Maroa Forsyth High School - Trojanaire / Maronois Yearbook (Maroa, IL)

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(SetS ses Ae ABS Or aX been in this college ever since her graduation and.was much beloved by all of her male students in spite of the fact that her hair was silver white. As I was about to pass on, I noticed a familiar face among the students. Oh, horrors! it was Alfred Pulliam who was still striving to make up the work he had lost in M. H. 8. Shortly after this, as | was passing over Chicago, I noticed a great crowd gath- ered and so I decerided as much as I dared and saw Wayne Smart, the celebrated auctioneer, trying to sell Sears and Roebuck at auction. At this time I had a longing to get near my old home town, and as I passed over Kenney, Il., 1 beheld Fremon Crum on a dimly lit platform, trying to sell patent medi- cine, while his active wife, who was once Beatrice Miller, was doing the ‘‘Hoe Down’’ to amuse the natives. After this IT spent a few moments in gazing over Maroa and about the only famil- iar face that | saw was Lyman Masterson conducting an open air business college in Central Park. Next as I passed over the District of Columbia I heard loud shouts of ‘‘ Long Live the President.’’ As I came nearer I beheid Russell Trummel being inaugurated as President of the United States while his dear wife, who was once Leta Kling quietly sat in the senate chamber preparing her valedictorian speech. : As my forty-eight hours were now up,I, Milford Bolen started on my upward path toward the pearly gates. I had been rather disappointed in my old classmates. But I highly resolved that I would ask as a special favor that President Russel Trummel might be given that ability to duly uphold the reputation and name of the mighty class of 1921. () Pay

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Be SAN ae On IX SENIOR CLASS PROPHECY Unluckily, I had the misfortune to die at the age of thirty. I was among the first to pass away of the mighty class of ’21. After a few months I was permitted to enter into the pearly gates. Of course, I at once demanded my wings, but Saint Peter said, that before I could obtain these I must first spend at least three years in the ‘‘closed courts’’ in repentance for hypno- tizing my English teacher. After a slight remonstrance I reluctantly followed old Saint Peter toward the scene of my next three years. Just as we were about to enter into the gates of the ‘ Closed Courts’? I was tapped on the shoulder by a sentry and quickly wheeling around I came face to face with my old classmate, Thomas Crocker. Of course, i at once asked him, what he was doing there. He replied with a sigh that while traveling over the Rocky Mountains in his new Cadillac aeroplane, he had gotten on the wrong aerial road and was forced to make a landing near the gates of the ‘‘Closed Courts.’’ He was noticed by the officers and was given a job as sentry of the ‘‘Courts.’’ Saint Peter then commanded that I follow him further into the ‘‘Courts,’’ and about the first place we went from there was to luncheon. Here as we were being served I happened to glance up, and saw Ruth Parlier waiting on tables. Of course I asked her what she was doing there but she meekly replied that she had come with Thomas in his Cadillac. Drearily the three years passed and I was at last freed from the ‘‘Closed Courts’’ and presented with my wings. I was warned that I should not get too near the earth, but I promised that I would not, and I was permitted to leave the kingdom of Heaven for a forty-eight hour leave. As I neared the earth, one of the first things that I noticed was a little country church yard, wherein was being conducted a funeral. I ventured to get close enough to the churchyard to hear the minister deploring the death of Waldo Montgomery who had been killed while having a skillet fight with his beloved wife who was once Miss Lelia Westbrook, because he had come in late from playing golf. Next, as I soared on over my old place of habitation my eye fell upon Yale Col- lege and whom should I see but Irene Chandler instructing a class in Italian. She had

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SENIOR CLASS POEM x O Once upon a midnight dreary, As I sat up in my den, I tried to think and think and think, Which way to move my pen. It was because of this, dear friends, Of this and nothing more, Because we needed poetry, For our annual of great yore. When we started we were Freshmen, And soon were Sophomores big, And when later we were Juniors, We certainly had to dig. And now that we are Seniors, And are wearing caps and gowns, We have ventured many battles, ‘And we have had our ups and downs. We can hardly believe it’s true, That we must leave our school, And will venture in a new world With tongue or pen or tool. But when we leave on class day We hope that we’ve done well, And as we leave you under classmates, We bid you fond farewell.