Walstonburg High School - Talisman Yearbook (Walstonburg, NC)

Page 12 text:

CLASS POEM We, the Seniors of ’49 Have come a long way together, Sharing our work and laughter. But now we must say good-bye to Our many, many friends. But nevertheless, it’s a great consolation to know That out fine friendships will never cease. With great expenations we go forward To meet the strange ways of the world Working always harder with our hopes toward Our dream goal until our works unfurl and We reach what we have striven for That great destination the goal itself. So our plans for the uncertain future must be thorough If we plan to reach our goal and attain success. Then, by chance, in some future time. With the strange direcrion of fate if whom We should see but a Senior of ’49, We will have much to talk of, but finding time doesn’t wait We will have to hurry back to our different ways. Remembering this stepping stone and that. But mostly remembering the Walstonburg Senior days. DOROTHY MURPHY, Poet.

Page 11 text:

SENIORS JOYCE ROUSE As independent as the day is long; As steeet as the gay lark’s song. Glee Club 1, 2, 3, 4. 4-H Club 1. Keyboard Club 1, 2, 3, 4. Basked all 4. Cheerleader 1, 2, 3. Class Officer 4. Pack-O-News Staff 2, 3. VERNA STEPPS When she will, she will, Y ou may depend on it. When she won’t, she won’t. And that’s the end on’t. Beta Club 1, 2, 3, 4. Keyboard Club 1, 2. Class Officer 4. GAIL TUGWELL When the sun shineth, make hay. Talisman Staff 4. ZELDA WAINRIGHT Success! It’s found in the soul of you. Glee Club 1, 2, 3, 4. Beta Club 1, 2, 3, 4. Kayboard Club 1, 2, 3, 4. Pack-O-News Staff 1, 2, 4. Talisman Staff 4. DORIS WHITLEY Zealous, yet modest; innocent, though free; Patient of toil, serene amidst alarms. Beta Club 3, 4. Pack-O-News Staff 4. Talisman Staff 4. Kenneth Jones, III Miss Virginia Wright Darlene McKeel

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CLASS HISTORY Rather unusual, but not too startling is the history of our class, for no frightened freshmen were we. Goodness, what was there to be a fraid of? The wonders of high schol weren’t too mys- terious and frightful to us; we were ready and eager for a change, and very glad to be a part of that select body, the high school. Besides, Walstonburg wasn’t a stern and frightening school, for the other smdents were kind and often extended a hovering wing over us new fledglings, and did we appre- ciate it! Swiftly our first year flew by. Studying didn’t bother us any more than it had before, and it was fun to have different teachers for the subjects we were taking. Miss Garris kept us toeing the chalk line in our home room and soon : In the good old summer time; what fun, what play, and dear me, what work! And all too sud- denly: Back to a school brimming with big students, lit- de students, and just plain mediocre students, with a song of We’re Sophomores” beating away within us. We were those wonderful beings, neither lowly nor great, laughing and working under the cate of Miss Wright, who was constantly urging us to settle down and get to work. Obediently, with only the necessary few grumbles, we always proceeded to do so. Then one day when we glanced up from our work, what did we see but vacation time staring us in the face. Now, how did it get there? And so: Playing in the hot summer sun, and sleeping peacefully in the warm dark nights were luxuriously toyed with by us that summer. ’ And as their handi- work they freely gave to us rested minds and re- rreshed bodies. It was a wonderful vacation! We reluctantly turned from it toward: The life of juniors — carefree, happy without the nmid doubts of the past, and as yet no fears of the future. With careless gaiety we were drinking life ui — a life of basketball games, parties, and all those zestful times which only juniors can endow with so much enthusiasm. Not to be left out by any means was the play, Here Comes Charlie”, defi- nitely proving that there were fine actors and laresses in the junior class who could make a play live and glow before an appreciative audience. But □e brightly gleaming jewel amongst all those junior memories was: The Junior-Senior Banquet — that vivid colored fantasy concoaed of sweetly scented roses, the pun- gent fragrance of pines, silver stars overhead, bouncy balloons lazily floating in the air, and above all, healthy, lusty youth. With their expressive faces reflecting the glorious exhilaration bubbling inside them, girls as pretty as dainty butterflies and boys as smartly dressed and distinguished as the famed spruce pines, mingled and intertwined as the golden hours sped by. Regretfully were our good-nights -spoken, for it was an enchanted moment to be long remembered; but they were spoken, and not many nights later we were singing our farewell song to the seniors. This year, our usually welcomed vacation caught us. feeling a trifle queer. But managing to shake most of it off, we settled down to enjoying the few weeks that we had, nearly all of us having some job to perform, that making our play all the sweeter. Still, time didn’t wait or stand still, and soon we thoughtfully headed back to school. Knowledge that we were now seniors elated us, and we had our fun, but attached to it was a tinge of seriousness. We only too greatly realized that it was our last year, and when vacation rolled around again we would be taking a final de- parture from a school that had been so very kind. With regret we gave our last play, enjoyed a won- derful banquet with a grand class, and with the taste of hot and salty tears in our mouth, wound pur way back home. Now is the end of out story here, but this one last thing must be said: We seniors of ’48 and ’49 are grateful to this school, and we’re rather proud of the role we have played here — a role made up of memories that for many go back to the first grade — memories held by a group that has always presented a solid front to the outside, shared many moments of laughter, and a few healthy quarrels. If as individuals we are as successful as we have been as a class, then we have no need to worry over fear of the fumre — happiness is outs, and we, because of that happiness, have made history. ZELDA WAINWRIGHT, Historian.