Evergreen Park High School - Eta Pi Chi Yearbook (Evergreen Park, IL)

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The Beat of Life VOL. I9 CONTENTS EDITORS' NOTE 1972-1973 l. Faces, smiling, laughing, loving. Photography editor, jeff Sawyer, opens this years issue with a photo-essay . . . quiet moments, serious ones, the changing world around us tells a story that needs no words. Confidence Rating, 10096: There's Strength in Numbers 2. Rooftops, cement trucks, sewers, and scaffolding . . . staff photographer, Wayne Elseth, focuses his camera on those united we stand people, and places them in some humorous and unusual situations, proving that Evergreen Park's activi- ties and clubs are more than just a faceless mass. They Call it a Game 3- Super Bowl M,V.P. Forrest Hills N.B.A. Broadway joe, The Cas House Gang, Spitz. Seagren, and Ryun. This is where it really starts . . . tomorrow's superstars learning their trade .. . a coach that threatens and encour- ages ,, . caring for the individual and the victory . . . learning by defeat ,. . the fumble . . . the missed free throw .. . three strikes . . . ball four . . . bad putt . . . missed hurdle. Mistakes made today, in preparation for tomorrow. Train the body . . , mold the mind. A Teacher? You Must be Crazy! 4. Easy? . . . no way! The countless times a temper was held . , . smile and encourage, even though you don't always feel like it . . . no, don't always know the right answer . . . frustrated . . . tired . . . sometimes angry .... A n honest, pictorial profile of the most dedicated group of professionals in society today. Parting Shots 5. Mug shots, summer day, white shirt ancl dark tie, hair combed . .. hold it .. . frozen forever on film, eyes closed . . . stupid smile, Last game, last dance, last final . . . A closer look at the good times, the bad times, the sadness of that fourth and final vear. A Special Section 6. THREE'S A CROWD What's So Great about Being Third? Page upon page of look-alike faces smiling, sunburned Xerox reproductions. A sympathetic picture postcard of the junior enigma, caught precariously between middle and upper class. What Ever Happened to What's His Name? The story of how a group of people become lost for months at a time during that dangerous sophomore year. Known only to their parents, they wander through a maze of required cours- es, guided only by their trusted native counselors. A photo- graphic inspection of the Sophomore phenomenon. No Use for Illusions ' Let's face it. The only person who envies a high school fresh- man, is an eighth grader. An amusing look at that first befud- dling year at the big school. For a Few Dollars More 7. Our way of saying Thank You to all our friends in business who gave so generously so that People Magazine might continue. 1973, Copyright People Inc. All rights reserved. Reproduction of any and all portions without permission is prohibited. Believe me, I am overwhelmed by this honor I was certainly pleased and flattered when asked to make the editorial comments for this year's People Magazine. I can honestly say that my heart raced. and my stomach felt a thrill not unlike that of being told my family had perished in a flash flood. Usually in segments like this, the guest writer expounds on the virtues of his staff: their cooperation, versatility, and dedication. Rather than bestow platitudes, l'd like to digress for a moment. and ask that they return and unlock E me from the washroom they left me in last Y a Monday. This is not to say that the staff and I S ' do not enjoy the strongest of friendships. ' ah .,,,, ef Aw Quite the contrary, throughout the year. we I f, 1 maintained a close camaraderie, and even ' f took to playing small pranks upon each other. 4' i I have many warm memories of those trying days last winter, when, during one of our in- f frequent breaks, the staff playfully tied me to A my desk and set fire to my clothing. Unfortun- ately, the fire got out of hand, and the staff was forced to beat out the flames with several hammers and a brick. It certainly was a joke on all of us, and we laughed long and loud when I was released from the hospital. The first days of spring were upon us, and as completion of this issue drew near, the good natured mischief began again. Feeling the need to relax, we would engage in a spirited game of Hide and Seek. Clever as I was, it sometimes took me days to find them, although several ofthe photographers hid successfully for months. Over the year we grew into a tightly knit group, yet I wasn't aware of the depth of the staffs affection for me until the day we completed the final deadline. I was working at my desk when I noticed that my loyal staff had slipped quietly into my office and had gathered around me. No words were needed, and we silently thanked each other. It was indeed an emotional moment, and in an effort to show their deep respect for mc. they hoisted me to their shoulders and carried me through the halls, cheering and singing. Soon our procession was joined by other mem- bers of the student body, and the jubilant throng made its way to the third floor roof where I presume a party was being held in my honor. It was a bright, sunny day, and the roof was festooned with decorations as I was led to a wooden platform they laughingly called a gallows. I turned to thank the crowd, a ceremonial rope was placed rather tight- ly around my neck. To say the least. I was touched by this obvious show of affection. I realized that they had carefully planned this unique testi- monial to honor me in their own small way, and a tear of gratitude sprang to my eye. Unfortunately, before the ceremony could continue, a squad of armed guards surrounded the group, and forcibly escorted me from the roof. As I left, I could see the disappointment on their faces, and truly feared for the policemen's safety, should the crowd get ugly. In any event, I won't disappoint them again. If it will make them happy, they can give me their ceremony . . . just as soon as the little rascals let me out of the washroom. Executive Editor

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