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

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instead of snowballs the boys were now using supercharged zap guns whose rays packed a wallop strong enough to knock out a giant. It made me feel rather sad to think that my own home town could have changed so much. Nothing was really the same except the cross on a mountain overlooking the city. I climbed into my speedster and raced to the nearest airport where I had a reservation on a rocket ship which would take me back to my new home on Mars. —Patty Robf.n ’55 ----WRHS— OUR ENGLISH CLASS Our expressions are deceiving as we droop into class one by one, so early the first period Monday morning. One would think we had been to bed late the night before, which of course is something we never do. The class is quiet when all of a sudden a clang and a bang and who should appear but the Newbury gang. Our class is now almost complete except for Ida who saunters in ten minutes later. The look on Mrs. Gibson’s face makes us all sit up straight when suddenly from the back of the room, what should we hear but Demeritt with one of his sarcastic remarks. Another pause, more dirty looks and the class then starts to settle down until from somewhere is heard the deep bass voice of our one senior girl asking the brains of the junior class what was our assignment?” A shrug from her shoulders and a yell from Dick lets us know that the spitball has hit its mark. The dreaded questions finally come. Dale, who was the author of the article we were supposed to read for today?” The look of pain and astonishment on David’s face tells us that he hasn’t read it either. But he isn’t alone as we see Yvonne with her fingers crossed and Patty peeking in her book. When she finally looks up, the frown of dis- pleasure on Mrs. Gibson’s handsome features is enough to set the class back. The one good thing is that Mrs. Gibson understands per- fectly the Monday morning situation and is ready to forget until mark- ing period comes! You think this is all, don’t you? No, it isn’t, for we haven’t heard from Donna yet. — Fourteen — —Yvonne Grenier '55

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It was soon time for payments again. Then more repairs, gas and oil for its daily runs, a battery charge once in a while and I found that most of the time I couldn’t afford to take it so Liz sat in the garage while I walked. Winter came and I needed winter tires and chains. The in- surance had increased and it was time to renew my license and regis- tration. I’ve sold Liz and bought two pair of shoes. They will last longer than any car. —Geraldean Brock ’54 ----WRHS--- A GLANCE INTO THE FUTURE It was the year 2054. The weather was pretty good considering I was on the planet called Earth. Many years ago I used to live there in the state of Vermont. Being a very curious person I began to hunt down my home town. I was cruising along at 180 miles per hour in my new speedster when I came upon a huge neon sign which read in flashing red let- ters, YOU ARE ENTERING NEW WELLS — SPEED LIMIT 130 MPH. I immediately let up on the accelerator. (I would have had to anyway because there was a slowpoke in front of me doing only 110.) As I made my way along the crowded turnpike I noticed that this was indeed a large city. Another sign loomed up in front of me which read BEWARE OF CHILDREN IN FLYING SAUCERS. (The poorer children could afford to run these because they were so cheap and out-of-date. Parents of the richer classes furnished their children with high speed rocket and space ships which enabled them to travel to other planets.) I could not recall a city called New Wells so I decided to ask the first person I saw to tell me a little of its history. After spending the day walking around I gathered enough information to write a book. I was amazed to learn that the population of Wells River and Newbury had gotten so great that the two towns found it necessary to combine and rebuild. The finished product, New Wells, was an ultra-modern city which covered a ten mile area. The whole thing seemed incredi- ble, but I was finally convinced that it was true. Everything was so advanced. Even in the enormous new high school the chemistry stu- dents were working on atomic weapons. College English students were writing novels instead of the common 300-word essay. Just one thing remained the same. The feud between the Woodsville and Wells River boys was still going strong even after 100 years. However, — Thirteen —

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THE THREE PAINS Will Rogers once made the statement that he’d never met a man he didn't like. When a person really stops to think, there aren't many people who really can’t be liked, but because of certain traits they possess, they are disliked. There are some that stand out because of traits, or habits they have. One of these types is the person that, no matter what you say, always agrees. You could say that lamas of Tibet ski on snow shoes and he’d agree. How in the world do you know whether they do or not? Of course your friend does. Being a man of great intellect, there is nothing he doesn’t profess to know. If you don’t believe him just ask him. This kind of person should admit that there are some things he knows nothing about. It would help his personality im- mensely. Then there are the people who have lived in one section of the country for as long as they have lived and are as much a part of it as the soil. For possibly two weeks out of their lives they visited some other section of the country in which the dialogue spoken was decidedly different and what these people consider cute.” They return home and what do the poor neighbors have to listen to? The worst conglomera- tion of language you could ever hope to hear. In this same category fall the people who have heard Texas Jim” and ' Luger Luggin’ Larry” on the radio and think that it’s big stuff. The biggest pains in the neck are the people who in a battle of words can’t utter more than two in a row without coming out with a string of profanity. At times they are quite decent people, but in an argument or any general discussion, they show their ignorance by loos- ing a barrage of profanity. They think it’s smart and never had the initiative to learn any others. Any person can learn these, and most all do, and use them at one time or another. It’s just the ignorants” who can’t control them. Of course you don’t hate these people nor do you really like them. The best you can do is tolerate them. At times that is a problem for the person with the best self-control. Toleration is one of the best ingredients of a person’s character. In order to get along with the afore mentioned types, that's the prerequisite, toleration. —John Demeritt ’54 ------WRHS--------- FIRE — THE WICKED DESTROYER My name is King and, along with the nineten other boys and girls, we live in a small house. It is not a very good one — a strong wind could easily blow it down. — Fifteen —