Meadow Grove High School - Trojan Yearbook (Meadow Grove, NE)

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 rjUftiJ PjIDPU CY I don't know why I ate all that chill last night—and at my age, tool I haven't eaten that much junk In twenty years--not since I was a Senior In good old Meadow Grove H. S. That year--chlll and hamburgers were our favorite foodq and a chill hangover like I have today was nothing unusual. I suppose It was the effects of the chill because, that evening I just couldn't concentrate on the comic strip of the latest paper. My mind began to wander over the years gone by. Hearing a slight noise—I looked around. Mighty Mouse was therel Quietly he said, I have come. President Werner, to take you where you want most to go. I said, Just call me Bob. Where do I want to go? I want to visit every member of the best darn class that ever graduated from Meadow Grove High School. Mighty Mouse replied, You are as good as there. Bob. In a jiffy we had reached Greeley College wnere Norman Wright Ph. D. (poor, hard-working drip) was busy In his Chemistry Lab. His students have learned- long ago that there was no use arguing with him because he was always Wright. Bangl a terrible explosion. Dr. Wright was wrong. I could see this was not the moment to stop for a visits so we hurried on to a beautiful farm place near my old home town of M. G., where my cousin. Arnold Werner, and his fair-haired bride of twenty years ago met me In the yard. I had heard that Arnold was the best farmer In Madison Co. and the evidence was everywhere. At the sound of the patter f little feet I noticed that Arnold leaned over and patted with affection the blacl$ curly heads of several little thoroughbred pigs. They—with several boys who were in high school—were his pride and joy. As I turned to go a helicopter landed on the lawr and who should come striding toward me but Duane Van Gundy In the uniform of a State Policeman. He was Investigating the robbery that had occurred at the M. G. airport the night before. Two packages of bubble gum had disappeared. Duane said all clues pointed to JoAnn Perry and Gloria Kohl. I drove down Meadow Grove Avenue to a very prosperous section of the city, where I soon located the Swankee Beautee Shackee of Theresa Motz. I was unable to visit with her because Don Sparr was jealously picketing the entrance with a No Men Allowed sign. ■' I'J I,.1 W »A W - • ■»•=...................................... i TVIWVJ ■yrrx

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 BUBKAS 'WWiXi S'rM- Lli]BDp;jf)P!J VcoNT. I next found myself among the 3ky-scrapers of New York City. Turning around and 'round, I finally located the window with the words—Dorothy Schutt. Public Stenographer. In a few minutes—after fighting my way past several secretaries, I stood In her presence. She was the same gracious Dorothy of our high school days. Her success hadn't changed her. I learned that her real name was Mrs. Vanderbilt Van Aster, but In spite of her husband's wealth, she still preferred her career. Prom Dorothy I learned that Dona Glaze la now fulfilling her lifelong dream of saleslady In Saks Fifth Avenue. She had an opportunity of meeting Mary Worth once back In 1950. Maybe that accounts for her success. On my wsy home I casually picked up the latest Post Magazine and received a big thrill when I saw the name Don Johnson In bold print under a picture of the St. Louis Cardinals. Evidently little Don ate his Wheatles and grew to be a blg-tlme ball player. I wonder whatever became of all the beautiful silk shirts he used to wear? Next I boarded a streamliner—Rhode Island bound. About twenty miles from the 3tate capltol In a desolate uninhabited area, I was able to find my old pal--Mllton Pugh. He Is raising Rhode Island Reds. He says they are still the only chicks he can talk to without blushing. Still the same old bachelor at heart. During a stop-over In Denver, I wandered Into a ten cent store to pick up my weekly supply of corn pads. I heard e familiar touch at the grand piano and stepping over to the music counter to see who might be playing Cheer! Cheer! For Meadow Grove Fame, I saw a stunning and graceful lady. When Joan Gast turned around, I was really suprised. She told me she was In the dog house that day because she was late to work (Train on the Track) Our helicopter was forced to land in Albuquerque, New Mexico for g83 so with a few minutes to spare I decided to look the town over a little. As I passed a big department store on Main Street, I spotted a familiar face In the window. There was Betty Arrlson pinch hitting for a manikin and modeling jeans and plaid shirts. Just at this point—the telephone wakened me. It was Ken Carpenter telling me to hurry down and tske Bing's spot on the radio.