• Class Stories, 1966 - Panel 53W, Line 004 - Wendy W. Cleveland

    Posted by Exeter Alumni on 10/13/2011
    When we graduated from high school
    you wanted to be a hero
    but you hit a land mine
    and broke into a thousand pieces, 
    American stars studding a rice paddy
    half a world away
    Yours was my first funeral
    the class of "66 crushed into pews
    wondering why,
    then outside twenty-one shots
    echoed in a line of pines
    like dynamite sticks woven to bamboo.
    In the light breeze of a July morning
    we listened to bagpipes fading Taps
    and watched the Lt. lay a folded flag
    in your mother's lap, 
    grief's consolation prize.
    Thirty-four years later
    I walk the wall
    with a silent crowd of strangers,
    stare through my reflection
    until I find your name. 
    The Jr. catches in my throat
    as I remember chemistry class
    when you sat behind me
    scratching your name on my back
    to escape the boredom of atomic mass.
    It is July and the sun burns my back
    but stone cools the white lily I lay
    next to flags and photos and dented dog tags.
    Feeling your fingers spelling my back,
    I press a child's crayon along indentations of letters 
    until you are resurrected in muted cerulean.
    Published in Alalitcom, 2006 - Alabama Writers' Conclave
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  • Class Stories, 1981

    Posted by Exeter Alumni on 11/23/2008 10:00:00 AM
    The Field - By Chris Sudock for Ms. Buckendorff 's English class. 
        The field. Green, lush, beautiful.  Painted red with our blood and gold with our honor. The field. White lines spread from one side to the other all the way to the endzone.  Then you hear them chanting with a rowdiness like never before. The crowd. The best cheerers in the world, those people are Then the thumping and cracking of the pads as the opening kickoff is sent into the sky.  You follow the ball with your eyes as your teammates, your family, crush the returner.  Then out goes the Defense.  You cheer for them as they sack the Quarterback again and again. Then, BOOM the punt is sent into the atmosphere. You see your teammate, your brother, catch the ball. He's running.  the 50 the 40, he jukes a defender, 30....20, he gets hit but keeps on going, the 10, the 5 TOUCHDOWN. You cheer as loud as you can, jump up and down, feel as though you are riding on a cloud. This is the place in the world where I feel right. Surrounded by my team, running up the field, making tackles and scoring touchdowns, you can't feel you legs or any part of your body.  Then it's over. The game is won. On the bus on the way home we burst out singing old songs;  " There ain't no mountain high enough, there ain't no valley low enough." We sing and cheer as though we were Super Bowl champions.  The field, the bus, the locker room, with my team. This is the only place I feel right, with my team.  They are my friends, my brothers, my accomplices.  They are the only people who make me feel at home in the world.  We work hard, shed blood, and break bones together, so it's only right that with them is my place.
    The field. Green, lush, beautiful. Painted red from our blood and golden from our honor. White lines spread  from one side to the other all the way to the endzone. Then you hear them chanting with a rowdiness like never before.  The crowd.  The best group of cheerers in the world, those people are.  Then the thumping and cracking of the pads as the opening kickoff is sent into the sky.
    And that's the way it is supposed to be.
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  • Class Stories, 1977

    Posted by Exeter Alumni on 6/9/2008 1:00:00 PM

    The Adam Mellon Inaugural Motorcycle Challenge came to an abrupt administrative halt.

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  • Class Stories, 1961

    Posted by Exeter Alumni on 5/2/2008 9:00:00 AM

    "GOING UP" - The Class of 1961 was on their ritual class trip to New York and after taking a tour of the city and having dinner returned to the President Hotel where they were given instructions that they were stay on their assigned floor and not to attempt to leave the hotel.  About 2:30 a.m. several class members decided they would explore New York City unchaperoned. A group of 6 or 7 decided to leave.  They were not aware the Steve Ruth, the high school Prinicpal, was camped downstairs where he could monitor the elevator and stairs. As the elevator door opened they were confronted by the image of Mr. Ruth.  The doors on the elevator closed quickly  and the "escapees" were on their way back to their rooms.  Price of the trip to New York - $50.00, the expressions on the faces of Sis, Harry, and friends

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  • Class Stories, 1975

    Posted by Exeter Alumni on 5/2/2008 9:00:00 AM

    THE CASE OF THE VANISHING CAR - One of the most unique pranks in the history of Exeter High School took place in 1975.  The boys track team decided that they wanted to have some fun with Coach Seltzer.  During the lunch period several of them went to the faculty parking area and picked up the Volkswagen Beetle which Coach Seltzer had driven to school and carried over it to the west side of Reiffton.  When a frantic Coach Seltzer realized his car was missing and was about to call the police, the boys confessed what they had done.  Coach Seltzer took it in stride after the initial shock.  Price of gas - 69 cents a gallon.  The initial expression on Coach Seltzers'' face - PRICELESS. 

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