Burt Community School - Bears / Roundup Yearbook (Burt, IA)

Page 28 text:

I, Joyce Graham, do will and bequeath my love for study- ing, good grades, and position as nursemaid to Neva Sewick. I, Donald Hammerstrom, do will and bequeath part of my ward-robe and ability to manage to have a chauffeur along even if it is a girl to Wendell Ringsdorf. I. Wallace Hawcott, do will and bequeath my love for swing music and my laugh to Raymond Laverenz I, Sharon Mann, do will and bequeath my winning smile and curly hair to Vivian Volentine, I, Dean Meier, do will and bequeath my ability for a new catch each season and musical talent to Kenneth Reed» I, Leta Olson, do will and bequeath my love for the big Job and ability to calk myself out of a predicament (no matter how 'bad) to Ruth Olsen, I, Russell Patterson, do will and bequeath my heroes for a position in 'the bank some day, and my German Eand clothes to Wayne Eolie. I, Mary Jean Rachut, do will and bequeath my love for Mercury's and memories of the pleasant hours between 4 and 5 in the assembly after school to Norma Jean Rash. I, James Rath, do will and bequeath my bashful but winning ways and fear of the marshall—not for speeding however— to Herbert Leek, I, Eleanor Steward, do will and bequeath my hopes to live on the plains of Nebraska someday and my typing ability to Marjorie Reidel. I, Viola Trenary, do will and bequeath my cheer-leading outfit, one'half my wardrobe and love for model A's to Ruth McFarland. I, Luella Weiske, do will and bequeath my French Horn, and my ability to leave boys alone.to Virl Higgins. BY—Ruth Olsen and Virl Higgins

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CLASS '.''ILL OF '40 He, the graduates of 1940 of the 3urt High School, City of Hurt, State of Iowa, bein'? of some nlnd and memory, do make, publish, and dee’.are this our last rill and testament, ir manner and form as follows} First: To Supt, 3owie—all left-ov, r detention for whispering May he have as hard a time mailing it up as we had Second: To Coach Anderson—all the family oudgets that we made in Sociology anc.ve hope that he uses them better than we Third: To Mr. Anderson—all our English IV Grammar work- books which we worked in, corrected, and studied in. Fourth: To Miss Barrs—cur A!s in P.T. and all towels, shoestrings, and soar left in the locker room Fifth: To Miss Stein—all the love scenes, from Easy Money and may she not have as much trouble as they. Sixth: To Mr, Mickle—all the correction fluid we used when typing stencils and all the slip sheets used for mimigraphing for the annual. Each individual senior do will and bequeath a portion of his properties to his under clas-smen. I, Duane Arend, do will and bequeath my model A and ability to learn to dane quickly to Fay Mann, I, Frank 3ecker, do will and bequeath my blue pants, the old Chevy and my position a.s editor to Oliver Plurnb. I, Homer Bristow, do will and bequea.th my fist anc bashful ways to Lawrence Chlpraan. I, Thelma Bristow, do will and bequeath my hair styles and love for walks to Beverly Van Steenberg. I, Donald Dugan, do will and bequeath my driver's licence (I didn't get) and my winning ways with Alyona girls to Elvin: Godfredson. I, I, Pruce Graham, do will and bequeath my specks', trumpet, and love for co-eds to Kenneth Trenary.

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CLASS PROPHECY 1950 I see before me a remarkable vision-—mountains like Alps on Alps arise . Somebody is evidently to pass his, or her, life in the mountains, but who can tell who it is, or where the mountains are? Are they the Rockies, the Alleghanles, the Lehlghs, the Tennessees, or the hite Mountains? Ah, now I see» 1 see for there is a big C spread all over the mountains. So, as I see a C, it must be California But who is it? Surely it must be revpaled to me. Yes indeed, now he oomes into view. It is Donald Hammerstrom as sure as I am alive. Who could mistake that tall and noble form, and—and—yes, it is true, that brilliamt brown hair. How it fleams in the bright California sun- shine, But what is he doing? Ah, now I see it plainly. He is picking oranges; so, of course, '’e is the happy owner of a California ranch. Could there be a more glorious fate? But this vision is passed, and now I must wait for another What is this? Oh, see the crowds! Crowds of men, women, and children. But what are they trying to do? Oh, there is the President’s Mansion, the far-famed White House. Now the scene shifts, and I am shown the famous East Room inside of It. Greeting the rapidly coming people are three beautiful women. V.'ho are . they? Surely they can not be—yes, they are—our old classmates, 3haron Mann, Eleanor Steward, and Thelma Bristow, There always seems to be an Eleanor in the White House. Grown older, of course, but decidedly handsomer. How delightful. Again the scene shifts, and I see a man on a shoe- maker’s bench patching away on a shoe. How faithfully he is working and what a fine Job he is doing. I tell you he is some patoher! Now he looks up and I see it is our old friend, Homer Bristow. Veil, I always knew he would make a success of whatever business he might engage, whether it were patching shoes or teaching trigonometry. Now who will be next, I wonder? Oh, here is a woman on a stage gorgeously arrayed, What can she be dolpg? Making a speech on woman In politics? No, she opens her mouth too wide for that, and keeps It open too long. Ah, I see musicians near her. She is a famous sinner. Who in the world can she be? Oh, now I see, it is no less than our old classmate, Joyce Graham, v ho would supoose she could ever open her mouth as wide as that? As I remember her, she could hardly open it wide enough to recite her lessons. Well, what changes time will bring