Harley School - Comet Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

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V MR. WHITING Arrirtant Director Dear Seniors: I'll never forget my mother's words when I left to go to college some thousand miles away. Words don't make any difference now, she said, the life we've lived together has said more than parting words could ever say. So my words are not words of advice . . . those you have heard until you must be well sick of them . . . they are words of appreciation for what you have given to me. These are the things you have given me, and I'll cherish them long: the response of searching minds to new ideas, a sharing of the interests and feelings of youth, forgiveness of unreasonable demandsg unquestioned loyaltyg stimulation to personal achievement, your belief your understandingg and, I hope your affection. You have given me strength when I was weak, and belief in myself when it was questioned. If it was given unbeknownst to you . . . so much greater the gift. In return I can only give my complete belief in you, and my affection for you not only as a group, but as each member of the graduating class of 1949. Cliff Whiting 6

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We planted a row of poplars over by the railroad tracks. We dug the holes, and carried water, and iirmed the ground, But we did go off and leave them after the first start. If you look out the windows of Harley, You will see many line poplars along the railroad tracks, But there are some distressing gaps where only the rank weeds grow. We paid much money for the great elm in our front yard. Forty dollars it was, and it was four inches through. We, who remember, have more affection for the cut-leaf maple. We set that out the same day we set the elm. Someone gave it to us, and I could carry it between my thumb and forefinger. Occasionally we remembered to water it and it settled in quickly. Every day someone looked to see how it was growing. Maybe he patted it and picked oE a dead leaf And shared his joy in being out of doors with the tree. The conditions seemed ideal - the tree grew and grew. And now it is larger and stronger than the elm. We planted some Scotch pines. Some were lost because, in our ignorance, We left the bare roots too long exposed to the air. But there are on the nursery playground three vigorous, dark green trees In which the three year olds climb. There are on our grounds several other trees. Some have had the bark knocked oil' And at various times have suffered broken limbs And started to grow in strange directions because, you see, children climb in them And the storms come, and the carelessness of men do them injury. Their hearts are strong, however, and they thrive on our attention. Several times each year an old friend of the school Comes to look at our trees. He loves trees, too, and children. He takes his saw and his pruning knives, He squints a bit, and furrows his brow, and takes a limb off here and there - Either because the branch is weak or throws the tree out of balance. Sometimes he calls me out to ask me what I think, But really so he and I together can stand and look at the tree And love and admire it. We like to share our joys. We have beautiful trees at Harley and beautiful children. Their hearts are strong, They have experienced the winters and the storms, They bear the scars of usefulness, Their heads are high with conscious pride Of continuing growth and accomplishment. They are more beautiful because we love them, of course. They will, come the seasons, bear their leaves and fruit, Furnish shade or store up energy. They will live long and bring us many joys, They are truly beautiful. 5

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