An atom shot through endless space. A thousand light years away, a star was born. In a million centuries there would be systems and galaxies, but now there was only an atom, a star, and the Great Plan of the Universe.

     The organizer had taken many pains in creating that Plan. Its intricacies interlocked like the gears of a clock. Every detail was important; every detail was complete. Completely and concisely reported was the Senior Class of 1964. Genius and talent were scheduled. Public triumphs and private disasters were recorded. The bond of common goals was to be: sealed by the loyalty of friendships. No one could know except the Organizer.

     Then time began. The sun shed light on a barren earth. Dinosaurs ruled; and then men. The first field was tilled. In China, the Great Wall was built. Pericles ruled Athens. Rome ruled the world.

     Centuries and nations came and went. History dropped names: Buddha, Christ, Charlemagne, Shakespeare, Columbus, Washington, Napoleon, Hitler.

     The Great War of 1914 was pre-empted by World War II. On January 20, 1944, Europe was death and destruction, but in Hampton, Virginia, a birth took place. More than a life began at Hampton. This was the beginning of a class-- the Senior Class of 1964.

     On sunny afternoons in Alabama, on foggy nights in Wisconsin, on windswept days in California, the Class of 1964 continued to expand. A Senior came from Holland. A Senior came from France. On January 31, 1947, the Seniors numbered 175. Their ages ranged from 3 years to 3 minutes. Still there was no leader. On May 6, 1947, the Organizer sent down the last member of the Class of 1964--the President.

     The parents christened the Seniors Ann or William or any of the names in between. Did the loving mothers, as they wrote the names for the first time, have any idea that in 17 years these names would be buried under a hundred diminutives. The mothers did not know, but the Organizer did. He knew too that the names did not matter; these Seniors would give their names meaning.

     In Dothan, Alabama; Bridgeport, Connecticut; Houston Texas, members of the Class of 1964 began to make names for themselves as beautiful, healthy babies. People remarked that these were smart babies, too. walking and talking at an early age. The pretty babies grew into pretty little girls and handsome little boys. The girls won "Little Miss Beauty'" Contests. The boys won fights.

     Then a big fight broke out, and Korea was a battlefield. The cadence count of the drill sergeant rang in The ears of young men from coast to coast. The Seniors were running home to report with pride, "Mommy, I can count to ten."

     On a misty September morning in 1952, the Class of 1964 entered the first grade. England crowned Elizabeth Queen. The Seniors learned to read, to think, to add, and to develop individual talents.

     "Draw a man and his dog," instructed a teacher, and the artists showed their talents. Perhaps the, dog had three legs and the man had six fingers; the parents still beamed. Somewhere a thoughtless counterpart wounded a budding genius ego—"What's it s'posed to be?" With the resiliency of youth the artist bounced back, tried again, and finally produced a ten-fingered man and a four-legged dog.

     The United States elected a President with a name first graders could hardly even say, and would not even attempt to spell. So everyone called him Ike. Oh a few mastered the name, and in the first grade they were pointed out as "'The-ones-who-can-spell-Eisenhower." Their glory was gone by summer.

     Summers brought vacations and summer camps. For one, a trip to Florida was a treat; to another, a trip to Spain was a bore. The Organizer shook his head. What a difference a point of view can make!

     The Seniors went to Camps. They swam, and played, and wrote letters home. The poets created poetry; the sculptors carved statues; the cooks created new ways to roast hot dogs. The Class of 1964 grew, not in number, but in spirit, mind, and heart. The Organizer smiled.

     Cub Scouts and Brownies. Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts. Senior Scouts and Explorer Scouts. The girls sold cookies, sang off key at the P. T. A. meeting, and made aprons for Mother on Mother's Day. The boys camped in the woods, made model airplanes that did not fly, and on Father's Day produced a handmade pipe rack. The girls did volunteer hospital work, and the boys earned the Order of the Arrow.

     The Class of 1964 entered high school in the fury of a Presidential campaign. While the candidates fought tooth and nail for the highest office in the land, the Freshmen of 1960 were battling for a place in society.

     John F. Kennedy brought the New Frontier to the White House by one of the narrowest popular margins in American History. In compliance with the inaugural request, the Class of 1964 asked, "What can I do for my country ?" No one replied. Only the Organizer knew what these untried youth could do. He sent a message whispering through the winds: "Learn all you can first. Prepare yourself. Prepare the world. When everything is ready, you will know what to do." "I'll think about it, "answered the Seniors.

     Before the Class of 1964 could formulate a thought, the rat race of learning was upon them. Study. Analyze. Memorize. Repeat. Examine. Report. In spare moments go to football games, basketball games, dances, and club meetings. If there is time, sleep and eat a little.

     Demands were great, but not so great that they could not he increased. If a teacher had no improved a test, some national organization had The class of 1964 scored well on the alphabet tests, producing a semifinalist in the National Merit Scholarship Program.

     When tests were slack, speaking contests were heavy. Whenever there was a contest, a Senior competed and often he won. The Birmingham News Oratorical Contest netted a Senior a one-year Scholarship. Second place in the State American Legion Oratorical Contest was worth one hundred dollars to another Senior. In a State Debate Tournament a one-year scholarship fell to still another Senior.

     The Class of 1964 revealed its thespian talents in the Junior Class play of 1963. It was a good play with good talent. The Seniors thought so. 'The audience thought so too.

     Before the applause had abated, preparations begun for the Junior-Senior Prom. From crepe paper, Kleenex, and pipe cleaners came a formidable array of exotic flowers. Bamboo was shaped into mood creating huts. Everything was perfect. Suddenly, summer blazed her sun across the sky. This was the year--the Senior Year--of the Class of 1964. "Already?" someone asked. But the voice was drowned under Girls' State, Boys' State, summer jobs, and summer parties. No one said it right out, but everyone was anxious for school to start. Some said the summer flew by; some said it crawled. It finally passed, and the year of Senior privileges and responsibilities began.

     Cheerleader practice, football practice, band practice-no practice was complete without a Senior. Honor Society, Thespian Society, Forensic Society, Key Club, Anchor Club, FFA, FTA, FHA, 4-H--- no club was complete without Senior. Nor were the Seniors complete without fads. The Seniors classified people as "most loyal" or ``ignorantly knavish.' Everyone was "nhued" at least once, and every sentence started with "No, and . . .

     The Magazine Sale began. The Seniors walked a thousand miles and pressed a thousand people to buy a thousand subscriptions. Then the sale ended. The winning home rooms asked the losing home rooms, Where's our party'?" The losers replied ``Tomorrow."

     But tomorrow brought Homecoming, and the next day, ACT tests, and the day after that everyone rushed out to buy a turkey for Thanksgiving. The Seniors looked forward to this Thanksgiving. It was going to be extra special---something to be remembered. On November 22, with Thanksgiving a week away, a man in Dallas, Texas took careful aim and fired three shots. John Fitzgerald Kennedy fell into his wife's lap and died. In the turmoil that follows the assassination of a President, Thanksgiving was all but forgotten. The new Commander-in-Chief, Lyndon R. Johnson, proclaimed an official mourning period of thirty days.

     Life went on, as it always does. The Seniors went home to prepare for Christmas. The New Year 1964 demanded its welcome even before the wilting Christmas trees could be removed. School resumed, and the Seniors were swept away in a whirlwind of College Boards, semester tests, job interviews, and school applications. Someone said, "It's going too fast!" Everyone heard, but no one had time to answer. Club trips followed class dances and All-State Band tryouts. Valentine's Day, Washington's Birthday and Lincoln's Birthday were celebrated with book reports and tests.

     With a sudden jolt, everything stopped for AEA The Seniors forgot the complexities of school life for three days. Some went north; some went west; some went east; most went south to the traditional stomping grounds.

     The sunburns were still peeling when Senior Class Play rehearsals began. Strain eased as Seniors lightly exchanged their own character for that of someone else. The Seniors were well satisfied with the play, but the praise was cut short by Graduation.

     For twelve years thc Class of 1964 had looked forward to Graduation. That night was to be the zenith of excitement, the start of a whole new way of life. It was exciting, but there were more tears than cheers. When a new life begins, an old one ends. The seniors could not say good-bye to twelve years of habit and friendship without regret.

     College was ahead for some; jobs for others. The Class of 1964 went out into the world, and made it’s mark. Doctors healed; lawyers defended scientist and engineers gave power to the Space Age. Wives and Mothers made homes. The Seniors did for their country all that they could, as authors, statesmen, and citizens. One by one, the members of the Class of 196I left this earth for someplace better, someplace a little more peaceful. In a hundred years five or six Seniors had been singled out as remarkable in their time. In a thousand years, historians mentioned one or two names. In ten thousand years little was said about. The primitive twentieth century. Did space travel begin in the 1960's? Or was it in the 2060's?

     And so the centuries passed, until only the Organizer could recall the Class of 1964 and its age. 'Time slowed down. and then . . . . .

     An atom shot through endless space. A thousand light years away, the last star flickered faintly. Once there had been systems and galaxies. Now there was only an atom, a star, and the Great History of the Universe.

Shan Cretin

1964