Page Two
HinH Life
February 13, 1953
Modern Art? . . .
A somewhat revised medium of expres
sion has again found its way into modem
society. Although this art was originated
by the caveman (perhaps in a wild pas
sionate moment between saber tooth tiger
bouts), the Senior High student has de
veloped, advanced, and promoted the art
of doodling.
Evidence of the caveman’s talent may
be found on the clammy walls of his
palatial cave; today’s advocate of the carv
ing craze exhibits his talents of carving on
the mutilated tops of desks.
Just as his ancestor expressed his inner
most feeling with his somewhat crude por
traits of next-door neighbors, so the high
school personality expresses his thoughts—
and thoughtlessness—on any convenient
flat surface. But here the resemblance ends.
The modern day doodler operates like a
traveling salesman, leaving his samples^ in
every classroom he enters. His wares vary
according to his many moods. When he’s
just had a tete-atete with his girl, he per
manently records his emotions in a deeply
etched heart surrounding his initials. When
he’s angry with his teacher, he draws a
most uncomplimentary likeness of her on
the nearest wall. After a defeat from a
rival basketball team, he slaughters the
victor’s name on each battered corner of
his desk. With an artistic flourish he en
graves his name, phone number, and class
on the seats of the auditorium chairs when
a program seems dull. From boredom he
plays a solitary game of tic-tac-toe on his
desk using a knife as a chisel. He and his
girl freuently write messages to each other
which will last as long as the butchered
desk will.
But with every slice he displays thought
lessness and barbaric traits. Yet he mutters
angrily each time his paper seems a little
rough for writing or he snags a cashmere
sweater on a splinter which he has un
earthed.
Admiting that creative ability is a gift
to be developed, we must suggest that the
apprentice spend his time creating things
of beauty on objects less expensive and
more personal than the desks which must
be used for a number of years by others.
Sound Familiar?
Boy, wait ’til you hear about what a
swell time I had yesterday! When that
fourth period bell rang, our gang jumped
into the car and scratched off like crazy.
Why? To skip school, stupid! You know,
get out of class!
Naw, of course, they didn’t catch us.
Naturally we all had admit slips this morn
ing, even though we did forge a few signa
tures and tell a couple of little white fibs.
We’re old hands at this sort of thing now,
what you migh call experienced eels. Why,
up-todate-. I’ve had three dentist appoint
ments, four tummy aches, and three fu
nerals, not to mention the number of times
my old man’s been sick, or so the records
say. The kids call me Escape Artist II; only
my brother (Class of ’43) could beat my
record, but I’m giving him stiff competition.
HIGH LIFE
Piihlislu^l Semi-Monthly by the Students of
(ireensboro Senior High Sehool
«reeiisboro, N. C.
Founded by the Class
of 1921
Revived by the Spring j5[
Journalism Class
of 1937
Carving his name in the hall of infamy!
Entered as second-class matter March 30,
1940, at the post office at Greensboro, N. C.,
under the Act of March S, 1879.
Editor-in-Chief Martha Moore
Associate Editor Martha Jester
Feature Editors Joan Osborne
Lois Duncan
Sports Editors Fred Marshall
Don Williamson
Girls' Sports Editors . . . . , . . Joanne Gourley
Cordelia Goodnight
Exchange Editor Patsy Eways
Business Manager Fullam Cushion
Circulation Manager Patsy Eways
Art Editor Fran Hosley
Photographer . , David Carter
Proofreaders Jane Eager, Barbara Still
Make-Up Editor Marilyn Neerman
Reporters Dick Frank. Don Morrison
Alfred Williams, Dan Haley
Adtnser Miss Paula R. Abernethy
Financial Adviser Mr. A. P. Routh
What did we do when we left
school?. Well ... ah .. .1 don’t
know ... I mean, we had loads of
fun, I think . . . We listened to the
radio, I guess. Oh, yeh, we gabbed
a lot.. . nothing much, though, now
that you mention it ... I guess we
spent most of the time looking out
for someone to catch us skipping.
You say I missed and English
test? Gost, I forgot all about that.
Oh, well. I’m failing anyway. Sure
hate missing that test, though . . .
Pop said he’d take my car away if
I failed any more subjects, but I’ll
get around him somehow ... I hope
Going to the game tonight? Sure,
I’d love to go with you. Hold on.
I’ll . . . Oh, darn. Mom says I have
to study for that test I missed when
I skipped last week. Guess I’ll have
to forget about the game. See you
around.
Huh? Oh, I don’t know, I may
play sick tomorrow. We’ve got a
geometry test coming up.
What’s Wrong?
An interested citizen and friend to
members of this student body ad
dresses this letter of serious nature
to the “chicks and chaps of the
Youth Center.”
For the comparatively small sum
of $5 a year, you members of the
Youth Center have bought your
selves a lot of entertainment. Like
the old song, “It’s Right Here for
You, If You Don’t Get It, ’Tain’t No
Fault of Mine”—you ain’t getting
it, and my question is; Why not?
I went up to one of your dances
recently—not as a participant, but
as a part of the fioor show. We had
no floor show; we had no dancers;
there was no one there who even
seemed interested in the good band,
which sat and played for the amuse
ment and entertainment of its own
members. Part of your money was
paid for that band, and in my lan
guage, that’s tossing away dough.
It really made me feel bad and quite
discouraged — not because of the
fact that I spent a good bit of time
rehearsing and preparing for the
floor show —but because no one
even cared enough to come and en
joy the dance and entertainment
given tor them. Yes, I mean given,
for it was all free, outside of your
initial $5.00.
Aside from the dances, look at
the other entertainment you are of
fered. I understand that there was
a hypnotist there not long ago. Be
sides his regular act, he offered
$10,000 to anyone who could pick
him up off the floor. From the re
port I got, thirty members appeared
for that show. Wish I were a mem
ber. I sure would have tried for
that $10,000!
I wish we had a place to go to play
ping-pong, pool and music in the
city where I grew up. We used to
like to have jam sessions, but oddly
enough, most of the mothers ob
jected, Oh, for a Youth Center!
You have it and you don’t use it.
Mel Strong.
Carter s Corner
By David Carter
I’ve been racking my brain for months
trying to think of something new to put
in this column. This ain’t new, but at
least it’s different! Use you imagination
a little and just think. What If:
JACK were a PECAN instead of an
ALMON.
BILL could RUN instead of WALKS.
ERNESTINE were a DEVIL instead of
an ANGEL.
IRIS were a MOON instead of a
STARR.
ALAN were DULL instead of SHARP.
PAUL were an ELEPHANT instead of
a LAMB.
JERRY were a GONG instead of a
BELL.
KENNETH were a HAIRDRESSER in
stead of a BARBER.
HERBERT were a COW instead of a
FOX.
FRANK were a SWAMP instead of a
GROVE.
CAROLYN were BUTTERMILK in
stead of LOWDERMILK.
LLOYD were a STINK instead of a
PUGH.
LILLIAN were a BOUNCER instead
of a THROWER.
JOYCE were CAST IRON instead of
STEELE.
JEAN were BAIT instead of HOOKS.
RUDY were a MARSHMALLOW in
stead of MARSHBURN.
GLENDA were ANDY instead of
AMOS.
RAY were a MUDBANK instead of
a EUBANKS.
TAYLOR were a DOG-GONE-IT in
stead of a DOGGETT.
DAVID were a MESSY instead of
MASSEY.
LINDA were ALGAE instead of MOSS.
BOB were a SURE-THING instead of
a GAMBLE.
LILA ANN were DICE instead of
TICE.
ALAN were a TURTLE instead of a
TUTTLE.
RICHARD were a WOW! instead of
a YOW!
BARBARA were the BOTTOM instead
of the SIDES.
HUGH were the LARGE ECONOMY
SIZE instead of a SAMPLE.
BARBARA were XXXX instead of a
STILL.
MARTHA JEAN were a CADILLAC
instead of an AUSTIN.
MARGOT was a STEINWAY instead
of a HAMMOND.
JEAN were a HOTEL insead of a
BARRICKS.
WILMA were a MUSTACHE instead
of a BEARD.
RALPH were DUMB instead of
BRIGHT.
SANDRA were a TRUCK DRIVER in
stead of a FARMER.
TONY WERE LONGER instead of
SHORT.
ANN were a ZIPPER instead of a
BUTTON.
BENTON were a HOT DOG instead of
a HAM.
Your Opinion
by Duncan ’n’ Osborne
Many Students feel that an added
hour in the day would solve all their
problems. In response to this idea
High Life has received the following
comments
Poor Raymond’s Wisdom
If the twenty-fifth hour were a reality
it would have one great drawback. It
would throw off all of Jabbo’s boys (and
Joyce) in physics. Aside from that, the
question is still before us, “What would
you do for an hour, if you had an extra
one?” I think I would try an experiment,
and study for a change. As I am now a
senior, I know what it is to sweat it out
at the end of each six-week period. Here
are a few statements from Poor Ray
mond’s Almanac. I hope they will help
all students trying to make it out of
Senior in the unheard of time of three
years.
1. Early to bed, and early to rise—
and your girl goes out with the other
guys.
2. ’Tis easier to do a little homework
each day than to do a lot the day before
exams.
3. An A in the book is worth two in
your dreams.
4. A sleeping wolf catches no chick
ens.
RAY LUTZ.
Impossible!
Having 25 hours in a day seems im
possible and too silly to imagine, but if
tomorrow I awoke and had one extra
hour, what could I do with it?
In the daytime, if we did not have
to go to school that extra time, I would
have more time to lie around, study, eat,
and just do nothing. At night I could
burn the candle late and still sleep the
same length of time. I could talk on the
phone, eat again, and just do nothing
for a little longer. On the weekends
I could stay on a date an hour longer
and still not be blamed for staying too
late with my girl.
This is what I might do with an extra
hour. What would you do with yours?
CHARLES “WOODY WOODS.
Conclusive Evidence
When first approached with the ques
tion, “What would you do with the
twenty-fifth hour of the day?” my first
response was one of sheer delight. It
was really very simple. I’d read all the
latest books I’d missed. I’d listen to the
radio, I’d see all the television shows
I’d missed, and I’d catch up on my back
sleep. I was satisfied with this glorious
vision until, upon further contemplation,
I decided I would be- domestic and learn
to cook and sew. Then maybe my driv
ing classmates and I would be able to
wheedle some extra time from “Oscar,”
our driving instructor, so we would have
more time to become good drivers. And
just thing of all the extra time I could
spend with my “One and Only!” But
alas, I was reminded with parental love
that more of my time should be spent
practicing piano and voice. Thoroughly
discouraged, I sat down and began to
think. Here were ten things to do in an
extra hour. I divided ten into the sixty
golden minutes of my twenty-fifth hour
and discovered I would have exactly six
minutes for each. My conclusion? R
we humans had a twenty-fifth hour, we
still wouldn’t have any more time than
we do now.
BETSY WALKER.
Same Story
What would I do with the twenty-fifth
hour of the day? There are many things
I could do; for instance, I could finish
the pair of socks I have been trying to
knit for the past four weeks; I could
begin my short story; and I could memo
rize my part in the Rainbow Girl initia
tion.
Of course, there is always that extra
sleep we all yearn for. I can just imagine
being able to turn over in the morning
and sleep an hour longer.
When we really think about this extra
hour in the day, it would be as it is
now. Everyone would still have too many
things to do and not enough time.
ANNETTE PATTON.