Junction City High School - Junco Ed Yearbook (Junction City, OR)

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THE IUNCO-ED 1927 Well, he returned, when that hole was made, the water from the melon rushed out so fast that it tore my house down and washed all that valuable dirt down into the river. I suppose you sawed the rind up in sections and buried it ? I ven- tured to ask. No, he answered, I wouldn't be caught wasting anything like that. Why you know sir, we had one of -the biggest picklin' bees you ever laid eyes on. We made watermelon pickles out of the rinds. I was going to ask how' they ever got enough vinegar to pickle all that rind, but I was afraid he would tell about some huge apple tree or something of the kind, so I thot I would steer the conversation into safer charmels. You would have been in a bad fix if it had rained on that melon, I ventured to say. I sure would have been, he returned. Speaking about rain reminds me of the time we had a bad rain storm a few years ago. Did you ever hear about it ? . I signified that I hadnit so he proceeded with his discourse. Well it rained so hard during that storm that it busted a funnel out on the bench. This funnel was turned with the little end up and il. rained so hard into the small end that it couldn't run out at the bottom, so the pressure split the thing wide open. But that wasn't as bad -as the storm we had ten years ago. Do you Want to hear about that? I told him one rain story was enough and added that I thot he must have gotten wet during some of these storms. Well, he says, sometimes but not always. One time I went out hunting. I always take six guns and .six kids to carry them, that is so 1 won't be bothered with loading. Along about three o'cl0ck in the afternoon the sky began to get cloudy and dark. I knew we were in for a real storm. Before we vcould get home the rain began to pour down so I just grabbed a gun from one of the boys and started shooting the rain drops as fast as they fell, and as fast as I would shoot, the kids would load up. When that storm blew over there was a dry place around us about eight feet square. Good shootin' wasn't it? I used to be a crack shot in my younger days. Why, sir, you ought to have been here when I pitted cherries for my old woman. I told him I thot that would have been interesting and that I would like to -hear about it, but just after he took- up another notch in his belt and filled a knot hole with liquid nicotine, a small boy appeared in the doorway with his head bandaged up and with small pieces of adhesive tape plastered promiscously over his countenance. Good heavens! I asked, what hit the boy? Oh we have just been larnin' him to eat with his knife and fork, Methuselah's competitor answered. After sending the boy away he continued to tell about his cherry pitting process. Now, about those cherries, he resumed., I built a high platfoiin

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THE ,IUNCO-ED 1927 ANANIAS II It was while I was a feature writer for the Daily Astonisher that I bumped up against this fellow, I Layal-ot, who held the lying champion- ship of Cornstock County. I didn't know this when I went out to inter- view him. Mr. Lyalot had reached the h-ale old age of 100, so the editor of the Astonisher considered it a good plan to feature this centenarian in his Sunday edition. Naturally the lot fell to me to make the interview. I was supposed to ask him a lot of fool questions about where he was born and to -what he 'attributed his long life, something about his ex- periences and so forth and so on ad infinitum. To make a short story long, I jumped over the door of the faithful iiivver and bumped my way over a rustic road to grandpa Lyalot's house. After passing .the time of day and attending to the other formalities connected with a reporter's work, I started+gently at first-to quiz the old gentleman. I first asked him to what he attributed his long life. After a -long and deliberate pause he informed me that the reason he had lived so long was that he hadn't happened to die yet. I then asked him whether or not he thought the climate and the soil didn t have something to do with it. He took up another notch in his venerable belt, knocked over a beetle with a stream of amber liquid and proceeded to enlighten me on the qualities of the country. Well says he, do you see that big hole over there '? I told him that I could see that far. Well, he continued, that is the richest piece of land in the state. Why one time I planted a watermelon seed over there. In a couple of days the blame thing began to grow.I sure thot that was funny because on any other piece of ground I usually had to raise my watermelons with a crow bar. On the fifth day that melon grew to such proportions that I thot 'sure as shootin' it would push my house off of its foundation. I began to do a lot of figuring and by the time the sixth day rolled around I had four men on top of the melon trying to pump it out with a pitcher pump. That plan didn't work because the seeds would get stuck in the valves. The next morning the melon was so big that it just lacked .six inches of touching the house. If the sun -h'adn't gone behind a cloud, I believe the melon would have pushed my house over. I was getting pretty desperate let me tell you, when the idea of dynamite struck me all of a sudden like. I hollers to the old woman to get the kids out of the house and then I touched -off the biggest charge of dynamite in this country. 'Did it do the work, I asked. Do the work did you say? Well I guess. Why sir, it blew a hole in that melon large enough to drive a Ford thru. It sure stopped the blame thing from growing. Why don't you grow anything over there now 'P' I inquired. 31

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THE ,IUNCO-ED 1927 about six feet square and had one of the kids take a bucket of cherries up on it. While he poured the cherries over the side I up and pops them one with my trusty old shot gun, pitting them slick as a whistle. By this time I calculated that I had enough material for a fair sized story for the Astonisher, so I bade the venerable old gentleman good day and made for my flivver. He accompanied me out to the gate and looked on while I twisted the front of my automobile. Pretty stubborn cuss ain't it ? he asked, when he heard me mutter something not fit for publication. Now that reminds me of an old mule I used to have in '78 - He got no further as the faithful tin can cut in on his remarks- th-ank heaven--and left. I thot, as I hustled over -the sylvan road that perhaps Ananias could be considered an honest man after all. VARDELL NELSON, Senior. -.LO THE SOPHOMORE FORMAL A The Sophomores were planning a very select dance, a formal to be exact, on St. Patrick's eve. Professor Carder, the principal of our Alma Mater, old Union Central High, frowned darkly upon the proceedings. First, he declared there had been the Senior Mix, then the Junior Sneak and now both the Sophomores and the Freshmen were planning entertainments. Was it any wonder that -World History and Caesar suffered so sadly? But speaking of the Freshmen, they were having a Frosh 'Circus on the same evening that we were giving our dance. It's really so proper, Doris Langdon told one of them very sweetly, are you going to decorate in green? Q But I say, Don Chapman told a group of us, we'd better watch those Frosh closely. They've got something up their sleeves and I donft mean I think so either. Well, well, Mr. HawkshaW, said Susan Stewart, the class secretary, you've been doing a little detecting, I take it? The usual procedure is to steal the ice cream, isn't it? Well, don't worry, those refreshments will be Safely locked in the basement. Don's Warnings aroused our suspicions, however. The Freshmen gathered in small groups in the halls, talking in low voices, and as soon as one of us approached, they would begin to talk about Algebra or an English theme just a little too loudly. We did not have much time to bother about them, however, while rushing out of 'assembly hall every few minutes and being late to school at noon half the time. We worked our heads off, but in -the wrong way, so it seemed. You should have heard the Prof's lamentations as to all the golden opportunities we were wasting. Myl my! what is this generation coming to? he would solemnly remark. The poor old dear, howl could he 33