Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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There is no reason for her to lose her temper. We all make mistakes—I hope. A never ending stream of faces passes before me, old and young, ugly and pretty, meek and bold. Oranges, apples, bread, and cake sold. Mistakes are balanced with good sales. Six o’clock! The door closes—is locked. A still- ness steals over the store. I walk out to the street happy and contented, and proud—an authorized clerk at the National Store. My first day is over. —Ilene Darling TUNING IN A STATION Just as you get settled in your comfortable chair, sur- rounded by such enlightening books as Dante’s Divine Comedy”, or Milton’s Paradise Lost,” and of course your True Love magazine, and begin your diligent studying, fellow student, you are suddenly jolted by two thoughts: first, you remember that you have forgotten to tune in to one of your favorite radio programs; second, you are shaken by the realization that you have just remembered some- thing. At least the teacher won’t be able to say, Can’t you remember anything?” Oh well, you can celebrate that later. Right now let’s see if you can’t get the tail end of that radio program. Hmm, what station was that on? Oh, here it is! Yup, here’s your favorite announcer. If your hands are red or chapped, if your complex- ion is rough, if little Billy’s hands are always dirty, your family is probably using the wrong soap! Try Willy - Lilly-Billy soap, the soap that the whole family enjoys. Its fragrant odor, dainty enough for Momma Lilly, and yet masculine enough for Poppa Willy, along with its 10

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Gliding into my house I fell dead on the floor. Now I’m in heaven and have sprouted the wings of an angel. I am doing a little story writing in my spare time. —Eugene Winchester MY FIRST DAY After studying earnestly all afternoon, I suddenly look at the clock and to my dismay it is 3:15. Where has the time gone? I have only fifteen minutes to gather my wits and take my new job in the National Store. I stay at school as long as possible, but the time races steadily for- ward leaving me far behind, racking my brain for an ex- cuse to escape my doom. Trembling, I walk down the street. The store looms up before me. The door slides open. It can’t be I pushing it. I haven’t the strength. By some inner power driving me along, I slip through the door and take my place behind the counter. Suddenly a horrible face swims before me, and a deep voice bellows in my ear, A pound of cucumbers.” I weigh every cucumber in the bin, but none weigh one pound. I am panting wildly now. I look for an escape from this terrorfying place but the door is shut tightly. I grab one of the cucumbers, push it toward the customer, and whisper hoarsely, Fifteen cents, please.” He ac- cepts the price and stalks out. I am stunned for a minute, but come down to earth with a thud when I hear, Sweet wine?” Oh yes, let me see, sweet wine. That’s right here. No, it’s on the other shelf. At last with great skill I produce it. That will be eighty-three cents, please. What? Sour? But the label says—oh, sour!” 9

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wonderful cleansing power, provides you with the perfect soap that gives lasting protection. Sold in assorted colors and sizes at all drugstores. Be sure to get little Billy the pink elephant-shaped soap cake. He’ll really go for that. And for Pappa Willy there is a handsome fish-shaped cake. Remember! Willy-Lilly-Billy soap spelled backward means— I cost only five cents. Oh, and to think that an announcer gets paid for say- ing that. Albert,” (that’s you, fellow student) your mother suddenly hollers before you have time to swoon at the an- nouncer’s pleasant voice, It’s time for my favorite news reporter. I simply must hear him.” But mother,” Sis remarks. Lovella Parsons is on the air now and I simply, positively, must listen to her. Why, Van Johnson may have been married and if he’s not going to wait for me, I’ll sue him for cruelty to children. What’s all this nonsense?” Pop suddenly pipes up. To settle the argument I’ll listen to a hockey game.” You’ll do no such thing John,” mother sharply re- plies. Albert, turn on my program.” Just then fate takes a hand and the fellow next door begins his nightly shave with his electric razor. The radio blatantly blares out with some soft, soothing static and everybody with nerves wearing thin shouts, Albert, turn off the radio!” So, Albert you’d better turn off the radio, even if the static does sound better than the family arguing. Yes, turn the radio off and go back to your studying, son. Smother your desires for enjoyment, and take a shovel along when you begin one of Sandburg’s poems, or per- haps one by another author similar in style. You’ll need it to shovel your way out from under those deep-in-the- bowels-of-the-earth meanings. 11 —Robert Garvin