Mead Public School - Raider Yearbook (Mead, NE)

Page 19 text:

CLASS PROPHESY Ah, ye6, we are at last In Dreamland. There Is the golden eagle knocking at the window beckoning us to mount his back so that he may take us on a tour to see our fellow classmates as they will appear fifty years hence. Are we reedy? You bet! Our first visit is in good old Nebraska. Cn one of the many dirt roads, in a little red schoolhouse, we find one of our classmates, Carol Bergman, teaching her eleven pupils their history lesson. Even though she is 66, she locks quite young. Her hair is done up in a neat knot and her black hose have no runners. She is blushing, as usual, but her pupils seem to be exceedingly well behaved. While yet in Nebraska we decide to tour the farm of Louise Angell and her husband. We find her scrubbing the kitchen floor on her hands and knees. She tells us it is so hard to keep their three-room home clean when the thirteen children are running wildly about. She says Grandmother Angell will simply have to take care of the children while she and her husband build two additional rooms on to their home. Now for a swoop to the Nation's Capital, Washington D. C., to vl6it Hon. Bernard Schmidt, Supreme Court Justice. He tells us he thoroughly enjoys his work if he could only see a little better. Although he is in his late 60's, he says he has many years to go before he Intends to retire from his position. On a flight to Maine, we first stop at Radio City, New York. Here we find Dorothy Ktrlson directing her all-male choir, broadcasting over the CRaZY network. She tells us that the next number of the program will be that cute little lass of our class, Arlene Coufal, touring the musical scales of the new opera, He's My Sailor, so we decide to stay until she has performed. Continuing our Journey to the rocky coast of Maine, we behold an extremely shacky building and decide to investigate. Upon reaching a door and opening it, we find a queer old professor squinting and peer- ing at teat tubes and flasks. Why, it is none other than Leslie Hageman. He does not recognize us at first, but after pushing his extremely long hair out of his eyes he can really see! He then tells us he is trying to discover a magnetic perfume which will attract women. My, my, such nonsense at his age. cros6 the hall from Frcf. Ha emon's laboratory we 6ee r dcor with a sign in bold letters, Archeologist, Dolores Swanson. Thi6 must be worth investigation. Opening the door we find not one, but two ladies seatedata desk. We discover that it is Mise Swanson dictating a letter to her private secretary, Arlene Behrens, hiss Swanson's office is filled to the brim with oones and skeletons and mummies of all sorts. Enough to give anyone the creeps! Miss Behrens tells us that she does secretarial work for Miss Swanson only as a sideline, and tnat her steady Job is teaching Home Ec. in a boys' college. Oh, yes, she also says she does light house work once a week in the old bcchelors' home. You see, she's en old maid. Now for a long hop to the Ozarks. There, under an old tree, is a bare-foot man. His cheeks are sunken and his hair is whitened. We'd never know him but for a trace in his 6nile. His teeth are gone, but he says he'll have some from the store soon. Then we're sure we'll be able to tell more easily that he is Msrion Moline. Just across the border into Texas, our pet eagle brings us right into the office of Hr. Bob Scoles, manager of the Sout and Spurt Oil Company. As usual, his feet are on the desk and he is desperately trying to converse on the phone end dictate a letter all at once. We see he has dozens of secretaries but none are quite as efficient as his favor- ite red-haired gal! (????) The last state in the tour is California, where we find the glamour of the class, as we sail over one of the city parks of Hollywood, we see a huge gsng of bobby-soxers crowded around a park bench yelling wildly for autographs. We swoop down and see that the feature attrac- tion is our own Van Johnson, otherwise known as Wayne Williams. Although he's in his c6th year and his hair is flecked with gray, he still has that magnetic attraction for women! (Maybe Prof. Hageman had be iter see nim for eome advice.) (Turn to bottom of Class Will)

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CLASS WILL Ae we nestle on the broad back of the senior Eagle and soar into the stratosphere, we, the seniors beinginfull possession of mind with memories that put to shame the World 3ook, do hereby leave this last will and testament of the class of 1946---- I, LOUISE ANGELL, do hereby will and bequeath my ability to get my feet off the ground while cheer-leading to ELAINE JOHNSON. I, ARLENE BEHRENS, do hereby will and bequeath my good grades to CHARLES ANOELL in hopes that he may become a better student and my many nick names (Beanie, Bugs, Ish, 3eans, and Goofy) to HARIE SHANAHAN. I, CAROL BERGMAN, do hereby bequeath my phone calls and dates to VERA KASTENSCHMIDT (as if she needed them). I, ARLENE COUFAL, do hereby will and bequeath my modesty to CLARICE KINZLER and my ability to sew my own clothes to WILMA GOEHANS. I, LESLIE HAGEMAN, do hereby will and bequeath my gift of gab to GENEVIEVE 3ERG. I, DOROTHY KARLSON, do hereby will and bequeath my vocal talent to FRANCES Sr-ELY. I, MARION MOLINE, do hereby will and beaueath my height of 6'4 to LAUREN KUHR. I, BERNARD SCHMIDT; do hereby will and bequeath anything but my mathematical ability to ELLEN SA3ATKA. I, BOB SCOLES, do hereby will and bequeath my dark handsome features to ERNIE C iJKA and my interest in VIOLA WIDHAN to no one. I, DOLORES SWANSON, do hereby will and bequeath my drama tic ability to RITA WOITa and my Indian moccasins to JIM ZOOK in order that he may walk more quietly. I, MERNA WILLIAMS do hereby will and bequeath all ray duties as editor of the BUCCANEER to VIOLA WIDhAN and my giggle to CHARLES ZOOK. I, WAYNE WILLIAMS, do hereby will and bequeath my athletic ability to WAYNE JARVILL. We, the class of '46 will: our reputation to the Juniors on supposition that they may need it. our intelligence to the sophomores to be awake when next year's seniors try to sneak away, all of our sympathy to the freshmen. We, speaking from experience, know what lies ahead of them, to all the faculty we award the purple heart. Just look with what they had to contend. (CLASS HISTORY) but her twin sister, Herne, felt the full force of her,.departure. Ver- na began her schooling with the class of 1946—we wish she might have finished with us. We have now reached the last year of high school and we are the dignified Seniors of 1946. We are a small clasp of Just 12 members— Louise Angell, Arlene Behrens, Carol Bergman, Arlene Coufal, Leslie Hageman, Dorothy Karlson, Marlon Moline, Bernard Schmidt, Bob Scoles, Dolores Swanson, Merna Williams, and Wayne Williams. Mrs. Angell is our class soonpor. Wayne Williams, President; Bob Scoles, Vice-Presi- dent ; Arlene Behrens, Secretary; Dolores Swanson. Treasurer. A Thanks- giving olay entitled A MODERN THANKSGIVINGwae presented on November 20. We thought we dleolayed a great deal of dramatic ability but the under- classmen all drew the wrong conclusions; they called it more of a feast 8nd a good time for the seniors. Commencement, held on Hay 16, closed our haooy school days. (CLASS PROFHECY) For our last vl6lt we go to one of the famous movie houses. There we find our comornlon, Herna Williams, taking a screen test. When she sees U6 she rushes towards up telling us that she has Just won another bathing beauty contest. (The Judges must have been induced by the cute little giggle.) We are now back where we started from. Please don't wake up too suddenly. Goodbye'.