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Show Tuesday, June 1, 1943 SOUTH HIGH SCRIBE Pae 5 This Way, Cub By Glezos pp : j "Pot Luck" Holds Good for Many At Dinner -- Dance Comes now, cubs, that an-nual "take what you get and like it" affair, the Award Din-ner Dance. We thought per-haps you might be interested in a few of the spicy-little-nice- ys so we raided General Foulger's safe, pushed aside her 10 lb. sack of sugar, and came forward with these Juicy morsels : "PUT UP JOB" . . . Stan Kilbourne squiring Barbara Morrison. Too good to be true, but then who are we to spoil Stan's fun. "BEAUTY AND THE BEAST" . . . What better title could one find for lovely Don-na Youngberg and her "strict-ly-up-tow- n" escort, Bob Story? "MOST PERFECTLY MATCHED COUPLE" . . . Dashing Don Ogaard and "kickapoo-joy-juice- " Kathleen Kenny tripping the light fantastic. (We do mean "trip-ping" and we do mean "fan-tastic"). "NOTHING BUT GOOD" ... is our definition of Lieu-tenant Colonel Ernie Poulsen and Loretta Child, although we expect to see Joyce Morrison following in the rumble seat. (Incognito, of course, as a spare tire.) "ONE WORD" ... is all that's needed to describe Mary (shoes) Harmon and Doug (Dream-boat- ) Burgess. One word . . . WOW! "EMILY POST'S DREAM COUPLE" . . . will be there exchanging "pleases" and "thank you's" . . . Chal Goss and Ruth Carlson, the perfect example of South high's re-finement. LAST BUT NOT LEAST . . . who would have thought that quiet boy, Dexter Mc-Gar- ry would draw glamorous Camilla Smith? Interesting, ' huh? Just a few musings, but who can tell what will happen when tall meets short, and queer meets queerer? Will Glamorous Gert's steady be stolen by the gal with the in-nocent blue eyes? And will Homely Harry lose his sweet-heart to one of the big-tim- e kids? Ask me if you can find me after writing this column. Some fun! Bob Jackson: New Slants on Track Occupy Space Of Feature Editor "There are three qualities that a good track man must possess in order to win. He must have good coordination, the will to win, and guts ! "You all know what you're capable of doing. All you need to do is go out and give it all you got. You distance runners divide your races evenly, and don't save too much. All you guys who are going to run the relays better prac-tice passing the baton. The rest of you had better take a lap, and then go in before the sun saps your strength." Nate Long had said something like this before the triangle meet. We were all pretty excited that day, with a strange feeling inside. Riding up to the stadium in an orange bus, we were as quiet as a funeral procession. Doug Heiner had a bad cold in his head and throat; Bud Palmer had shin splits; everyone had cold feet. "No one ever warms up too much before a race," Nate said. "It won't hurt a bit if you even work up a little sweat." We ran around the track a little, noting that the wind was against us. First, they called the field events, and af-ter they had been completed, the races start-ed. "Last call for the mile," someone shout-ed. A funny feeling crept down our throats, and into our stomachs. That's you, Van Cott, Wharton. Good-luc- k. "Last call for the high hurdles . . . last call for the 440 .. . last call for the half mile . . . last call for the low hurdles . . . last call for the 100-yard-da- sh . . . etc." South went out there and won. Some boys couldn't even stand up after they ran. Their lungs were burning; heavy breaths of air stuck in their throats. Oh, that last lap was tiring! How had you ever made it in? How come you hadn't dropped dead at the end? Voices rang in the air: "Nice going, Hart-ma- n . . . nice going, Child . . . nice going, Kilbourne . . . nice going, Jackson." Yet for every winner, there were losers Many of the boys in blue and white felt the heaviness of defeat. Their noses were white as a candle, and they couldn't keep their eyes off the ground. This was the last time they could run for South. On the way past the "Block of Cement," South rang out her Victory Song . . and then "On South high ... we stand behind you for-ever . . ." A cold shower felt good to sweaty bodies. After all was said and done, the general at-titude of the boys was this: "If we didn't win, we won't give up. After all, there'll be college days ahead after the war. The cham-pions cheered Nate . . . without him they would have suffered defeat. Oh, South, if you could have seen the boys as I saw them . . . Flanagan, Roller, Ralph Jackson, Van Cott, Kilbourne, Child, Palmer, Parker, Adams, Carabine, Eves, Stevenson, Woolf, Patterson, Neeley, Brimley, Hartman, Gilbert, Jones, Heiner . . . tomorrow there'll be a new bunch almost as good as the last year's. Some have ran their last race. The Army and Navy have given them a call, and the training they received has bettered them for the struggle they are about to go into. They will still fight with the same spirit, so that the future generation to come will go on sing-ing, "On South high ... we stand behind you forever." Just a Boy in Khaki (Continued from Page 4) And from this battlefield, Like others far and wide, Came boys in khaki, going home To families and friends on the other side. Leaving buddies killed in war Lying 'neath the deep brown earth. Taking only memories Of years filled with sorrow, now with mirth. God keep our boy's in khaki, Preserve them from the foe. Send them back across the sea, Give peace to us below. Let freedom live forever On land, in air, on sea. Let rich and poor together, Love our flag and our Country. The Editor's Postscript: Writer Reminisces, Voices Sentiments For Grads of '43 Dreams, those sometimes abstract wisps of meditation, are as prolific today at grad-uation as last year or the year before, but indications are that gradu-ates in the class of '43 will have less occasion to bank on i their dreams coming true FW than any other class in-- the M vfl history of South high school, g fj 1 Even the students who W graduated during the in- - U gfM$ fancy of South high into the American life being torn by economic depression, some-- I how managed to escape the f,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,! 7 bitter blast of the world's pent up sufferings which MILT may be. launched at us. We are being sent into a world with uncertain as-pects such as few other classes have ever known. But for the information of any and all concerned, we know these things, and we're ready to meet 'em. Tomorrow? What can it bring? Happi-ness, maybe grief! Either way the coin lands when flipped by fate, it would take a swallow of quite a bitter solvent to take from us the remembrance of the joys gathered during our years at South. As I sit in front of my typewriter, pound-ing out the last bit of opinion which will come from me into the columns of Scribe, maybe I'm getting a little sentimental. If so, it's a good, healthy, ripe sentimentalism. Maybe it will help me to grasp more securely the memories of South's dark halls, airy class-rooms, regularly scheduled assemblies whole grain with a little corn and those associa-tions which may now be lost to us, forever. Leake, Dick Jolly, and others who left to join the Navy V--l programs at the University of Utah. We hadn't forgotten you, fellows. In lieu of exact information on the status of the stu-dent government after your withdrawal from the school, we withheld publishing your ab-sence. Jock Giacomo very adequately filled in for Deeber, although he was missed, and South enjoyed the policy of "Carry On;" so here is our apology and wish for you to keep up the good work. The familiar jump clock on the wall has gathered its minutes to chime that this ramb-ling must end. With this warning, we pass into another realm, the commencement of life; and we write for this year our final SO. The president sent his greetings to a num-ber of Southerners last week, and those loyal Cubs will soon be joining the armed forces to help wipe the impressions of victory from the minds of the Axis with good-ol- d South high FIGHT. Tommy Challis, news editor of the Scribe this year, had his call this morning at 6:45, and he may not be present for gradua tion or the award dinner dance. Such is the sacrifice we must make. "The eyes of South high are upon you," Tommy lad, and upon every Southerner who joins you in your efforts with the fighting Yankee forces. These things bring in mind the fact that we haven't had a line in Scribe about Dee Lowder, Dave McLelland, Buzz Tingey, Lewis Memories Haunt (Continued from Page 4) ample, everyone settled down to a good time at the Old Settlers' dance. Kent Peterson was there with Jean Zumwalt. On the 24th of April, placement tests were u given at the university. That was a set-u- p whereby the morons be-came acquainted with themselves. With May came the Girls' Dance. Among those there were Shirley Williams and Julian Maack, Beth Smith and Max Ingram, Ida Lee Jensen and Joe Walters. Now we seniors look forward to graduation some of us, eagerly, more of us, sadly. We can't help but wonder whether we will ever again have days as carefree and as happy as these ones at South have been. As we walk down the aisle, we will remember and smile. We will look forward with expecta-tion, and hope, and faith. "Memories, Memories, Dreams of days gone by " May our memories always be as happy as they are now. It isn't what our girls know that bother us it's how they learned it. Angry Father: "What do you mean by bringing my daughter in at this hour of the morning? Joe College: "Had to be at -- t school at 8:10." The German army has resigned itself to the necessity of spending winters in Russia. Napoleon should be alive now to tell Hitler ,how much he enjoyed the winter sports in Moscow. AHEAD! It's now we leave our knowl-edge home, To walk the path of life. The path now filled with boul-ders huge, Great rocks of war and strife. When we at last surmount these rocks, And hit the path again, We'll find this land is ruled by us; And war we must disdain. The knowledge that we've gained is school, The school that we now leave, Has made us understand this truth: That peace we must retrieve. Look forth, then Seniors, on ahead! Ahead there are no fears. In several years return your thoughts, And thank your High School years. Edwin Miller. |