
Below are the writings, by members of the OHS sophomore class in 1955 that were selected for publication in "The Pen Parader" for May of 1955. The sophomore class in 1955 was the OHS
Class of 1957.
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As Larry, my cousin, and I entered the bedroom of my grandfather's house, a gray blur streaked across the floor and under the bed. Within a second our reflexes were working and thus started a terrific chase.
Two energetic boys rushed for the bed. I crawled under and began looking for our little intruder. Looking up, I saw two little beady eyes staring back. I gave a yell and flew out backwards. Just then the little gray blur streaked across the floor, slid around the corner, and
darted for the other bedroom.
We skidded to a stop just as the blur went into the closet. We opened the door and peaked in, but there was not any light in the closet. I quickly secured a flashlight and went to work. We looked in every corner in the place with no results. Finally the light flashed on a piece of loose tin near the floor. A little worm-like tail was twitching back and forth from under the tin. An immediate plan was produced. I would guard the door while daredevil Larry pulled the tail out.
He pulled the tail, but the mouse got away, darted under the door, and scurried to the other bedroom again.
As we tore into the room we saw the little blur streaking for some clothes. We dived for the clothes and lifted them up. Out fell the mouse. Away he darted for the third and last time. This time he went out the right door and he was heading for the freedom of the great outdoors.
Once again the mouse had won.
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On one of those days, uninteresting and boring summer days, my friend Nancy and I decided to do something interesting. The problem was--what could we do?
Suddenly I had a brainstorm!
"Let's cook supper. We can ask your folks over to eat with my folks and really make this a big deal!"
"Wonderful! Let's get to work."
First we planned the menu. We decided after forty-five minutes of hard study to have chicken, potatoes, gravy, salad and corn. Dessert would be cake and ice cream.
Eagerly, we began our little project. First, fry the chicken.
"Nancy, how do you fry a chicken?"
"I don't know. I thought you knew."
"Marilyn, it says, 'Cream the shortening.' What does that mean?"
"Look it up in the dictionary! While you are looking, look for a recipe for gravy."
"What shall I put in the salad?"
We really had that kitchen in an uproar.
Then Nancy turned from her burned and lumpy cake icing and said, "Let's junk this mess and fix some nice peanut butter sandwiches for our folks. I'm sure they would not eat this even if they could."
Wholeheartedly I agreed, as two sadder but wiser girls began to clean up the kitchen on a dull, uninteresting, boring summer afternoon."
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A lonely heart and a quiet country church belong to each other. Nowhere else can one collect his thoughts, ambitions and cares into one organized desire and feel that someone is on his side. Many people come to church for this reason. But there are some who come, not to offer thanks, but only to show off a new hat or just to be able to tell their friends that they went.
But what about those other people who come to church -- the ones who come to offer thanks. Notice the little girl kneeling by her daddy. She came to church to say in her lisping, childish way that she was sorry that God ran out of baby girls but that the new baby brother would be accepted anyway.
Can you see the little old lady in the third pew, kneeling proudly beside the tall, rather handsome young man with an array of ribbons across his chest? Ask her why she came to church. She'd answer something like this: "My son just returned home from overseas yesterday. He came to church, too. We wanted to say, Thank you, God.' " And if you look closely, you will notice tears in her eyes.
Notice also the young women to the left of you. She's offering thanks for an operation that saved her sight.
All these people come to God's home for one purpose -- to thank God for benefits received.
Going to church give you a feeling of being near to someone who knows how you feel during every moment of your life. It is a wonderful feeling--a feeling of hope, satisfaction and love mingled together into perfect peace.
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I really wanted to, but everybody said I would be sorry if I did. Being quite confused by this well-meant advice, I didn't know what to do. After several months of deep concentration, I summoned up all my courage and, after school one night, I forced myself to go downtown to the "place”. As I walked in, I saw several other helpless victims waiting for their turns. As I entered, a deep silence greeted me, broken only by a buzzing sound, and occasionally, a snip, snip, snip. I sat down on a bench on one side of the room to wait for my turn. I tried to read a magazine, but my mind kept wandering to the warnings I had received. The longer I waited, the more worried I became; and as my turn approached, I broke out into a cold sweat. My time finally came and I bravely got into the chair. At this moment, I almost backed out; but I had decided to, and I would! I calmly said to the man, "I want a flat top”.
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