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Page 31 text:
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THE ACORN 9 CLASS PCEM Luck to you fellows, and luck to you girls! We're scattering out as the big ball whirls, Bringing to a finish the senior year. Luck to you all when you're gone from here! Fagaly, Gutterridge, Rutan, and Cade, Records as Future Farmers have made, With Van Zandt, Murphy, and Rodney Payne. Luck with your herds, your flocks, and grain! Freda O'Banion from johnson Hill, Elouise Cunningham from Chaney's Mill, Evelyn Hadden, serene and tall, And Frances Johnston, luck to you all! Editor Johnson hats off to you Ilyressa and Marilyn, your helpers, too, And Thelma Woodard, my special thrill, l'm boosting for you all and always will! Luck to you, Durbin, McClure, and Smith, Neff, and all you teamed up with, Like Thompson and Young-all coaches, meet, VVith bulging muscles and flying feet. Delores Giacone, a good natured prize, With Italy's gleam in your deep, dark eyes. Ferol jones and Coleta, petite, Luck to you all when the world you greet! Mary Elizabeth and Ruby O. Are keen at exams, as we all know, Jewell and Nancy and Gerry, too, Viola and Doris, here's luck to you! For Cullman Reed, who checked the books, For Richard Condon, who's long on looks, For William Watson, so clever and witty. And Richter, too, I penned this ditty. Virginia and Beatrice, Ann, all three, With Betty Lou are full of glee Martha and Myrtle and Helen gay, Live to a hundred and love each day. Balbach and Glen and Joe Dejonghe, Gillen and Harden and Jenkins' son, Myers and Palmer, my namesake, too, We've come to the parting. Here's luck to you! 8.62
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Page 32 text:
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THE ACORN - AOF I9 CLASS PROPHECY 8 One evening as I sat gazing into the fire, I saw slowly rising from the embers, Il small figure with tiny wings. Although momentarily startled, I soon regained my composure as the spirit said, Madam, I am the spirit of the Class of '39, Come with me and I will reveal to you the future of this remarkable group. I followed him, and he led me to an odd looking airplane. I entered, and, after rising steadily for some time, I picked up the courage to look below. On the highway a speeding car caught my attention. I was surprised to find that it was not a traffic cop pursuing a bandit, but only Junior Harden carrying on the family Ford business. I1 seemed no time at all until we were landing in front of the White House. Here I found Andy Young presiding over the affairs of the nation. He told me confidentially that, though his present duties did not weigh heavily upon him, he had never fully recovered from the strain of guiding the destinies of the Class of '39 for three years. We learned from His Excellency that William Watson was star reporter for The Washington Post, published by Joseph Dejonghe. We hurried back to the plane and Hew up the coast to New York. There we landed on the roof of a large, downtown hotel. As the dinner hour was near, we made our way to the main dining room. I picked up a menu, and the first thing I read was, Owned and Managed by Martha Cork. We found Martha in her office, the same old Martha. She told us that Jim Cade was living in Manhattan, and with the help of Ferol Jones, his private secretary, was managing a chain of Cade 5-and-10 cent stores extending from coast to coast. We continued northward to Boston. Wishing to cash a check, I was directed by the spirit to a large bank, where I recognized Max Myers as the cashier. Beside him stood a charming brunette, Evelyn Hadden, who had evidently con- sented to become his permanent home adviser. I accepted their invitation to attend a World's Series game between the Floston Bees and the New York Yankees. As I adjusted my field glasses, I spied Frank Thompson acting as umpire behind home plate. Early the next morning we headed eastward across the Atlantic. Not far out we met a large sea plane. My companion informed me that it was a trans- Atlantic airliner. I-le also told me that it had been guided through many a storm by its efficient pilot, Cullman Reed, while the stewardess, Nancy Crawford, was quieting the fears of the passengers. Soon after reaching Paris I found myself seated in a beautiful opera house, while I listened to an even more beautiful aria sung by Mary Vinson. Leaving
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