La Grande High School - Mimir Yearbook (La Grande, OR)

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THE MIMIR Page 27 he is too modest to have his works read, as he is in the English class.” “Now, let’s look at the Sophomore roll. Here is Minna Ash in the lead again. Why does she continually say, ‘prunes and prisms’?” “Well, it’s this way. Her aunt thinks she laughs too much, and made her promise to do it to give her mouth a dainty shape.” “Oh, I see! I’ll do it before I have my picture taken for the Annual. Going back to the roll, this is the year Katie and I entered. I remember the first ones with whom we became acquainted were Nellie Storey and Kathryn Riddle. They entered that year, too, and we all sat at the same table in Botany Lab. We thot them two of the most splendid girls we had ever met.” “And you did not judge wrongly. Pete entered that year, too—he and his gum. He certainly is the bane of the teachers’ existence, isn’t he?” “Lucile Rees joined us in 1913, as dainty and mischievous as now. And here are Ellis and Jay—a very welcome addition to the class.” “Ellis doesn’t look natural since the football season without his skinned nose or black eye, does he? Jay was always too much concerned about his delicate frame for athletics.” “Now, where is last year’s roll? Oh, here it is! We sat in Room 15, and Miss Riddle was our assembly teacher. We were certainly proud of being Juniors, weren't we? Just notice the additions to our ranks, will you! First, Clarence Becker. Our old assembly room certainly will be silent next year without him! And here is Nell Bradley.” “She is a natural leader, isn’t she? How she attends to everything, and makes the highest grades in the room is beyond my comprehension.” “Gilbert Hunter is next, vice-president, isn’t he ? And he was popular as football captain this year. And then Nita.” “Everyone says Nita Hunter is little and cute—she’s little, but oh, my!—You say Lucile Mulkey is next? She is our class optimist. Her sense of humor is well developed, and what she doesn’t laugh at, isn’t worth laugh- ing at.” “And here is Edith Weaver. Her talkativeness will never be missed, but, rather, her rweet face. And Edith Welch, whose ambition it is to ‘teach the young idea how to shoot.’ Also Marjorie Kuchenthal—” “Wait a minute! You are going too fast for me to get their names down. However do you spell Kuchenthal?” “Oh, just put down ‘K I think the teachers do. You know she thot she would have to have her cards for the commencement invitations made longer than ours! Now that’s all of us, isn’t it? Oh, no! A few more en- tered this year—Elva and Olga, the Inseparables, and Elizabeth. “Lucile Mulkey thot she was a chemistry shark before the coming of Elizabeth. There! I have all the names. Haven’t we a splendid class? And we shall soon be parting now; that is the most unpleasant part about graduating, to think that it is goodbye to many of our dear old classmates. I begin to believe what many have told me—that the last year in High School is the best of our school days.” “So it seems.” “But now we have the names, how shall we write the history?” “Oh, a history is so dry. I wish we might give the class our remin- iX-.J ,v. '' u,r u,r uni h nfft

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Page 2(i TIIE M1MIR CLASS HISTORY Louisa Counsell and Blanche Black “I say, Blanche, what are we going to do about the class history ? Have you an idea yet?” “No, but I have been thinking. Suppose you come down tonight, and we will look thru some old Annuals and probably get an inspiration.” “All right. Seven-thirty, shall it be?” Accordingly at seven-thirty the Senior class historians were seated at a table strewn with paper and books. “I do believe we have the hardest task of all. Look here, Loui a. you dictate and I'll do the writing.” “Oh no! Two heads are better than one. See, I have found the class roll for 1912. You take down the names as I read them. Minna heads the list as usual, and you are holding your place as second. You have been president of the class from the eighth grade, haven’t you? Next is Carol Currey—say, did you like her the first time you saw her? I couldn’t see why everyone should be so fond of her.” “Well, there always was something more or less attractive about her. And there are Marjorie and Lenore, too; and they haven’t changed at all since I first knew them.” “Here’s Myrton’s name. Isn’t it strange that he has been so popular all this time? And you say he was even more so in the eighth grade. And here’s Charlotte, isn’t she a dear!” ■“Linked sweetness long drawn out!’ Who is next? Oh, Annecta, our own poet; she always has been an honor to the class.” “We are justly proud of her. Next is Edna Perryman, our heroine— ' she is graduating in spite of difficulties.” “Yes, indeed she is a heroine. And such themes! School wouldn’t be nearly such a drag if we could all write as she can. Earl is next? What would we have done these four years without Earl Reynolds to stand back of us in everything! By the way, do you remember an English test in which one of us defined a Knickerbocker writer as one who wore knickerbockers, and Miss HeTshey applied it to Earl, because he had not yet donned ‘longs’?” “Oh, yes! and it seems ages ago! Here is Leona’s name. Didn’t you find it hard to get acquainted with her? But it was worth the effort. And here is Arleigh Kammerer, another favorite. She can speak German to ‘beat the Dutch,’ can’t she? Next is Harold Newton.” “Skinny, you mean ? Don’t you really think he will be President or something some day?” “Most likely. These industrious people always make their way in the world. Here is Helen McDonald.” “What will the High School do for a chairman of the “eats” committee after Helen is gone ? Glad we had her for the Senior picnic, anyway. Ruth Taylor next? ‘The happiest women, like the happiest nations, leave no his- tory.’ Are there any more?” “Yes, Walter Young brings up the rear as usual. Was he as droll as a Freshman as he is now?” “Oh yes, and just as industrious. He will be a famous essayist, unless

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Page 28 THE MIMIR iscences, for it has been a real pleasure to talk of our High School career.” “Well, that’s an idea. Let’s do it!” And so we give it, classmates, to you, with the wish that we may often meet in the future. CLASS PROPHECY Carol Currey and Lenore Hughey Illustrating the wonders of my original brand of hair bleach, with my own charming person, I at last found myself blown by the v'inds of care, so to speak, into the far-off land of Egypt. But I had failed to attract the dusky natives, and my pack was heavy with unsold goods. The sun was rapidly peeling the enamel from my once youthful cheeks, and it was with a feeling of relief that I sought the shelter of a crystal-gazer’s retreat in the top of a tall pyramid. Ye gods! worse for worse! As I climbed, the air reminded me more and more of the Chinese mission in Hong Kong, now superintended by Edith Welch. Crouched in a far corner, was the dishev- eled figure of the high priestess, whom I recognized as “that rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore.” This unexpected meet- ing carried us back to the class of 1915, and Lenore offered to show me— free of charge—what our distinguished classmates had accomplished. 1 gladly accepted her offer, and soon we were eagerly gazing together into the sparkling crystal. First, a noble figure appeared before our eyes, and we recognized our former classmate, Harold Newton, decked in garlands won thru his marvel- ous interpretation of the Jones-Mulkey drama, “Won by Waiting.” The crystal cleared, and we now perceived a gay, pivoting couple, lightly swaying to the strains of “Alexander’s Ragtime Band, with Variations,” Arleigh Kammerer’s latest musical success. These graceful creatures were indeed our beloved friends, Helen McDonald Becker and her husband Clarence. Again the scene shifted, and we saw the noble mayor of Island City, Gilbert Hunter, swinging into place the cornerstone of a massive building whose honored designers we knew to be Nell Bradley and Walter Young. In contrast to the busy city street, we now seemed to look into a quiet corner of a country church yard, where we read the solitary inscription, K3 H2 O. This, we, without hesitation, translated into the name of Elizabeth Bond. And now we recognized in a portly figure surrounded by busts of Caesar and Virgil, our dear comrade, Marjorie Snook. She was initiating a class of freshmen into the mysteries of supines and gerundives. At my side I heard Lenore murmur, “Dear old Snookie! May she never hear of my con- dition.” This brought me back to the present, and I remembered the havoc the sun must have wrought upon my complexion. Bearing in mind that my fortune was in my hair and face, I made what repairs I could. Then as we returned to the globe, within it, seemed to gleam the White House, wherein we saw, President Shaw, pleasantly conversing with his Secretary of War, Ellis Williamson. Feeling justly proud of our friends, we looked once more into the crys- tal, and saw a solitary figure walking back and forth before the doors of a