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THE FULL MOON
November 24, 1965
Briefly Speaking...
Ignorance has triumphed again! A young man recently burned
his draft card In protest of U. S. involvement in Vietnam. Upon
his arrest he immediately v/anted to know why this action was so
sternly condemned. After all, he is entitled to the right of pro
test since our democracy is based on expression of the individual.
We feel sure that arrangements could be made for his transporta
tion to one of the more remote sections of fighting.
*****
The Full Moon staff wishes to extend its congratulations to
the newly tapped National Honor Society members. Ginny Rogers,
Robbie Vick, Pat Snipes, Fredia Plyler, Janis Clarke, Jean Ray,
Alberta Doby, Billy Tucker, Ellen Wilson, Vickie Alexander, Sara
Mabry, Nancy Walker, and Julia Nicoloutsou have all worked to
maintain a standard that meets the requirements of the society.
« « « * «
The assembly program which illustrated the rules of safe
driving proved to be one of the most informative as well as
most interesting held here in a long time. Stimulating in its
opening, this program further impressed students with actual
driving demonstrations in the street in front of the school. The
demonstrations helped students to realize the importance of speed
by actual observation of braking distance. Visual illustration is
the best method of introduction. Our school was indeed fortunate
to have such a program presented to its students.
*****
For the first time in the history of our school, we have an
officer on the state student council congress level. That officer
is Jane Lowder, the Secretary of the North Carolina Student Coun
cil Congress. We are all proud of this honor bestowed upon Jane.
Besides reflecting the leadership traits of Jane, this election also
points out the successful degree of activity of our student council
and speaks well for the whole school.
A Pilgrimage
As each dying leaf falls to the crusted earth, a ray of sun
floods through its vacated spot and casts itself on the next
leaf, all alike, all dying. These trees! these leaves! where once
I romped and rejoiced like a child possessed, but now I can only
watch and remember, alone, for those woods no longer call my name.
Now the autumn sun gives way to the rise of the swollen moon
and a veil of darkness prevails throughout the barked mansion.
And the song of the blue birds is dulled and slowly slips away to
return to a joyous dawn, "fhe frogs all hide beneath the dor
mant strawberry patches for the ants are no longer bountiful.
Life in my forest has gone to seek itself in another time, a time
unlike this time. And so as the mdon reaches its peak, a wind
begins to churn the leaves into a talkative rustle, a conver
sation from earth that seems to be coaxing the stars to illuminate
a path through the sky. Suddenly the door of nightly sounds
is flung open and the unseen creatures chant their mournful tune
to the nothingness around them.
Onward, toward the thickened darkness is the only direction
my feet can take me for though I am but one of six. Behind me
walks a man who knows not his destination nor knows he his
life. He lives in a world of a retarded mental state and although
he is solid of build and strong as a winter wind, his mind holds
no bundle of memories. His steps are slow, heavy and intentional,
and the bulk of his shoeless feet absorb the slightly audible
crunch of the drying brush, but his face shows no sign of the
pain inflicted by the briary prongs. Behind this man is another,
suave in manner, with little sign of suffering upon his countenance,
only an empty expression of definite indifference to the time and
situation. This man, void of emotion, attracts not my eyes but
rather pleads with them to'move on. Again following the line
of men there is a farmer, different from the others only by his
rugged dress and the tragic expression painted on his face. The
eyes of this lifelong laborer draw pity from nature and the sweet
harshness of the night tends to retract its fear from this solemn
figure. His brow is full of wrinkles, each inflicted by struggle and
hardship, and his cheeks are drawn and the sun burnt bronze gold
no longer looks healthy but is frozen into a wax-like mold. There
is another among the tired five, driven on by the sixth, who ap
pears somewhat inspired by what the future, or more appropriate,
futureless future, holds. His lips are pursed and his fists are
clenched and his back is rigid and straight, although it carries
perhaps the heaviest of human knowledge, anxiety of death. Fol
lowing this line of men is another, a man only by watching his
chest and shoulders, for his face is masked and all that shows
are the darkened slits which one would imagine to be eyes. In
his hand he grasps a whip and around his waist are a knife and
a gun. The tremble of Fate passes over me and I am forced to
look before me, to the scaling bark of the old oak tree where the
dying leaves fall to the crusted ground, and the glowing moon
casts a shadow to the open earth, the shadow of a limb and of five
nooses.
—Michal Medling
The Full Moon
Published by the journalism class of Albe
marle Senior High School, 311 Palestine Road,
Albemarle, North Carolina.
Subscription $1.50 per year
EDITORIAL STAFF
Brave New Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving Day has finally arrived at the average home of
an average American family in the above average Great Society.
That antique provision of a politician, long since passed on the
Great Senate in the sky, of chicken on every table in every home
has been fulfilled. The chicken or turkey as the family’s need
determined may be quite skinny and have very little meat on it.
But one cannot expect much more from the government surplus.
Did the family expect the government to furnish everything, in
cluding candied yams and cranberry sauce? What do tiiose folks
think this country is—a land of plenty?
In the home only one place at the Thanksgiving dinner table
is vacant. This place once belonged to a husky 19-year old kid.
Today this teenage man celebrates his Thanksgiving with rice-
brewed beer, K-rations, and hot, steaming pieces of turkey. The
Society looks after its boys; none of them go hungry on Thanks
giving. Just because the settings are different from home, a fox
hole clamy with jungle dew, green crawling things scurrying across
his plate, and a sniper’s bullet punctuating his prayer, it does not
mean he is restricted in his celebration. If he were not there
fighting so that his relatives could celebrate Thanksgiving in
harmony and peace he might as well come home. Then he could
do somethoing useful for his government when he celebrates
Thanksgiving—like burning his draft card. The Great Society thrills
to see a card go up in flames.
But the family has grown accustomed to the vacancy at
the table. Talk around the table hops from one topic to another.
Uncle has attracted everyone’s attention as he sentimentally de
scribes the poor conditions throughout the states he has traveled.
His tears of concern almost spill onto his plate which has just
been filled with a third helping of everything on the table. The
rest of the family looks over Uncle’s display of emotion because
they realize that he over-emphasizes the facts. They all know
that the best things in life are free. Therefore, everybody in Ameri
ca gets a Thanksgiving Dinner. Indigestion after the lunch is
remedied by governmental dispersion of soda bi-carbonate.
Toward the end of the meal, one little stupid kid asked what
Thanksgiving was all about. After he was laughed completely
out of the room for such show of ignorance, the adults settled
back down and looked up “Thanksgiving” in an encyclopedia.
Upon finding that it was a celebration with Indians and settlers
for living through a winter, they all just laughed and put the
encyclopedia back on the shelf. What a ridiculous celebration!
After all, the Indians have never had it so good!
Edltor-in-Chief Allison Harris
Promotion
Manager. Buck Snuggs
Editorial Editor Dane Perry
New* Editor Linda Long
Club Editor Cindy Hamilton
Feature Editor Ginny Rogers
Assistant Feature
Editor Betsy Patterson
Sports Editor Carolyn Eury
Assistant Sports
Editor Bill Hartsell
Photography Randy Burton
Printed by Press
Art Editor Debbie Weernhoff
Taping Dianne Hill
Co-editors Grey Gamewell
Business Manager...^andy Kelly
Edwin Sides, Financial Mana
ger; Debbie Weernhoff, Adver
tising Manager: Keith Wolf,
Circulation Manager; Joe Bea
man, Exchange Editor.
Staff....Elicia Harwood, Michal
Medling, Julia Nicoloutsou,
Oroon Palmer, Faye Van-
hoy.
Advisor....Mrs. Nancy Gamewell
Printing Company
Same Old Thing
That furious diatribe concerning
the use of prayer in schools, that
raged throughout the entire nation
a few years ago, has left no last
ing effects on our school. We still
have morning devotions and oc
casional prayer at assemblies.
During the heated debate, how
ever, no one stopped to evaluate
the daily devotions. Are they real
ly beneficial to our school life?
The first minutes of homeroom
period are dominated by a dull
roar. Often the teacher has to
ask the room to be quiet in order
that the announcements may be
heard. During the devotion, most
of the students have their minds
elsewhere. They are, perhaps,
thinking about one of the an-
noucements or the English test
they are going to have. Maybe
they are absorbed in their trig
homework. At any rate, few real
ly listen to the devotions. And
what do these few hear? An
illustrative story with an over
used and wornout moral is usual
ly the devotion. Those who give
the devotions are more often
draftees than volunteers.
Unless the student body shows
more interest in the daily devo
tions, they may as well be elimi
nated.
Julia's
Viewpoint
Three months have already
passed since I came to the Unit
ed States. They passed so quickly
and really I cannot realize how
quickly they passed. Each day
was full of new experiences which
sometimes were connected with
much fun. One of these was the
Modern Music Masters induction.
That day I was surprised very
much at the really good program,
and I had the most fun I had
ever had since I got here. I real
ized that all the members of the
Modern Music Masters Society are
talented and that each one has
his own talent. All the members
who took a part in that program
impressed me because of their
good performance. But the fun
niest time was when the President
of the student body sang and
was hit in the face with shaving
cream. I had a wonderful time
then which added much to my
entertainment and experiences in
the United States.
The homecoming football game
was another experience. I real
ized that many preparations were
made with much enthusiasm and
that many students helped for a
successful homecoming game. I
liked very much the parade with
the big bulldog, the band, the
majorettes, the cheerleaders and
the sponsors. In Greece the ac
tivities for the football games are
quite different and so, that home
coming game was something new
for me.
I was glad to learn about the
American Halloween and I enjoy
ed this custom of the disguised
children’s "trick or treat.” In
Greece we have something like
that but not exactly the same.
During the first week of March
we have Carnival and on the first
Sunday of March there is a big
parade of disguised people. In
the parade there are many floats
decorated and some of them are
original and very funny. Many
disguised people walk in the
streets and almost everybody has
a wonderful time during that date
and many dances are held. It is
a special date for everybody to be
happy.
The National Honor Society was
one of my best experiences. I
feel so happy that I was accepted
as an honorary member of the
National Honor Society. I liked
the decoration which was really
pretty. The tapping seemed funny
to me and I realized that it added
much to the surprise of the new
members.
In my home the way that
a good student is honored is dif
ferent. At the end of the school
year, the students, who had good
grades, good character and ser
vice for the school, receive not
only their certificate, but another
paper too which is called “The
Praise” and tells about their good
character and grades and that
they have the congratulations of
their teachers and their best
wishes for better progress at any
other school after the high school.
It is one of the best ways that
a student is honored for his good
behavior at school.
BITS OF
WHOEVER owns the pen used
at the National Honor Society tap
ping: your pen does not work. A
few names seem to be partially
unlisted in the Role Book because
this pen was temporarily out of
ink. Imagine how Joyce Story
felt when she discovered that a
portion of her speech was miss
ing. Congratulations to Joyce on
her superb memory!
RUMORED around school is
that Coach Gibbs is turning our
wrestlers into Reverse - Robin
Hood-Thieves. In other words, our
boys are stealing from the needy
and giving to the rich — them
selves. Tlie pile of soap collected
for the Vietnamese by Operation
Bubble slowly diminished day by
day. Wonder what happened?
Well, just so you didn’t put your
CHEESE
dirty towels in place of each bar,
boys. That would be a little too
cruel.
WHAT IS IT that brought the
sweet smell of rotten pumpkins,
eggs and a feeling of fresh rain
to us? Why, last October 30! I
still have yet to wash my car from
the onslaught of water balloons
and eggs, but who wants to wash
away such sweet and treasured
memories? Who can forget the
merry chases o’er hill and dale,
uptown and downtown? RUN,
RUN, FUZZ, FUZZ! The “mean
wittle kids” heaving boulders at
you, the squeal of tires from quick
stops to remedy this situation, the
"splatt” of water balloons, and
the smell of burning rubber blan
keting ^e town. Yes, these things
linger on, but OH! What a head
ache!
WHAT or WHO is inside the big
bulldog?
Soap.—David Cranford.
Wire, paper, wood.—B*by Hill.
1000 Trojans.—Billy Sikes.
Fortune cookies with raffle tic
kets in them.—Frankie Barbee.
Air.—Mr. Hatley.
Bill Trivette.—Chuck Morehead.
Snow White.—Mitchell Holt.
7 dwarfs.—Frankie Russell.
007.—Billy Wilhelm.
Half digested soap.—Steve Hath-
cock.
Mr. Bubble.—Steve Vander-
berg.
A birdie.—Jane Sanges.
A smiling picture of CENSOR
ED.—Tanya Lefle.
A purple people eater.—Johnny
Auten.
Mr. Qean’s bod.—Charles Lef-
ler.
A bunch of baby bulldogs.—
Sid Smith.