Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

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THE CRIMSON AND GRAY THE LIFE HISTORY OF CECIL, THE PIG Mary Dirlam ' 42 (Any resemblance to any persons living or dead, is intentional.) Chapter One One fine and misty morning Gloria Hog gave to the world eighteen future sausage fil- lers, the largest, and most remarkable of which she called Cecil. Now to comprehend fully the most amazing adventures of Cecil, it must be understood from the first, that Cecil was not an ordinary pig. Early in life he was destined to become a leader of all pigs, a benefac- tor to pork-kind, an emancipator of his breed. But to get back to the subject, Cecil was the largest, plumpest, pinkest, and most wrig- gly of all his little brothers and sisters. They looked to him with awe and reverence, and meekly obeyed all the wishes of this very superior pig. It was always Cecil who discovered the hole in the fence and found the most satisfactory method of mud-wallowing. And it was Cecil, beautiful, plump, pink Cecil, who was selected by Farmer Jenks to take to the county fair! Our hero was so excited that he fell into the skim milk and caught his tail in the pen fence. However, Farmer Jenks came to the rescue and gave our little porker a bath, after which he had a beautiful blue ribbon bowed at his nape, and was loaded into the truck along with Sidney Horse and Beulah Cow to be taken to the fair! Amidst a chorus of envious squeals from his brothers and sisters, he was off on his first grand adventure! Chapter Two Finally, after what seemed an eternity, our little hero ' s truck dragged into the fair- grounds. They were unloaded by a man who called Cecil Bacon, which made him feel rather uncomfortable. However, he soon forgot all about it in the excitement of being loaded into a beautiful little pen along with two other little squealers called Charles and Her- man. Now Cecil realized that these common pigs were far inferior to him, so kept his dis- tance and totally ignored them. Next day person after person flocked into the stables to see the animals, and late in the afternoon seven tall and dignified men walked up to Cecil. When the people saw these men, they too gathered around Cecil who was not a bit abashed, but felt quite superior. One of the judges explained that Cecil had won first prize, and that their guest of honor, John Barrymore, would give him his ribbon. After a hushed silence, that awesome character made his speech. Be it known to the people, he said, that this pig hath been given honor by the declaration of yon honorable judges who giveto him ofty sentence, saying that he be the most perfect pig at this fair. Cecil, he paid, I present thee, a blue ribbon. Now — for the first time in his life — Cecil was impressed by someone other than him- self. Such eloquent language, he thought, and then rose mightily declaring to himself, Henceforth shall I express mineself in lofty tongue, the language of Hamlet, of Macbeth, and Shakespeare! Ah Shakespeare! Chapter Three When Cecil was returned to his pen, he amazed all his brothers and sisters with the lofty language in which he spoke. Ah Titan ia, he said to his favorite sister Spotty (whose name he had changed when he had learned about the queen of the fairies,) Ah Litania, I weary of pig pen life. Thou hast not been to the outside world and cans ' t not realize mine feelings. But to mineself this life in yon pig pen grows weary. Ah, woe is me, woe, woe. Cecil, said Titania, I don ' t think yoor a-goin ' to be here fer long. Listen to Farm- er Jenks, outside the pen. Cecil strained his ears and heard the following conversation. Wal Hank, said Farmer Brown to his hired man, Cecil ' s getting old and mouty fat. Yep, yessir, so he is, remarked Hank. Hank, returned Farmer Jenks, I ' m a thinkin ' you better load Cecil up and send him to Mr. Shakespeare. Yep, I reckon, you ' d better. Then the conversation stopped and they walked away. Oh Titania, said Cecil, I am truly happy. Ah! Ah! Kiss me my sweet, I depart, for here cometh the hired man. The hired man loaded up Cecil and sent him away. His mother oinked happily over her son ' s good fortune. And so we leave our hero, merrily riding to Butcher Shakespeare — and close our story. The End

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DECEMBER 1938 LITERATURE A STORY OF A VILLAGE Blanche Slota ' 39 About five years ago, I had the pleasure of going across the ocean to my parents ' mother country, Poland. Because I was quite young at the time, I did not travel in the country as much as my parents did, thus I had much time to see the people, their homes, and their customs. The village I stayed in was called Klyz. It was about the size of all of West Street in Southbridge. It was located near the mountains in the southern part of the country. Although the village was small, many people lived there, all of whom were very hospitable. These peo- ple have to work hard for their living. They live much too far away from the town to do much selling or exchanging of products, so they have to live on what they grow on their own lands. People like these measure their wealth by the amount of land they own, not the amount of money they possess. The Polish people, however poor they may be, like to be joyful. They like to entertain themselves, and many of their entertainments are centered around their parish church. Some feasts the Polish people li ke to celebrate are: October 1, which is celebrated similar to our Memorial Day, Easter, and Christmas. When October 1 arrives, the people go to church in the morning. Then, at night, all the villagers in their native colorful costumes, meet at the church. From there in a procession they go, singing and carry- ing candles and wild flowers, to the cemetery. At the cemetery, candles are lighted on the graves, and a priest ends the day with a sermon. The friendliness and unity made a strong impression on me. Easter is celebrated in a style similar to the American celebration. People, colorfully dressed, go to church. Christmas is another big and happy event. One sees a whole village of people going to the midnight mass on Christmas eve, singing carols on the way. A wedding is a common but a very happy affair. The wedding festivities start the eve before the wed- ding takes place, when all the bridesmaids and ush- ers, usually about ten or twelve, meet, go to the groom ' s house, dress him, and then go to the home of the bride-to-be. Here singing wedding songs is the MISS SAUNDERS New Supply For Your Library common thing. After the ceremony in church, people gather from miles around and make merry the whole day long. Clothes are important for such an occasion. The bride is dressed in white, similar to the American cus- tom, but the bridesmaids and ushers furnish the color. Their costumes are like the ones people wear in America when they dance the Polish dance. These costumes are very valuable to the people end are kept to be worn only on the important occasions. The men, also, have colorful suits. There are not many men ' s costumes in America because they are hard to get. In this part of the country the land is very flat so that a person can see for miles over acre after acre of wheat, corn, and potatoes. The wheat grows up much higher than an average man. Small gardens before the tiny white thatched-roof cottages give spots of vivid color to the landscape. Each little village has its church and the whole scene is peaceful and happy. All in all Poland is a pleasant place to visit. GRACE GETS THE GONG Patricia Smith ' 39 Carter College was aglow with lights. The beams streamed from the dormitory windows casting silver hues on the dewy blanket. Grace Martin, a red- haired, pleasingly plump freshman, sat with her room- mate, Dot Rogers, in their tiny room munching chocolates. Gee, said Dot, that new sorority sure is tops. Everyone is praying she ' ll be asked to join. What I wouldn ' t give to belong, replied her at- tractive friend aimlessly tossing a pillow at Dot and missing by a wide margin. Call it the ' Catacombs ' don ' t they? Yes, it sure is a cute name, don ' t you think? But it sounds plenty weird, shivered the timid Dot. Oh, I dunno, that makes it all the better. Guess! I ' ll see what ' s to be done to belong, returned the adventurous Grace. With these words, the two girls heard the signal for extinguishing the lights, so the discussion was closed. One evening, several days later, while Dot was puzzling over a book, she heard Grace tiptoe out of the room. After an hour of fruitless study, the un- easy girl snapped on her portable radio only to hear her favorite irritation, an amateur hour. She was about to turn to another station, when suddenly a weak, trembling voice rasped through the controls warbli ng The Lost Chord. The voice had such a familiar strain that Dot listened, fascinated, for a moment, despite its inharmonious quality. At that instant she heard the chiming gong peal forth, and the announcer ' s polished voice saying, Better luck next time, Miss Martin. Some time later Grace returned, her eyes shining with triumph. In answer to her chum ' s pitying glance, she beamed happily and said, Dot, I ' ve passed my initiation successfully, and now I ' m a real member of the ' Catacombs. '

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DECEMBER 1938 SUMMER MEMORIES NANTUCKET Price Burgess ' 39 Approaching the wharf from Main Street, we pass quaint antique shops, a Chinese laundry, a restaur- ant, a gasoline station, an office building, and an ice plant. These things are typical of the waterfront of Nantucket where the old mingles with the new. Walking down the wharf, we pass two large lum- ber sheds. Soon, we become aware of a very power- ful odor which arises from piles of scallop shells which line the roads on both sides. These shells are pro- ducts of the shell fishing season and are stacked in the open until they are cleaned by the elements. Then, they are used to surface private driveways. By the shell heaps are located the fishing shanties. These are used to stow gear, to provide a place for the fishermen to gather and talk, and to give a place for opening shellfish. Contrasting with these ancient shacks, we find, further down the wharf, a gasoline station and a coal shed. This gas station differs from its cousin on the mainland in that it disposes gasoline and oil not only to automobiles, but also to boats and sea planes. The fishing boats that tie up on the further end of the wharf are distinguished by their smell and invariable dirtiness. On the other side of the wharf, we find the many small power boats of the shell fish- ermen. These are tied up four or five abreast and cause people to wonder what happens when the man on the inside wants to get out first. The answer is simple — he very rarely does. On the extreme end there is a large boat house which seems out of place by the great oil tanks near- by. It is here that the shiny motor launches of the wealthy tie up by the trim craft of the Coast Guard Service. Also we may sit on conveniently located settles and look out on the harbor. The harbor is usually filled with all classes of sail- boats, from the diminutive Rainbow to great schooners, power cruisers, racing speedboats, skiffs, and occasionally, a huge steam yacht. Thus, in walking from Main Street to the end of the Island Service wharf, we get the flavor of Nan- tucket. We find contrasts here as in other parts of the island. No matter how many modern develop- ments and by products come in, the salty flavor of the island cannot be erased. Nantucket as a result combines old-fashioned charm with modern con- veniences. GLOUCESTER Louise Gregoire ' 39 Like a faithful sentinel watching over the rock- bound harbor of old and picturesque Gloucester, stands the impressive fishermen ' s memorial, pictured in Captain ' s Courageous, depicting a weatherbeaten fisherman standing staunchly at the helm of his ship. G R E E T I N G S F R O M C E C In the lines of his face and in his steady, narro wed eyes can be read the whole history of the courageous and rugged seafarers who built up the meager colony of Gloucester into the chief fishing port of the United States. Such a quaint little village! Its narrow, winding streets all seeming to lead to the ocean. Its pic- turesque, nestling little cottages with their inevitable blue blinds, its bronzed and booted fishermen, and its horde of scenery-seeking artists cannot fail to leave Gn indelible memory on any visitor ' s mind. These details fade from one ' s memory, obscured, by the majestic and ever-changing panorama of the ocean at its front door. On a clear, summer morning the ocean, a deep mysterious green near the shore, shading into a warm and intense blue near the horizon, sparkles in the sunlight. The lobster nets, spread by fishermen the previous night, make dark patches on the glittering expanse, in sharp contrast to the silver sails of the fishing schooners. This is the time of day when the sea is in her most appealing mood; and every be- witched, sunlit ripple seems to beckon mockingly to all staid and settled landsmen. MISS POULIN MISS BIRTZ On a dull, misty day the ocean wears an entirely different aspect. Its waters are cold and gray and icy, and melt imperceptibly at the skyline into equally dismal skies. The only sounds that break the oppressive silence are the weird tones of the fog horn, the regular reverberating clangs of the bell buoy, and the beating wings of hundreds of soaring seagulls. As the tide comes in, the water boils and seethes, and the spray flies high, while the waves crash thunderously against the massive, towering rocks along the shore. Then it is that the ocean asserts its terrifying might and grandeur, and inspires a feeling of awe and wonder in us puny humans. At night the ocean is calm, restful, and, above all, beautiful. The moon casts lights and shadows on its undulating surface, and moonbeams ride the crest of every wave. Specks of fluffy foam flutter around like wind-rocked flowers in a black meadow of ocean, and the soft, whispering splash of the surf against the sand adds to the glamor of the ocean at night. It is with a reluctant heart that a visitor leaves this sublime sea-spectacle, and when he pauses once more on his way out of the village to read the inscription on the fishermen ' s memorial, they that go down to the sea in ships , it is with a deeper understanding of the fascination and allure the ocean holds for the Gloucester fishermen, who call the sea their home. AMERICAN YOUTH HOSTELER Albert Bouvier ' 39 To help all, especially young people, to a greater knowledge, understanding, and love of the world by providing for them youth Hostels (inexpensive over- night accommodations) in America and by assisting them in their travels both here and abroad over bicycle trails, foot paths, and highways is the pur- pose of the American Youth Hostels of which I am a member.