Warrensburg Latham High School - Cardinal Yearbook (Warrensburg, IL)

Page 22 text:

“I believe I know you. Aren’t you Forrest Wentworth?” I asked the man. “Yes, yes; I hoped you wouldn’t recognize me, my fortunes are so low,” he replied sadly. “To look at me you wouldn’t think I ever owned that magnificent elevator towering over there in the distance. It all came from trying to get something for nothing; I certainly won’t bother the board of trade again.” “How about Flossie Haywood?” I asked. “Have you heard from her lately?” “Oh, yes. Haven’t you heard about her success?” She got a monopoly on hairnets in Warrensburg, and has made quite a fortune from the high school girls,” he replied, cheering up a little. “But tell me about yourself. What have you been doing the last thirty years?” he added, after a moment’s reflection. “My duties as justice of the peace of Illini have kept me so busy tha-at—I—” But the mist had already cleared, and I was again face to face with the stern realities of the present and doomed to never know what I was to miss, by being so absorbed in the duties of my office. Do you ever think, you young people, how much you might add to the cheer and enjoyment of the home circle by treasuring and recounting the odd, funny, pathetic, or interesting little happenings of any sort that cross your path each day? In the street, in the car, wherever you are at work or study, in what you see, or in the chat of acquaintances, these varied bits of life come to you, and if you will but form the habit of remembering them, and learn the art of telling them, your presence will sweeten and gladden the whole life of the home. Such gleanings are not mere trifles. The hearty laugh, the act of heroism, the little glimpses into other lives, all have their mission and bear many a message of hope and encouragement that the messenger does not know. —Anon. Do not keep the alabaster box of your love and tenderness sealed up until your friends are dead. Fill their lives with sweetness. Speak approving, cheering words while their ears can hear them, and while their hearts can be thrilled and made happier. The kind things you mean to say when they are gone, say before they go. The flowers you mean to send for their coffin, send to brighten and sweeten their homes before they leave them. Let us learn to anoint our friends while they are yet among the living. Post-mortem kindness does not cheer the burdened heart; flowers on the coffin cast no fragrance backward over the wreary day. —Childs. What signifies wishing and hoping for better times? We may make these times better if we bestir ourselves. IIS

Page 21 text:

Class Prophecy Ennis Pease While looking over some old books the other day when I should have been studying, I came across one entitled “Mysticism Made Easy,” by Pamponelli. While perusing this antiquated volume my mind began to wander. I fell to thinking of my classmates in the Warrensburg Community High School, from whom I should soon be separated, and wondered what destiny had in store for them; what mark each would make to prove himself a true son of Warrensburg High School. Falling deeper in my reverie, I felt a veil enveloping my mind like a silver mist. The years stole by like moments, until they stopped in 1953, leaving me in Washington, visiting Congress. Hearing a familiar voice invoking divine guidance for the session, I looked up and saw a tall, slim man, his bowed head covered with black hair, slightly tinged with gray. Could it be possible that Lawrence Albert was now chaplain of the House of Representatives? While musing over this, I felt my surroundings gradually, but unmistakably change, leaving me in the drawing room of a fashionable residence of the same city. “What is going on, and in whose house am I?” I asked the person nearest me. “Why, don’t you know?” he replied with astonishment. “Senator Dickerson’s reception is the talk of all Washington.” I then recognized the eminent senator, who was the center of attraction, but could only attribute my ignorance of his holding the high office to his unnatural aversion to photographers, which had probably kept his likeness out of the papers. Arising to greet the illustrious solon, I found myself walking down Wall Street. I suddenly descried a sign which read: “S. B. COTTON CO., BANKERS.” “Why,” I exclaimed aloud, “I thought this was Morgan’s location.” “What,” said a familiar voice at my elbow, “haven’t you heard about my buying out Morgan? Come in. I think you will recognize another member of my firm.” Following him, I was soon shaking hands with Erma Rau, his junior partner in the business. “What has become of your old friend, Georgia Emrick?” I asked Erma. “Oh, she has been quite successful teaching school back at Warrensburg. This is her third consecutive year, it being said that no other teacher ever stayed there that long before,” was the reply. My next stop was on a farm which, I could see at a glance, was an unusually well-kept one. Seeing a hand nearby, I approached him and asked whose farm it was. “Harold Wickline’s,” he replied. “He is in Springfield today telling the legislature about the needs of agriculture. He is going to stay in to see “Love’s Labor Lost,” in which Beulah Haywood is starring.”

Page 23 text:

Class Will Beulah Haywood We, the Senior Class of 1922, of the Warrensburg Community High School, being of sound mind and memory, do make, publish, and declare this our last will and testament, that is to say: I, Lawrence Albert, do grant to Alfred Major, that lack of common sense which has made me so very conspicuous during my sojourn in W. C. H. S. I also confer upon Irvin Schroeder my most innocent look, and hope that he may be more successful in his efforts to escape detection. After much consideration and profound deliberation, realizing that he may need it, I, Sidney Cotton, do bequeath to my esteemed successor, Paul Waggoner, that charm which has for many years saved me from the wiles of women, hoping that he may benefit from it as I have. I, Russell Dickerson, realizing that I must soon leave this institution, do confer upon my survivors that deep foresight which I have always displayed, and that independent tendency which has always actuated my conduct. Feeling that I must leave my esteemed friend, Harold Dresbach, something to remind him of our happy days in W. C. H. S., I, Georgia Emrick, confer upon him my cultivated giggle, which has won me many friends, and sincerely hope he will profit by the acquisition of the same. I, Flossie Haywood, do bequeath my thirst for knowledge to Jerry Slonaker. I, Ennis Pease, feeling that this school will suffer from the loss of my composed and impartial judgment, do give and devise this faculty to any aspiring junior who proves himself worthy of acquiring the same. I, Erma Rau, bequeath my serious nature to Miss Carter, trusting that it will be an important help to her in the grave business of conducting her classes when I am no longer present. I, Harold Wickline, do bequeath my propensity for asking innumerable questions to Lynn Baum, hoping that he may gain more knowledge than heretofore. Feeling that I shall have no more need for tranquil and composed temperament, I, Maude Williams, do bestow the same upon Ruth Senour. After a great amount of thought, and moved in a moment of desperation, I, Forrest Wentworth, devise and bequeath my basketball pants to Harry Baum, provided he will expand enough to fill them. We, the members of the Senior Class of 1922, hereby nominate and appoint the faculty of the Warrensburg High School to be the executors of this will. Signed: THE SENIOR CLASS. May, 1922. 19