Stanford High School - Memo Yearbook (Stanford, KY)

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By searching yearbooks of the past. We have prepared ours for you at last. All the students, faculty, and rest Think that our school is the best. Our cheers for Stanford are long and loud. Of our community we're justly proud. Mrs. Wyler, our guiding light. Will be so glad when we’re out of sight. Our MEMO will help us keep track. Thus, in later years, we’ll enjoy looking back. This is the Senior yearbook of Sixty-eight, As time passes by: SEE HOW WE RATE! ' • .V .■ VV •• • . ' . • . • • • '•; • •V- ••• • •' • •: ■ : ; • • ■ • •• . '■ V . ‘ ;.7,' ; '■ ‘ ‘ •• ..'V ■ coi:i)iroRs ; ATWOOt ‘ - ; '.V ; ’ . ’ •' ;• ;%v : ’:.X' - ’ ;v.- ' - , ’ • V; i , •

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THE SENIOR CLASS STANFORD HIGH SCHOOL STANFORD, KENTUCKY PRESENTS THE 1968 MEMO

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- ■ . ' $sM iiiiiias TABLE of CONTENTS Administration and Faculty......................5 Seniors ........................................17 Underclassmen..................................37 Elementary ....................................59 Activities.....................................75 Athletics......................................97 Advertising.................................. 1 5 •, • .v. THE ROAD NOT TAKEN Two roads diverged in a yellow wood. And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; Then took the other, as just as fair. And having perhaps the better claim. Because it was grassy and wanted wear; Though as for that the passing there Had worn them really about the same, And both that morning equally lay In leaves no step had trodden black. Oh. 1 kept the first for another day! Yet knowing how way leads on to way. 1 doubted if I should ever come back. I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and 1 1 took the one less traveled by And that has made all the difference. Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow. My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year. He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.