Midwood High School - Epilog Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 21 text:

EI ff' '1 wwyfwggfwg-we ' ,vf5 Fi'f'RMw1lw?97'A2 T nn I heir illamv No longer a knave, his attack was so brave That the enemy cringed in despair, He forced them to beat a most hasty retreat But it cost him the loss of his hair. Thus the school was protected, the onslaught deflected And harmony reigned once again, And the Senior stood tall for he proved once for all That his scalp was not given in vain. Moral: If a handsome young beau in a Senior chapeau Is unwilling to doff it when called, Do not think he's at most disregarding Miss Post, The poor fellow is practically bald. Chip Chipperf-ield , 7 R QQ. X 0 WIN A KX W -:E R me li 1 4 NSG N Q NN Q. .nn ' W A' f- f' X 0 X ill l 3 Y -X f 4 X X N3 fl? Il ilu 9 In e , f i i f 1 1 4 'i T n 5 T Us I IQ f 'Vw' Rl 01 i if 'mmf fa ' f' ,, 19,6 Ne il' qi ,-., X V - Qian l 1 iv' Ek 1 :YW X l fgwfgfx Q ZQW ,G ' np QW! nf 'yufi H ' T ll is i i. 'N T v Wm X L fig' ' N. X A ll Q-

Page 20 text:

Zllnw 'hr Svvninr Anil 7 ' The Senior, the noblest one of them all Is considered a virtuous jewel, But there once was a time when this monarch sublime Stood condemned by the mass of the school. An election was reason for his derelection T'was whispered it wasn't quite fair, For each senior who ran, ran away with the can With a ten thousand margin to spare. Somebody exclaimed that the race had been maimed And the tally exhorbitantly bloated, How could it have been that ten thousand could win When but live thousand Midwoodites voted? He was verbally flayed as the multitude bayed And accused him of villainous vice, But their epithets rash, such as father's mustache, Turned the blood in his veins into ice. He entreated his foes to desist from their blows And begged for a chance to reform, When our principal fair raised his hand in the air And said, Senior, thou art but a worm! Dismayed by the hue which the faculty, too, Had raised for his neck in a noose, He wandered the hall with a heart full of gall And became a conclusive recluse. But like the boll weevil some forces of evil Were eyeing our fair Alma Ma, In a country called Lincoln dictators were thinkin' Of planning a quick coup d'6tat. They said, Midwood's the nation for colonization, It is ripe for a rigorous rulef' So leaving their classes without any passes They descended cn masse on the school. The students were frightened and with eyeballs whitened They shouted the news of the raid, They trooped in a group to the Senior, that dupe- Our saviour, please save us,,' they prayed.

Page 22 text:

Glrnaarnaha I do not suppose that when looking back over the various periods of our lives, we will be able to point out what exactly was the event that marked the end of one phase and the ushering in of another. Things like that usually take place gradually, over a period of time, and the line of division is not sharp. However, graduating from high school is an important occasion, and in most people's lives it is a very critical turning point, Not only does it mean the end of that sheltered existence called high school, but of greater significance, it is the period in our lives when we consciously begin to adopt a set of values to live by. These values are what determine to a large extent our future happiness. In a sense, all of high school has been merely a preparation for this. High school is the place where the opportunity is afforded us, though of course not forced upon us, to discover the realms of ideas and intellect. There, with the aid of various stimuli, one begins to turn from the world of physical interest to the sphere of things more abstract. We become concerned with questions on a plane seemingly higher than we have hitherto encountered, and develop an appreciation for the spiritual and moral aspects of life. This is all very good, and a necessary part of our progress towards maturity. However, these things sometimes assume an importance to us quite out of proportion to their actual value. There is a tendency to so overrate these newly discovered realms, and to become so devoted to them, that everything we previously held to be of worth is suddenly ignored or despised. In a way, this is as it should be and is to be expected. For these are truly vast and intensely interesting worlds, and it is only natural that we should plunge headlong into them without considering the results. But one cannot live entirely in a world of things abstract, no matter how desirable it may seem, and I personally do not think it very desirable. True, once having acquired the arts of rhetoric and logic, it is stimulating to delve into the questions of purpose, meaning and justification of existence, dispute passionately whether this is art, or this is not artf or try and reduce the complexities of modern government to a single all-encompassing maxim. But one cannot spend one's entire life immersed in this kind of emotional-intellectual bath. Besides being highly impractical, it is also unhealthy. The important thing to learn is the art of living in a real, present, every-day world. It is not hard to lose oneself in the past or future, overextending oneself into the realms of imagination and conjecture, but it is at the meeting of those two eternities, the present, that happiness is to be found. It is a pity our civilization thinks itself unable to conceive of pure present, and therefore weds itself so ardently to the past and future. For what, in actuality, are the 18