Wakefield High School - Oracle Yearbook (Wakefield, MA)

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I do think, said Miss Susan, that that dream has some dreadful meaning. What do you think it can be? A tidal wave! That ' s it. There w; s one, well, let me see, Uncle Tom had been married two days, so that must have been thirty, — thirty-five, — thirty-nine years ago last — It couldn ' t be a flood, for there hasn ' t been a drop of rain for the last three weeks, and the river ' s as dry as a bone. ' ' Well, we haven ' t had much rain, it might be a cloud burst! You know that all those guns going off in France for the last five years have had a lot to do with the weather; and if there was a cloud burst, it would come from a black and gray cloud. But the voice? What about that? Why, the voice only means that it ' s coming tomorrow, whatever it is,— and do you know! I haven ' t got the front room cleaned! I ' ll have to run right along and get the house to rights, because I ' d hate to have them find me drowned in a dirty house, and — Why, it ' s after five o ' clock! We ' ll all have to go. I ' ve had a real pleasant afternoon. If you hear anything, just run over and let me know, won ' t you? We ' ll hear tomorrow what it ' s going to be — I think they ought to have a prayer meeting tonight, as long as we ' re not sure about tomorrow • — Goodbye! Goodbye! The next day dawned bright and clear, but everyone noticed a peculiar grayisli look around the sun. Toward noon a faint, gray haze appeared in the northwest, and this slowly grew into puffy gray clouds. A deathlike stillness hung over the town. The clouds became darker, and began to sweep across the sky. In some places they were inky black. All housework was stopped. The sewing circle assembled on the church steps, op- posite Si Hopkins ' s store and waited and watched, but not in silence. All had now adopted the cloudburst theory, and fully expected to hear the voice at any moment. Suddenly a buck-board appeared on the dusty river road, tearing along at full speed. He ' s coming to warn us! shrieked the ladies in chorus. It certainly looked that way. He drove pell-mell up the road and stopped short in front of Si ' s store. The ladies pressed around- him, and Si himself sauntered out. What is it? What ' s coming? A cloudburst? A tidal wave? The end of the world? The country has gone dry. Wilson has signed the prohibition amendment. Noth- ing but water for us now! Water! remarked Si Hopkins in a dis- gusted tone; water — water — water — Water! cried the ladies. Water! exclaimed Miss Susan. There yju have the meaning of the dream! And 1 know why the flood swept Si Hopkins ' s store away, too. But the voice, and the black and gray floud? Why now, they do say, that President Wilson always wears black or gray. SELMA ROACH. ' 20. A SOLILOQUY With all this wonderful Spiritualism, Why can ' t Cicero be a realism? With his deep and powerful gift for talk. If ' twere only five minutes, he ' d make things walk. He ' d settle the Red and the Profiteer , And find who ' d live in the White House next year. He ' d make Old Mars come half-way to get The rocket the scientists are trying to set. He ' d make Kaiser Bill take his long- delayed dose, And he ' d patch up the League so that all ' d feel jocose. And to do all this, he would simply ri e. And open his mouth, and also his eyes. And look at the Red and the Profiteer And the candidates for the White House next year, And bellow forth in his sonorous tones, Latin enough to make Jove utter moans. And just as he made that Cataline stray. Away from Rome, up the Appian Way, So would he drive these rascals to reason. And obliterate every thought of treason. But alas! Since this can be only a dream. We must leave it to Ouija to make the world beam. RUTH GLIDDEN ' 21. 9

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down by the massive gates of a fashionable country seat. Raising his violin, he softly drew the bow across the strings. Some- how he found himself playing the River of Di-eams. The skilled touch of the player and the sweetness of the melody threw the strains over the high garden walls. Inside the walls a lawn party was taking place. Mrs. Ellen Graham was trying to render the afternoon a pleasant one fo. ' her set. They were sitting on wicker chairs, sipping tea out of diminutive cups. They were laughing and joking and in a constant state of amusement. Presently there was a lull in the conversation, a mo- ment when a pin could have been heard to drop, and over the wall a melody was waft- ed on the breeze. The guests listened, amazed. It was a lullaby, so dreamy, so entrancing that no one spoke for fear of breaking the charm. But what was this that had come over the proud, self-pos- sessed society woman, Mrs. Graham? An ashy hue took possession of her face. Her trembling fingers refused to hold the tea- cup which fell to her feet shattered into fragments. It is my father, she cried, playing the ' River of Dreams ' for me. I must go to him. And declining any offer of aid, Mrs. Ellen Graham wended her way out to the gate where sat the old musician. Father, she cried, take me into your arms and heart; how I have missed you through these years. After I had earned enough money to buy all the luxuries I felt you needed, I came back home for you. But the windows were broken and the grass and weeds had overrun all the gar- den. I inquired, but no one knew where you had gone. You do not know how I have suffered through these years. But now I am glad, very glad, for at last I have found you. There was a joyful look on the the old musician ' s face as he pressed his Ellen to his heart. All was forgotten as his feeble hands stroked her hair. All that mattered was that it was Ellen, his Ellen, come back in answer to his playing. The sun was slowly setting. Myriads of colors were reflected in the sky. Down among the trees sank the sun, a mass of flaming red. And so went the life from the old music master. Sudden joy had done for him what long years of sorrow had failed to do. Herr Schneider had gone Home. IDA ESNER, ' 22. THE FLOOD Received honorable mention in The Boston Traveler Short Story Contest Sally Shaw must be crazy. The idea of a woman of her age having such dreams! exclaimed Mrs. MacKenzie, look- ing around the circle with indignation. Well, anyone who drinks tea that ' s been boiled ten minutes ought to have dreams, or nightmares, I know I would. But then, they do say that I make the best cup of — But, broke in Miss Susan, don ' t you believe in dreams? You know, I have read that every dream has a hidden meaning, and there are people, spiritualists, or what- ever they call them, that can tell just what each one means. Now, if we only knew where to find someone to tell us what that dream of hers meant, why — What dream are you talking about? asked young Mrs. Goodwin. I haven ' t — Why, haven ' t you heard? — Why Sally Shaw had a dream last night and — She said it was terrible, and when she woke up she was half dead — She was nearly overcome this morning when she told me — Her eyes looked just as wild as — She dreamt about a great flood that — The water poured down from a moun- tain and rushed — No, that isn ' t right. She told me it was like a tidal wave full of — Well, anyway, it was water, and it came all of a sudden, and went right over — Yes, and half the people were drowneJ, a lot of men especially, and she said th?c she could see Si Hopkins ' s store sailing away like mad! Yes, and she said that she never saw anything so a-we-inspiring — Oh, I forgot the voice! She heard a voice saying, ' Tomorrow, only tomor- row! ' — And she said it came out of a black cloud — No, it was a black and gray cloud — It hung right over the top of the water! And it was going as fast as an auto- mobile!

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THE M. S. G. IN BOSTON On September 10, 1919, because of the Boston Police Strike, the Massachusetts State Guard was called out for riot duty. A few of the high school boys were mem- bers of the local company at that time, and consequently responded to the call. Several others enlisted a few days later. Co. H of Wakefield was always in a quiet locality, therefore, all that I can relate is merely the daily routine and manner in which we lived while on the tour of duty. We left town about 6 p.m., and upon our arrival at the Cambridge Armory, which is the headquarters of the 12th Regiment, we were sent to Station 14 in Brighton. Im- mediately details were drawn up and we were sent out on duty. We were divided into two reliefs of four hours on and four hours off. In the four hours off, we slept, that is if there wasn ' t too much noise going on, for those who did not want to sleep, had absolutely no consideration for the ones that did, so the barracks were kept in a constant uproar. One of the witty members of another company yelled out, This is the first time I have ever slept in a police station. That statement was true with most of us. The food was fair, but it was served down in a dirty cellar, on old pie plates, and with silver which was enough to take one ' s appetite away, but we weren ' t fussy, and we ate anything, in any place, at any time. As for the police duty, it was simply walking up and down the street and keeping the sidewalk clear. After we had been in Brighton one week, we were shifted to Station 10, at Roxbury Crossing. Then we were split up into three reliefs of eight hours each, (but usually from nine to twelve). There v ore no quarters in which to put us, so we had to travel to the Cambridge Armory, when relieved, where we ate and slept. This lasted several days, then we were quartered at the Roxbury Boys ' Club, where we had at our disposal, a pool room, bowling al- leys, a swimming pool, and all other priv- ileges of the building. But this lasted only two or three days, and again we were shifted. This time we were sent to Station 9, Roxbury, and were quartered in the Mu- nicipal Building, where wc remained about three weeks. We slept in the gymnasium, and as our company was the last to pull in, we got what was left over. There was a running track around the gym about six feet wide and about ten feet above the floor, which was reached by a little spiral stairway. We were sent out on eight- hour shifts, and had regular policemen beats, which covered several city blocks. During the last week there, arrangements were made to let the high school fellows off every other morning to attend school, in order to keep in touch with the daily work. That automatically put us on the four to twelve p.m. shift. We usually reached bed about one a.m., arose at six, and arrived at school at eight, where, quite frequently we would lay our sleepy heads upon the desks, and take a little nap. After three weeks ' duty at Station 9, we were sent back to the Cambridge Ar- mory for a rest. That may be the mili- tary tei-m for it, but little rest did we get there, for we had to go through regu- lar camp duty, including drills, hikes, and barrack guard. At the end of our week ' s rest, we were sent to Station 11, in Dorchester, where we were quartered in tents on Mt. Ida. The cool weather had arrived, and this camp overlooked Dorchester Bay, therefore, it was cold at night in that place There was no cook tent there, so we had to travel in trucks to the Municipal Building for our meals. After our first journey for our supper, we arrived back at camp about 7 p.m. A non-com came and called out my name, and said the captain wanted to see me. He took me over to the cap- tain ' s tent, telling me that I was in for it. What didn ' t go through my head in those few moments, I can ' t relate. He shoved me into the tent in a somewhat un- military manner, and to my great sur- prise, I found a crowd of fellows and girls from Wakefield High. It seemed mighty good after we got all our crowd together, for it was the first and only crowd tliat ever visited us. We were at Mt. Ida only a few days, when we were recalled to Cambridge, where the re-organization took place. Al- most all the hig ' h school boys were relieved from duty, and we reached home October 25th, after six and one-half weeks of duty. It was a wonderful experience for us, and one which I think none regret, but on the other hand, no one seems to be so very anxious to go through it again. CARL G. PETERSON, ' 20. 10