No, of course there was no caption beneath this picture, explaining why two boys had owls in their laps. That would be too easy! And then I might actually get it–which I don’t. I checked, and the high school mascot was not an owl. This was presumably not a bird-watching club. I doubt it was an anti-pollution group back in ’49 (give a hoot; don’t pollute, per Woodsy Owl). I’m stumped. In any event, I was under the impression that you could not tame a raptor. However, these two look quite tame.
The best part of waking up is not Folger’s in your cup; it’s not being dead. I average about four hours of sleep per night, so I am never fully-rested, fully-cognizant, or fully-functioning. It is one of many thorns in my side. But I keep waking up each morning, before the sun, before the rooster crows, still breathing and being alive.
In the time it’s taken you to read this, about 100 people have died. Yep, approximately 6000 per hour.
So consider yourself lucky! If you’re still here, you’ve still got a mission to accomplish. Maybe it’s tackling that in-box. Maybe it’s chores. Maybe it’s fighting an illness. Maybe it’s a kind word to build someone up today, or just putting one foot in front of the other. But you’re not still sitting here, converting oxygen into carbon dioxide, for nothing. My guess is you’ll make it to the next minute as well. Hey, that’s better than the 200 people who died since you clicked on this post. Cheers to life, buddy! Get another cup of coffee (free trade, fair trade, or whatever) and enjoy the morning.
Cool image on Traces of Texas today of the 1913 San Antonio Flood.
I don’t have a clue what’s going on here.
In today’s 1948 yearbook, I found a picture of this tall drink of water, Karl Hickfang, surrounded by a group of girls called the Lassies Petite. He was their mascot. Ironic.
Upon further investigation, I discovered that he went on to direct a choir. One of his students, Diane Garne, wrote about him in her book, Cinderella’s Daughter and the Secret of Big Bend:
I also found a memorial to his friend, written by Hickfang himself:
During a summer of 1949, I was finishing requirements for a bachelor of Music
degree. I looked forward to my first teaching position as the band director at
Bonham High School, my alma mater. Near the end of August, I learned the
position was not mine and I had to scramble to find another position so close to the
start of the school year.
The teacher placement bureau at the University of Texas informed me of junior
high school band openings at Conroe and Alvin, north and south of Houston. I
found the Conroe position filled. From a phone booth in downtown Houston, I called
the superintendent of schools in Alvin and was told the band director at Alvin High
Schools would be at H &H Music at 1:00 p.m. and that he had the authority to hire me if he chose to do so.
While I waited at H & H Music Co, three gentlemen came in the store…I was introduced to these gentlemen and Mr. Johnstone indicated he knew of me and said there was an opening for a choir director at Woodland Acres Junior High School, in the Galena Park district. To this day, I never believed he knew of me and I told him I anticipated going to Alvin Junior High School as a band director. I learned right then that you don’t say no to this man. He eventually convinced me to take a position at Woodland Acres and became my mentor.
Isn’t it amazing what you can find online? I always wonder what became of the happy, youthful folks in these eras of yore, and it’s good to know some of them live long, fruitful lives. Karl Hickfang passed away four years ago at the age of 83. R.I.P., Mr. Hickfang.
Market price changes daily.
Golly, do I love the detail on these two.
I Don't Get It 