Harley School - Comet Yearbook (Rochester, NY)

Page 7 text:

L awrence W. Utter Director Dear Class of 1953: Asleep and awake, fleeting images occupy our imaginations And occasional complete pictures flash on our mental screens. We call these . . . dreams. They are compounded of our experiences, Our aspirations and our ideals. Often they are chirerical and fantastic. As a source of retreat they are potentially dangerous, Implemented, they give point to existence. You and I have dreamed. ' The efficacy of our dreams, time has and time will show. When you were one, warmth, food and security Constituted your dreams. I dreamed of you as the leaders in all constructive Cloaks fields. I hoped you might have creature comforts. At two, you dreamed of walking alone. I, too, wanted that for you, And in my dreams your giant strides touched only mountain tops. You soon envisioned yourselves as citizens Of courage and chivalry. You annihilated bad people, Rode white horses, and conquered jungles. You were bold and effective in your dreams. I envisioned you as all these things. Time passed, and you were eight, And the good opinion of your peers Was important above and beyond all other things. In your dreams you were football heroes, and nurses, Generals, and never-snith pards Loyal to the last breath. And I dreamed that loyalty to worthy causes would result. At twelve, glimpses of the unseeable Permeated your subconscious. You recognized a need for faith in something greater than yourself, And the wisdom of the ages supplied you With a faith in a beneficent power. You dreamed and you had a perfect faith. I hoped, and prayed, and dreamed That the faith would remain permanent. At fifteen, you were in love and in your dreams Found no flaws in the object of your affections. I dreamed that in your most lucid moments You would then find the virtues of any one man Exceeded by far his imperfections. We have reached maturity, but we shall continue to dream, And in our dreams shall cloak our ideals In magnificent and gleaming raiment. May we keep our ideals, And may we sew well the raiment to form the ! With love, LARRY UTTER

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DEDICATIO Mrs. Samuel Urzetta There are many ways of writing a dedication and we could use any one of them, but Mickey deserves something wonderful, something more than just the ordinary. To say that she has been both friend and teacher is not to say enough. There is something indefinably wonderful about a person who continually gives help and asks nothing in retum: that is Mickey. There is no way to measure kindness or thoughtfulness, but to speak of Mickey it becomes necessary to find such words. How often has she been thanked enough for all of the things she has done, how often has the phrase, Yes, Mickey will do it, been spoken? Yes, Mickey will do it and she asks little gratitude in retum. We wish to express this gratitude, but saying thank you individually is not enough. ln dedicating this 1953 yearbook to you, we hope you will begin to understand that all you have done has been appreciated. The Class of 1953

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Dear Seniors: I now feel, even more than ever before, that words are poor instruments of ex- pression. When people are in love, -they don't need words to express that feeling. There are a hundred other ways to show it-a glance, an intonation, va thoughtful deed, a personal sacrifice. Clifton M. Whiting The deepest feelings are those most Assistant Director . ' U difficult to put into words. Yet you ask me to do just that. I'm not surprised, for you have always asked much of me-and I have loved it. To say that l love you could be subject to misinterpretation. Yet I dare hope that the expressions of that feeling may be apparent to you. To put into words which will appear in your yearbook, my feelings about you, or Harley School, or those who have gone before or will come after-is a challenge beyond my power to accept. So I must ask that instead of- these words, you remember moments which have come and gone-but still lie deep in our memories and feelings, and which will be with us long after more definite and specific things are lost in the demands of every day, grown-up living. Sincerely, CLIF F WI-IITING