Page Two
High Life
November 22,1965
Whirlics Whims and Whispers
A Thanksgiving story: Hubert
Horatio, ace reporter, asked Whir-
lies what they’re thankful for. Most
unusual answer was a sophomore’s;
“I was thankful for my pet pump
kin.” “Uh huh, really! What was
your pumpkin’s name?” “Puff . . •
Puff the magic plump pumpkin.
Let me tell you about her. P. was
born 345 years ago in 1620 in magic
plump pumpkin patch in Civinette
garden behind the coliseum and
Rain And GHS
Has anyone noticed what rain
does to GHS? It covers the side
walks. It activates some of the
traffic squad and it drenches many
of the Students.
One of the main sources of sop
ping wet people is the bus parking
lot where Whirlies await their
orange buggies for safe delivery
home. These people simply stand
in gravel, mud, and the rain while
they fondly remember the shallow
er lake near the science building.
Some the riders of the buses have
even complained (heaven forbid)
about their lot (pun). They feel
that some sort of covering would
be quite useful and comfortable for
this area.
Some of the more enterprising
members of this group have sought
shelter under the coyered walk
ways between the music and_ voca
tional buildings, but they still get
wet when tranversing to the arriv
ing buses.
It has been suggested by several
regular patrons of the bus lines
that a service might like to look in
to the possibilities of covering the
walk to the bus lot.
Perhaps this project could come
after they have covered the walk
to the home economics building
and to the students and teachers’
parking lots. Without a doubt,
Grimsley’s rain goers have gotten
a little damp in the past, but the
future may look brighter, (pun)
in front of the bar in Fort Grimsley.
Chaste maidens from MAYFLOW
ER found her when tending their
tomatoes, squash, corn, and sun
flowers one workday. ‘A cute little
fat pumpkin’, squealed one damsel,
whereupon Puff bit her finger.
Fair is foul and foul is fair . . .
in fog and filthy air,’ quipped P.,
quoting weatherman. Laughing
gleefully, P. waddled through the
grove, smoking as she went, like
some sharp girls seen nowadays
smoking in the grove. Fort traffic
squaders flip through nifty DICK
TRACY CRIMESTOPPER’S TEXT
BOOK to see what was said about
lady pumpkins smoking in the
grove. ‘A pick of punishments: Go
ing to the game tonight instead of
Pixie Playhouse like all sophomores
on Friday night or you may be
burned at the stake!’ ‘Oh, I’m not
a lady, so it don’t matter!’ ‘Well,
scram then. Your complexion
wouldn’t show up in the flames
anyway. Don’t forget the Indians
are coming today to show us how
to put smelly fish in the ground and
have corn come up instead of baby
smelly fish. And don’t tell them
that facts of life don’t have dead-
fish having popcorn. Remember our
policy. ‘Appease the Reds.’ Puff
went to see Pocahontas, the town
Pickup. They stole all the fort’s
guns. The men had to hunt with
cannons and thus they didn’t get
any turkeys. Everyone that told you
as a kid that Pilgrims had turkey
on Thanksgving were liars and you
didn’t know better. Tonto Good
Indian, seeing the thefts, went to
the fort. 'Hi, Awatha,’ said the
guard. ‘I am not Hiawatha. He
drowned near the shore of Okee
Fenokee. P. and P. stole the guns.
‘Tattletale, tattletale,’ screamed the
guard and shot T. Puff was put in
iaR, starved, shrunk, and got lost
in library book RISE AND FALL
OF THE ROMAN BREAD. I found
her recently. She followed me ev
erywhere on a leash, but popped
Monday. Somone gave me a bana
na, but I don’t want it.” “Why not?”
‘'Who knows what to feed bana
nas?” Thanks for sophomores.
The Art of Destroying Trash
In order to alleviate some of the pressure that is put on the sen^ice
clubs of GHS, an afternoon class is being formed to mstruct students in
the art of destroying trash.
Since apparently, no one believes in trash cans anymore, the clubs
have united to teach all students who handle cigarette butts, paper, cups,
etc., the methods of field stripping.
Field Stripping (Elementary) 1 and 2, the new class, begins its instruc
tion with the art of disposal of cigarettes.
First, the cigarette is put out. This is a necessity in order to carry out
the remainng steps; otherwise the affair can be very messy and pamtul.
Next, the cigarette paper is slit, and the tobacco is scattered around to
the wind. The sophomore project for next year will be selling field strip
ping pocket knives for thisi purpose.
Then the paper is torn into tiny pieces and scattered. Normal walking
traffic will grind the components into the ground, enriching the soil.
If the cigarette is a filtered variety, the filter is also slit open and the
strands and paper are shredded.
Matches may be torn into individual strands and scattered, also.
After basic training, the class members learn the more advanced method
of field stripping other trash.
The students learn to dump paper cups, and the ice behind the radiator
in one of the buildings. The ice will melt and help keep the floors clean.
The cup itself may be shredded and ground underfoot, however, a better
solution has been offered.
The junior class has given up its project in order to sell post holes just
the size of a paper cup. The student can then hury his cup underground
where it will deteriorate slowly and enrich the soil.
Test papers can be shredded up and eaten, thereby causing the student
to eat his own words, so to speak.
Or test papers can be collected and put together for a compost heap.
Another suggestion was offered as an alternative, but was turned down
as too unimaginative. This was a pocket incinerator built to burn every
thing.
Of course, we could go back to trash cans.
NAe-rtl. YVve_
» V-AotL.s. Vie. V,vvou
'VVkk'V ;X’»"bo^S Ve.v IV oVaAixA
V A \ \ Q >r\ V.\A
ftcytVl-V
ooo
Esprit de Corps —
A Phase of the Past?
By Jan Petrehn
The times certainly have
changed. Not only have the dances,
styles, and customs changed in the
last 20 years, but the phrase “es
prit de corps” has lost its original
meaning, I fear.
Twenty years ago esprit de corps
meant group unity. It meant real
spirit and patriotism. It meant that
every young man in every Ameri
can city and town begged to go
into the armed services to protect
his country ... his home.
Thousands went overseas . _. .
many worked in factories making
war materials. It was World War
II and everyone wanted to serve his
country. The men the services
would not accept left recruiting
stations with faces torn in anguish.
But look at America today. Sure,
there are still those who want to
serve their country, but take a look
at the rest of the guys. It is a
great sport seeing who can think
of the slickest way to dodge the
draft this year. Too many young
men were even resorting to quickee
marriages until Uncle Sam stopped
them.
Yes, take a good, long look at
America, today. What has happened
to the intrinsic desire within every
citizen to protect the U.S.A. in her
time of need?
Viet Nam has yet to develop in
to a declared war on our part, but
what chance will we have if the
U. S. does declare war some day
in our future? Will the attitude of
draft-age fellows change?
Today I salute the thousands of
Americans—many of them teen
agers 17, 18, and 19 years old—
who are stationed in hot spots
around the world.
And back on the home front, I
suggest that we take a long, hard
look at ourselves. Have we got
what it takes to serve America?
Christmas Tree Stands
HIGH LIFE
Published Weekly by the Students
of Grimsley Senior High School
Greensboro, N. C.
/iMTFMmdHAB Founded by the
Class of 1921
Revived by the
Spring Journalism
Class of 1937
Have any Christmas Tree stands
been missed from your home late
ly? Ellen Taylor, student director
of LAST YEAR’S May Day has sev
eral that she borrowed for the pro
gram, and she would like to return
these to the owners. Check the
place where your Christmas Tree
stand is kept if you believe that you
lent it to Ellen. If you find that
Ellen has yours, she will gladly
return it to you. Contact her in
homeroom M-204.
Editor-in-Chief Fran Upchurch
Managing Editor Jan Petrehn
BiLsiness Manager Ann MeSwain
Advertising Manager Ann MeSwain
News Editor HalUe Austin
Feature Editor John Taylor
Sports Editor Wayne Wilhehn
Cartoonist Babs Jones
photographer Joe Coleman
Review Editor Patty Lauten
Student Editor Marilyle Upchurch
Exchange Editor Bea Kay Long
LETTERS TO THE EDITOR
Dear Editor:
“Oh, another run. This is the
third pair of hose this week. I do
wish someone would sand these
chairs.”
The rough, splintered chairs in
the cafeteria and library are ene
mies to us female students. The
splinters thrive on every bit of
mesh and nylon they can grab with
their tiny, but disastrous claws,
Someone please destroy these snag
ging splinters; sand the chairs in
the cafeteria and library.
Jayne Brown