Gilmer High School - Buckeye Yearbook (Gilmer, TX)

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Drip . . . drop . . . drip . . . drop . . . At the beginning there was very little of us. But we used our combined strength against the elements lteachersl until now it is an impossibility to stop us before we fulfill our final aim. We were a little timid at first. During a storm one of our second grade droplets cried, My mamma always told me to come home when it got dark! By the fourth grade a droplet named Bonnie Means found that there are some things we can't go over, we found to go around them. ln this particular instance Bonnie received her first B in deportment for walking on some desks. We lost a blonde droplet that year in the form of Sonny Dunnagan. This was indeed a severe loss to our little brook. Small individual streams flowed in and out of us all the time, and one of our fifth grade accomplish- ments was our persuasion of a black-haired droplet, Patsy Fowler, to stick with us like bubble-gum to your shoe sole. In the sixth grade we had our first departmental work and thus became drops, not droplets. The classes were divided so that most of the boys were in one room while most of the girls were in the other. A drip lpardonl drop, Thomas Marshall, from the boys' room said to a drop, Jimmie Stephens, from the, almost all, girls' room, Ha! Ha! We have all the football players in here. Jimmie, the faithful drip fl'm sorryl drop that he is, retorted, But we have all the pretty girls in our room! By this time we had become a nice, rolling stream. While the boys streng- thened their muscles in playing sports, the girls strengthened their voices in arguments on the softball field! By the time our Indian Rock days rolled around, we were a rivulet, with each person as big a splash as the next. With so much open space we flowed a little too freely at times, so we were given a busting by our overseer. Along with track and field, football and basketball, softball was the favorite of the year. There was a slight misunderstanding between the faculty and the young ladies about the latters' participation in the various sports. However, that was worked out after a few minor revolts. Two tributaries that flowed into us that year were Perriio Gravly and Eddie Morris who arrived in time to join us on a picnic at the Indian Rock. We had been so good lor so bad, I won't say which! that our teachers took the day off and we all enioyed a nice scamper through the grass and woods. There was a tall, black-haired, usually red-faced giant who ruled with an iron hand land a wooden paddle! during spelling class. One day some splashes got behind the blackboard, and for some, still unexplained, reason the thing stuck with the poor little splashes wedged in. Soon, however, some stern words opened the blackboard and everyone was good all the rest of the day. ln the eighth grade we were moving along at a pretty fast clip, gaining speed and strength as we went along. There was a volleyball team that did well for itself wherever it went. The team made us all want to play! We developed our instincts for art by making posters, painting glasses, and fashioning obiects out of wood. Walter La Rue made a splatter out of himself by painting the faces of our much loved teachers on vases! We were taught how to keep time to music and sing with a smile on our faces by our patient music teacher. We did have a very nice graduation and were all iust a little bit sad at leaving behind such a nice school life that we had so enjoyed up to this point. As we entered into our high school days, we had become a small but steadily moving river. Of course, we tried to be iust as sophisticated as the oldest group in the school, but I don't think we quite succeeded! We had happy times at various parties and also enioyed seeing some of our own number play on the Junior Buckeye teams. An epidemic spread throughout the school, but, on the whole, our cold waves came through it pretty well. There were only a few who didn't change the color of their hair or cut it to the roots. , We're a fast moving river, now, with more and more tributaries, like Walter Adams, Jan Hachler, and Carolyn ioining us every day. We think of ourselves as a pretty big wave. Soon we hope to be in the white caps land gowns, too, maybe?J.

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Carolyn Porter Wanda Richards Betty Richardson Jo Carol Rogers Tyra Jo Sanders Lavelle Skinner James Steele Jimmie Stephens James Thigpen Billy Tidwell James Chaffin Patsy Stewart Jo Ann Nix Doyal Nugent Sue Pilcher Ma rgorie Meador Elaine Monts Eddie Morris

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