Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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Jim Lemeric sat at the small table in the kitchen of his West End flat. The early morning sum streamed in through the gritty window onto his face, warming him. Odd utensils and bits of food that had been used and left over in the preparation of his meagre breakfast lay scattered about the kitchen. He was not reading, nor did anything else occupy his at- tention. Staring, he sat motionless, pondering his situation. Where was he going? What remained for him? He had no idea. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew that he mus t release himself from the agonizing boredom which dominated his life. Sunk deep in his chair, legs sprawled before him, he realized that he was only nearing forty, but fen years older. Graying at the temples, his once thick head of hair was now becoming thin and wispy. However, he prided himself on being very basic and down-to-earth, without any sort of vanity: thus it was he made no effort to conceal his baldness. Even in his present state of bhssfulness, there was a certain vitality to the drawn, ex- pressionless face. Eyes still puffy from a bad night ' s sleep, he had not yet shaved or washed, and his ruddy features were trenched with dark lines. Lemeric was a big man. When he was young and in active service, he had a good physique, but lately he had noticed that his once high-riding chest muscles were slipping down to his stomach, turning to fat. Sadly, the start of a paimch had left him unmoved. -« . Lifting his eyes from the floor, he heaved himself from the chair with more emphasis than was needed. What was wrrong vwth him, dammit? He was in a frame of mind that was making him act hke a man years older. Was it self-pity? It had been so long since he had done anything worthwhile. Was he really pitying himself because he had lost his drive and initiative? God dammit! Snap out of it, man! he said aloud. With this he went over to the sink and dashed some ice-cold water on his face. Picking up his tie and jacket, he glanced at his watch and saw that his morning ' s melancholy might cost him £in hour ' s wages if he didn ' t catch the bus. Twenty minutes later he arrived at his office building. Its

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AN OLD WARRIORS LAMENT My aged hand betrays my weariness, And foes cannot be slain with pen nor sword. My heart rejects the call for further battle, I curse this tragedy we march toward... The gallant actions of my reckless youth Hold nothing now but pleasant memories. This quiet cradles me in perfect bliss, No longer plagued like restless Ulysses... why can we not stop this crazy course. Which leads us on the road to dusty death? For Peace supplies the only life worth living. The life which calms the heart with every breath. Chris Thompson HAVE I BEEN DITCHED? At the dinner party laced with wine, I saw you dressed in Inde print most fine. You looked demure, unknown, quite out of place; I broke the silence, started up the chase. We danced that night, your welcome seemed not cool: But I should have known, not played the bloody fool; seen that our fling had reached its natural end - but I went on, though I ' d blown it there and then. For six days after Cupid ' s one-night arrow, I chased you till my heart met up with sorrow. Before a blazing fire on Dineen, You showed me for a fool (and far too keen). But yet the times were happy and well-spent. Although my view turned out to be quite bent, I thank you for revealing my delusion. As friends with pens let ' s sort out this confusion. ELIXIR OF LIFE In Xanadu, the River Alph falls to a sunless sea; and laudanum, my green delight, was what inspired me. Five drops of bliss, of deep repose, were your fine gift to me; gave me the strength to scale the heights, and brought me here to thee, to feast my eyes, with great delight upon shining caves of ice; to view the unknovra splendours of this hidden paradise, to know your ever-present love, to hear your dulcimer; Heaven! glorious Xanadu, where I stay evermore. Yes, I have immortality as Kubla Khan decreed. Yes, I have dined on honey dew, on Youth ' s immortal seed. A thousand years have come and gone but time has passed me by. The pleasure dome, that latent curse has stopped the starlit sky. Though life is lifeless, black despair, your love still comforts me. A flash of hope, love dulls the pain of cold eternity. Chris Thompson Chris Thompson

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tf. gray drabness gave him a feeling of depression, as he noticed, once again, how miserably the huge stone pillars failed at their at- tempted grandeur. Without giving it another thought, Lemeric trudged slowly up the steps. Entering his office without having to suffer through any falsely-cheerful good mornings from the office flunkies, he sat down heavily behind his small wooden desk. His office was cramped and dreary. A small portrait of a past manager hung on one wall, yellow and decrepit with age. A coat rack and a filing cabinet stood awkwardly, jutting out from the other wall, stopping the door from opening fully. A window behind his desk overlooked a narrow, grimy courtyard, while, Lemeric knew, the executives had a pleasant view of the city. Next to the Mfindow was a dirty calendar A knock on the door didn ' t send Lemeric scrambling to look busy, as with the other workers. vnih the previous month still in place. He must remember to change it. Lemeric sat back, surveying the dismal room in which he spent six and a half hours every day. A knock on the door didn ' t send Lemeric scrambling to look busy, as it did so many other office workers. Come in, Lemeric said, with his fingers interlaced behind his head. The door opened to reveal a petite, cute blonde. With an air of complete efficiency she walked over to his desk, then held out a piece of paper. He recognized it as an inter-office memo. Since when did the office use these? It was so much easier just to tell the person the message. Thank you. She turned briskly and walked or rather glided from the room, aware of Lemeric ' s eyes resting on her rear. Unfolding the memo, he went through it quickly, his eyes scanning, rather than actually reading. His old training. The message said that a call had come in for him that morning, but since he was late, the manager had taken it. Lemeric was to see him about it. Slightly curious, but mainly annoyed that the only reason the memo was sent was to emphasize that the old bastard was still checking on times of arrivals at work, he decided to let him wait. He busied himself vdth the masses of menial paperwork ujitil the morning coffee break. It was his custom never to go down to the office coffee room, but to go across the street, to a small pub. The coffee was more expensive but the solitude was well worth it. It wasn ' t that he particularly despised the other office workers, but he found their conversation so extremely dull. Last night ' s drunk and the stories stemming from this, held not the slightest bit of excitement for him. The other office workers, Lemeric knew, resented this apparent snobbery, and indeed they often made dealings with him difficult to show it. Lemeric didn ' t mind this, and in fact it helped him gain the solitude he had always seemed to have. Glancing at his watch, Lemeric left the pub and decided that it was about time to drop in on the manager. Without knocking he opened the door quickly to catch the fellow scrambling for papers. Walking confidently in, Lemeric stood looking through the window, once again glad to see that it overlooked the same courtyard as his own. The manager didn ' t look up right away, proving either that his present task was too mentally demanding or that he could be as rude as the next person. At length, the manager recognized Lemeric ' s presence in the room and leaned back in his tilter-chair - one of the luxuries of the job. Lemeric. Good of you to come. But before he could continue in this manner, Lemeric cut him off. The manager beamed. It was not often he had a chance to grill Lemeric. Was there a call for me this morning? he said flatly. Yes, but unfortunately you weren ' t here, so I took the message for you. The manager was taking full advantage of the situation. It was a man asking for you. Lemeric reahzed that he was going to have to drag every last detail out of the close-mouthed bastard. What did he want? Lemeric asked resignedly. The manager beamed. It was not often he had a chance to grill Lemeric. He wouldn ' t leave a name, but instead he g ave me phone number. Now where did I put it? Lemeric watched the artificial scene v«th detached amusement. Whenever he had to deal directly with the manager, certain an- noying situations always arose - a lost message, or a short memory. He found the incidents very petty, but realized that it was better to ride with the waves and let the old