Myrtle Point High School - Bobcat Yearbook (Myrtle Point, OR)

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Moon Dreams of the Class of 25 I was sitting alone in my study; the busy day was almost o’er and the sun was gradually sinking behind the majestic mountains in the west. To me the day had been a wonderful success and though tired 1 could not help but feel joyful. Still there was a desire, a longing that came during these victorious moments, for something higher, nobler to be accomplished than the regular trend of toil each day. Beside me on a stand lay a book entitled “Moon Men” by Burroughs, and having nothing else to do, I picked it up and began to read. It told of Arthis, the ruler of the Moon World, bringing his people, the Kalkars, dowm to the earth and conquering it. I laid the book aside and began reviewing the happenings of the day. Even as I mused and dreamed there appeared about me a darkening cloud which carried my thoughts away from the toil and strife of the day and I seemed to be in a new world. About me were the friends of my youthhood. who had come, as I had. in search of higher and nobler ideals. Many of them had achieved fame and honor, and as I had not seen them for many years, I found myself eagerly listening to the tales and trobules told by each. They were all glad to see me, but I looking around in amezement. “Where in the world am I ?” I asked, “and where did all of you come from? You are changed, too, so different than you were in the old high school days!” “Oh.” laughed one, and I suddenly recognized him as Roy Clinton, “You’ve just come. This is the year 1950, and you’re not used to everything yet. Of course there are many changes. It’s a new world to you.” “We must show her around, too,” broke in another. “It’s time for us to keep our appointment at the White House—Cabinet Meeting, you know,” he explained, as he saw my look of doubt. “Come on over; the President will be glad to see you again.” We met the great man in his own study, and I recognized at once Clayton Mast, a classmate who had led the M. P. boys on to victory in the years of 1924 and '25. He was just on his way to the cabinet meeting, and, being told I would meet many of my friends there, I decided to accept their invitation and go with them. The cabinet, so the President’s private secretary, who was no other than our old stenography star, Nelda Bender, told me, consisted of many more members than did that of our government, although to some extent it wras copied after it. the number of officers was twenty-five and they were elected for life terms. The Secretary of State, she further informed Page Thirteen

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Vera Johnston—Keep your own secrets if you have any. Clayton Mast—The right man in the right place at the right time. Elsie Moller—Good temper is like a sunny day; it sheds its brightness on everything. Merwin Moller—A good name will wear out, a bad one may be turned; a nickname lasts forever. Audrey Strong—Lay hold of life with both hands, wherever thou mayest seize it! It is interesting.

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me. was Professor Hugo Valerian Gurney, member of State Judicial Bar and author of “Anti Suffrage for Women,” “Government Offices for the Men,” and “The Home the Place of Women.” “He’s just as radical as ever,” Nelda whispered, “In fact he’s worse than he was in the old days.” As I looked at the scholarly figure of our old schoolmate, I thought of the lines: “I strove with none, for none was worth my strife, Women I loved, and next to women, art. But women’s place should ever be man’s wife; When that time fails, I want soon to depart.” The treasurer, Ellis Gant, of th° Warrington Bar, was the next to be called to my attention. He spoke of the decreasing sums in the treasury, and in conclusion sa:d: “It is very necessary that there be more cash in the treasury, else how can I be expected to pay all the debts these fantastic members are putting upon us. The expenses of the times are great; there are astounding bills at present from several lar e concerns in Mars and also some in Venus, and they are urging us to mak° the payments soon. Besides this there should be some money in the treasury as a reserve.” Watching his eager but worried face, and slender, erect figure, I thought of the old “Slim” Gant of high school days, and the lines came to me: “But scarce observed, the knowing and the bold, Fall in the general massacre of gold: Wealth on wealth is shown in fancy balls The dangers gather when the treasury falls.” A tall dark-haired woman got up next and read a short essay of her own writing entitled, “The Age of Woman’s Chivalry,” closing with these words: “Women are not fools, though bound to have their way; Women are not fools, they’ve got to have a say In everything that justly concerns all; Put them on eaual terms, give them a chance to win, And they will do their work, regardless of the men.” “That’s Agnes Deyoe, do you remember her?” Nelda told me at the close of her speech. (Remember her? Yes, inde°d— usually with a shock of surprise.) But Nelda was continuing. “She’s Dean of Women at Martin College, a member of the Sta e Board of Women, and at present the Secretary of the Old Maids Department.” “Yes,” I thought, “Agnes., you have found your true calling.” Mr. Clinton, the Postmaster General, gave a brief outline of the conditions of post offices. His greatest trouble, according to him, seemed to be in finding places for mail ships to land. “The new world,” said he, “is very different from the old. In fact, in the mountainous parts we have to build a platform from the top of one mountain to another in order to land our planes. Page Fourteen