A Tribute to Excellence...

Even if you do not get up early these days to savor all the magic of a May morning, bird songs before sunrise, the clean, fresh smell of new leaves and blossoms, the dew on the grass and the pastel tints of the eastern sky that herald the coming of day, you are of course aware of the tremendous difference that a month has wrought in our local bird population. Not being a professional ornithologist I am not sure, but I would surmise that by now all the many and varied species of birds that summer on the Cape are busy with mating, nesting and rearing their young.

This startling but annual change has indirectly contributed to the Building Fund of the local Methodist Church. Hymie Burr, the general handyman and factotum of Nickerson Lumber Company, has devoted many of his spare hours this past winter to the building of attractive and colorful bird houses which he has been selling at the very low price of one dollar at Nickerson’s. All the money realized from these bird houses goes to the Methodist Church Building Fund. To date more than eighty of these nesting places have been sold. Hymie has surely done his share toward making the new chruch possible.

Our History Class safari to Sturbridge last Friday was a resounding success. It was a long day, but a full, worthwhile and delightful day. The weather could not have been more nearly perfect, the energy and enthusiasm of the youngsters was inexhaustible and irrepressible, their behavior was impeccable and the sights were so interesting and informative that it made the eight—hour round trip in the school bus worthwhile.

Old Sturbridge Village is not only a most interesting and educational, in the true sense of that much misused word, place to visit, but is also a very lovely spot in a delightful setting. As you walk about the village with its more than thrity buildings there is not an automobile in sight. There are no TV antennae stretching gaunt arms into the sky, no radios or blaring inanities into the peaceful countryside. It is truly a little piece of the eighteenth century tucked away in the hills of western Massachusetts. After you have seen it you wonder whether we of the twentieth century with all our wonderful devices and comforts are really so much better off as human beings than were the people who built those homes of long ago. I rather doubt it.

There are some people who seek publicity even if they have to pay an agent to get it for them. There are others who seem to have it thrust upon them, who, no matter how quiet and retiring their daily lives, seem unable to avoid the spotlight. Such a one is one of Orleans’ best—known citizens, His Honor the Mayor of Tonset, Charles F. Moore. You have read of his activities this Spring as President of the local chapter of the Brotherhood of Sidewalk Superintendents, but have you heard of his recent brush with our stalwart guardians of the law, the Orleans Police Department?

One evening last week Charlie parked his car in front of the theatre and went into his office, Stool 16 in the Pharmacy. While he was there dire deeds were afoot before the theatre. Chief Chief Dispatcher Colwell, Charlie Wilcox and one or two others watched in delightful anticipation as Officer Bob Young affixed a ticket for illegal parking to His Honor’s car. Ere long the Mayor emerged from the Pharmacy, climbed into his car, noticed the tag on the windshield, got out, picked it up, looked it and, in order to read it better, walked to the theatre entrance where the afore—mentioned spectators were watching and controlling their merriment by dint of supreme will-power.

Charlie looked at, the signature on the tag "R.T.Young. “who the devil is R.T.Young?” he exploded. “That, is Officer Robert Young”, volunteered the Chief Chief Dispatcher. "We11 ----" exclaimed Charlie and forthwith returned to Stool 16 for another cup of coffee. Presently he was joined by the Chief Chief Dispatcher on stool 15. “I can’t understand this,” said Charlie. “I’ve parked there for years without having any of this foolishness.”

To which the Chief Chief Dispatcher assuming his most official tone, replied, “Allow me to point out that this merely proves the integrity, the uprightness and the impartiality of the Orleans Police Department. Even a 'three-number license plate has not saved you from this. Allow me further to point out that, the notice requires you report within a specified number of hours to Police Headquarters. You cannot ignore this summons. What are you going to do about it?” “We11, I’ll tell you” said Charlie, removing his hat with the upturned brim and mopping his brow, “I guess I might as well get it over with now. Come on, let’s go.”

Leaving his car still illegally parked, the Mayor and the Chief Chief Dispatcher wended their way to Headquarters. They walked in, ignoring the men on night duty, entered the assembly room, turned on the TV and sat down. “There,” said Charlie with a deep sigh, “I’ve reported to Police Headquarters. Let’s have & cup of coffee.” Justice had been served.

The question of the week: Why are so many parents loud in their criticism of the local High School yet So utterly indifferent when they are given an opportunity to voice their criticism before the School Committee?

At last week’s much-publicized conference on the curriculum held by the School Committee do you know how many parents of high school students were interested enough to appear? Just exactly six. But, there were eight teachers interested enough to come in order to assist the parents if they could. “O tempora! O mores!” as a great Roman said two thousand years ago.