Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

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A SUNRISE IN SPENSERIAN RHYME Euphrosyne Ward, ’35 The sun appeared from o’er the eastern hill, With colors forming on the whitened world. It drove the dark and cold night’s frightful chill. And from its golden ball of fire there swirled Enchanted banners of the dawn unfurled. The snow, a glistening blanket of the night. Gathered these colors on its whiteness pearled. As down the hill, defeated in the fight, It left; receding form the sun’s advancing light. The world awoke; straightway it left its dreams Of dark and unseen mysteries that form Within the wooded dales tand silver streams. The forests gave their shadows to the storm Of sun rays; conquered by their lances warm. Erom far within the distance comes a trill. The song of the first robin on a thorn; Then once again the earth sends out a thrill, Responding to the sunrise o’er the eastern hill.

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8 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL For looks, you say? I hardly think so. Maybe on a cat. hut hardly on a human head. (At least not on some I’ve seen.) Warmth? I still wear a hat in winter though I still have plenty of hair. I’m You find no good in A jinx upon you—May from Missouri and—they showed me! ! We men (I don’t know about women) have hair on our heads to make us pay out forty cents every two weeks for a haircut! ! ! hair? I am appalled; you soon grow bald. IMPRESSIONS OF A CADDY Raymond Morris, ’35 Oh, for the life of a caddy! All play and no work! That’s what you think. I go thirty-six holes with a man who walks fast enough to give a race horse a good race, and I try to keep up with him with a bag containing fifteen clubs over my shoulder; that’s the life. Then of course, there is another way of looking at the job, if I may call it such; there are the tips. Some people are good tippers and some are better. Then, too, there are some that are worse, those, of course, being the ones who do not tip at all, tipping being one of the many principles of life in which they do not believe. Of course you will find an individual once in a while who is very pleasant and nice to caddy for, and I don’t mind working for such without a tip, but when one of those persons who curses and swears when he dubs or misses a shot comes around, we either feel like, or do, scamper to the many corners and crevices of the clubhouse nearby—that’s another story. Then the caddy master, the dear old soul, comes out and says, “Freckles, take Mr. G----------’s bag, and I with a pleasant smile, which, by the way, I forced upon myself, say “Yes, Sir,”— there my troubles begin. For about two hours and a half I find myself one of the most forlorn people on the course, but when we reach the eighteenth hole, it seems about the happiest moment of my life. The other fellows are all out back of the caddy house eating dinner, and the minute I appear they all start at once to ask me how much of a tip I got—if he was ugly—and all in all I get pretty well cross examined before finishing dinner. Then there is the job of shagging balls, as it is called, which in reality means chasing balls. This is a job which everybody loves from the bottom of his heart. (I mean that it is there that love begins and ends). This is another time when the call to work finds everyone scampering to the unknown seclusion of the clubhouse—unknown to everybody except the caddy master— and he comes there and finds me or one of the others. This means another half or whole hour of good downright exercise. Then finally 4.30 rolls around and those that are not working either go in swimming or go out and play golf themselves. About six o’clock everybody is in from work and play, when we board our fresh air taxi and wend our weary way home, and on arrival in the Ancient City we usually accord it a rousing welcome. A caddy’s life is fine, some fellows Xow you have read, do you agree say. with Ray?

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10 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL A SWEET SUBJECT Joan Casey, ’36 1 ani sure that nearly every one lias some liking for candy. We may vary as to our favorites, but a person who has no sweet tooth is slightly deformed. We may begin with a very common type—the chocolate. Let us not worry about surplus avoirdupois. Some girls heroically turn away from the tempting bits for reasons of weight, but I shall never sacrifice my sweet-tooth to my waist-line. Chocolates suggest the candy bar. Here we expand and take a deep breath. Out of the hundreds of kinds of bars we can choose only a few. A generous bite of an almond bar is not displeasing to most- palates. A cocoanut bar often makes the precious tooth sing. Ribbon candy is reserved for the Christmas season, for some reason which I cannot guess. I should enjoy it at any time, for its colorful appearance and intriguing swirls add greatly to its delicious flavor. I shudder at the thought of a world without caramels. The melting sweetness that we can taste over and over is nectar fit for the gods, and who will deny that our trusty molars benefit by the caramel gymnastics. A quiet evening at home is well spent with the making of fudge. Other types of home-made candy, also, may appeal to us: fondant, for example, or crisp peanut brittle. An experience not to be missed in any home is taffy pulling, fascinating for the uncertainty of its results. Novel and attractive shapes and appetizing colors, nowadays, feature mints on the candy counters. The homely herb that grew in our greatgrandmothers' gardens would never recognize itself in this modern dress. And gum drops! Who could resist the glistening tempters? I always choose the black ones, the licorice drops, and always wish there were more dusky ones in the hag. To ease the strain on groaning budgets, hard candies are recommended for their lasting quality. I have thought about all these kinds of candy without arriving at any conclusion as to which is my favorite. Some folks can decide without pondering, but I decline to show any partiality. For me, any good candy has its place and its time: that place is—anywhere, that time is—any time. Here is a lolly pop! Ah! I shall eat a toast to my sweet subject. From childhood on, we girls on candy dote. Especially chocolates. Boys, please kindly note. ON MAGAZINES George Noonan, ’35 The other day I strolled into the village drugstore and looked for something a little out of the ordinary with which to amuse myself. It is very unusual for me to sit down with a magazine and read, but as I happened to feel in the mood, I purchased a popular periodical. That evening I eased myself into a Morris chair by the cozy wood-fire and admired the snappy picture which adorned the cover of my purchase. Opening the magazine, I saw