Waterloo High School - Rosebud Yearbook (Waterloo, IN)

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ing light there. I hope that someday you, my clears, may have the same happiness that I have had and that someday you will treasure this turquoise ring as I have treasured it.” There were tears in Grandmothers eyes as she finished speaking but she smiled at the children through her tears. They were pleased and yet awed by the story and said as much, but she did not seem to hear, and they saw that she was dreamily looking out over the hills where the last rays of the sun were fastly fading. Then they realized that she was reminiscing and so they crept quietly out in the twilight leaving her with her memories. —Dorothy Goodwin ’32. Page Twenty-nine

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THE TURQUOIS RING In a large, airy room by a sun-lit window sat an old gray-haired lady knitting a rose-colored sweater. From where she sat she could see the sun setting in all its glory behind the hills. Its pink light filtered through the ruffled curtains hanging there. After a few moments she laid down her work with a sigh and gazing at the peaceful scene before her, she fell asleep. Only a few minutes elapsed however when the door of the room quietly opened and the scamper of little feet announced the ar¬ rival of her three small grandchildren. They stopped short when they saw her sitting so, but she had heard them and opened her eyes to see them looking expectantly at her. Rob, the eldest, was twelve years old and thought himself very grown up. Janet, next in age, was a serious-minded seven-year-old and Tommy, the youngest was only four and the darling of the family. They often came to this room to listen to the stories that Grandmother told them and so today she knew what was expected of her. “What will it be today, children?” she asked with a loving smile. “Tell about the time you tried to ride a horse and it ran away with you” said Amy, her eyes dancing and her curls bobbing. “Aw, we know that one by heart,” responded Rob with a disgusted air, “Tell us about something new.” “No” put in Janet, “tell us about that ring on your finger, the blue one,” she added as her Grandmother hesitated. “Are you all satisfied with that?” the little old lady asked. They all assented, although Rob was a little dubious as to whether a ring could have a very interesting story. So Grandmother carefully handling the little turquois ring, told this story: “When I was nineteen years old the Civil War broke out and John, your Grandfather, was called to serve in one of the armies. His sympathy was with the North and so despite my pleadings, he decided to join the Union army. This nearly broke my heart for I was of a proud Southern family, as are you children, and because I dearly loved the South I was very angry and despondent over John’s decis¬ ion. When it came time for him to leave, he called at our house and asked to see me but I refused. John knew however, that deep in my heart I still loved him and so he left this little ring for me with this message; “This was my Mother’s. Please wear it for my sake, and whenever you look at it remember that our love will live on forever, despite our sorrows and cares.” How could I keep from wearipg it after that? And I loved him more than ever. During the years that followed, I was busy embroidering linens and making plans for the home I hoped that John and I might someday have. I wrote to him quite frequently and in every letter I told him how much his ring helped in the long years of being apart. At each glimpse of it, my heart filled with joy, and I went happily about my work. Once during the last part of the war. he was wounded rather badly and he was released from the hospital a week before the war ended, so he came directly home to me. I cannot describe the feeling that I experienced when I knew that he was coming back, and we made his homecoming a glorious event. Even my father who despised Unionists, welcomed John home. After the excitement of our meeting had subsided a little, I told John that his ring had been a bond between us and that I would wear it always as a symbol of our love. Now he is gone, but he will live in my memory forever and will remain a burn- Page Twenty-eight

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Rj75Cg Top row—Left to right—Paul Dilley, Carlton Arnold, Robert Sutton, Byron Fretz, Robert Bard. Third Row—Paul Camp, Robert Bowers, Charles Bowman, Donald Stevenson, Dale Moyer. Second Row—Mildred Wing, Hilda Kline, Margaret Dunn, Helen Wilkins, Bethel Hanes, Edith Thomson. Front Row—Esther Young, Helen Parks, Ruth Bonecutter, Vinnie Meyer, Kathryn Girardot, Gladys Delong. SOPHOMORE CLASS HISTORY On a bright September day in the year nineteen hundred and twenty-nine a class of twenty-nine pupils enrolled in Waterloo High School for the first time. We were what the other pupils called “green worms.” Everybody jeered us because we were Freshmen. They stopped this in a few weeks, for we were initiated and were considered green no longer. A bout the second week of school the literary societies drew our names and we were informed as to which society we belonged. Two w T eeks later we elected our class officers. We chose red and grey for our class colors and, “Tis not the gale, but the set of the sail which determines the way we shall go,” as our motto. The rest of the term was filled with lively occasions. Everything was new and held much interest for the Freshmen. This was one of the happiest periods of our life and none of us will ever forget it. The term ended before we had time to think of it. The thought of being free from study was a happy one, but we also regretted it because the class was to be separated for three months. The next fall the same class enrolled as Sophomores for the nineteen thirty and thirty one term. We had lost a few of our old classmates, but we also had some new ones. It took time to get settled down to our school work because we had so many Page Thirty