Page Two
High Life
May 22, 1953
A Seniors’ Last Moments
Well, it’s almost over. I stand here in
my traditional cap and gown, solemn, quiet,
thoughtful, living my last moments as a
senior of this school. He’s calling out the
names now and placing into each shaking
hand a diploma—the seniors’ death certi
ficate.
“Ahalt . . . Armstrong . . . Austin . . .”
It’s strange how many feelings, how many
thoughts, can be crowded into five short
minutes. Funny what silly little memories
can bring a smile to my solemn face . . .
“Beall . . . Black . . . Button . . .’’
Like the first time I ever walked over
Senior’s threshold. What a scared, awed
kid I was! Even the ominous clock in the
half seemed foreboding, just as it does now
as it ticks away my life as a senior . . . That
darn locker with the impossible combina
tion lock . . . my first admit slip . . . over
due slips from the library . . . band con
certs . . . rainy nights for basketball games
. . . stares of the seniors . . .
“Carter . . . Clark . . . Crutchfield . . .”
The suspense and wonder when I wit
nessed my first Torchlight tapping ... the
shame when I discovered there was no third
floor in the science building . . . the first
time I dated an upperclassman, the night
I sat in chewing gum, ruined my best suit,
and turned crimson with embarrassment.
“Duncan . . . Edwards . . . Eways . . .’’
Events, feelings, all so much a part of
my life, indeed, my very life itself. I’ll
never forget those cold winter rains that
flooded the walkways or how good a warm
ugly radiator felt to my soaked feet. Then
winter turned to spring, bringing those
delicately,tinted, scented cherry blossoms.
May Day, beach parties. Funny now that I
think of it, but it seems as if I grew with
the seasons too. Oh, not that my growth
came abruptly or in the change of my shoe
size. The development creeped into little
things . . . like the humility I felt as I sat
in the junior seats in the auditorium for
the first time ... or the appreciation I
felt for Ann and Bill when they stepped
down as president and veep ... or the
angry words I held back when we lost an
other football game . . .
“Gourley . . . Hennen . . . Hiatt . . .”
How will I ever forget—or repay—those
many people who have molded my life?
Mr. Routh and his understanding when I
explained that geometry was simply not
my subject . . . Miss Blackmon’s hearty
congratulations when I pitifully placed
fourth in that contest . . . Mom’s silent un
derstanding when I broke up with my girl
. . . Pop’s generosity with the car . . . that
special person I walked to class each day
though I never got enough nerve to ask her
for a date . . . the buddy I chewed the rag
with and bored with my mild yarns . . . our
strong mutual friendship . .. my little sister
and the pride she takes in talking about
her senior brother ... Gosh, it’s hot in here!
A fellow can’t even see clearly for the heat!
“Jenkins . . . Loman . . .’’
Only a tew more seconds to go and I’ll
take my last walk across the stage as a
senior. I don’t want to go! It’s like a dream
—that recurring one in which you’re caught
HIGH LIFE
Tublishod Semi-Monthly by the Students of
Greensboro Senior High School
Greensboro, N. C.
Founded by the Class
of 1921
Revived by the Spring
Journnlism Class
of 1937
Filtered as second-class matter March 30,
1040, at the post office at (Jreonsboro, N. C.,
under the Act of March 3. 1870.
Editor-iv-Chief Martlia Moore
Associate Editor Martha Jester
Feature Editors Joan Osborne
Lois Duncan
Sports Editors Fred Marshall
Don Williamson
GirU’ Sports Editors . . . , , . . Joanne Gourley
Cordelia Goodnight
Exchange Editor Patsy Eways
Business Manager Fullam Cashion
Circulation Manager Patsy Eways
Art Editor Fran Hosley
Photographer , David Carter
Proofreaders Jane Zager, Barbara Still
Make-Up Editor Marilyn Neerman
Reporters Dick Frank, Don Morrison
Alfred Williams, Dan Haley
Adviser Miss Paula R. Abernethy
Financial Adviser Mr. A. P. Routh
Your Opinion
by Duncan ’n’ Osborne
As graduation creeps nearer and
and nearer, Seniors began to real
ize that there are some things about
GHS they -will miss. Here are a iein
of them:
Leaving Senior will be one of my sad
dest experiences. For three years, I've
enjowed the fellowship and friendliness
of the student body, and now that I think
about it, that’s what I’ll miss most.—
Joyce Lee
'Patience, young man. Yours MUST be here somewhere."
in a net that is pulling you persist
ently toward a fathomless pit. These
past few weeks have been in them
selves a hurried dream—invitations)
thank - you notes, rehearsals, hot
robes, signing annuals . . . Until
now I have enjoyed a beautiful ex
istence with few responsibilities and
wonderful associations. I don’t want
it to end!
But what was that the speaker
said? Something about “You stand
on the threshold of a richer, fuller
experience than you have ever
known — life. Your twelve years
in school have been but a taste of
the abundance which lies beyond—
greater challenges, deeper friend
ships, more wonderful memories.”
“Still. . . Taylor . . . Tunstall. . .”
Funny, but I’ve heard that be
fore— perhaps in different ways.
He’s just called my name and as I
walk forward now I carry with me
a treasure of memories. But some
where behind this solemn face and
under this gray robe is a hope, an
expectancy, an eagerness to dis
cover what lies Beyond. So my exis
tence as a senior ends and my life
as a man begins.
A Graduate’s Prayer
Most gracious Heavenly Father,
as I stand on, the threshold of life,
it is indeed fitting that I humbly
bow before the Giver of life itself.
My heart overflows, dear God,
with awe, expectancy, appreciation,
and perhaps even fear as I pause in
the midst of the confusion and
hurry to speak with Thee.
As I cast a backward glance, I
see paths which You have appointed
for me—like a garden path of sweet
rose petals made sweeter by the
crushing of feet. You have poured
into my veins the bubbling fountain
of youth, overflowing with happi
ness, few tears, and new days after
each black night. You have given
me the most invaluable gifts I shall
ever behold — the friends around
me, the duties before me, parents
to guide me. So I am prone to look
backward, relishing the wonders of
the past. But in my heart you have
instilled the love—some call it curi
osity—of another new day and its
pleasures. Help me to look upon
graduation as the beginning of that
new day—promising more than yes
terday could pretend to own. Help
me to meet each new challenge—
and I pray, God, there will be chal
lenges, with renewed vigor and re
affirmed faith in your guidance.
Help me to remove each ugly stain
from today’s character that tomor
row will be blest by some improve
ment. Above all, may I prepare my
self to accept with humility and
gravity the cause—Your cause—my
elders have tried so valiantly to up
hold. And may I — whether I be
mother, student, wife, or laborer—
never forget that Thou art with me.
Amen.
The things I shall miss the most
When of graduation I can boast—
Are home room period when I had much
much “fun,”
The study halls where my “studying"
was done.
The cafeteria where I ate “Grade A”
food.
And the library where I “spent” a
brief interlude.
—Bob Harrington
Carter’s Corner
By David Carter
Finally, after twelve long years of
struggling, that grand and glorious day
has come. But, believe it or not, it
really was fun! And after seeing such
antics as supposedly go on in Mrs. New-
Man’s classes, as was demonstrated
yesterday morning, one might be led
to believe that it was much fun. But
what would a class be like if it were
not for the fun and frolic of Paul “Na
ture’s Last Mistake” Hill and Ray “Wind
bag” Lutz?
Wonder who’ll provide “bus” service
to the top of the hill during lunch time
next year! Might the poor suckers—uh,
I mean, souls be Jack King, Dean Soots,
and Kelly Maness?
Johnnie Bolick: Why don’t you speak
to some of the seniors some time. After
all, you’ll be one someday, and you’ll
want sophomores to speak to you.
Jean Monnett: After months of wait
ing, you’ve finally gotten your name in
the paper. Now, why don’t you do some
thing extraordinary so we’ll have some
thing to gossip about?
Unwanted Ad Department
For sale. Assortment of banged up
used band instruments. Apply any senior
band member after Monday.
Wanted: One gossip columnist for next
year. No need to apply. Just talk to
Gloria Gilmore and you’ll be able to
write as good a column as anyone else.
For sale. One good, slightly used, sin
gle bed. Excellent for people with in-
somia. Apply Jimmy Tunstall or Jimmie
Armstrong.
Will exchange 1-A draft card for 4-F
of same. See Alton Ingram.
Wanted. Used phonograph records in
good condition. Particularly want Little
Brown Jug, Wine Spodiodi, and Drink
to Me Only With Thine Eyes. See Jerry
Keen.
Travel opportunity. Will furnish trans
portation for some girl to and from Drive-
In every Saturday night References. Con
tact Alfred Williams before Saturday
night.
Wanted. Someone to talk to in study
hall next year. Must be good conver
sationalist. See Ann Carter.
Well, it looks as though this is all.
Sorry I can’t say” ... so until next
time, be good.” Why? Because, if you’ll
pardon the expression, “there just ain’t
no next time.” But it really has been
fun. Farewell fellow gossiper, and DO
be good!
^orry to leave you, G. H. S.
though it is to go.
^ecer forget us, G. H. S.
Jnfo the world we go.
Qn to the things that wait for us,
1> eadu because you’ve readied us.
N. M.
I think since I’ve been in the choir
three years I shall miss it most of all.
Though we worked hard, our many won
derful trips and our good times justified
it. Of course all of us seniors in the
choir will miss “Queenie.” — Betsy
Walker
Next to Lila Ann, I’ll miss the Band
most. I’ll miss the basketball games a lot,
too. —Jim Tunstall
After I graduate from GHS and enter
college this fall, I feel that I will miss
the friends I have known during these
three years at Senior. Some of them will
remain in Greensboro, but most of them
will scatter to every college and uni
versity you can think of. Going through
high school has been very pleasant for
me mainly because of the friendly atmos
phere which prevails over the student
body.—Gary Sheffield
Among other things, I’m going to miss
the hunger pangs that attack me at the
end of the second period and last until
one o’clock lunch.—Chris Velonis
Im going to miss seeing a lot of ray
friends and acquaintances. Also. I’m go
ing to miss walking around our pretty
campus at lunch time.—Apn Mansfield
I will miss all of my “beep beep” bus
driver friends of the machine shop. I
hope the ydon’t push anymore blind
dickens in. the creek.—Charlie Sneed
My dirty locker is what
Gretchen Kelly
’ll “miss.”—
High Life Goes to Rest
Today 'we put away our battered
typewriters, throw away the empty
paste cans, and discard all rejected
old copy as High Life goes to rest
for about three months. Last Sep
tember we asked your support in
our annual subscription drive; no^
we wish to thank you for both your
financial and spiritual support.
There have been changes this
year—we’ve dug up an ancient edi
torial policy which still meets our
needs. In our editorials we have
praised, criticized, joked, and grown
thoughtful at times. In our features
we have kidded around a lot and
tried to bring to your attention en
lightening topics. In our news Stories
we have attempted to keep you up-
to-date on school affairs. And in our
eight-page brain-child, we have tried
to capture your spirit and to excite
some spark of your imagination. It
is our humble hope that we have
succeeded in some small measure.
So we lock up for awhile, leaving
the remnants of our supplies to next
year’s staff. But we would leave
something else for them ... the
hope that they will find their ex
periences with High Life as enrich
ing as we have, that next year they
too can say “I’ve never had so much
fun!” that they will have the same
responsive readers as we’ve had;
that your support and interest will
grow immeasurably.