G Ray Bodley High School - Fultonian Yearbook (Fulton, NY)

Page 46 text:

jhe .jmck 3l'l'lff'l Without him there would be no steel to make the machines . . . No gasoline to run the nation's automobiles. No concrete to build the highways . . . No merchandise to spin the wheels of trade . . . He is gentle enough to let a twelve-ounce kitten cross the road . . . He likes straight highways . . . Black-haired waitresses . . . Slot machines that pay off . . . Friendly cops . . . Laughing, proud of his day's work he looks out of his bunk and thinks of the long highway ahead . . . He lives by the code of the road . . . And passes no man who needs a helping hand . . . I'm proud of truck drivers . . . Because he's my father, a proud man with 22 years of highway behind him, a man who would be happy to hear America say, Congratulations truck drivers, you've done a great job. Denise Wingood ml 5 i 'C if 1 l , ji- x-,.,.

Page 45 text:

jo .xg jeacher, ja .14 .grienac jz you To a teacher- This is what I write- He tried to keep fourth bell From raising hell. He never succeeded. He was only defeated. There was Becky- proud and short And Robin- what a sport. And Darick- with pizza on mind And good old Dugan- basement time. But despite the things we did And the teacher's book we hid. And the headaches we gave We always tried to behave! On the fourth of September Do you remember? That's when we first met What a sweat. You did more than teach You did more than preach. You made us learn But on your term. You taught- We bought- You cared- We feared- To a friend- This is what I write- In the one before I constantly rhymed HClzri.4fma5 gefegrafion H Snowflakes softly sailing silently to earth, Touching mountains with icy fingers, Marking the beginning of the Christmas season. People hustle-bustling through shopping centers Like five o'clock thruway traffic Or buzzing bees at a honey comb. Fireflies decorate ornament covered fake trees, Blinking from beneath the tinsel, Representing false symbols of Christmas. Christ didn't climb down from His cross yetg Annual trips to church are made, And joy is spelled P-R-E-S-E-N-T-S. Snowflakes softly sailing silently to earth To celebrate another bogus Christmas. By David Johnson But not this time. I write on this paper of white To tell the story of you. By the way I saw it By the way I know it. You were a teacher and a friend Never one or the other. You honestly cared About the students you taught. You were willing to give of your time To someone who needed it. You never said no To a question of help. You were kind and polite Always wanting to help. You made learning fun More than chewing gum. To you- This is what I write- I write this poem to you And hope you will understand. For all that I write is true It will only turn you red, not blue. What I'm really trying to say- is this You're the first of your race And the first to first base And you never failed to make a homerun. BY: ANNIE ARCADI E: alfif gk I lk ,ir it ,L o ,qt-gf lr: IE ,Q 2 ly, 9 y J gif Lili , XL ily' 5 . fx , , M.-f-:Y-N. A If jg' X l 1 fp 5 5' is M x C. . ,- 1 sm llllfw, lf, I I, Vw . ,, , 1 1 'l pl 1 l J lv IN ji ffl

Page 47 text:

f 7 I Sv gymnadfitd Gymnastics is a flippy sport. With six different events for you to support. There's high bar, tumbling, paralell bars, and rings, and all sorts of crazy things. J-17 1-V -I- WEQ And trampoline is a extra treat. That you see only in a special meet. So come on over, pay a buck, and wish us gymnasts lots of luck. -Larry Reich- N ff I X Larry RC.lC.. l.T5 I gf ,,