Mepham High School - Treasure Chest Yearbook (Bellmore, NY)

Page 9 text:

To the Class of 1962: You have noted and you remember the map of Long Island on the north wall of the Auditorium. There is a star on that map which indicates our school, Mepham High School. As you look at the map. it appears large because it covers most of the wall. You know that actually it is quite small in comparison to Long Island itself. Long Island seems large as you live on it because it covers most of your perspective. As you travel far and wide, when you turn your thoughts back to Long Island it may seem small in comparison to the World. You have progressed during your year at Mepham, making individual use of your abilities according to your determinations. You have joined in cooperative activities to a high degree of achievement. You have found that the insurmountable obstacles have diminished before your enterprise. As the years continue, your experience in coping with situations should enable you to solve the problems of life and citizenship. Problems that at first may appear overwhelming will shrink to manageable size as you keep them in proper perspective. The star on the map attracts your attention when you look at it — I hope the school will always be a shining beacon for you for pleasant memories and as a source of strength. As it is liiy privilege to address you now, I wish you happiness. As you read this in the future, you will know that your real happiness is in the satisfaction you receive from things well done. Sincerely, 5 Herman A. Tennant

Page 8 text:

All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping the snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose well sav’d a world too wide For his shrunk shank: and his big manly voice. Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history. Is second childishness and mere oblivion: Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. — William Shakespeare

Page 10 text:

Dedication So often we have cried, “Give us light that we might tread safely into the unknown.” Exasperated, the adults have smiled . . . wearily waiting for us to be disillusioned — “Youth is a passing thing. Give them time.” But we lack the patience for this. We stand on the edge of a hemisphere of light and a hemisphere of darkness. We peer out into the black sky and laugh at the twinkling host. Our forefathers thought the stars to be holy, and so worshipped them. We ask to conquer the stars. We stand within the confines of two everlasting hostile empires. And we ask to be allowed to go and slay the dragon. We have-the moral energy. We have the imagination. We are restless, turbulent, cynical idealists. Soon we will have the knowledge. We are Youth! There are lights and moral beacons shining in this world. They are the lights of the old who have remained young. They reflect our exuberances and refract our impatience. They are the mellowed idealists. For this we are grateful, and to them we dedicate our lives and our hopes, that our deeds may have within them glory for these souls who so inspire us. Their names may be forgotten — do not let their spirits die. One name we wish to keep with us, and so, to thee we dedicate this yearbook, Miss Margaret E. Winheim.