Page Two
High Life
October 12, 1964
Whirlies, Whims
And Whispers
BY HALLIE AUSTIN
WANDERING WHIRLIE: So many
students can be seen standing at the
“ex-doors” o-n the second floors. Per
haps they’re wondering whether life is
worth a whole year of Chemistry . . .
A senior let the cat out of the bag when
he dropped one of his “Big Deals” on
the sidewalk. Printed on the ticket was
“Graduation Ticket — $1.00; Sophs—
Take Advantage of THIS Big Deal; Buy
NOW and Graduate TWO YEARS EAR
LIER!!! . . Add things that ought to
get together: Grimsley and Candid
Camera . . . George Grimsley, as un
truthful as ever, says he saw in his
crystal ball that Burlington would win
the Whirlie-Bulldog football game.
LOST & FOUND: Try this Whirlie
brain-product just for luck: “Since Sen
ior is a large school, why not try the
Student Exchange Program on a large
scale? Simply select the lowest hundred
scholastically, since they need more edu
cation, and send them to Europe in
exchange for a hundred Europeans.”
Needless to say in what percentage that
hopeful ranked!
THINGS I REMEMBER ABOUT BE
ING A SOPH: Feeling a very proud
peddler to have sold one of my ten pen
cils.
IN THE GROVE: Overhead: “Cigars,
c-igarettes, Tiparillos . . . According to a
Grove poll, the most unpopular fellow
(and strangely so in such a flower-
infested place) is the one who borrows
weeds . . . There were fists flying at
this traditional spot yesterday. It seems
someone would rather fight than switch
... To whom it may concern: the A.C.S.
wants to condemn our cherished Grove,
hut the A.T.C. has filed protest.
WONDERING LITTLE BOY BLUE:
Dear me! Where could I have been when
they passed that law? The one requiring
water to stand an inch deep on the
covered walkway between the science
and Main buildings after the rain. Oh,
yeah. It must have been while I was
attending the Convention of the Society
to Save Okeefenokee Swamp.
HOW CUM: The Orchestra never
plays at football games?
'High Life' (asuaiifies
For the next hundred or so words, we
are going to eat crow. Grovel, grovel,
grovel. Scrape, bow, scrape.
First of all, several classes missed
receiving their issues of High Life.
That error is the fault of our circula
tion department. Second, the “Clothes
Horse” advertisement referred to PAGE
students. Ha, ha. We are now taking
applications for a new advertising staff,
and two bylines were left out, John
Taylor for “Shrunken Hear,” and Halliet
Austin for “Whirlie, Whims and Whis
pers.” Our editors are all veterans and
a little shellshocked.
But, don’t start writing letters about
•out mistakes. After all, the edition
was free ,and we’re very young, and. . .
HIGH LIFE
.Published Semi-Monthly by the Students
of Grimsley Senior High School
Greensboro, N. C.
Founded by the
Class of 1921
Revived by the
Spring Journalism ||
Class of 1937
Second Class Postage Paid
Greensboro, N. C.
Editor-in-Chief
Jane Turpin
.. John Giles
Managing Editor
Business Manager Ann McSwain
Advertising Manager — Diane Robertson
News Editor Fran Upchurch
Feature Editor Sue Billman
Sports Editor Paula Main
Photographer Ralph Beaver
Cartoonist Kitty Keesee
Exchange Editor Judy Lavine
Once Upon A Time
In Disneyland
Once upon a time in a place called Grimsleyland the students and
faculty had a problem. It was called—to put it bluntly—rain.
When the rainy season came to the land, its parking lot flooded. The
holes and ruts and mud made it impossible for cars to move at a normal
pace, or at all. AU the inhabitants of Grimsleyland, boys and girls alike,
donned their London Fogs and carried big black umbrellas for their long
trek to their automobiles. They figured there was nothing they could do
but brave the weather, so they might as well dress for it.
Now all of the peopte of Grimsleyland did not park cars in the park
ing lot. In fact, some of the inhabitants did not even drive. This made it
necessary for their parents to pick them up when the long day was over,
on the back road behind the Grimsleyland high school.
One summer day, when all Grimsleyland students were in voluntary
exile for the summer, a group of Prince Charmings, known to the masses
as the Board of Education, decided that Grimsleyland’s parking lot had
seen its better day. They decided to pave the parking lot.
This was fine with everyone concerned. But, in the tradition which
most princes carry out, they got carried away. They paved half of three
schools, put in assigned parking spaces, builjt a new street, established,
of al things, a speed limit, put up a stop light, and closed the old road
behind the school.
Grimsleyland reopened in September. All the students loved the smooth
new parking lot without the holes and ruts and mud. But ... the rainy
season had not come yet.
It will be here soon. Students will still have to don their London Fogs
and carry their big black unbrellas, in order to walk the three miles to
their cars. What about those people whose parents used to pick them up
on the old road? The only solution will be for them to learn to swto.
They can still be picked up on Westover Terrace or on Campus Drive.
That’s a pretty far piece to hike in the rainy season, though. There will
have to be somte sensible solution, for our story to have a happy ending.
All that can be said is, “Cheer up, brother, the worst is still' ahead.”
The Highway of Education
Ah, at last oim illustrious traffic squad has fnHy assumed its shining
authority and become a full-fledged police force. And in accordance with
this impressive turn-over, the whole school has become organized and
orderly as if in the presence of the students most beloved authority, the
highway patrol.
No longer will swarming students, sophomores, and teachers become
confused as to which lane to use. For now, there are really live traffic
medians composed of boards, trash cans, and traffic squad members—an
interesting combination of materials, no doubt—^who direct the flow of
humanity with calm efficiency and valor.
But most impressive and revolutionary of all are the whistles of our
brave officers take every available opportunity to use. These do indeed
lend the final touch needed to give the squad that really professional look.
But we wonder what they do to you for moving violations.
If black frogs are injected with an
extract from the eye glands of shrimps,
they turn white, a German zoologist
claims.
Mishimin-Pitossitchigan and Meshka-
wakoding-Bimaigan are favorite desserts
of the Objibway Indians of the Heron
Bay reserve in Nortswestern Ontario.
LETTERS
TO THE
EDITOR
Editor of High Life,
The O. Henry Juniors of G. H. S.
realize the need of school spirit in our
students. The last issue of High Life
contained an editorial referring to a
precision dance group called the “Danc
ing Boo-ts” at Reynolds High School.
Our club has been discussing the possi
bility of such a group since last spring,
and the coincidence of the editorial
renewed our interest.
We realize the work and expense
that would go into it, but the O. Henry
Juniors wholeheartedly endorse the idea
and would like to sponsor it.
In the event that we find we could
take on this sponsorship, we would like
to start on a relatively small basis,
using inexpensive uniforms and a small
nimber of girls. Our plan is to choose
about twenty girls through try-outs.
Under the direction of several of our
club members who are experienced in
choreography, the girls will be taught
simple dance routines to he performed
during half-time.
Our advisors and some of our mem
bers have consulted Mr. Routh, and we
are now waiting for his go-ahead before
asking the cooperation of the band and
the athletic department.
Later there will be more mentioned
about this idea. Meanwhile, remember
the success of such an endeavor de
pends on the enthusiasm and school
spirit of the students.
Sincerely,
Susan Henley, President
O. Henry Juniors of GHS
Dear Editor:
The first High Life was an exception
ally good issue. I offer my congratula
tions to the staff. Most of the news
articles were very well done, and I
enjoyed all the features.
Congratulations on turning out a fine
newspaper and good luck with your
next issues.
Sincerely,
Candy Sauer
Boo]^ Briefs
THE VENETIAN AFFAIR
Helen M,aclnnes
From its ery fisst page Helen Mac-
Innes’ new novel is permeated with
spspense. Bill Fenner, of the New York
CHRONICLE and the main character,
boards a plan at Idlewild, cheerfully
anticipating a European vacation, but
chance disrupts his plans and thrusts
him into a struggle against a lonspiracy
whose outcome could shake the world.
Woven from the very stuff of current
history, offering matter for sober
thought as well as the inimitable blend
of literary skill and superlative excite
ment that is Helen Macinnes’ hallmark,
The Venetian Affair is a triumph for a
brilliant and distinguished story-teller.
MISTRESS OF MELLYN
Victoria Holt
As the train carried Martha through
the wooded hills of Devon, she could
not help feeling a deep sense of fore
boding. Being a governess was the pre
scribed formula, but Martha was a high-
spirited, attractive girl, and she hated
the very idea of it—^particularly when
she heard of the strange mysteries that
shrouded her new home at Mount Mel-
lyn.
THE DAY MUST DAWN
Agnes Sligh Tumoull
This romance of pioneer life in west
ern Pennsylvania, seen from a woman’s
point of view, at ounce puts Mrs. Turn-
bull in the top rank of novelists. The
scene is Hannastown, a “day’s ride”
from Pittsburgh, where the story be
gins in the bleak winter of 1777 when
Washington was encamped at Valley
Forge.