Kalona High School - Centerika Yearbook (Kalona, IA)

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2 THE C’EINSt ERIKA Faculty WAYLAND W. OSBORN, B. A. MRS. INEZ S. OSBORN, B. A. English W. H. S. Cedar Rapids. Coe College. S. U. I. Graduate Student. Superintendent Walker High School. Coe College. S. U. I. Graduate Student. MRS. LENA HANSON Principal Titonka High School. University of Iowa Three and three-fourths Years. Board of Education LEFT TO RIGHT—Ura. A. Miller, Secretary; S. J. Palmer, Director; C. C. Swartzendruber, Director ; Joel D. Reber, President; and M. F. Palmer, Treasurer. No school is complete without a good board of education. The members of our board =) are very much interested in us. They spend much time in making and carrying out plans for our school. We appreciate their help.

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THE CENTERIKA 6¥ Dedication COser the Class of 1928, the first to graduate from Center High School, respectfully ded- icate this, our first Annual, to those of our many friends who, believing in youth and the value of a sane education, have sacrificed their time and money to create this institution.

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erie ks CENTERIKA 3 A TIP BY RADIO “He won’t get a nickle’s worth of good out ot that radio,’’ remarked Jim Blake when he heard that John Akers had invested two hundred dollars in one. “T wouldn’t give a nickle for a carload of them,” piped up the richest ranch owner in Texas, and the tightest; he looked the part too. Thus was the conversation at Sleepy Hollow store. John Akers was a man of small means who had two sons Jim and Bill, who helped with the ranch work. John had bought a radio so that the long even- ings would not seem too lonely, for he and the boys “batched.” All the neighbors thought him foolish. This evening the three had stayed at home to listen to the new radio instead of going to the store, as was the usual custom on Saturday night. “In spite of the fine entertainment we get from the radio, I guess I will have to get rid of it,’ John said, while they were eating supper. “It’s getting on my nerves the way the neighbors talk about my radio and me. The way they talk you’d think I’d gone mad.” “Let ’em talk,” said Jim. ‘““‘We surely can run our own business.” At about ten o’clock the weather report was given. With a surprised look they stared at each other. “A fierce blizzard is coming from the west, ac- companied by an eighty mile wind,” announced the voice from the air. “That means we’ll have to round up those cattle and get them under shelter, and it won’t be easy to drive them toward a storm if we wait too long. Get the horses ready and we'll start out.” With this they were gone. They finally reached the cattle and succeeded in getting most of them moving toward the buildings, which was a great deal of satisfaction. About midnight they had them un- der shelter. No sooner had they got settled in the house by the cozy fire than the storm broke. The buildings creaked and groaned under the fury of the blizzard. “Well,” John said, “it will take more than two hundred to buy that radio from me.” The next morning after they had looked the stock over Jim Blake came riding up. “That sure was a ‘whiz bang’ of a storm, wasn’t it?”’, he drawled. ‘‘How many did you lose?” “None,” replied John. “None!” he gasped. ‘“‘You gotta show me.” “There they are,” replied John. “How is it that you lost none when I lost about seventy-five head? How did you know about the storm coming?” “Just a tip by radio,’”’ John replied. “You mean to tell me, John, that your radio told you that storm was coming?” “That’s it,’ he said. “Say,” Jim said shamefacedly, ‘‘would you mind telling me where I can get one of them; I’ll be kicked if I don’t get one and take a few “tips by radio’’ myself.”’ IDs Je Weyl THE COMEDY OF “HARERS” (Introductory afterward). This beautiful, path- etic poem was written by a well know school teach- er in the literary field, that is, C. H. Hess. Mr. Hess was born in Hessville on Oldman’s creek about four thousand years ago. Hewas well known in radio fields being a loud speaker in the recent Tea- pot Dome oil scandal. (Directions to teachers). This story of sixty-four volumes should be thoroughly digested with a grain of salt. One bright summer day during midwinter in about the middle of the month of May or there- abouts Julius Grabber started on his daily annual trip to the scene of his literary pursuits into the land of fascinating science, in other words to Cen- ter High School. The sun shone brightly from a clear sky. The lightning flashes played across the skies and thun- der burst resounding cricks over the landscape; the snow drifted over the roadways while the rain fell in torrents, as Julius ran down the road in a tireless walk. Julius Grabber was a thin youth of about eighty summons. He began his career on a level New England farm situated on a high bluff overlooking the beautiful Mississippi River in America’s most beautiful spot near Frytown, Iowa. Suddenly a small large hare leaped from a thicket bordering the mountain side. He was closely fol- lowed in about an hour by an enormously small hare. In another second there came a third hare. In less time than it takes to bat an eyelash the road was filled with hares. They blew about everywhere. They drifted into piles and heaps. They got into our hero’s eyes. They stuck to his beautiful, patched, ragged gar- ments. His little brother who had caught up with him at this moment, exclaimed, as an exceptionally large hare became caught on Julius’ ear, ‘““Caesar man! Grabber!’”’ Julius’ hand shot out and down faster than the eye could follow. There was a cresh of metal on metal. “Gosh! There goes the last bell,’’ exclaimed he. (Hand note). Julius was of Polynesian descent having been born near the arctic circle. (Printer’s apprentice note). All rights including the rights of women to vote are reserved by the DUOUSherss eee MeN ss ser: CeH.e 28