Hart High School - Hartian Yearbook (Hart, MI)

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• • Your Flag and My Flag Your (lag and my flag, And how it floats today. In your land and my land, And half a world away; Rose red and blood red The stripes forever gleam; Snow white and soul white— The good forefather’s dream; Sky blue and true blue, With stars to gleam aright, The glorified guidon of the day, A shelter through the night. Your flag and my flag, To every star and stripe The drums beat as hearts beat. And fifers shrilly pipe! Your flag and my flag, A blessing in the sky; Your hope and my hope— It never hid a lie! Homeland and far land, And half the world around, Old Glory hears our grand salute And ripples to the sound! Your flag and my flag, And, oh, how much it holds— Your land and my land— Secure within its folds! Your heart and my heart Beat quicker at the sight; Sun kissed and wind tossed— Red and blue and white. The one flag, the great flag, The flag for me and you, Glorified all else beside— The Red and White and Blue. Robert Tate: “Mother, may I change my name today?” Mother: “Why on earth do ycu want to change your name?” Robert: “Because Dad said he’d whip me when he gets home—as sure as my name is Robert.” • Mother: “Well, Pauline, how do you like your new teacher?” Pauline G.: “Oh, he is all right, only first he says that two and two make four and then he changes his mind and tells us that three and one make four.” Inspector: “Do you think it healthy to keep your hogs in the house?” Peter S.: “Wall, I dunno,” he drawled, “but I been akeepin’ my hawgs there for 14 years and I ain’t never lost one of ’em yet.” Ross Purdy: “And poor Harry was killed by a revolving crane.” Doris Fletcher: “My word, what fierce birds you have in your neighborhood.” Arthur Olson: “May I accompany you across the street, madam?” Elderly lady: “Certainly, sonny, how long have you been waiting here fcr somebody to take you across?” Benjamins asked a smart seventh grader: “How many sets of teeth does a person have?” Oakley Wicks: “Three.” Benjamins: “Name them.” Oakley Wicks: “Temporary, permanent, and false.” GEMS FROM THE CLASSROOM: A grass widow is the wife of a vegetarian. The letter M. D. signifies, “mentally deficient.” Homer was not written by Homer but by another man of that name. The sun never sets on the British Empire because the British Empire is in the East and the sun sets in the West. An Indian reservation consists of a mile of land for every five square Indians. Nitre gen is not found in Ireland because it is not found in a free state. The plural of ox is oxygen. The wife of a duke is ducky. Perry S.: “Can you dig me up a girl for the next party?” Virginia L.: “Sure, but why not take a live one?” Thomas W.: “Do you know the difference between a taxi and a street car?” Marian P.: “No.” Thomas: “Great; then we’ll take a street car.” PAGE 9

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A THANKSGIVING REUNION N old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner?” said Ma Hubbell, doubtfully. “I don’t know. Do you think we’d better, pa?” “I ain’t sure’s we had or not,” candidly, ‘‘but it’s been on my mind consider’ble the last few weeks—an’ I guess mebbe I’d like it; we’d both like it. I’m now past seventy and we’ve been out here to Illinois twelve years now.” “I know, pa, but it—it never seemed like I could. An’ I knew you wouldn’t like it, either. We’ve never spoke of it together, but—but you remember the last time.” “Fifteen years ago,” trying to keep his own voice firm and steady. “Sometimes I’ve tried to think mebbe I was too ha’sh with Enos, an’ too hasty.” Ma Hubbell did not speak. Tears were trickling silently down her cheeks. “I tried to train Enos up to be a good farmer,” the old man continued. “He learned to be a good grower and seller. An’ then all to once he commenced runnin’ wild, and then he learned to play tricks so he could join a circus an see the world. Then he came home for that Thanksgiving Day, an’ we killed the biggest turkey, an’ after dinner I talked with him ’bout what we hoped and expected of him. An’—an’—laughed in my face, an’ used some pretty strong language. An’ that night he went otf an’ got so drunk we had to bring him home. The next day I told him to go, and not come back any more. Then we sold the farm an’ came our here. Mebbe I was too ha’sh with him, mebbe I was.” Under the long shed the hired man was preparing some of the fowls for market. The farmer looked at them all with unseeing eyes. At length he went back into the house. “I’m over seventy,” he repeated, “an’ you’re pretty close to me, nut. We can’t reasonably count for much longer. I could relish a real old-timy dinner once more. Enos is likely dead long ago. Circus folks don’t live long, they say. We—we can imagine him sittin’ at the table with us, jest a little boy. like he used to be.” Ma Hubbell’s lips quivered, but turned to him a calm face. “All right, pa,” she agreed. “I’ll start in at once. But you’ll have to buy me some cranb’ries in town, an’ some raisins an’ other things. I’ll set ’em down. An’ say, pa, if you should happen to see anybody on the road you’d specially like, you might ask ’em to dinner. ’Twould make it more sociable for you.” Pa Hubbell nodded and glanced through the window. “Get your list ready,” he said, “an’ I’ll go an’ be harnessin’ up. I want to go an’ get back ’fore the snow falls very deep. I guess there’s enough dressed for a load now, foi Bill an’ I picked forty turkeys an’ as many hens las night. This lot I think I’d better take down State street. An’ I’ll keep an eye open for anybody 1 think will make good Thanksgiving comp’ny.” It was full fifteen miles to the stores on State street. At length he stopped before one. “Fine, big show of everything except turkeys,” he thought, “an’ they seem sca’se. Guess mebbe the owner’ll be glad to buy mine.” He swung his team to the curb and went inside. JL’he store was well filled with customers, and he went forward to a radiator to warm his hands. The talk of the customers was coming to him from all sides, and he listened interestedly. “Why, you seem to know all about turkeys, sir.” he heard one woman say. “I ought to,” laughed a voice which made Pa Hubbell start and crane his neck. “1 was brought up on a farm. I wish I had one of the birds my old father used to—” A shaggy gray head, almost covered by a dowi drawn fur cap, suddenly loomed up behind the customer. “I’ve brought a flock of ’em, son,” Pa Hubbell announced grimly. “Just tell the lady to wait till I bring ’em in.” He started toward the door, but before he reached it a hand was on his shoulder. “Father!” a voice said huskily. “I—I didn’t know —I thought—I went back to the old place, and—is mother—” “We sold an’ moved out here,” briefly, “an’ your ma is alive an’ well. No, you needn’t say a word, son Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving, an we don’t want any old sores opened. Your ma told me to bring out somebody to eat with us, an’ I’ll take you. Now help me with the turkeys, an’ then ask your boss to let you off till day after tomorrow, when I’ll bring you back.” The son laughed shakily, his hand slipping caressingly across the other’s shoulders. “I have no boss,” he said. “You don’t understand, father. I’m not dancing clogs now, nor drinking. I quit that more than ten years ago. I just couldn’t keep it up, remembering all you and mother had taught me. Then I tried half a dozen other things, and went broke on them all. At last I settled down to something I knew—something you had taught me— eggs, poultry, beef, mutton, farm produce, fruits, and the like, and I’ve made good.” Pa Hubbell’s mouth opened and shut, and a great light came into his eyes. But all he said was: “Ma’M be glad. Of course you’ll go, right off?” “Of course. I’ll speak to the chief clerk about a few matters, and then—. But I’m glad you have two strong horses, father, and a wagon large enough to hold the whole bunch.” “The what?” looking bewildered. “All of us. But I forgot. I suppose you don’t know there are seven of us—wife, children, and myself. The oldest boy is twelve, and named after you. Then there are girls of eleven and ten, and the younger boys. We live in the rooms over the store.” Pa Hubbell lost command of himself. “Five children—for Thanksgiving!” he shouted. “An’ one of 'em a boy twelve years old and named after me!” Then he whirled to the wagon. “Come, help me out with these quick!” he cried, “then take me right upstairs to see ’em. Five! My land! What will ma say?” In about two hours they were all ready and on their way to see Ma Hubbell. She was so overcome with joy that she wept tears. A son who was thought to have been dead was now found and he together with his wife and five children to participate in a real old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner and a family reunion. It truly was a happy day for Ma and Pa Hubbell. PAGE 8

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. JUST LOOK DOWN HERE The Juniors entertained the high school November 1 by giving a Hallowe’en party. It was a great success and everyone enjoyed themselves. The auditorium was decorated with cornstalks and pumpkins. There were games and dancing to King’s orchestra. A floor show of tap dancing by grade students and singing by Miss Stout, and a piano duet by Rita Luse and Maurice Reed during intermission. Cider and dough-nuts were served. This was the first party of the year and a very successful one. The Junior High School is having a smock party Friday, November 8. Toughest Egg—Richard Rummer. Biggest Pest—Carl Hill. Best Sport—Mary Jean Dayharsh. Brainiest Lad—Jimmy Harris. Gossip—Muggs Winget. Smallest in 40 Counties—Marshall Jones and Lorraine Ruggles. Tall Guy—Pete Shimpkus. Man-Shy—Hilda Conklin. Musician—Maurice Nicholes. Giggle Box—Gladys Shinn. Flirt—Edna Mae Winget. Shiek—Scott Hyslop. Comedian—Bill Bunch. Age of Innocence—Amy Colson. Flapper—Alice Lorenze. Girl-Shy—Felix Andrulis. Biggest Bluff—Gonder. ♦ WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF— Miss McCall couldn’t take her four-mile hikes? Beulah Rummer lost her voice? Maurice Reed lost Margaretta? The six outrageous sapheads (N. D., A. W., A. J. W., L. F., N. C., and M. M.) were separated? Miss Reucsh forgot to wise crack? Gonder left politics alone? Agnus Varenhorst weighed two hundred pounds? Mr. Cowles hadn’t had the $10 to pay his fine? Scott Hyslop forgot his gum? Lillian Vantassel forgot her make-up? Clara Baker couldn’t dance? Evelyn Erwin didn’t have red hair? Ilene Hydenburk couldn’t go to see Stella Bray who stays at Steven’s? Jack were Snow instead of Frost? Carl a Valley instead of a Hill? Virginia a Cook instead of a Butler? Nancy a Coal-bin instead of a Cor-bin? Muriel a Crow instead of a Martin? Evelyn a South instead of a North? Stover a Blossom instead of a Bud? Glanard a Footland instead of a Hedland? Oliver a Gootstone instead of an Eyestone? Lavern a Nose instead of Lipps? Gladys a Leg instead of a Shinn? IMAGINE— Laverl a Bomb instead of a Beebe. Jack a Pepper instead of Salt (er). Robert a Jumper instead of a Walker. Maurice a Grass instead of a Reed. Stella a Hee-Haw instead of a Bray. Edith a Sparrow instead of a Robin (s). Laverl a Map instead of a Graff. John a Post instead of a Gable. Florence a Dark instead ot a Leight. Clara a Butcher instead of a Baker. Vivian a Cobbler instead of a Miller. Wallace a June instead of a May. Maurice were Dimes instead cf Nicholas. Dear Editor: We would like to know what we should do. A certain alumni, Franklin D., comes up to school afternoons and has succeeded in winning a number of our hearts; but realizing we can’t all have him, we ask your advice. The Freshman Girls. Girls: Don’t pay any attention to this person. His chief hobby, every year, is to make a hit with the Freshmen. He really means nothing by it and is so much in the habit of doing this, he is unable to quit. Sincerely, The Editor. Dear Editor: Can you tell us how to write long, interesting letters? The Senior Girls. Girls: As I also find it difficult to write letters, I refer you to Marjorie Grate. She is able to write eight pages or more. As for what she says, it’s up to you to find out. Sincerely, The Editoi. Mr. Grate: “What is your favorite hymn, daughter?’’ Elaine G.: “The one you chased out of the yard last night.” Muriel Martin: “What would you do if you saw a woman being washed out to sea?” Jack Corbin: “I’d throw her a bar of soap.” Mary Jean: “I suppose your father will be unstrung when he hears about your ex-boyfriend?” Marjcrie G.: “Oh, no, I wired him last night.”