Mason High School - Anchora Yearbook (Mason, MI)

Page 32 text:

.....:..:.: :.: : :.:.:.:.:..: :.:..:..:.:..:..:.: :u-Anchora..,-.-.....- VALEDICTORY As I think of this day of spring passing into summer, summer into fall, and autumn into winter, I know I shall be forgiven if I make a fanciful comparison between these seasons, and that which we see in imagination through life's window of dreams. As Mother Nature moves from the promise of spring to the fulfilment of summer, to the mellow richness of autumn, to the safe retreat of winter, so man, in the normal span of living passes through the door of youth's hope and adventure to the chamber of man' hoods realization, to the softer adjustment of approaching age, on to the quiet peace of life's white winter. We know that spring is for Nature. It is then that the earth and heaven are being prepared for the full flowering of summer. So it is that in the springtime of human life, in childhood and youth, we lay the foundations of what is yet to come. It goes without denial that the seeds of living planted then become beginnings of success or failure. Youth looks forward into the future with a hope that knows no bounds, with a fancy that overleaps the present, a daring that knows no discouragement, an enthusiasm that sings in dreams and visions. It is in the springtime of life we lay the foundations of our ideals. Some dream of riches and fame: some of power and beauty: some of studyg and some of just having a good time . We must learn early to distinguish between the sham and the real, the permanent and the passing, the high and the low. The next window of dreams looks out upon the summer of life. In nature, summer brings to fulfilment the expectations of spring. The hidden beauties of April and May become the gorgeous realities of june, july and August. But also there are droughts and insects and frosts, which destroy the harvest of our most careful planting. So it is with human life. The dreams and visions of youth in too many instances fall short of realif zation. The world, we begin to see, is not an easy place in which to live. Maturity may bring us glorious success, but it may also bring us up with a shock to the fact that we are not as good as we thought we were. It is a time for taking inventory of what we can do and what we cannot do. Some simply drift on the stream of failure and get nowhere with dreams of what might have been, others, more sensible, see their real possibilities. and build a solid foundation and structure thereon. As we come upon the next window of dreams, we look out upon the autumn of life. The gray hairs are beginning to come: the body is slowing up: ambition is beginning to relax. We see the setting sun. We like to rest more, the strenuous life does not hold the same appeal. What once seemed so terribly important seems a little insignificant. So in the autumn of life, when good fortune, genius and hard work have heaped comfort, luxury and honor upon us, let us be humble and sympathetic to those who have fallen by the wayside. Finally, at the end of the short road of life stands the winter of old age. It, too, has its window of dreams. For a rich and fruitful life is the crowning glory of attainment. Grown old, we may sit back in tranquility, and enjoy the simpler things of life. If we have enough within ourselves of peace and happy memory, then the window of winters dreams will be painted with mellowness, charm and beauty. So we look out upon human experience through life's four windows of dreams . . the springtime of youth, adventure and hopeg the summer of realization and fruition: the autumntide of wisdom and faith, the winter of memory, of tranquility. The spirit within us can in any season of life, rise Phoenixflike from the ashes of misfortune, to build a new, a greater kingdom of living. -Lorna Rusch.

Page 31 text:

-,,-,,-.,-.,- Anchora ..,- .-..- .-.,- .- ,-. VALEDICTORY Graduation opens and closes many doors. School doors lock behind us, and before us lies the vista of a new education-education in the school of life. The doors in which the keys have been turned are closed upon the scenes of the happiest days we may ever know. Acquaintances have been formed which will never be forgotten. After leaving this school we may never see many of our classmates again. Fate may take some of us to the other ends of the earth, or we may live for the rest of our lives only a short distance apart. Though our paths may never cross, we will cherish the memory of each friendship formed. We can not easily forget the teachers and friends with whom we have worked for four years. The door through which we now must pass opens into a great garden divided by many paths, each leading to a chosen profession. Some of the paths are worn smooth by constant travel. Others which lead to a comparatively new field of endeavor show the marks of recent blazing. We who are about to enter this garden must make our choice as to which path we will follow. Perhaps some of us will choose a certain one because it looks the easiest, not because our shoes are best fitted for that type of travel. Others will choose the path for which they believe they are best suited. Still others will be content to remain at the starting point, waiting for opportunity to come knocking at their door. Now that this time to choose our path and say goodbye has arrived, we realize that no one can really appreciate his school days until he knows they are over and can' not be retrieved. ln saying our farewells, we also express our gratitude to everyone who has helped us thus far-our teachers, whom we will remember long after we have for' gotten our lessonsg our schoolmates, who have helped make our school days more enjoy' able: our friends, who have been ready to help us with kind words and deeds: and more than all thesefour parents, who have sacriliced more than we shall ever know, that we might receive an education. To everyone we express our gratitude and a fond farewell. Young lives now must face their world- A place to them in mystery furledg Facing it with a hidden fear: Parting paths are asking 'kWhich way here? Cash reward for city toil, Or freer life on open soil? Thrilling sound of deepening mine, Or lullaby of singing pine? Forges' roar and hammers' clang, Or healing of a mortal pang? Life given o'er to golden gain, Cr soothing words to souls in pain? Taming of a whirring gear, Or sacrifice for lives held dear? Luring lights of festal halls, Ur calm refrain of night birds' calls? Some shall go and some must stay: Which should be, none now can say. But the moiling crucible of time Will mould for each a life sublime If he has but answered with conscience clear When parting paths have asked him, Which way here? -janet Hemans iwricxiniariniriixaniivixcfinielurirzq

Page 33 text:

,,,,-,,-,,..,- Anch01'a..,: I : : Z : I I I : I : I : :f: 23:22-C:-M 5 V 5 5