Salisbury University - Evergreen Yearbook (Salisbury, MD)

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or not, but it seems to me somebody did. we had two beauties and one intelligent (maybe a few more) mixed with the bramble: kathylee pusey, may queen; harry me cann, queen ' s escort; carroll speck, most literary student in school, how could i forget those woe-begone pictures of the student conference, pyramids, hand-stands, blue danube waltz, and parallel-bar feats! although my scraps said no more about student con¬ ferences, i distinctly recall that we had one each of the four years i at¬ tended s. t. c. do i distinctly remember also that while we were prac¬ ticing for one of the things i fell off the top tier of a shapely pyramid? ah, yes! four of those performances, but they were such fun. as two- year-olds we seem to have done our bit. ah, but how queer reminiscing is; sometimes you ' re sad and some¬ times you ' re not. with a sigh and a they were the good old days, i turned the page to a group of somewhat faded pictures and yellowed clippings, recalling events of my junior year, the first picture that i noticed was of a young man with a smile spread from ear to ear, and as i scratched my head trying to figure out the name to go with that in¬ fectious grin i saw in one corner the neatly-printed letters, champ. then i remembered that this same champ was the dr. william champlin, famous history instructor at aristotle college, and that during the summer of ' 38 had hopped off into connubial bliss, but that ' s the way of all flesh! .... observation!!! where in the world did i ever hear that word? how silly of me, why of course observation, then teaching; then teaching and observation, with a smattering of conference thrown in. Those carry¬ ings-on were just as essential to our school diet during those last two years, as ham is to eggs, observation decorated the top of a poem, then ran on— sitting on a camp stool thinking thoughts so deep feeling like a pack mule trying not to sleep, etc., — poet c. I. e. little spurts of thoughts come back now—teaching in campus school, pinehurst, princess anne, wicomico high, east Salisbury, all those rides to and fro, tacks in seats, fights on school grounds, flat tires, and pasting columbus on a poster. . . . three or four clips back on a step was the may queen of ' 38 chosen from my mafes, and here again in ' 39 was the may queen, an d pretty, too, chosen again from my class, she was eleanor bosse then, and is now mrs. waiter . . . somebody . . . yes, and the ' 40 may queen was also from our class, believe it or not it was doris lee elliott, one worthy of the title, oh, i do wish school were six years long instead of four years short for there is so little time . . . all the memoirs of the last few pages seemed to have been blurred by snow (except those concerning teaching, about which i ' ve already discoursed, and which were not cold with snow but often hot with argument.) the weather man last week said we haven’t had so much d 28}»

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a-th inking A RAINY DAY— ti me hanging on my hands since all the children are married and in their hones miles away, ah, yes! a thought! i would creep to the well-filled attic to ransack, and to refresh old memories, party dresses, ice skates, straw hats, etc., all of which make one think of the t ime when-. the first object i stumbled against and, of course, opened, was a wooden and tin trunk, which surely must have known noah. you know what ' s in trunks—just plain junk that you have started to throw away twenty times, but didn ' t, right under my aunt penelope ' s bundlesome bustl e i saw a frazzle-edged cork scrap book with s. t. c. strung carelessly across the front in maroon and gold felt, my college colors—those college days seemed vague, when i sat me down on the floor and turned the first page something called memories, i guess, whisked me back to 1936 when i was as green a freshman as ever walked on sandy soil, the first two or three pages were titled freshman doings, and the doings must have been comical—for the scraps sure looked it. one picture was of classmate john bunting (now a prominent preacher); and dot delahay (now married and a grandmother) hanging out the botany lab window on the second floor, well, they were good to have adorn the institution ' s windows, for as i remember it they won achievement awards in our first year, and to the right of this was another snap shot (how the styles have changed); mary jane webb, Catherine dunn, hunter mann, and the others—strange that i couldn ' t recall all the names. the crowning event of that year must have been the freshman formal held in december—so the program said, anyhow, it was some gala affair for us—i can ' t recall my escort, but little hearts were drawn around the edge of the program. my mother used to say, rain will fall at the worst times. and so it fell when we lost one of the liveliest of our lot—bob white. thou shalt live, until, losing our sod, we, your friends, your family, shalt be with thee, in god. s. sherwell ' 37 how can i ever forget the last time i saw him! .... next were pictures and clippings gathered during the sophomore year, we looked a shade less green and a notch more snooty, our num¬ ber had decreased from 100 freshies to 48 sophs. the class dance that year was in january. i recall that there was no snow and we made some—bits of paper, you know, shot out of a blower, i can ' t remember if our adviser, dr. simonds, got her long frock hooked in the snow blower d 27 b

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seniors -un