Westbrook High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Westbrook, ME)

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VVestbrook High School 1 N 'QQ' W 15 That isn't my picture, said I. To be sure it's yours, said he. No. said I, this resembles more a monster than myself. Do you know what he told me? He told me, If you want to have a picture of yourself that looks good, send a friend to have his picture taken for you. It is the last time I shall have my photo- graph taken at the photographers A. F., '36, WHAT SHALL WE READ? This is a very important question when one realizes that reading is a tremendous influence on the planning and ambitions of an indi- vidual's life. VVe see this fact illustrated in the history of various nations. The people of India read extensively, but because their read- ing is practically worthless as far as material is concerned, they are a backward nation. They also have become introverts because they have confined themselves to the writings of their own countrymen instead of the works of other countries. On the other hand, our own coun- try is the most modern in the world because of its advanced reading. Reading is also a factor in molding an indi- vidual's life. It may be for good or for bad. Of course, this is centered around the nature of the books read. An example of good in- fluence is found in the reading of our president. He pays little attention to fiction, but confines himself almost entirely to biographies and books that identify him with his own historical past. He makes this part of his library the arsenal from which to arm himself for the inevitable encounters of the future. Another example of this is the theologian, jonathan Edwards. As a boy, he read books which were gradually to fit him for his life- work-the ministry. Abraham Lincoln with his few books, namely, Pilgrim's Progress and the Bible, was molded for his later life and works. Books also influence for the bad, however, allowing the reader to live vicariously in an unwholesome atmosphere, many times furnish- ing unhealthful ideas. Although books of travel and Hction are good for anyone ordinarily, many young people in reading questionable literature of escape, which describes the lives of notorious characters, may be influenced into attempting to mimic them. So much for the infiuence that reading has on a person. Now let us consider. VVhat shall we read? Reading may, to a great extent, be likened to a physical diet. VVe do not think of living en- tirely on light foods, instead we are forced to resort to foods with more strengthening value such as meats and vegetables. It is the same way in reading. VVe must he as particular in our intellectual diet as in the physical. The mind must be developed in growth through our reading and unless our intellccts are developed we hafvc utterly failed in our purposes for reading. Of course as young people, perhaps falthough not necessarilyj, we will assimilate books of a lighter nature. It can't be expected that we read philosophy or Einstein's Theory, but as we get older and our minds likewise develop, we will be able to read more difficult books. It is to be feared that the reason many fail to grow in intellect is that they read books which are of no value. They confine themselves to a certain class of fiction-true stories, love stories, western tales, or detective mysteries - which stunt their growth. XVe might wonder if books of this nature may not have influenced John Dillinger, and Pretty Boy Floyd. Books of entertaining value are not all that we needg instead, it is necessary that we read something hard once in a while, something substantial that will challenge thought. A good reader is an artist. Wlhen we realize the advantages of reading, in acquainting our- selves with the travels over the earth, the biog- raphies of men past and present, the findings of men of knowledge, the discoveries of mod- ern science, the various arts, and so many other things that could be named, we shall realize that there are vast opportunities in the field of reading. We can stand on the moun- tains, look out over the plain, and find endless lands to explore. R. B., '35.

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E I The Blue E-r White 14 his Northern friends - all before dinner. How good that delayed dinner tasted. Nearly every Friday afternoon I devote to the answering of what mail I have received. VVhy must one be so formal in accepting an invitation? I told Eddie during Christmas vacation I could go to that 'Wfinter Carnival. Miss Anna Verrill accepts with pleasure the kind invitation .... VV'hat hokuml It took me nearly the whole afternoon to write a proper -acceptance. Then I started to write the southbound let- ter. VVhat penmanship! I always start out well, but as my letter grows longer and as I think of more things that have happened-I must write them quickly or I shall forget- my writing becomes worse and worse. I con- soled my conscience by thinking he was lucky to get a long letter, and I guessed that he could spare a few minutes of his time from social activities to translate it if he wanted to. I had an even more drastic thirty minutes trying to think of something to Write to my Brunswick friend. Since the traveling was so uncertain, I couldn't attend the Junior Prom. Mail employs thousands of people in our post olhces, in our streets, and in the rural dis- tricts. After all, those pleasures otherwise in- volved are helping somebody somewhere and that is a satisfaction. A. V., '36. AT THE PHOTOGRAPHERS I have just had my picture taken. VVhen one is good-looking, he must have his picture taken often. I have mine taken every ten years or so. An old aunt of mine who has rheumatism and - three thousand dollars - wanted my picture to hang in her bedroom. She's such a sweet aunt! So I put on my new suit, the one I bought at the fire sale two years ago. It's a tritle too large for me now, but I expect to be a little stouter some day. I had my new shoes on, too. I mustn't forget to tell you about the new tie I sported for the occasion. It was a tie I re- ceived at Christmas from my beloved. To have your picture taken is an easy mat- ter, but to have the right photographer is another story. In the towns where there is but one photographer, the choice is simple. VVhen you live in a big city where there are two photographers, then comes the difficulty. To make a long story short, I left home with my new suit, my shoes, and the tie I received from my beloved. Oh! I adore my beloved. If she does not marry another boy, or if she does not remain single, she will become my wife as soon as my aunt-without the three thousand dollars- leaves for a better World. I entered the studio and came face to face with an old man. He had long white hair, which, I believed, he had not combed since the day he was born. Do you take pictures of people? I asked him. Yes, sir, answered he, if you will be kind enough to sit down in this chair. I-Iere's a man who talks Well, I thought. I'd have to use some snappy expressions my- self. I came to this photographer, says I, to be photographed, so I could have a photo- graph of myself. The old 'man made me sit down in another chair. I waited while he was getting his cam- era adjusted. I felt radiant. There are days when you believe you look better than others. That day I felt superb. If only my beloved could have seen me then. Do my shoes show enough? I asked. He assured me that I was an example of perfect appearance. Then hurry, said I, I am get- ting tired of this pose, it pains my neck. The old man disappeared under a black cloth. I could see only his hands caressing the sides of the camera. - VVatch for the little bird, said he, one, two, three .... Cric, crac, it was all over. I didn't see any little bird. I think he wanted to have a good laugh. I paid him fifty cents and waited about half an hour. Then he gave me my picture. I looked at it.

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A Aqwv The Blue Er VVhite 16 A MUSICIAN IN THE MAKING For the last time, no! You cannot have a saxophone. You've been raving for days and days for one, telling me how quickly you'd learn, but I know better. It will be just like all other things, you'll give it up after you get tired of it, angrily exclaimed Horatio Hender- son, Sr., to his son Tommy, as he rose to go to his ofhce for the afternoon. The junior of the family had been teasing his father for several days to let him take les- sons on the saxophone and also to buy him one. Mr. Henderson doubted the sincerity of his offspringg but the truth was, that Tommy was absolutely serious about music. He loved it and 'intended to carve a niche for himself in the world of music. He had really made up his mind to earn his living with music. Yes, but Dad, music is different from those other things. I like it, and I swear I won't give it up. XVhy, I intend to earn my living that way. A'Very well, then, if you like it so much, go out and earn your own instrument and lessons and become an A-1 player. Then I'll believe you. More than that, when you've proved to my satisfaction that you've done all this, I'll buy you another saxophone, of different pitch from what you'll have. but remember, I have to be shown. Tommy left the house with the intention of doing just what his father had said. At first he went to all the stores about town, seeking afternoon employment, but was quite unsuc- cessful. As he turned out of the last store he had gone into, Tommy suddenly stopped short. I've got it ! he exclaimed, but paused doubtfully. Dare he try to carry out his scheme? There was not much chance, but- anything if he could take up music. He directed his steps toward the establish- ment of the city's best saxophone instructor. This man, L. Downey, repaired and polished instruments as well as taught how to play. Tommy finally arrived at the leader's office. On the door was in plain lettering, Mr. L. Downey, Teacher of Saxophone and Clarinet. He paused nervously. lfVhat was behind that door? How would he be received? These ques- tions flashed through his head, but he said to himself, VVell, it isn't begging, and he can't do more than refuse. Here goes! He opened the door with a firm hand and stepped inside a small, quietly furished room. Why, there was no one there. VVhy didn't someone come? His nerve was leaving him. At last here was someone coming. A kindly- faced, white-haired man came in from an inner room. His sharp, blue eyes smiled at Tommy. VVell, young man, what can I do for you ? Look here, sir, Tommy said, I've got something to ask you. You teach the saxo- phone, don't you? lfVell, I want to take it up. I can't pay for lessons, and I haven't even an instrument, but I've got a business proposi- tion. I'll come here every afternoon of the week and help you to repair and polish instruments. I can mount them and do other odd jobs around here. In return, all I ask is a lesson a week and the loan of an instrument to prac- tice on. Mr. Downey looked at Tommy keenly and silently. Tommy fidgeted. Well, why didn't he say something instead of looking at him in that way? Finally, Mr. Downey questioned, Do you really like the saxophone or is this a joke? Do you intend to work conscientiously on the instruments? Do you intend to practice as often as I tell you ? Before Tommy could answer this volley of questions, the teacher nodded and said, Yes, you'll do. I can tell by looking at you that you've got spirit and that you were born to be a musician. All right. You may begin now. Tommy gaped in surprise, hardly believing his ears, but when realization of his good luck penetrated his brain, he stuttered a thank you and fell to work sweeping the three rooms that made up the establishment. He worked his best that afternoon and when he went home, with the memory of a First lesson in his mind, he carried a saxophone by his side. He had been warned by the teacher to prac- tice diligently for at least two hours a day.