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Ken’s Story
Sam graduated from high school in 1974 with a 4-year Regents Scholarship to the University of Nebraska. It was one of 113 such scholarships awarded in the state that year. It was the first 4-year award ever for Auburn, although some one-year, renewable, scholarships had been given in previous years.

Kay had a busy year as a junior after Sam graduated. She scored 22 points in one basketball game, a school record, albeit it was only the second year for the girl’s sport. She was inducted into the National Honor Society and was selected as alternate to Cornhusker Girls’ State. The news story announcing the selection listed her achievements: All A’s for four years; class officer sophomore, junior, and senior years; Math-Science Club two years; Girls Athletic Letter Club three years and officer; band two years; annual staff two years and co-editor for 1975; Spanish club one year; volleyball letter three years; basketball letter two years; reserve cheerleader one year; county government day; secretary of United Methodist Youth Fellowship.

Kay received several scholarships. One was for $200 as top winner in the Nebraska City Elks Club contest and another $200 special award for scholarship to Northwest Missouri State University. NWMSU also gave her a full ride (room, board, and tuition) to play volleyball for them. She played every minute of every game (except for one because of injury) her freshman year. She dropped out of the sport when she got married.

Kay graduated from Auburn High School in 1976, tied for valedictorian honors with Vicki Bergmann. Both had 4.0 GPA’s for their four high school years. She gave one of the two senior addresses. Kay’s commencement address was entitled “Failures”.

Sam’s Version
I was a cheerleader, too. Yes, indeed. Take a look in the ’72 Bulldog if you don’t believe me. It is not a joke.

As for the National Honor Society, my dad, my sister, my wife, and two of my children are inductees. That honor passed by me (as it did for my younger son, probably for similar reasons). Since I never learned the secret handshake or anything, I don’t know all the rules, but I think it had something to do with deportment. Or it might have had something to do with the Great Sock Survey and the Ability to Predict the Colour of a Person’s Socks According to the Day of the Week, which Mrs. Rarick did not think had anything to do with British Literature. Or that school lunch editorial. Or the time I planted the family station wagon in the side lawn of the school delivering tables for the Math and Science Club soup supper.

Anyway, I was far more annoyed at not winning the Bausch and Lomb Science Award, a prize I had been shooting for since eighth grade, when I attended my first commencement, the eight-grade band members filling in for the seniors to play Pomp and Circumstance. I was so annoyed that I even asked Mr. Wettenkamp why Janet Ely got the award instead of me. After all, I was the only kid in the class who was actually planning on being a scientist. Mr. Wettenkamp pointed out that the Bausch and Lomb award, public as it is, was only a name on a plaque. He had two awards to give, and I had won the other one, which he considered more prestigious. Earlier that spring I had been named American Chemical Society student of the year, gone to a chapter meeting in Omaha, had dinner with real chemists and the other Nebraska high school awardees, and was given an engraved pen and pencil set. He was right.

Now David Wininger, he took the National Honor Society seriously. (He wanted to go to the Air Force Academy. He grew up to be a colonel). You have two shots at the NHS. During an all-school assembly, the senior members roam through the seated crowd and tap the new inductees. Then the moms and dads of the inductees are brought out from behind a hidden panel, looking proud. It’s all so warm and fuzzy.

Our junior year, Dave was all set to be named. On the day of the all-school assembly he wore a nice shirt and tie and his (highly fashionable at the time) white sport coat. But, alas, his mom and dad were not hidden behind the partition. He was flattened, even more so than the day I beat him in the 50-yard dash during a break in play practice for You Can’t Take It With You. The next year he threatened to boycott the assembly, claiming that the selection process was rigged in favor of the populars and brown nosers. I wasn’t sure why Dave didn’t qualify, but, having no real chance at induction myself, I agreed to skip the assembly. The inevitable happened, of course. That morning, before the assembly, I saw Doc Wininger, bow-tie and all, sneaking into the gym. The only honorable thing to do was to tell Dave he still had a chance and that we’d better go to the assembly. He was inducted wearing a ratty T-shirt. His parents proudly smiled.

It is traditional for the assembly to conclude with a speaker, who addresses the members of the National Honor Society. The rest of us sit on our hands in the bleachers and listen politely. The speaker is usually a successful alumnus or local figure. It has always been my dream to be invited back to the National Honor Society assembly as a speaker. I intend to not address the honorees. I want to speak to the bleachers. “Success is measured not by what others think of you, but by what you think of yourself. Now get off your hands and go do something you can be proud of.”