Try to Remember

 

Words by Mike Harper and Richard Moroz

 Performed at Senior Assembly on May 1967. 

To the tune, “Try to Remember

 

Sophomore Year

 

Try to remember that early September when we were slow and lowly sophomores.

 

Try to remember that Rummerfield fellow who won with legs so fair and pretty. 

 

Try to remember, that’s if you remember, our play with Steve Suttle and his big bunny.

 

Try to remember, we’ll always remember, “Big Orange,” orange, orange, orange, orange.

 

Junior Year

 

Try to remember that second September when we were young and foolish juniors.

 

Try to remember our friend Pop Haney who led the strike with waiving dust mop.

 

Try to remember that nice man McKinney who gave us machines for coke and candy.

 

Try to remember our Western Day beauty, “Little Egypt,” merry, merry, merry, merry. 

 

Senior Year

 

Try to remember our final September when we were gay and noble seniors. 

 

Try to remember our Music Department with Shield’s good humor and Seller’s vibrations.

 

Try to remember our favorite commander who worked in splendor on Mohawk Carpet.

 

Try to remember that “Pride” and remember we’ll follow, follow, follow, follow.

 

All 3 years

 

Try to remember when life was so tender and all our joys were shared together. 

 

Try to remember, it’s nice to remember, the fun and friends three years have brought us. 

 

Try to remember our pride and our standards and all the memories that we must leave now. 

 

Try to remember and if you remember, then follow. 


 
 * * * * * *
 

This poem was used in the Charger Chatter's 30th Reunion 


I shuffle thirty years like a deck of worn cards.  Where did they go?

I look back on our times. 
I look back on us. 

War, hate, famine, distrust, disappointment, failure, dead friends, dead parents. Peace, love, hope, faith, beauty, deliverance, children.  Life.

Now that I know I am certainly nearer the end than the beginning.  I want to go back to the start. 

I want to kiss that pretty girl again. 
I want to hug a friend and remember some past kindness. 

For one hour I need to dance and smile.
For one hour I want to be seventeen. 

Thirty years.  All that time.  All that distance. 
Where did it go?  When will it end? 

To echo the words of the songwriter's pen.  
"What a long, strange trip it's been". 

 

 

 

                                          Steve Suttle