Kirkman Vocational School - Spirit Yearbook (Chattanooga, TN)

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Prophecy of the Class of 1952 I stepped into my office with the sophistication and poise that come to the suc- cessful. At least I thought myself successful. I was an ambassador from the U. S. to Spain and had offices at home and abroad. Not many hours before, I had stepped from a plane and was now ready to catch up on my mail. Before long I opened a to the point letter from Max Johnson, President of the Kirkman Alumni Asso- ciation and co-owner of Johnson Bros. Contractors. Old spur of the moment' Max wasn't giving me much time-in one short week there was to be a reunion of the Classdof 12552. I made a mental note-June 4, 1972. Twenty long years. My, how time oes y. The week fairly melted away like ice in a July sun. and I soon found myself hastening toward Chattanooga, the old home town that I hsdn't seen for some years. I felt like the Prodigal son retuming home. It was early aftemoon when I drove into the visitors parking lot at Kirkman Vocational High School, and I had a few hours in which to look around before reunion time. I stood in wonder and gazed at the change that had come over my school. A new building fthat is new to mel extended from Third Street to First Street. There was a big gym, named for Coach Carr, and having the largest playing floor in the city. A wonderful big auditorium stood ready to accommodate the Stephen A. Harding play cast. I had to walk over a block through corridors before I found the cafeteria, a large, lovely room that surely stopped Miss Bennett from pulling out her hair at Junior-Senior Banquet time. I wanted to see what had happened to the old cafeteria, so I went as rapidly as my age and 250 pounds would allow me up the stairs and turned right. There I found a huge library filled with many books and eager students. In one corner of this room I found an art exhibit, and suddenly longed for my old interest-Art! Without realizing it, I lost myself in books and art: and when I came to earth again, it was past reunion time, so I rushed back to the . A gif broad-shouldered man was extending a welcome to the members of the Class of '52. His grey hair deceived me, but his voice was the same. There was our friend and advisor of year gone by, Principal Robert Taylor. When his welcome was finished he turned the program back to Max Johnson, who directed ua to the barbecue tables set up on the football field behind the gym. To be sure we ate: but we also talked. Many of them seemed to have kept in close contact. But I felt a stranger among these people I had known 20 years ago. I walked through the crowd like an eager child, reapturing old memories and faces. I first saw Norma Blankenship and thought how much she looked like her for- mer self. Then I came to with a start. That wasn't Nonna, it was her daughter, the verv image of her mother 20 years ago. A hasty look told me that Norma had her children with her-1-2-3-4-5 of them. . I I tumed suddenly to bump into a tall, dark-haired man whom I recognized nn- mediately--Ralph Adams. He informed me that at last he had leamed to work his math problems and had entered the field of politics, At that time he was head of the streets and sewers department and expected to nm for mayor in the next elec- tion. A pleasant, childish voice called me to come over and 'join a group .at one 03 the tables. Sammie Cagle stood staring at me with those great big beautiful eyes, and then she introduced me to her husband. Both of them were employed m Civil ' ork . Servl2eTlihnk Heavens, I said to myself, you're not the only one who has added a few extra pounds to his Eirth. Just look at Benny Bostong and hes smxhng. I could scarcelv believe it w en he told me that he and the former Zome Stone had been married a little more than a year. I guessed that Zonie had taught to smxleg but how she ever hooked him I'll never know, for Benny had a feeling when we were in school that every day was Sadie Hawkin's Day. N Turning from Benny, I suddenly exclaimed, I-Iow're you Red?. for even Barton Bowman's dyed hair couldn't disguise that face. I guess that trying TOMMY natural hadn't helped me much for he had a terrific time but at last recalled Old geezer himself-Chester Martin. Barton, his mountain friends, and hotrods were always a nuisance in schoolg so you understand why I had to take a pill for my heart and sit down to rest awhile when he said he'd just got back from Borneo where he had been a missionary. I just couldn't rest until I saw the girl I admired years ago. At last I found her, and she hadn't changed any. Same smile, same dreamy eyes, same Jean Shad- rick. She's now owner of the Shadrick Beauty Salon. Her glances at my waistline were embarrassing to me, so I hastened away to stare at what must have been Web- ster's idea of a nightmare. I reached for my sun glasses and was then able to make out the face of Gordon Varnell. The dazzle came from the medals covering his chest. He told me about his place in the Marine Corps, and I made a mental note that it's no wonder the war is over. A shrill whistle quietened the many voices, and the command to find a part- ner was heard in the silence. That voice-it was familiar. Oh. Yes. We soon dis- covered that not even twenty years had destroyed Mrs. Apperson's love for folk games. My partner was Jessie Fuller, now Mrs. Thomas Hickman. Thomas owns a florist shop and Jessie does the office work for him. ' Neither Jessie nor l could stand the rapid pace, so we sat down to talk. A tap on the shoulder caused me to turn to see Lymon Butler standing with outstretched