Duxbury High School - Partridge Yearbook (Duxbury, MA)

Page 8 text:

A yearbook, when new, is special, and its nostalgic value becomes priceless as the years go on, The class of i978 is proud to dedicate its yearbook to someone as special and unfor- gettable as the book itself, Mr. David Kispert. Better known as Coach Kispert, his most outstanding efforts and achievements have been for the DHS football team, Under the the coaching of Mr, Kispert, the football team has been revitalized and was more successful this year than in the past. As coach of this team, Mr, Kispert has earned admiration and respect from his players as well as the entire school. He brought to his team high hopes, high spir- its, and devotion. His mood and optimistic outlook seemed to be the key to motivating the team. Mr. Kispert has also earned respect from his history students, He has shown his students that learning can be a few good laughs along with hard work, Students praise his sense of humor and originality in teaching methods. It is no easy task to control, instruct, and moti- vate a group of high school students. lt seems Mr, Kispert has had little trouble in getting students to like and respect him In his two years at DHS, his achievements and devotion to our school have not gone unnoticed. To ascertain that this outstanding man will never be forgotten, we proudlv dedi- cate our yearbook to Mr, Kispert. The Class of i978 -hu 4 Dedication 'CA I wp ' Y ,, i 1 Q ,Qlfa...... 'GY'

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l can't sax I know where the time has goneg These warm spring nights bring out a certain confusion These are such strange times When one liv es in the sweetness of the past while existing in the subdued sadness of the present Find what tragedies we mustg Find what happiness is there. With us leaves a spirit net er to return, never to exist. The wind whispers ev erv name neverrnore to dwell here another gone, more to come. as time moves on. Make no attempts to pick up fragments fragments of memories fragments of what used to be, for we have found a jewel of which there is no other. Don't look back, especially here, not even when it's dark. lt was a different time, a different you in those treasured memories. l have seen silhoutted faces remembering places, people, and essences, silentlv surrendering to fate, faces looking back at times when there were good times ahead but realizing that there are onlv these quiet spring davs. There are no words . .. Like a frightened adolescent running back to his childhood we look into each other's eves these last davis and trv to see them clearlv but thev'll onlv fade. Never hold fast to what must be set free. Whatever vou had once is gone. lt never spoke: it onlv left silently to become mixed with vour children and vour future darkne scarcely to be remembered till the elements dominate. There will be so many farewells but none such as this, whose meaning is restricted so bv words - How can we ever sav . . . How much we lov ed each other? Keith Huber

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. 'J . - . s ' gy. '1-.. wh t 1.7 Q 4 . -vgr.-v- -w'. 'f:': h1L . ,A,, 7 X, . 31-1 gf: -P J 'l K . ' 1 '11-. ', pn. 44' r- in memoriam Wulllam Hardy --, g- 3 I 1: .Q-..