Jefferson Junior High School - Jeffersonian Yearbook (Minneapolis, MN)

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Memory Edition of The Jeffersonian by The June Class 1928 Printed in the Jefferson Junior High School Print Shop by Jefferson Students

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THE SPIRIT OF JEFFERSON DA Memory Kdition, Jefferson Junior High S hool, Minneapolis, Minnesota. June, 1928 THE SAGE OF MONTICELIX) BERNECE SHARF THE EXPLOIT OF DAVID AND ( ORDON AUDREY JONES Aw jiminy Christmas, nuthin' to do around this place!” Heck, I know it. It’s as stale as a four year old pie.” Expressions such as these had been uttered day in and day out for the last week. The patient mother and father were at a loss as to what to do. They had taken the two boys. David and Gordon, to a small lake near a large city for the summer. By this time means of entertainment were practically exhausted. David and Gordon were the nine and ten year old sons of city parents. They were probably as dilTerent as two brothers could be both in looks and actions. David's brown hair was always in the way of his bright blue eyes. It absolutely refused to be trained in any direction whatsoever. Gordon’s curly hair was bright red He also had blue eyes. David, it must be confessed, was somewhat fond of the weaker sex. while his brother waa of the opinion that anything in skirts was a subject for abhorrence. These two boys in spite of frequent quarrels were really very fond of each other. They generally enjoyed swimming, tennis, and other sports, but now they seemed tired even of these. When everything else failed to please them the boys never tired of reading. This was the pastime in which they were engaged during the following conversation. Gee, this guy in Treasure Island is lucky. He sails on a real boat ’n sees pirates, ’n buried treasures, and everything,” said Gordon. What I’d like to do would be to be along with this fellow, Crusoe, on an island in the ocean,” was Dave’s reply. Say, by jove, Dave, that gives me an idea. Meet me in Mom’s closet at two bells.” When the hour of two arrived, a small figure might be seen quietly climbing the steps and entering the bedroom at the head of the stairs. The closet door was opened and the figure joined a companion on the old shoe box. Listen, Dave, why can’t we sneak out tonight and take the boat across to that little island? Dad never lets us go there because he says it’s dangerous and that’s just what we want. Robinson Crusoe wasn’t a-scared of Jefferson is the only president who remained the leader of his party after leaving the White House. Indeed, the Democrats never have ceased to swear allegiance to his spirit. This many-sided man, as he was called, was more fortunate than most of the ex-presidents in his variety of interests and diversions. He was surgeon enough to sew up a wound, tie an artery and set the broken leg of a slave, and enough of a mathematician to calculate an eclipse. JefTerson knew not only Greek and Latin but also French, German, and Italian. He wrote three books and compiled his own edition of the Bible, leaving out everything except the precepts of divine love, mercy, and goodness. His correspondence would today daunt a man with a staff of typists. In the finer arts he was a landscape gardener, a musician and an architect. Although he sprained his wrist in Paris so badly that he could not play his favorite instrument, the violin, he could still sing well and was forever humming tunes as he rode horseback, which was his one sport. At sixty-six Jefferson retired from the presidency twenty thousand dollars in debt. Only a few months of his life remained to him but these were cheered by public sympathy and generosity. Jefferson died on the fourth of July. His dust is mingled with the earth that was dearest to him, close by his home at Monticello. His burial place was chosen by him in his boyhood. We, who have the great honor of going to the school which was named after him, should more than reverence this great man. We should copy him. SPRING THOUGHTS BEATRICE STEIN To all the bursting buds around us, To every bird that sings on high, To all the stars that shine in Heaven And twinkle gently in the sky; To all the woodfolk in the forest, To every butterfly and bee. To all the singing, gurgling brooklets, To every bush and every tree; To all the flowers that bloom in Springtime. To every happy, little breeze, There is no jewel of any splendor That can compare with all of these. Continued on pajfe