Whitesville High School - Wycenian Yearbook (Whitesville, NY)

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In her lobby I noticed a display of her collection of medals of honor and buttons from different uniforms. Her life seemed to be far from a dull one. She had all sorts of equipment and enjoyment. I asked Dorothy if she could tell me anything about Jean Crittendem. She had received a letter from her a month ago, postmarked Miami Beach. She had written it just before starting on another ’round- the-world trip on an air liner. Yes, Jean had changed her course from the commercial field to that of an air liner hostess. I picture her as the ideal person for such a position. I had wanted to see Jean per- sonally, but finding it impossible we started home. I felt as if I had forgotten one classmate who deserved to be re- membered. Sure enough, it was Earl Ainsworth. I had seen him the year after we graduated, and he was enrolled in the paratroop division of the Army. By telephoning to Windy-top Farm on South Hill, I acquired the information I wanted. Earl’s address is Parkside View in Minneapolis, Minnesota. I was astonished to find him single after he had developed that old “wolf technique” in 1944. Must be his technique slipped. I wanted to know about all his old flames, but I let the personal questions pass by. He had a good start in the taxi business, but longed for a vacation back on the farm. We reached our little home about mid-night that night, and I was very satisfied with the reunions I had with all my classmates. My only regret was in failing to see Jean. Perhaps we will still meet and. when we do, we will have a “gab fest” until we are well through our days at Whitesville Central once more. I must say good-by now and hope in our cottage on the hill. that you will pay me a visit R. F. 22

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W hen we were once again in the air, another helicopter passed us advertising a Miracle Circus in Atlanta, Georgia. I had heard rumors that Jean was there during the winter so we planned to take in the big attraction. After we had seen nearly all the circus we stopped to see the trapeze performance. It was an amazing sight. The acrobats were called “Tillie and Tyler”. Tyler held a rope be- tween his teeth while swinging one hundred and forty feet high. Suddenly his partner, Tillie, jumped from a higher platform and turned five times before reaching the rope. After the performance was over, the couple came down to take a bow. This was the biggest surprise of my trip. The couple was revealed to me as Lois Harris and her husband, a red-head. In our school days, I had told Lois to steer away from red-heads because they were dangerous. Evidently she had found him to be a safe investment, because now, it is a life- time proposition. I soon gave up looking for Jean in Atlanta and we moved farther south. I knew exactly where we could locate Irene Kear, and that was our next stop—Thomasville, Georgia. Irene is a first class secretary in a big banking concern. She is the envy of all her classmates. I found her at her eight-room apartment on Lake Street. We talked about the folks back home, and I told her of all our classmates I had found. She directed me to Dorothy Teater, who was in Mobile, Alabama. We left Irene and followed the route to Mobile. Dorothy was surprised to see me and thrilled to meet my husband. She has many admirers, and still fears that she will be an old maid. Her business is an odd one. She has a home for men wounded in service. 21

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AT THE CROSSROADS You to the left and I to the right For the ways of man must sever— And it well may be for a day and a night, And it well may be forever. But whether we meet or whether we part For our ways are past our knowing A pledge from our heart to its fellow heart On the ways we all are going! Here’s Luck! For we know not where we are going. We have striven fair in love and war But the wheel was always weighted! We have lost the prize that we struggled for, We have won the prize that was fated. We have met our loss with a smile and a song, And our gains with a wink and a whistle— For, whether we’re right or whether we re wrong, There’s a rose for every thistle. Here’s luck! And a drop to wet your whistle! Whether we win or whether we lose With the hand that life is dealing It is not we nor the ways we choose But the fall of the cards that sealing. There’s a fate in love and a fate In fight And the best of us all go under— And whether we’re wrong or whether we’re right, We win, sometimes, to our wonder. Here’s luck! That we may not yet go under. With a steady swing and an open brow We have trampled the ways together, But we’re casping hands at the crossroads now In this Fiends’ own night for weather; 23