The Spectator--Jim Bennett--July 24, 2008

SO WHAT’S IN A HIGH SCHOOL YEARBOOK?

A MONTH or two ago, one of my Bloomington High School class of 1960 classmates established a website for our class. Even though she’s as old as the rest of us, she’s cyber savvy enough to do this.

We are two years ahead of our 50-year class reunion, but the website gives us time to reconnect with old classmates and share in a unique online community. Like many people I know, I pooh-poohed high school reunions when I was younger, but as the years go on, I look forward to them.

When we do convene in 2010, the website should help us come with more information than most people have when they arrive at such an event.

Areas on the site include photos, obituaries (there are two very recent ones), news, trivia, and a blog. There is also a “memorial” page listing all the classmates who have died. I counted 32 of those the other day.

32 dead out of a class of 250, over a period of 48 years...is that a lot or a little? How long will the list be two summers hence? Over time, I’m sure the site will grow and prosper. I check it each morning and sometimes send thoughts to the web master (mistress?); she decides if they should be included on the page.

The site sends me to my class of ‘60 yearbook frequently. I don’t know why the thin, brown volume has survived 48 years of moves from neighborhood to neighborhood, city to city, and even state to state, but it has.

Pictures in the book help. Am I remembering the right person? Do I remember this guy at all? If that’s a married name, here’s help to find the maiden name, the one I would recognize.


COMPARED TO yearbooks nowadays, ours is spare. There are no color pictures. The 1960 edition of the Aepix has but 144 pages, including the advertisements and the index. Nevertheless, it is a well-crafted, effective volume that maximizes space and provides precisely the information old timers look for. Under the challenging sponsorship of the late Roy Hostetler, history teacher, BHS publications in those days were exceptional. The school newspaper, the Aegis, came out every week and was honored statewide, year after year.

The class of ‘60 was the first to graduate from the “new” high school building. We occupied the campus in the fall of ‘59, after spending our junior year at the old high school on East Washington Street. It was a big deal, believe me. As editors of the yearbook said, “Students explored the building and marveled at its grandeur.”

Nothing wrong with a little hyperbole now and then.

The simple cover of the ‘60 Aepix is highlighted by a small silhouette of the school’s signature architectural feature, the cantilevered roof line of the gymnasium. Appropriately, the book’s dedication went to the citizens of Bloomington, recognizing the vision and dedication leading to the new school.

“The citizens, informed of the urgent need for additional classroom space in 1954, answered by approving a bond issue for construction,” reads the dedication page. It goes on to say, “In October, 1958, they passed another bond issue to provide funds necessary to complete the building.”


WHEN I leaf through this yearbook, I’m keenly aware of the now and then. Hairstyles, of course, are vintage. Back then, many girls wore full skirts that reached well below the knee. Eyeglasses with prominent black frames were in style. There were no backpacks; boys carried their books under the arm while girls clutched them against the chest.

The team picture of the golfers has several players holding clubs with wooden shafts; the tennis players have those old wooden rackets with the ever-so-small heads. I’d like to see Roger Federer go a couple of sets using one of those.

Beneath a photograph of boys working out in the new exercise room reads a caption, “Weight lifting, one of the newer additions to the training program of athletes, was popularly accepted by many boys.” Little did they know....

Major changes in the school’s demographics are evident on nearly every page. The class of ‘60 included but six black students out of 250. The varsity basketball team had two African-American players on a roster of 14. Every player on the sophomore team was white.

In football, every varsity player on the roster was white except one, and it was the same for the sophomore squad. If you’ve been to a BHS football or basketball game in the past ten years, you probably think I’m lying. But the facts are what they are, and they emphasize how dramatic the change has been in student body make-up.


THERE ARE more messages written on the inside covers of my Aepix than I can count. Nearly every one is interesting for some reason or another.

Many are from students I don’t remember. No surprise there. But when a message from Jean reads, “I’m so glad we really got to know each other so well senior year, never forget all the fun we had in history class,” it seems like I should remember this Jean person.

Many of the signatures include first names only, which doubles the strain on the memory. The blanks I draw are at least curious when they’re not perplexing.

Some messages are so short they take up barely a square inch of white space. Examples would be “good luck,” “best of luck,” “good luck to you,” and “see you.” Some are written straight across, others o
n the diagonal, and still others upside down.

Some are scrawls, while others have such careful handwriting and consistent, regular spacing you’d think they were entered on a typewriter (another device we used back in the day). The ink comes in blue, black, red, brown, gold, purple, green and aqua.

A couple of girls wrote their messages in a splendid blend of printing and cursive which created a signature font.

Some people told me I was destined for greatness: “I’m sure you’ll succeed in whatever you do.” Other messages were more cautionary: “Watch your step.” One, from a sophomore girl I dated a few times, was a reminder to “strive real hard for good grades in college.” How is it that one so young could know me so well? I put it to you, Guv’na, is that royt ?

Some of the slang in the yearbook surprises me. For instance, the word “swell” was used routinely. I thought the word had pretty much vanished from the teen lexicon by 1960, but I was wrong.

A junior girl named Cathy, who must have thought I was also a junior, wrote, “Let’s be sure and tear up next year.” “Tear up” in those days had nothing to do with welling up in the eyes, but signified dominance. Today, it might be replaced by “rule.”

I’ll continue checking out the BHS ‘60 website on a regular basis. Maybe there’s an aspiring webmaster/mistress for your class. I hope so. And don’t lose that yearbook.

jwbnnt@aol.com

This is Jim's article that appeared in the Normalite - Normal's own newspaper