York High School - Organug Yearbook (York, ME)

Page 14 text:

GQSJ 1' f Be it remembered that we, the members of the Senior Class of York, in the County of York, in the State of Maine, being of sound mind and memory, do make this our Last Will and Testament. I, Gladys Albee, will to Frances Chase my ex-nursing plans. I, Robert Barr, will my job at the Esso Station to John Smith. I, Charles Blaisdell, will my trips to South Berwick to all the Junior boys. I, Richard Brooks, will my sailor suit to Jerry Matthews. I, Deborah Bryant, will the pay phone at York Harbor to Beth Buker. I, Patricia Cl'ark, will the attendance to Barbara Fuller. I, Ronald Clark, will Harvey to Hank. I, Loyola Cockrille, will my eagemess to help to Elaine Martin. I, Richard Cullins, will my Maine accent to Warren Woodford. I, Barbara Daly, will my address book to anyone who wants it. I, William Ferrin, will my fancy dance step to Malcom Morgrage. I, George Fox, will my muscle bound figure to Harry She jan. I, Jeanne Freeman, leave the basketball management to Natalie Twombly. I, John Gibson, will my red hat to Henry Blaisdell. I, John Gilmore, will my shy marmer to Elizabeth Crawford. I, Gene Goodwin, will my brain matter to Stuart Neal. I, Douglas Grover, will my directing authority to Constance Taplin. I, Dale Hilton, will my vivid colors to Roberta Hayes. I, Nancy Kenney, leave everything but Bob to the Junior girls. I, Roger Kimball, will my class ring to Sandra York. I, Sandra LaBonte, will my bleached hair to Sheila Blaisdell. I, Linda Littlefield, will all the Student Council money to Natalie. I, Nicholas Littlefield, will my Joe-college look to Steven Marston. I, Allan MacDonald, will my close shave to Leo Rizzo. I, Robert McKenna, will my basketball crown to Gerald Avery. I, Ronald Main, will my gift of gab to David Wiggin. I, Raymond Marston, will the lights to Gordon Lindquist. 1, Jean Moulton, will my typewriter to Cynthia Tapley. I, Joan Moulton, will the mountain to Hilton Mitchell. I, Barbara Nelson, will the Portsmouth boys to Esther Howe. 1, Pat Pape, will my party list to Elaine Gerry. I, Windsor Patstone, will my goatee to Mr. Jack. I, Sally Reed, will my banana legs to Donna Mosher. I, Richard Schoff, will my curly hair to Emma Mackie. 1, Joan Simonatis, will my hook shot' to Linda Suitor. I, Martha Stevens, will my quiet life to Elaine Buker. I, Deborah Tracy, will my megaphone to next year's captain. I, Emest Trafton, will my wise remarks' to Dennis Glidden. I, Dennise Twombly, will my old report cards to Jimmy Horning. I, Helen Wlaker, will my engagement ring to my sister Jane. I, Gerald Woodward, leave my football uniform to Conrad Moses.

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THE ONE AND ONLY I recall his handsome face 'Twas one I'll ne'er forget. It seems like only yesterday Was the moment when we met. I thought this was the real thing, And so the same thought he. I said that never someone else Could mean as much to me. He said he had to travel on For restless he'd become. I told him to retum some day For friends he'd be among. Wherever he has wandered, Whatever he has done, He is and he will always be, My one and only one. By Nancy Kenney THE SEA The mighty ocean roars with gales, And rolls with furrows free. In anger it will pound the shore, The never ending sea. To us it be both friend and foe The love for it is sound Without this strange world at our touch, 1t'd not be so renowned. Its stretch is vast from land to land, But Uavels on obscure Embraced is both the far and near, And kissed is every shore. The restless sea 'tis sometimes called, The beauty to be found. It could be all its wandering ways Or just the endless sound. By Helen Walker HOME You probably don 't think about it much. Your home, Imean. You probably take it for granted. It's ' there - it's comfortable - it's famil- iar. It's just home. But have you ever been away some- where and been stricken with a des- perate attack of homesicknessr Then you know that home is a lot more than a roof over your head. Home is lying on the living room floor and reading the Sunday papers. It's dashing back from school into a warm kitchen and telling Mother you've made the honor roll. It's your girlfriend coming over to spend the night, doing homework, and trying out new hair-do's. Home is the chair Dad sat on too hard three Thanksgivings ago. It's Dad valiantly swallowing down your first fhard -as-a-rocky angel cake and exclairning, It's delicious! Home is the gang dropping in, rolling up rugs and dancing. It's Mother always prodding the family to please put things back where you found them, It's knock-down, drag-out fights with little brother, conciliations, love, tears, and laughter. It's EVERYBODY pitching in to decorate the Christmas tree. Well, when you come to think about it, home is many things, and all quite wonderful at that. By Nancy Kenney

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