Walstonburg High School - Talisman Yearbook (Walstonburg, NC)

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kW ' 1 - I r - 1 ■ l % - 1 i ■ i: • y ■ BETTY RUBY CRAFT - BUZZE” WALSTON

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Glass CProphecy As I sit here on the old familiar steps of W alstonburg Hi with the cool breeze of fall blowing, I find it hard to relieve this is our last year together as the class of ' 55. I can ' t help but wonder, as I watch my classmates on the campus, what each will be doing ten years from now. Glancing at the big oak in the front of our school with its — any colored fall leaves falling quietly to the ground, it seems to be nodding with the wind as if it knows my oughts and holds their answer. Could this possibly be true? Yes, the falling leaves seem to open the door to the fnure and I see clearly what fate holds in store for each one of my classmates. The first leaf I notice is falling so quietly Betty Jo Craft enters my thoughts. Looking a little closer, I see the reautiful corridor of a new modern hospital. Betty Jo, a graduate nurse from Rex, is hurrying down the corridor. As she enters a door, I see the name Dr. Frank L. Walston, Head Doctor, written in big letters across the door. It seems Buzzie has done pretty well for himself since his graduation from Carolina. The next leaf is a real big one. Oh, now I see why it is so big. I can see clearly the large Dupont plant. Who ire the three distinguished looking gentlemen walking out the front door? They are none other than James Sutton, a iy Rogers, and Horace Lee Gay. They have really done well for themselves wor king at Dupont. The service must live calmed down Billy and Horace Lee a bit. What a pretty red leaf that is falling to the ground now. I don ' t know why this reminds me of a big red brick seiartment building, but it does. Inside, busy at one of the counters, I see Alice Holloman. From the cheerful -ay slje is waiting on her customer, she must like her job fine. Hearing what sounded like an adding machine, I ventured to the back of the store. Sitting in the office working on the store books, I found Doris Bailey, book- keeper for the store. Doris always did enjoy bookkeeping. That leaf is sure flying to the ground. Gee, my eyes must be playing tricks on me--that couldn ' t be Joyce Parker who is the airline hostess on that huge airplane. I guess it is; Joyce was always ready to go when anyone rationed going. That is certainly a cute dainty leaf, and the cute little white house I seem to see in it could only belong to fiirley Sermons and Cecil. Inside, Shirley is busy getting dinner, and from the look of contentment on her face, i:at£ is no doubt in my mind that she and Cecil were meant for each other. After that cute dainty leaf, the big brown one falling behind it seems extra big, but I can clearly see the large sccool building. Hearing the noise of typewriters going, I am forced to go in. Following the noise, I enter the -ping room. Sitting at the desk is the commercial teacher, Joan Parker. She looks like the perfect teacher. As i glance at my watch, I see I just have time to visit the agriculture building before school turns out. Entering Ag shop, I find Jimmy Wooten teaching the boys how to run a new machine. A State graduate, Jimmy net only teaches A griculture, but owns a farm. He loved farming back in high school. Did I hear one of the girls — the hall mention ball practice after school? Over in the gym, I find Betty Ruby Craft patiently drilling the girls ' team. Seems like old times, doesn ' t it? Some of the girls are nearly as good as Bet was in high school, mt not quite. Funny how these leaves know so much, isn ' t it? Glancing back at the oak, I can only picture it as it will be this spring with its budding leaves. This to me symbolizes the success of the class of ' 55- -from buds of ' 43 to leaves of ' 55. There goes the bell. This has really seemed like a short recess. Guess I was too busy looking into the future. CLASS PROPHET DORIS DIXON

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Our high school years have been presented in the form of a four-act play. Each act was given its own title and held its own precious memories. Act I was entitled Freshmen; Act II, Sophomores; Act III, Juniors; and the final act, Seniors. Act I began in the early fall of 1951. Remember how the boys shied away from the girls, and the girls were afraid of the teacher because he was a man? We were no more intelligent than the usual freshmen; however, I think, we were just a little prouder than most. You could identify a group of our freshmen by those ever-present giggles. No care or worry ever entered our minds. We were just a happy-go-lucky group of freshmen. The second act was slightly more eventful than the first. Parties were the main topic that year; and for some unknown reason, the boys began to realize that girls were actually human beings instead of some horrible animal from another world. Occasionally one of our handsome young men would escort a lovely young miss to one of those parties. Here we got our first taste of dramatics, and the Sophomore Play was quite a success. We were really grown up then, weren’t we? Remember how we looked upon those poor little green freshmen? In the third act, we had to assurrre the dignity of Juniors. There was so much work to be done, and so much money to be made. We all became beggars that year. If we weren’t asking for donations, we were begging people to buy things. That Washington trip was going to cost a lot. During the practice of our Junior Play, our class rings came. I ' m sure no other class could have been as proud as we were. Miss Sugg, do you recall how everyone waved his that night at play practice? The proceeds from the play, combined with the money made from peddling everything from Christmas Cards to vanilla flavoring furnished funds for our trip to Washington. I’m sure it will always live in the memories of those Juniors and Seniors who took the trip. Soon it was vacation time, and we realized that we had only one act farther to go. At last! Seniors! The fourth and final act. Cupid and Uncle Sam had stolen quite a few of our classmates, and now we had only thirteen members of the senior class. The year began with a lot of work on the annual. Day and night the staff labored. It was sent to the press as the biggest and, we think, the best ever at Walstonburg. We realized, however, when they returned that our efforts were not in vain. The Senior Play soon followed. Our caps and gowns, invitations, calling cards, and diplomas had been ordered, and we were only waiting for baccalaureate sermon, class night, and graduation. Now as these occasions approach, we find that it is not as joyful a time as we had antici- pated. This ends our high school play, and also our class history. Each student will now begin to write his own history as he goes his separate way. May yours be one that you will be proud to call your own. Always live up to our motto: Not finished, just begun.