Girard College - Corinthian Yearbook (Philadelphia, PA)

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‘My deeds must be my life, when 1 am dead my actions must speak for me.” (ftmintljtan [ 6 ] ilanuarjj

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A Word to the Founder As each class leaves this wonderful school, Girard College, they can’t refrain from expressing their thanks and appreciation for all that has been done for them. One must realize that we aren’t just leaving high school, but our home of the past ten cherished years. Some tackle this pleasurable task of expressing their apprecia¬ tion with long words and eloquent language. They do a fine job. But suppose that we tell you rather informally and confidentially what someone probably said be¬ tween the lines long ago. We’re proud to be “Hummers.” We are grateful for the education that we have received and for the patient instruction given us in preparation for a career. Beauti¬ ful memories of the Chapel, the Library, Founder’s Hall, and the whole campus will never fade from our minds. And so we could carry on but there is one memory and joy for which we are most thankful. We have lived together for nine or ten years and have grown to know each other as no one else does. We understand each other’s likes and dislikes. We have been as closely bonded together as brothers might be. It is this companionship that we appreciate more than anything else, more than all the money and marble in the College. It is this for which we are most thankful. We were faltering young children when we left our homes to enter this haven. Many of us were removed from the intimate domestic ties that we held so dearly, and were dropped into a mass of 1700 boys, all strange, all new. It was not an easy proposition to adjust ourselves to this rather frightening environment, but when we did, our worries were over and our fears were forgotten. We plugged along to gether, scrapping and arguing, loving and respecting. We confided in each other and conversed with those older than us about our troubles. Each growing day we unconsciously tightened a precious packet of friendship. Now on Commencement Day we realize this perhaps all too late. It is not just a governess or a teacher that is passing from our lives, but a counsellor and an aid in time of need. It is not only another “swell bunch of Hummers” that we will long for, but classmates—real friends and companions. What awaits us after we leave here is doubtful and uncer¬ tain. Perplexing problems will confront us; entangling situations will arise; we may be called to make a great sacrifice. Whatever it is, we will not shirk. And through this turmoil, we, like anyone else, will need the comfort and aid of those whom we can trust, friends who will help us. Yes, it gives one a sense of security to know that there will be those enduring friendships without which life is empty indeed. And so, we say again, thank you, Stephen Girard, for everything, and most of all for the friends we made. 1942 [ 7 ] fflormtljtan

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A Word to the Founder As each class leaves this wonderful school, Girard College, they can’t refrain from expressing their thanks and appreciation for all that has been done for them. One must realize that we aren’t just leaving high school, but our home of the past ten cherished years. Some tackle this pleasurable task of expressing their apprecia¬ tion with long words and eloquent language. They do a fine job. But suppose that we tell you rather informally and confidentially what someone probably said be¬ tween the lines long ago. We’re proud to be “Hummers.” We are grateful for the education that we have received and for the patient instruction given us in preparation for a career. Beauti¬ ful memories of the Chapel, the Library, Founder’s Hall, and the whole campus will never fade from our minds. And so we could carry on—but there is one memory and joy for which we are most thankful. We have lived together for nine or ten years and have grown to know each other as no one else does. We understand each other’s likes and dislikes. We have been as closely bonded together as brothers might be. It is this companionship that we appreciate more than anything else, more than all the money and marble in the College. It is this for which we are most thankful. We were faltering young children when we left our homes to enter this haven. Many of us were removed from the intimate domestic ties that we held so dearly, and were dropped into a mass of 1700 boys, all strange, all new. It was not an easy proposition to adjust ourselves to this rather frightening environment, but when we did, our worries were over and our fears were forgotten. We plugged along to gether, scrapping and arguing, loving and respecting. We confided in each other and conversed with those older than us about our troubles. Each growing day we unconsciously tightened a precious packet of friendship. Now on Commencement Day we realize this perhaps all too late. It is not just a governess or a teacher that is passing from our lives, but a counsellor and an aid in time of need. It is not only another “swell bunch of Hummers” that we will long for, but classmates—real friends and companions. What awaits us after we leave here is doubtful and uncer¬ tain. Perplexing problems will confront us; entangling situations will arise; we may be called to make a great sacrifice. Whatever it is, we will not shirk. And through this turmoil, we, like anyone else, will need the comfort and aid of those whom we can trust, friends who will help us. Yes, it gives one a sense of security to know that there will be those enduring friendships without which life is empty indeed. And so, we say again, thank you, Stephen Girard, for everything, and most of all for the friends we made. 1942 [ 7 ] (Corintljtatt