look like. Will he have black or brown hair? Eyes, blue or brown? Will he be fat or will he be skinny? With my luck there will be some- thing wrong with him. I dread the thought of opening the door when he comes: I know I have to go through with it, so I had better stop writing and get ready. - 'Til later. Dear.Diary: .. 4 7:15 P. M. lim now all dressed and waiting patiently on the sofa for the next fif- teen minutes to pass. I'm beginning to think I was out of my mind to say I'd be the one. After all, there are lots of teen-age girls in this town. Oh! there's the doorbell! Barb and Jimmy are with him, so I have to be calm. I don't know if I can make it to the door. I'll tell you tonight what he's like, dear diary. 'Til then- . Dear Diary: 10:30 P. M. Oh, he's every thing I've ever hoped for! He has the most adorable blue eyes, wavy black hair that is so shiny and smooth, I love the coy ex- pression on his face. I'm so glad Barb gave me first preference. I can see him looking at me with those big, blue eyes. It will be wonderful not having to sit home alone every evening. It certainly is grand to have a darling cooker spaniel for a pet! l I Goodnight, dear diary. Captain Happy Go Lucky On A Careless Cruise THOMAS GRAY A light breeze had just begun to stir the tall grass around Happy Ha- ven Yacht. There was an air of ser- enity about the fashionable club. Sea- gulls were screaming and quarreling over choice bits of debris brought in by an early tide. The first rays of the sun were glancing oi ten thou- sand small wavelets creating to the imaginative a veritable sea of gold. All this indicated a bountiful day for yachting. Here and there in some enthusiastic members' garden one could find cabbage leaves and lettuce heads that had been nibbled. Tiny silver dewdrops detached themselves from vegetables as our 'little friend, the swamp rabbit, foraged for his morning feed. The rabbit cocked a disdainful eye at the belligerent gulls and scornfully continued his feeding

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10 THE RED AND WHITE instruments. This time he suc- ceeded. . He tried to look confident as he opened the throttle and turned on the ignition. i0h, oh, he's forgotten his glasses and can't tell which is neutral on the gear shift.J He shoved it all the way forward then jabbed the starter button. Both engines caught and being wide open raced wildly. Frantically our hero fiddled with the controls until he got the gear lever in forward position. This was going from bad to worse. Both mooring lines parted with a twang! snap! and Crummy 3rd departed full speed across the bay straight for Dead Man's Reef. A There was a grinding, rasping sound as the cruiser grated over the first few rocks then a rending crash and a terrific clatter as the boat struck head on. The force drove her clear atop the reef and there she sank in three feet of water. The expen- sive accommodations were drenched in a bath of sea water and the shining mahogany transom split. The two fine marine engines were forced through the teak deck and water filled the cockpit. For several weeks the boat lay there in its rocky grave until the Coast Guard pulled it off and sank it. For weeks it had stood there, mute testimony to someone's tragic care- lessness. Old J. W. B. has a new boat now, but he'll always remember the beau- tiful little cruiser that went to its watery grave off Gull Roast Rock. Every time he goes by in his new boat, he'll make a new resolution to be very careful. i...-... ..i. A Word JEANNE ANN BARCOMB I am a word. I mean a great deal. The people of all nations have been trying to attain me since the begin- ning of the World. They have al- ways failed. I am the goal for which the United Nations is striving. Will the United Nations ever find me? I wonder . . . Sometimes people have found me, but few have ever succeeded in keep- ing me. You see, I am an elusive word. However, I am not an illu- sion, as some people believe. I am real, yes, very real, and very worth- while to obtain. Although very few people will ad- mit it, I have enemies. Everyone claims to want me, yet only a few try to achieve me. I am found in brotherhood. The Russians and the Russian Satellites use my strongest enemy to prevent people from finding me. They have been using this ene- my in Korea in such a way that now I seem even more unattainable than before to the people who earnestly want me. You ask what the weapon is that they are using against me? It is a weapon most people hate! It is violence! From this violence a war has sprung. This war is not just a war among peopleg it is a war against me and all that I stand for. Fear and greed are often used to fight me. They are strong weapons and usually succeed in pushing me farther and farther away from the people. It is not hard to fight me, for I am not strongly implanted in the hearts of men. Too many people doubt that I will eventually reign over the world. Too many forget how important I am to the survival of the world. Why do I seem too difficult to ac- quire? The answer to that lies in the answer to another question. Why can't people retain me once they have found me? I do not try to escape. I am willing and eager to be caught and shared among the people of the world. Alas! I fear that this thing will never come to pass. My ene- mies are always present. The doubts in the minds of men push me from them. To attain me one must have faith and hope.