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

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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

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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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And now, who comes next? OTiy, it’s the famous toe dancers. They must be Leta Olson, Viola Trenary, and Luella Welake, Of course, they were so fond of dancing, that they could hardly walk decorously out in the line, and look who's their manager! No other than Dean Meier. Well, that Is one person who has become ,)ust what I knew he would be anyway. Again the scene changes. How strange, a man behind a plow drawn by two stalwart Percheron horses. Who can he be? Surely not one of the class of 1940 at this lab- orious business of following a plow? But ah I see broad acres stretohlng away on every side. The eartn ne turns over Is black and fertile. This Is one of those wondrous western ranches we hear so much about, where seeds come up almost over night. His face is vurned «way from me as he follovs the long and straight furrow. His broad'shoulders and graceful carriage, however, are fam- iliar. tfho can he be? But now enters a new element, a woman cones over the hills, carrying a basket and thermos bottle. His wife, of course, for only a ..atient, loving, self-sacrificing wife could come out In the hot sun with a man's dinner. Now she Is coming nearer. I can almost distinguish her features. Is it possible? Yes, it -s Mary Jean Rachut. Now I understand who the plowman Is of course: none other than Donald Dugan, vho Is.that tirea man walking the floor with a baby. I thought they usually milked the cows. Russell Patterson of course. Now the scene changes to a.large eastern city. There Is a typical speciman of floor walker. He is a rathe£ , distinguished looking gentlemen. VThy, of course, no wonder, It is Bruce Graham. Next the scene changes too a large steam laundry in Chicago and I see a washerman, with all the talents, that s too much, and Its none other than Frank Pecker. Next the scene shifts us to a very tall building In Los ngeles. What Is that electric sign 8TbovetJh,e.J°°; flh Hapnens to be a fruit shipping concern. I can t distinguish the names.. Oh, Yeei It's plain to me now James i th and Duane Arend, Inc. That Is really Borne bunch If I remember those boys. And last, but not least on great white way In New York City, re faintly hear the music coming from the Broken Drum can't be Beat, Night Club' where wexln i out uRon our arrival that this swing music Is none other thaft that of kaistro Hawcott. I knew he d make it» By Ruth Olsen and Mrl June Higgins