YEARBOOK MEMORIES--THREE WOMEN, THREE PAGES OF TIME

I have to admit to a fascination with high school yearbooks of the past.  They’re a wonderful glimpse into the history and language and people of decades ago.  When I discovered my father’s yearbook of 1932, I learned things about him that I would otherwise never have known.   It prompted me to write a story about him, which was my way of sharing what a remarkable man and father he was.

During the last decade I’ve also been fortunate to obtain my Aunt Ellen’s 1920 yearbook, as well as my mother’s from 1931.  I’ve included memories of my high school years from my 1966 yearbook too. It’s been fun to examine the differences in language and course study, as well as activities outside the classroom.  But the most fun of all has been reading the delightful and insightful messages left by friends and teachers. Some of them are quite profound and telling.

my Aunt Ellen's 1920 yearbook

Aunt Ellen's School Day Memories

My Aunt Ellen’s yearbooks, The Girl Graduate and School Day Memories were cherished gifts I received through which she lovingly recorded her memories.  They followed her elementary school years and beyond in small schools in Wisconsin.  There I met Eva, her pal from Abbotsford days—1907-1914 and her teachers from 1909-1915.  As the American poet Longfellow wrote, “The teachers who in early days led our bewildering feet through learnings maze.”

Although very different from the traditional yearbooks we know today, the sentiments expressed are familiar, touching, and humorous.  The language is often flowery and poetic.  Here are some examples:

            Lucille wrote, “Ellen is a shy little maid, from her work she never strayed, her hair is brown and eyes are blue, she’ll be a teacher kind and true.”  (And indeed she was, for nearly 50 years).

            Sadie—“Who is the lass so kind and true, with light brown hair and eyes of blue.  She’ll be a teacher kind and true.”

Sometimes friends like Grace wanted to express a special sentiment and quoted a poet or writer of the times:  A FRIEND LIKE YOU—“I want to be a friend like you; I’d count my life worthwhile, if I could only learn to do so much to bring a smile.  I wish that I could grow to be in all I say and do, less like the one folks know as me, and more like you.”  (Edgar A. Guest)

It still amazes me that after nine decades I can see my aunt as her peers and teachers did.  One of them wrote:  “You’ve always followed your motto—DON’T DODGE DIFFICULTIES, DIG!”  One of her high school teachers at Neillsville, the town my grandparents had moved to from Abbotsford said, “Modest and simple and sweet is she, the very type of Priscilla, her mind to a kingdom would be in London, Hong Kong, or Manila.”  (Mrs. Hammond, Ellen’s favorite teacher)

Some philosophical thoughts appeared in her yearbook as well:

            Don—“Be the road ever climbing.”

            Emily—“Let not thy ambition conquer you.”

Emily and Ellen remained close friends through the years and in 1926 Ellen was the bridesmaid in her wedding.  It was there that she met her future husband Maynard.

Ellen wrote her entire salutatorian graduation speech in THE GIRL GRADUATE.  I pictured her audience as she spoke:

            “Each, if he hasn’t had, will have a difficulty to solve, and it will be a problem for himself alone.  The way you solve that difficulty will determine your caliber and what you are going to amount to in your work.  A high school education is only a foundation which helps us to overcome the difficulties that we must meet as we lay the superstructure.”

From Ellen’s seniors’ page in her 1920 yearbook:

            “When twilight draws the curtain and pins it with a star, I’ll always remember you dear Ellen, tho you may wander far.”  (Marvel)

            “True worth is in being, not seeming, in doing each day that goes by some little good, not in dreaming of great things to do by and by.”  (Effie)

The GIRL GRADUATE also expressed Ellen’s interest in school beyond her own years as a student.  As a teacher in various rural, small town, and city schools for over 46 years, she collected wonderful sayings and mementos, from students, other teachers, places she visited, and events she attended.  I found it fascinating reading.

            “Miss Olson, your neat, tidy, attractive school room and person are a pleasant reflection of your efforts.  You are commended for your efforts in keeping your school room atmosphere homey and attractive with plants, posters, flowers, etc.”  (A visiting supervisor)

Finally, I discovered two touching mementos preserved over the years—part of Ellen’s graduation bouquet and the envelope mailed to her from Miss Hammond when she was in France.  It obviously meant a lot to her that Miss Hammond remembered her.

I loved the photos of friends and classmates that Ellen preserved.  I’ve delighted in learning about them and their connection to my dear aunt.

Louise, her dearest friend wrote:  “When the leaves of your album are yellow with age, and the words that I write here are dim on the page, still think of me kindly and do not forget, that where ever I am I remember you yet.”

Ellen never forgot her friends and the important things in life, big or small.  She would have concurred with Charlotte Young’s words on the Senior’s page:  “God’s in his Heaven, all is right with the world.”

HERE’S TO MILDRED

My mother’s high school yearbook dates back to her junior year, 1931.  I found it in tattered shape in a drawer at our cabin in Wisconsin after she died.  Alongside it were two Neillsville High School reunion books, from 1982 (her 50^th reunion) and 1992.  She attended both of those reunions, as well as numerous others in the ensuing years.  I remember how excited she was about the mini-reunions in Neillsville every summer.  She kept in close touch with many classmates, including her brother Ken who graduated the same year.  Money was scarce, so they shared the same yearbook.

Millie and Verna, her high school and college friend

It pains me now to realize all the questions I neglected to ask my mother about those reunions, as well as what she remembered about her high school and college experiences.  Her childhood years had been difficult due to numerous illnesses that resulted in problems with her left leg.  Despite several hospital visits for months at a time, her situation never improved.  She was never able to bend her knee.  It failed to stop her though from participating in sports, including basketball, volleyball, and tennis.  Recently my cousin sent me a picture of her, tennis racquet in hand with her high school friend and neighbor Verna.  I never knew she could even play tennis.  Now I understand better her interest in watching Wimbledon and other tennis events on TV.  She was passionate about it, as well as football.  Her high school friend Stretch even commented, “Teach that brother of yours to play ball next year.”  Her senior year she became athletic reporter for the Crimson and White yearbook.  Her interests went well beyond sports however.  Her debating skills were frequently mentioned in the yearbook.  Bruce Beilfuss, a fellow classmate, who went on to become head of the Wisconsin Supreme Court for seven years wrote:

            Dear Mildred,

            “Well I have got all the debating I want.  I suppose that next year you will be a big star on the Senior debate team.”

Her friend George referred to her skills as well:

            Dear Mildred,

            “When you get to be a senator or something like that sometime, I’ll come and listen to you debate.  If you do like you did, there won’t be any chain stores left in the country and then you own a lot peacefully.”

On another page, titled Junior Microscope, her occupation was listed as debating, her fault “sassing,” and her highest ambition to be first president of Yale.  Interestingly, a 93-year old former classmate of hers whom I visited remarked to me:  “Your mother was feisty.  She was game for anything.  She had a good sense of humor too.”

Nineteen thirty-one was the first year that my mother’s high school established a Girl Scout organization.  A teacher of hers, Marie Thomas wrote:

            “Mildred, I’ve always tried to figure out why I can’t sing the Star-Spangled Banner at Scout meetings.  Now I know that it was because I was too interested in watching your cheery smile.”

That cheery smile was often mentioned in her yearbook.  The school librarian, Kathryn Hornibrook, who was in her first year at Neillsville wrote:  “Here’s to Mildred with her heart and smile, she makes this bubble of life worthwhile.”  It brought tears to my eyes.  I hadn’t thought much about my mother as a teenager. 

In tribute to my mother, here are some additional treasures from her 1931 Crimson and White:

            Dear Mildred,

            “Writing in annuals makes me feel like President Hoover.  I hope you continue to read the newspapers this summer.  Then you will be an “A” student all year.  Heaps of best wishes to you.”  (Marian Williams—history and vocational guidance teacher)

            Dear Mildred,

            “Miss Olson, you have only one year left—then caflooey, isn’t that a pity.  I don’t know how smart you are, but according to Sunday School, you must be along the high line somewhere.  I can’t locate it, but it’s up there someplace.  We wouldn’t know what to do without you in S.S. class.  You sure was a corker.” (Sophie)

A snippet from the 1931 class history read:  “The sturdy little vessel is near its goal, the Isle of Commencement.  It has been a four years’ journey in search of Knowledge and there has been a great decline in the number of passengers.”

After landing at the Isle of Commencement the following year, Millie continued her education.  In 1982 she wrote:  “After graduation Verna and I spent four years at Whitewater State Teachers College.  I taught four years, teaching Commercial Studies at Fairchild.  I married Lowell Dorn after two years of teaching and continued two more years.”  What she didn’t mention was that she and my father ran off to Dubuque, Iowa to get married in 1938 because she was afraid that she would lose her teaching job.  Instead, my grandfather found out and had the news published in the local paper.  Thankfully she was able to continue teaching.

My mother’s high school education provided her with a good foundation and the opportunity to continue her education at Whitewater.  She was happy in later years as a homemaker and business partner with my father, but she never forgot her special classmates and their unique bond.  For over 60 years they celebrated together every summer and Millie frequently returned to the cabin with a cheery smile.  She did indeed make the bubble of life worthwhile.

TIME MARCHES ON—Lynda’s 1966 Yearbook

In re-reading parts of my 1966 yearbook recently I chuckled at my former home-economics teacher’s comments:

            Dear Linda,

            “Thanks so much for narrating my Style Show.  You did so good and I was really proud of you.  Just think, Linda, you’re a senior.  May God’s choicest blessings always follow you.”  (Mrs. T.)

I had forgotten about that style show, probably because my name and the word “style” never seemed to fit into the same sentence.  I had only taken home-economics because I had to.  I didn’t want to be labeled as the only girl in the alternative class.  So there I was, stuck in sewing.  I hated it and so did my mother.  We were both frustrated.  Mrs. T put more effort into making my “shift” than me.  I never wanted to see it again.  As a freshman it wasn’t getting high school off to a good start.  Now, looking back, I realize what a kind teacher she was.  We were obviously very different, but she understood and cared about me and even expressed it in my yearbook.

More than anything I look back at my high school years as building friendships and establishing my independence.  I was happy that a few friends valued that independence.  Carla wrote:

            “I think you are a sweet adorable girl.  I admire you for being an individual; I hope you always will be.”

Some classmates took a philosophical tone:

            “Well, we’re finally at the end of our long hard road in high school.  Now we’re coming to an even harder and longer road.  It takes a really good person to achieve in this world and I know you can do it.  It’s hard to say goodbye to dear friends.” (Diane)

And finally there were those who wanted to reminisce.

            “I’ll never forget the night we sat outside my house and talked about our problems and life in general and you wound up with a dead battery.”  (Susan)

One of my mother’s classmates (Helen) wrote in the 1982 reunion yearbook something I’ve often thought about:

            “When we were children, I thought 50 years was a block of time that was unending.  Was I wrong!  What’s more, time continues to go faster.”

Now my classmates of 1966 and I are only four years away from that 50^th reunion mark and I’m close to my 64^th birthday.  I think of the phrase my mother often said in her 80’s—“Time marches on.”  It sometimes annoyed me when she said it over and over again, but it finally registered. 

The yearbooks of the past are now packed away for the time being, but the memories will always endure, and as Gertrude Stein, the American writer once said, “We are always the same age inside.”