Ypsilanti High School - Ypsi Dixit Yearbook (Ypsilanti, MI)

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Senior Class Prophecy Q F course, you remember the J-Hop we all went to not many weeks ago. The decorations were gorgeous and the music heavenly ; and the punch—well, I didn’t help carry in that twenty- five-gallon can for nothing. But even punch has its limit, and | found it. No, don’t get the wrong idea; I wasnt’ intoxicated; | just got a little light-headed. With super-human will-power generated in the late Mr. Sias’ history class I was able to find my way home and stumble through the door. It must have been the music or the punch that made my mind begin to wander. Not from the straight and narrow path, you understand, but to things of the future. I threw off my hat and sank into a nearby chair. I found myself floating down a wide river in a small steamer. From all appearances I judged it was a training-ship. All over were groups of young people gathered about some officer or instructor, learning the precious art of navigating one’s course in life. To my astonishment I beheld our old friends, Mr. Grimes and Mr. Erickson, standing on the bridge. I noticed Mr. Grimes in particular. He did not have the usual commander’s whistle, but carried a pad of excuses in each hand. You wonder what color they were? Well, you must remember that there is much sickness in the spring, and pink is such a pretty color. In the chart-room I found Miss Hardy. Surely you will re- member the geometry charts we didn’t work so hard on. 1 passed on to the next room and saw Miss Donaldson giving a test on the latest classic, the log-bcok. Hearing a noise, I went to the back of the ship and found Mr. Bigger explaining how to calm a storm by perfect public speaking. Mr. Sias was telling a group how John Paul Jones had commanded his ship. I went below and was surprised to see Mr. Ross explaining what made the wheels go ‘round. There were many other groups I wished to visit, but a mammoth liner appeared passing the mouth of the river from which we were emerging. As we drew near the side of the great ship I could read the name painted on the hull. It was called the “Ship of Life.” Soon a gang-plank was put between the boats and we started for the larger one. Young men in blue sweaters with grey “1924” numerals and young ladies with swagger-sticks passed over the gang-plank carrying with them small rolls of sheep-skin. Our old friend Charles Gault slipped and almost fell from the plank, but a helpful teacher placed him on his feet again. We found our new home quite different from what the old one had been. Most of us went opposite ways and soon got lost in the cities and countries of the great ship. Friends were separated, but our old friendships were never forgotten. ral

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A few months later I met my old school friend, Clarence Stein, and we went to South America to seek our fortunes. There we bought a large hacienda back up in the mountains. Our adventures in that wonderful country were too numerous to mention, so I will just speak of the diamond mine we found, after which we made a trip back to the homes of our friends in great splendor. | It was almost impossible to get Stein to go with me, for he had married a most beautiful senorita. I begged for days before he consented to leave for a week or two. It took us two days to get our aeroplane limosine tuned up ready for the flight, but finally we hopped off and pointed across Brazil toward the coast. I pulled out the radio and soon was tuning in on the biggest stations of North America. The beautiful tones of Pat Whipple’s voice came to me through the air and I grew almost mad with homesickness. | We had shut off the motor and were gliding when the familiar strains of “Onward, Christian Soldiers,’ reached my ears. I look below and saw that popular senior, Harold Lonskey, at his work of spreading the gospel among the savages. A few hundred miles farther we saw Demas Manseau, the general of a band of revolutionists, dressed in a somewhat thread- bare but gaudy uniform. His heavy black beard and powerful look made him appear the terrible man that he was. Yes, he had changed a lot in that fifteen years. After many days of travel we arrived at Washington, D. C. In search of our old friends, we went to the Capitol. As we came into the halls of Congress we heard a great debate taking place. Wyland Pepper and Harvey Sanderson were trying to put through the famous Harvey-Horseradish protective tariff. In the Senate we found Gladys Bayler president. She told us that under her rule there was absolutely no scandal. We walked down-town and into an art shop. To our sur- prise we found Carl Pray painting a beautiful life-size portrait of Thelma Martin. Just then a parade came up the street, so we went out to see it. The famous football player, C arl Signor, held a banner aloft which read “Votes for Women.” It must be that they had lost the right to vote during our absence. Anna Schiller, Elsie Paull, Dorothy Miller, Elsie Klein and Kathaleen Kelley were directly behind Carl, and were backing him and his banner to the limit. A few hours later we landed in a field near Ypsilanti. We walked over to where some men were gathered around a horse. Robert Lord, now a great veterinary, and his helper, Donald 28