1909
Spring is riding high these days (this is being written the latter part of March). Even if cold nights are still with us, the combination of thawing days has been ideal in these parts for the making of maple syrup which rivals that of Vermont and New Hampshire. Buds are getting too big for their britches. The early crocuses have croaked. Spring blossoms are burgeoning. Female cats are rubbing up against table legs and squirming around on the floor. Dogs walk stiff-legged. Chrome on autos needs polishing after battling winter weather. June in Hanover doesn't seem too far away. And, in these modern times, getting there is' a simple procedure. Many of us can hop in the old jalopy and be there within a few hours, or a day or two at most. So why not an annual '09 reunion in the spot we know so well? It's an extra dividend for being alive.
Early Aurora Days
In early Aurora days, the principal means of transportation was the horse and buggy. It was a leisurely way of moving from place to place, but people knew no different, and short trips satisfied them. A visit to the big city of Cleveland furnished fireside conversation for a week, and if any Aurorans happened to travel eastward as far as New York, or westward to Chicago, it almost called for a town meeting so that other natives might hear about the exciting adventure.
Aurora, indeed, was a peaceful village, with interests centered around the home and the community. And Sunday was a day of rest, with work suspended and frivolity abated. Religious too, were those old-time Aurorans. Most of them went to church regularly, singing their hymns with gusto and listening attentively to the "word" as preached by local pastors.
One of the churches stood on the site now occupied by the town hall. It was a modest structure painted white. In back was a row of covered stalls where parishioners parked their horse-drawn vehicles. Not being able to do anything about it, the animals waited patiently for the services to conclude, munching at their feed as they reflected, in horse language, events of the week. Impatient and complaining humans could learn much by observing the forebearing attitude of equines.
One of the steady-going churchmen was old Deacon Charlie Sheldon. Every Sunday for years he had been driving the same nag to church, tying him in the same stall. It was a routine as regular as daylight, and so much a part of the horse's life that guiding him by reins was hardly necessary. An understanding seemed to exist between horse and master, and an affection was felt, even if it wasn't demonstrated
this life. The following Sunday, the horse went to church as usual and stood quietly in the stall during the services. It happened again the next week, only this time the horse calmly laid down in the stall and died. Living was not worth while after the termination of a happy companionship that had lasted so many years.
Mike and Virginia Farley have been doing a little traveling for themselves this winter. At Rillito, Ariz., they visited Dutch West and his little woman, Charlotte. Dutch is ihe owner of El Rancho Grande where he raises cattle. On a trip to Nogales, Mexico, while the girls were on a shopping spree, Mike and Dutch had taken the picture which appears on these pages. They look like a couple of gay banderilleros with their serapes and sombreros. Mike said the '09 Class Notes has a scoop on the shot, as CBS, NBC, or any newspaper or magazine have not yet seen it. After Arizona, the Farleys went on to California. While in Pasadena, they were entertained by Dick Merrill 'OB and his wife Helen, and they also saw Jim Norton 'OB. Mike reported, at the time he wrote, that Henry Whitcomb's wife was in the hospital with another attack. We hope everything will turn out all right.
The drawing of Lana, the glamor puss, being chased by a mouse, which appeared in my Christmas greetings, reminded Marguerite Reagan, the widow of Sawny, of an Irish terrier they had a number of years ago. He took off over the hills after a jack rabbit. All of a sudden the jack changed directions and seemed to be coming straight for the dog. The terrier turned tail and flew to the Reagans for protection. "Sawny's last Irish terrier," said Marguerite, "was just a puppy when he left, yet every night finds her asleep along side his chair in the study.... I still read and enjoy your class notes in the ALUMNI MAGAZINE and always read Professor West's Hanover Browsing. He has been taking care of my adult education for some time."
A note from Louise Hatch, Joe's widow, wanted to know if I was the class poet. I had to tell her no, that Roswell Pearl had that honor, and that Freddie Reed wrote the class history in verse.
The following want ad has been suggested by our Eastern-correspondent-who-prefers-to-remain-anonymous:
WANTED: A few good dogs to flush out the BIRDS in '09 who have got it and can't take it with them - but can be more generous to the Alumni Fund. A Whisper of Suspicion suggests that some are not aware they could do more to help the score.
Class Agent Ralph Byron Clement, no doubt, would approve this procedure; '09 could meet its quota every year if all of us classmates would do what's within our means, and not pass the buck to the generous hearted.
While on the Giving Track, Bequest Chairman Bob Holmes, indubitably will be happy to have a number of you guys arrange to have earmarked for the College, insurance policies, stocks or bonds, or cash bequests via your wills. Only let him know about it. As far as can be made out, '09's memorial fund amounts to very little.
The present crop of Dartmouth men must be slicker than we were in our college days. According to Wilbur Cross, who wrote a piece on telephones in the March issue of the American Magazine, "Take the case of the musically minded Dartmouth student who found he could use a banjo to imitate the metallic clank of coins dropping in a pay phone. By thus fooling Central, he and his classmates enjoyed an orgy of long-distance calls to girlfriends far from Hanover, N.H."
It's quitting time in '09's editorial office. Now to give Lana, the glamor puss, her evening feed bag and fix one for myself. The wife and daughter, you see, are visiting my son John in New Jersey, so it's up to Childs to keep the home fires burning.
Class Notes Editor, 141 Pioneer Trail, Aurora, Ohio
Class Agent, 18 Spirea Dr., Dayton 9, Ohio
