Fredericksburg High School - Rapahanoc Yearbook (Fredericksburg, VA)

Page 48 text:

Senior Cl ass George Thomas Young “A youth never bold, of spirit still and quiet. George seems quiet and reserved when one first meets him, but as acquaintance ripens into friendship, there is found be¬ neath the exterior an open heart and glad spirit. When in years to come, you pick up this Annual and glance at this page, you will remember George, the kind of a fellow who is a true friend and com¬ rade. F. H. S. says: “With your diploma go our best wishes.” Harold Clifton Green ‘‘Honest good humor is the oil and wine of a merry meeting.” French Club, ’24. Did you ever see anyone who would just take what comes and have some¬ thing funny to say about it? Well, that’s just Harold. We have roared with laughter because of him, and many are the classrooms brightened by his ready wit. He always has time to help, and is a real booster. F. H. S. says: laughter specialist.” A bright future,

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Senior Class Jeffries Chinn Hudson “In thy face I see The maps of honor , truth and loyalty.” Senior Basketball Team, ’24. A loyal Senior, a staunch friend and a zealous student. Did someone say quiet and reserved ? She is anything but that. In fact, she is full of fun. Put together her optimism, her good fellowship, her enthusiasm, and her love of sports, and you’ll have a “wee bit” of an idea of what Jeffries is like. F. H. S. says: “Our loss is the world’s gain.” Fi.ovd Clyde Sullivan “His quiet ways and his faithful work Are lessons to those who study.” White Oak High School, ’21, 22; F. H. S., ’23, ’24; Member of Baseball Team, 23. Floyd joined our class in his Junior year and immediately became a worthy member. Our boys won the district championship in baseball last year, and he is one of the reasons. Floyd is our home-run king. We shouldn’t wonder if he doesn’t some day become a league player. Anyway, we predict him a suc¬ cess in life. F. H. S. says: “On life’s ball-ground we hope you’ll always make home runs.”

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History RIENDS, tonight we face one of the hardest moments of our lives; for we must say good-bye after being together for four years, and to say goodbye is to die a little. It seems as if, when we leave high school, we lose some of our youth, leave it behind, as it were, to others who come after us. But though we leave our child¬ hood we cannot lose our dreams and our memories. The Class of ’24 is a proud one. Even as royal families took pride in their ancestry, so we remember and treasure each event of our career as gold and precious gems were treasured by pirates of old. Were I an artist I would paint for you in flaming colors the history of the class or, being a poet, would show it to you in such vivid word pictures that you would never forget. But, being neither of these, I can only do my best to show you such pictures as are strongest in our memories. There are four series of these pictures and the first work of art which I wish to draw to your attention is the oldest of the collection. The scene is the elementary school. There is a large room filled with desks and a tall man, who is easily recognized as Mr. Birckhead, is in the act of telling the children just what is to be expected of Freshmen. The scene shifts ever so slightly and in place of the elementary school there is an obviously new ' building, but it seems strangely quiet—there are no children in sight. Let us look inside of the building. Here we find a reason for the strange silence, for these same young people with fear and sorrow written large upon their features are filing slowly into a room receiving small blue books as they pass through the doorway—examinations! and the first at that. It’s no wonder they are quiet. We will now pass on to a second picture. Here we see a very large bare room, which everyone who has ever been to high school easily recognizes as the math room. Presiding over the class is a little lady with dark hair and eyes. But as we watch her she becomes clothed in shining white with a filmy bridal veil and disappears quite suddenly with a flutter of white ribbons, dropping a card on which is engraved Mrs. Sharpe.” As she vanishes we become aware of a gentleman seated in her place, Mr. Steck. Let us push this aside. In its place is a lovely room filled with pictures and flowers. There are two figures in this study seemingly engaged in earnest conversation—Mrs. Courtney and Mr. Dickerson, the new principal. The next is a scene from our Junior-Senior banquet. Seated at a long table, extending from one end of the basement to the other, are the Juniors and the Seniors feasting merrily, exchanging jokes and witty sayings with one another. Truly this is a merry picture, but W ' e must not linger too long. The first one of this last series of pictures is a painting of a large black book and has written on it in letters of gold The Rapahanoc. It is our annual of which we are justly proud. The next picture is a nature study very much on the order of Corat ' s Dance of the Nymphs,” for here we see Grecian youths and maidens dancing gayly while one of the youths, “Endymion,” by name, sleeps peacefully beneath a tree. Can you guess what the next picture represents? It is a very vivid study in red and white. Hundreds of hearts, large and small, hang suspended from the ceiling and flow ' ers grace the hall wherein dancers dressed in costumes from all parts of the world pass gayly to and fro. This is a portrayal of the Senior-Junior party. The last of these pictures is a rather peculiar one. The central figure is a tall, awkward young fellow in khaki. He stoops badly and limps slightly when he walks. It is Clarence himself just as he appeared in our Senior play, and just to look at him one imagines he hears the jazzing music of a saxophone. And so, as we end our high school life, we should remember to always look forward, not backward, and to keep to the right wherever we may go. We should strive to go higher and struggle always to succeed, as we know not whom we may influence nor when, for “Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time, “Footprints that perhaps another Sailing o’er life’s solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.’’ Florence Scott. 45