Blue and Gold and Belonging

Here’s everybody’s signature. What do you see in common and who’s is the most different? Bernie told me Dad’s name was spelled Floyde on his birth certificate. Was that a mistake, or did he change it? Owning a class autograph book was popular when I was in fifth and sixth grade. I still have mine tucked away with my other grade school memorabilia. Some of my family and friends wrote these verses in my autograph book.

I love you little Yours ’til the Mississippi I love you big wears rubber pants I love you like to keep her bottom dry! A little pig, Ha, Ha! —Iris —Marilyn McFarland

Roses are Red Roses are red Violets are Blue Violets are blue God made me beautiful Sugar is sweet What happened to you? And so are you —Bernie (I hope you are good) —Pudge (Dee)

Roses are Red Violets are Blue My pen is poor When I see a sweet pea My ink is pale I think of you I’m writing this —Eilene Peterson With a monkey’s tail —Lila Lambert

Carol, Carol in the tub When you get married Your mother forgot And have twins To put in the plug Don’t come to me Ha, Ha, Ha! For safety pins! —Carolyn Reichenberg —Diana

YOURS You R MY 2YsUR TILL 2 good 2YsUB IDK 2 B ICUR —Jean Hoglund 4 gotten 2Ys4ME —Sharon Carlson 4U —Bob —Barb RAH! RAH! RAH!

I was a cheerleader in the sixth grade. My cheerleading outfit had a very short blue satin circular skirt and a gold satin blouse with long sleeves, which Mom made. Being a cheerleader made me feel like I was part of the “in” crowd. I would give anything to have a picture of me in my cheerleading outfit. Here are two of our school cheers. It’s hard to believe I still remember them!

Coolidge Cheer:

Dribble that ball Blue and gold fight, fight Right down the floor Blue and Gold fight, fight Left side, right side Who fights? We don’t care We fight See that basket Blue and Gold Put it there Fight, fight!

Mrs. Shadle, the school nurse, checked us all periodically for ringworm. She used an ultraviolet lamp and parted our hair with toothpicks. She was probably checking for lice, also. When I would meet a teacher for the first time and tell her I was a “Guild”, she would reply, “Ah, another Guild, we can always tell them because they are scrubbed and starched within an inch of their lives.” There were very few disciplinary problems at school. We all feared teachers, the principal, and our parents, so we behaved. Since there was no cafeteria, we always brought a sack lunch from home or some kids went home to eat, if they lived close enough. Mom knew what each of us wanted in our lunches. She knew who wanted butter and who preferred mayo, who liked peanut butter and who would eat nothing but bologna. Oh, how she spoiled us all! When we got out to the kitchen each morning there would be six sacks, each with our name on it and ready to go. In order for us to occasionally have a hot lunch, the room mothers would cook up a huge batch of spaghetti, bring it to school and serve it from a big electric roaster.