Memories
Help us to build this page by submitting your favorite stories, memories, and experiences from high school.

Behold Sherri Chapman, the Bo Derrick of Lincoln Sr High. I was one of the throng of guys who secretly wanted to “know” her, if you know what I mean — in the biblical sense. She was out of my league of course, but there’s always that sliver of hope you cling to at times like this. Sherri and I were not good friends but we were friendly. I hung out with the stoners which included her brother Doug and a bunch of other guys and girls that Sherri knew very well. One day after school I had reason to stick around for awhile, Probably detention. It was our Junior year and I was still half-cocked. As I walked passed the lockers in the hallway I noticed Sherri was there by herself getting her things together, so I stopped and chatted with her for just a minute. It was okay. She seemed a little distracted, but it was fine. I went on my merry way and dipped into the restroom to take care of business. I’m sure I thought of Sherri then and probably wondered what she thought of me. Am I good looking enough? Are my clothes too lowbrow? My hair too long? She wouldn’t go out with a pothead, would she? On my way out I checked my look in the mirror (credit Springsteen) and I was fine. Wait a minute, there is something right there under my chin, right there on my Adam’s Apple. WHAT THE F…?!!! The modest little zit I had noticed there this morning had somehow expanded to three or four times it’s original size and has popped! There’s this unsightly globule of creamy pus oozing forth, announcing to the whole world, especially Sherri Chapman, that I am a truly gross and repugnant boy… and a stoner. I knew in that moment that I would never “know” Sherri, ever. AND MAN is SHE MISSING OUT!! :-)
memory by Mike Teslow
My memories are not nearly as laser focused as Gary's, but stem from the video that Gary put out. When I was watching it, the one thing that dawned on me as he moved through the different groups is how comfortable everyone seemed to be at Lincoln High School in 1975. On any given day, whether I was involved with an activity that included the high achievers, or the sports folks, the band individuals, or sitting in the basement with the stoners, everyone seemed to be comfortable with each other for the most part. How lucky we were to be in a school, with so many different students, and feel like we could fit in anywhere no matter who was involved. I suppose it was a sign of the times, but there was always for me anyway, a feeling of security when entering those glass doors out in front, to get the day started. We all have individual memories I'm sure, but that broad picture is what stands out for me. I believe this speaks to the entire student body and the respect we all had for one another.
memory by Art Farmer
A couple of thoughts -
So many good times and so many memories, but I would be remiss if I did not mention Coach Rich Greeno. In many ways, I was the epitome of a Greeno athlete. I never intended to go out for track, but he recruited me after Mr. Brook told him I could jump high playing basketball in gym class, and who could say no to Mr. Greeno? In three years, I never won anything, although I did earn a 2nd, 3rd, and a 5th place if I recall. Anyone can coach the star athletes, but Coach Greeno welcomed everyone, and those other places besides first piled up a lot of points and won a lot of track meets for Lincoln. In the years since high school and all the different bosses I worked for, I have thought about him often and his "management style". I never heard the man raise his voice once, except to offer an enthusiastic "Atta Boy!" to his guys, and yet everyone worked their butts off for him. He was all about pride and respect, and those are pretty good qualities to pass along to young men. Thanks Coach.
A high school story that I have repeated many times is when a group of senior boys from the class of '74 streaked our junior class picnic at Tuthill park. They had to undress back in the trees and there was a long stretch of open grass to cover so they just jogged rather than streaked. They all wore ski masks to hide their identities, even Ron Harris, who was the only Black guy in their class. All the guys had "74" marked on their butts with black electrical tape except Ron, who had white tape. Someone yelled, "Let's get 'em!" and they all took off for the trees again!
So many good times and so many memories, but I would be remiss if I did not mention Coach Rich Greeno. In many ways, I was the epitome of a Greeno athlete. I never intended to go out for track, but he recruited me after Mr. Brook told him I could jump high playing basketball in gym class, and who could say no to Mr. Greeno? In three years, I never won anything, although I did earn a 2nd, 3rd, and a 5th place if I recall. Anyone can coach the star athletes, but Coach Greeno welcomed everyone, and those other places besides first piled up a lot of points and won a lot of track meets for Lincoln. In the years since high school and all the different bosses I worked for, I have thought about him often and his "management style". I never heard the man raise his voice once, except to offer an enthusiastic "Atta Boy!" to his guys, and yet everyone worked their butts off for him. He was all about pride and respect, and those are pretty good qualities to pass along to young men. Thanks Coach.
A high school story that I have repeated many times is when a group of senior boys from the class of '74 streaked our junior class picnic at Tuthill park. They had to undress back in the trees and there was a long stretch of open grass to cover so they just jogged rather than streaked. They all wore ski masks to hide their identities, even Ron Harris, who was the only Black guy in their class. All the guys had "74" marked on their butts with black electrical tape except Ron, who had white tape. Someone yelled, "Let's get 'em!" and they all took off for the trees again!
memory by Kevin Hadduck
Listening to the choir and chamber choir often raised goosebumps on my arms. As a member of both, but with what felt to me like a thin voice and small range, I enjoyed just mouthing the words of songs more than actually singing. I could hear the music better that way. Director Stanza had a keen ear, however, and I did not always get by with my faking. Stanza had, by the way, a very well-deserved reputation around the country (yes, widely known) as a brilliant choir director.
Generally, my highschool career was unexceptional, not highlighted by involvement or accomplishment. I missed out on a lot, but I felt great admiration for those who had the confidence and social presence that I did not.
In one class (I do not recall which), however, I was voted most likely to be . . . (I do not recall what). Years later, while on my motorcycle, I was hit from behind at high speed by an 18-wheeler cattle truck. Maybe that was the vote?
Generally, my highschool career was unexceptional, not highlighted by involvement or accomplishment. I missed out on a lot, but I felt great admiration for those who had the confidence and social presence that I did not.
In one class (I do not recall which), however, I was voted most likely to be . . . (I do not recall what). Years later, while on my motorcycle, I was hit from behind at high speed by an 18-wheeler cattle truck. Maybe that was the vote?

Being part of the first show choir, at first I was miffed, I wanted to be in concert choir. But it was so fun to dance and sing! We were the Murphy Girls. Great memories!