At the reunion Dr. Thomson handed Doug Cross this poem he wrote on May 25, 1965. We share it with you here.

 

ODE TO THE SENIOR CLASS

We first met, you and me

              on a crisp September morn

Your smiles were bright, a true delight

              on that crisp September morn

At once Scott Sonne, your brand new prexy

              arose to pledge the flag

He did it well, though none could tell

              he thought it was a drag

The next event, as tradition has it

              is a message from the principal

Students sometimes brace, and even grimace

              at a message from the principal

But with hearty applause, you carried the cause

              of a most respectful welcome

T’was the same good cheer, carried throughout the year

              of a rousing Cubberley welcome

That new man then spoke, first friendly he spoke

              but then turned to the “Senior Prank”

What is this? what is this? telepathy told

              is this guy a weird sort of crank?

But football then came, all tassels and sheen

              The assembly was soon forgot

Our lives became crowded, sort of chopped up and chowdered

              For the elusive “A” we all sought.

There were debates for Nichols, for Berry special pickles

              plus biology labs with Hull

Then also The Maquia, which attempted to free-yas

              but without the clearance from Charlie Scull

From Senior Frolics to Senior Prom

              the year passed ever so swiftly

And the class of ’65, the class we all prize

              Handled parents and teachers all nift’ly

With notes for Mrs. Duncan, very specific notes

              You kept yourselves from trouble

You smiled at the homework, volunteered extra reports

              No use bursting the school’s precious bubble!

Now there’s but 16 days, short – long, days

              Until Senior High School graduation

With college all set and with secrets newly let

              you’re buckling down for life’s duration

But thru this all, you are standing tall

              You’ve met my fondest request

For you are the class of ’65, the greatest one alive

              Cubberley’s biggest and best.

Best wishes, good luck, come visit when you can

              Even come as you care to be dressed

And now this old principal’s ready, plum ready

              For a nice long summers rest.