Medina High School - Medinian Yearbook (Medina, OH)

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MEDINIAN ■ ' Senior Class Poem Too soon for us has come the day When we must leave our school-mates dear, And deep in our heart it leaves, Memories of our High School cheer. We hardly know what we will do, Or where our future lies, But we sincerely hope and pray, It will not break these ties. The future holds in store for us, Things we do not know, For some of us will plug along, And others make a show. But High School days are over, As far as we’re concerned. And we do surely hope and trust Our courses we have learned. Our tasks are here before us, And now we must begin, Let us obey the call we hear, For vict’ry we must win. So here is to our High School, That we truly do adore, We hope that she’ll succeed As she always has before. Clayton Bate? Class Song Tune: “When You and I were Seventeen” — (Key of E flat) Not at the top but climbing is the motto of our class, We’ve striven hard to do our best in every deed and task, The memories of our dear old school will ever be in view, We hope to always think of her in every thing we do. Richard Warner Twenty-Three

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MEDINIAN ficial or very detrimental. It has been truly said that the best books are those which most resemble good actions. They are purifying, elevating, and sustaining; they enlarge and liberalize the mind; they preserve it against vulgar worldliness, they tend to produce high-minded cheerfulness, and equanimity of character; they fashion, shape and humanize the mind. Biography exerts a great influence on us. The records of the lives of men in- fluence our hearts, inspire us with hope, and set before us great examples. A noble life put fairly on the records acts as an inspiration to others. It exhibits what life is capable of being made. It refreshes our spirit, encourages our hopes, gives us new strength and courage, and faith; faith in others as well as ourselves. It stimulates our aspirations, rouses us to action, and incites us to become co-partners with them in their work. To live with such men in their biographies, and to be inspired by their example is to live with the best of men and to mix in the best of company. It would be difficult to over-estimate the influence which the lives of the great and good have exercised upon the elevation of human character. The influence, exerted by both dead and living authors and thinkers, through the medium of books is incalculable. Our reading should consist of books by authors who are of high moral character; for an author’s self and sentiment are revealed more clearly in a book than by per- sonal contact with him. One should ask before reading a book, “What is the char- acter of the author, mentally, morally, religiously?” “Is the man or woman one whose personal influence is to be dreaded, who would not be admitted to personal friendship, whose conversation would be shunned as a contamination?” Such ccvisid- erations should guide the reader, for a book more or less embodies the writer’s char- acter, and extends his influence. In reading a book one holds converse with a person through a comparatively perfect medium, for the reader subjects himself to an as- similating power. All associations mould character, whatever be the medium of their impressions; and because books are the means of our becoming like the authors, the same law applies to our choice of books as to our selection of friends. The task of securing good literature is becoming daily less difficult due to the in- creasing number of libraries and to the efforts of the schools who, in their supple- mentary reading courses, are opening to the youth of America, a vista of the enjoy- ment to be derived from good books. We must not, we dare not, underestimate the value of good literature in the development of character. It is imperative that we make every effort to provide suitable literature for the youth of our country, not the cheap trashy kind, which is written for one generation only, but those masterpieces which have withstood the test of centuries. Olive Davis Twenty-Two

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M E D I N I A N Class Prophecy Having finished my work for the day, I had leaned hack in my chair, folded my hands as a man of leisure and had given over my mind to the rather proud contempla- tion of the shiny black letters on the door, which, read from the outside, formed the words; — DONALD CHASE President Private Office when, suddenly, I was caused to realize my responsibility as president of the Fourth Federal Reserve Bank at Cleveland, Ohio, by having a telegram thrust under my nose by the customary freckled faced office boy. Opening it I found that I had re- ceived word from the government that I was to spend the next month visiting the other Federal Reserve Banks. On June 1, 1950 I arrived in Boston. Passing up the main street, I had my attention attracted by some very harmonious strains of music issuing from the open doorway of a large building which I supposed to be an auditorium. I entered and readily recognized Richard Warner leader of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Glancing at the other members of the orchestra, I recognized Vernon Blanchard, who was reputed to be the greatest bassoon player in the world. The next day I left for New York. Upon arriving in the city I bought an eve- ning paper. The first thing that caught my eyes was “Bagley, ‘Wall Street Finan- cier’ is leaving for Europe to investigate economic conditions there.” Reading the article I found that he had left his business in charge of his partner, Ted McDowell, and his private secretary Helen Hammett. My next stop was Philadelphia. When boarding the train from New York to Philadelphia, I heard some one say, “Hello, Chase.” Looking around I saw Albert Abrams. He told me that he was traveling salesman for the Curtis Publishing Com- pany. While walking along one of the streets of Philadelphia, I came to the Methodist Church, the largest church in the city, I heard a wonderful baritone voice which sound- ed familiar. Entering the church I was greatly surprised to find that the voice be- longed to Robert Searles. He told me later that he was travling with the Redpath Company and was soon to start a company of his own. When the preacher started his sermon I said to myself, “Where have I heard that voice before?” Listening more attentively I finally recognized it to be that of Rev. Clayton Bates. He had changed somewhat in appearance having acquired a moustache, but he was still very much the same Clayton, former scholar of M. H. S. Again I boarded the train, this time for Chicago. The International Automobile races were to be held there the next month. Hall Kellogg had entered the races, driving for the Hupmobile Company. While there I visited the University of Chicago and found that Helen East- wood was Dean of Women and that Kathleen Ziegler was teacher of Home Eco- nomics. As time was passing rapidly, I left Chicago for Colorado by aeroplane. I stopped Twenty-Four