Balfour Technical School - Beacon Yearbook (Regina, Saskatchewan Canada)

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Jtauj Be utijjul ' ll itU Mud? Perhaps the surest way to tell when a girl goes over the boundary from childhood into meaningful adolescence is to watch how long it takes her to get to bed at night. My own crossover must have occurred when I was a freshman in Balfour Tech. Till that time I fell into bed dog-tired after the briefest dab with the toothbrush and wash¬ cloth. But once I had become aware of the Body Beautiful , as portrayed in many a women ' s magazine, my attitude became highly optimistic. I, too, would be brilliant and alluring. Out of my one dollar allowance a week, I managed to acquire many a beautifying bottle or tube even though sometimes I very strongly detested the odor. After consider¬ ing the goal in mind, however, the aroma was a minor detail. After several worthless encounters, I set my eyes on something miraculous called Beauty Clay . It took a week before I could achieve the privacy to apply the Beauty Clay . I spread the peculiar shade of grayish-green clay all over my face, neck and even the hairline . The directions urged me not to smile or talk, to use only gentle splashes to remove the mask-—- No rubbing with washcloth. Allow to dry for fifteen minutes. It oc¬ curred to me that if fifteen minutes were enough to make me beautiful, thirty minutes would have twice the effect. By that time my face was rigid; even my eyeballs felt yanked from their sockets. I knew I must be done on both sides. After several minutes of gentle splashing I realized this was getting me nowhere. The nailbrush was employed but still I was embedded in Beauty Clay . Next the silver knife was used with better results. To my heavenly relief, the mudpack began to crack. Taking advantage of the cracks in the surface, I dug the blade of the knife in, and by scraping, digging, and prying, I got my face clear. My visage was my own, but raw. Instead of Body Beautiful I looked like Body Boiled . Even worse, my il¬ lusions had been cracked open, and not by a silver knife. Helen Leipert 3A Jlail r 74e Atom The splitting of the atom is the reverse process of creation. Creation was simply the turning of energy into matter; at present we can turn matter into energy but we are at a loss to make matter. In one atom, such a tiny, minute, invisible particle, is stored almost unbelievable power. Just think of all the power that is stored in the atoms of one glassful of an element? What of all the combined power contained in all the atoms in this world, and this universe, itself composed of millions of stars and planets. Where did all this engery come from? Was it here since time eternal? How was energy turned into matter? God said, Let there be, and there was. Bob Natiuk 3A Five exams tomorrow! Oh, why did I have to take those extra subjects? Why wasn ' t I satisfied with just a commercial course? But, no, I had to combine academic with commercial. And what ' s more, I had to pick up the grade nine and ten French I hadn ' t taken in grade nine and ten. I wasn ' t going to university, so why should I bother with a language, I thought. But now that I have changed my mind; university—lan¬ guage— French, here I come! Chemistry and office practice, both scheduled at 10:20, so that means a double head er: I start writing at 8:30 in the morn¬ ing. Then the two years of French and geometry are all to be written at 1:30. Woe betide! I write from 8:30 in the morn¬ ing until 5:30 at night; all double headers and no dinner. And so to work. Chemistry! Now how do I balance Cu(N0 3 ) 2 0+Cu0+N0 2 ? Summer at last! No school! Swimming, tennis, roller skating, water skiing; here at last; and all this can be done without a guilty feeling. How beautiful the lake looks from this diving board! As I get ready to perform the swan dive, I look at the beauti¬ ful blue of the . . . copper sulfate diagram in my text. Oh, no! One minute before mid¬ night! I had drifted off to dreamland. Couldn ' t I have waited until summer to do that when I wouldn ' t have 200 pages of chemistry to study? Qlto ti j the Galtle In northern Scotland, about one mile outside of the town of Dunblane, stands a castle, long since abandoned. The old moss-covered stone structure guards the surrounding moor like a great grey mon¬ ster with towering spines and gaping mouth. One day I thought it would be fun to explore the ancient manor—-not because I was particularly interested in castles, but because an ancient legend told of ghosts of dead kings, queens and knights roaming the halls, dungeons and towers of that great baronial hall. You see, I was curious, but a non-believer. Once inside the castle, I was distressed by the cold, clammy atmosphere. The halls stretched before me in an infinity of dark caverns. As I walked, every corner echoed my footsteps. Then the tappings began. It was the sound of my feet on the stone floor. No! Yes! No! it was the echoing sound of footsteps hundreds of years old. I was frightened, but mustered up enough courage to go on. Then the swishing began. I told my¬ self it was only the wind sighing through the halls; but no, I knew it was the sound of long skirts sweeping slowly across the bare stone floors. I ventured deeper into the gloom—into vast recesses with iron knights looming along the walls in a solemn procession. Then the clanking began. Dull clanking footsteps joined the echoing patter and swish of many feet, following; follow¬ ing ... . A feeling, desperation, of being trapped came over me. The pattering and swish¬ ing and clanking drew closer, closer. In despair I rushed on, looking for a way out. Was it down that hall, through that door, up those stairs? Listen! The nioses were coming closer, closer. Oh, hurry, find the way! All effort, all running, seemed in vain. Every hall looked like a shadowy replica of the one before. Then I saw a faint light far ahead glowing like a candle in a dark room. The footsteps were gaining on me — run, run, run, faster, faster, faster. Finally I was safely outside; shaking with relief. I looked back upon the great sombre structure, slumbering peacefully in the fading evening light and remember¬ ing the legend, I laughed aloud. Lily Chavich, 4C IdJIntel lAJlnd Winter was upon us once again — the cold, snow, sleet, and ice, but most of all the wind. The cold could be felt right through to the bone; the bitter days that come with winter were here to stay. As dusk approached, the wind began to sweep with brutal strength across the barren plain which lay in its path. Outside the cabin, the sting of the cold weather could be felt pinching the cheeks. Even more threatening was the song the wind sang on its long journey from en¬ chanted far away places. Now it was upon us, turning our cheeks fiery red and our feet unmercifully cold. High in velocity, it was growling and vicious, full of madness, hard to endure. This was the winter wind, rushing from every nook and glen, full of beauty and splendor, violent and destructive. Most people hate it but what would winter be without it. John Lakustiak 3A Balfour Beacon ' 59 Eilleen Lupastin 3A 39

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ValedU tosuf, Queen Elizabeth, during her Ottawa visit, spoke to Canadians as follows: ' ' There are long periods of time, when life seems a small dull round, a petty business with little point, and then suddenly we are caught up in some great event, which gives us a glimpse of the solid and durable foundations of our existence. In quoting these words I am sure that I speak for all the graduates, when I say that tonight is for us just such an occasion. Our happiness in the realization of at least some measure of achievement, is satisfaction enough for the moment, and as the years roll by, how often we will read our gradua¬ tion programs, and live again this cherished memory. With it too will be recalled other occa¬ sions, happy or sad, little incidents or big, which have made up our four years of high school. How often we wondered if the capa¬ city of our brain was sufficient, to hold all that the curriculum demanded we cram into it, or we reacted in the manner of the student whom I describe with apoloqies to Sir Walter Scott: Breathes there the boy, with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, To heck with school, I ' ll stay in bed. Then there were the times that we thought an extra-ordinary amount of fuss was being made over something as dis¬ agreeable as disecting a frog, or as trivial as an equation, a triangle, a test tube, or a French verb. But in spite of our occasional bouts of self-pity, when we wondered if the work and worry was worth while, we persevered as the fact that we are here tonight will testify. The lighter moments of our sojourn were highlighted by such events as the choosing of our favorite popularity king and queen, the electing of our student council represen¬ tatives, with all the attendant fanfare of posters and skits, or Sadie Hawkins days, when the girls enjoyed the thrill of looking their worst and being complimented for it, to mention only a few such incidents of school life. The more serious side of our school life included our working whole heartedly for many enterprises. We take pride in our new flexible stage which allows a scope for drama and music never before possible, the arrangements for the installing of a new trophy cabinet in the main hall, the in¬ auguration of a new style for our school paper, the Balforum, to mention only a few innovations which we have helped to bring about. But now in whatever words we couch the thought, we must say it, farewell, au re- voir, auf weidersein, hasta la vista, goodbye. It is only fitting, therefore, that I take this last opportunity to publicly thank our prin¬ cipal, Mr. Mutch, and our vice-principal, Mr. McKenzie, who unfailingly had our interests at heart, and who we could always look upon as our friends no matter how much trouble we caused them. We also salute our teachers who, year in and year out, devoted their time both during and after school to the development of each of us. They symbolize in our forma¬ tive years a strong crusader spirit. And you, our parents, must be breathing a sigh of relief for the first time in four years. How often we caused you worry and anxiety by forgetting about the time and staying out just a little too late, or when we borrowed the car for an all-important date. Your patience and understanding dur¬ ing this period of growing up has been un¬ limited. But actions speak louder than words. Whatever accomplishments may be ours shall be a reflection of our gratitude throughout the years. And for ourselves as we enter a book of life, whose personal chapters will be written by each of us, as we go about our individual vocations, our high school days shall seem very carefree indeed. To the future en¬ gineers, teachers, business executives and others, I leave a message in keeping with the atomic age, which has so transformed this world in myriads of ways. It is one which has been said for us many times, that is, that we should never let rust the mark of a successful man, a curious and in¬ quisitive mind. Or as Ulysses says: To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bounds of human thought. We must concern ourselves with the development of new empires, whether they be on land, on sea, in air, or in the test- tubes of laboratory research. We are about to enter this bright new era, which we have made the theme of our graduation year of 1958. We who have the advantages are the light house, To brighten the ocean of darkness. And so on this happy day when we give thanks to God, I ask that he may bless and guide us in the future. Good luck, class of ' 58. PATRICIA AMON Modesut Mibaclel Radar was one of the first great ad¬ vances in the science of our century. It was particularly effective during the Second World War in detecting enemy submarines and enemy aircraft. It is of absolute necessity to ships caught in a fog as it prevents any possible collisions. Our radar network has grown tremendously since its discovery. Today radar stations cover all of North Amercia, ever watchful against a foreign attack by air or sea. Our greatest advancement in nuclear power arrived with the hydrogen bomb. As a weapon of war, it can prove dis¬ astrous to the enemy. In the hands of the United States, it is one of the greatest forces for peace that the world has ever known. The world ' s greatest scientific achievement occurred when the Soviet Union launched the first satellite into orbit. The United States matched this success by sending up three in succession around the earth. The third satellite broadcasted President Eisenhower ' s Christ¬ mas message of 1958 to the world. Russio then sent up a rocket which went further! than all expectations, and revolved in an orbit around the sun. These great steps will surely mark the beginning of space travel in the near future. Other great strides in the field of science are the intercontinental ballistic missiles developed by the U.S. and Russia. These missiles can accurately fire to a distance of two thousand miles and carry atomic war heads. Next in importance in the field of peace were the discoveries in medicine. Among these are the heart pumps and the cobolt machines. The heart pumps keep a person alive even when his heart is being operated on. The cobalt machine is instrumental in the treating of cancer. The most recent medical discovery came in 1956 when Joseph Salk discovered the cure for polio— Salk vaccine. Moving on to aviation, we find that the airforce has developed jets that travel twice as fast as the speed of sound. The airforce has, along with the army, put into use guided missiles, radar-controlled, to strike down enemy bombers. The navy has put nuclear power to work, in the atomic submarines which are run by atomic power. One of these submarines, the Nautilius, set a world ' s record by cross¬ ing the Atlantic over the polar icecap underwater. The Russians also use atomic energy in their icebreakers to rescue strand¬ ed ships in the solid fields of impassable ice. Communications make up the field which! has benefited most directly the civilian! populace in North Amercia. Microwaves bring television into our homes. We ere able to see on-the-spot events that ere occurring thousands of miles away. Trans¬ oceanic cables make it possible to tclk to people across the ocean by telephone, International news is quickly relayed to other countries by these vital cogs in cur communication system. With these great inventions of the past ten years as a foothold, one has trouble imagining what the next ten years will bring. Dennis Keiser 4A that liAlae o+t fiitten, tf-bud They that thrive on bitter fruit, That the trees of Ignorance bear, Shall always quibble and complain That they never get their share. For ' tis this breed of scheming men, That fraught this world with Vexation; And the only way to save ourselves, Is to cede our all to Education. Drink ye, the sweet wine of Learning, That the teacher ' s of BALFOUR so generously give, And you will engulf life ' s greatest treasures As long as you shall live. Jack Rotor 4C Balfour Beacon ' 59 38

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fiokluf, jbe Jla 2-6-0-6-M fyn m Planet ' X,-£ntian TIME: 2059 A.D. PLACE: Two light years from Planet un¬ pronounceable. With our hands over our heads, my crew and I watched the hated figure of Captain Zobby De La Z-O-O-O-M board our space¬ ship from his one-man craft. Everyone that flies spaceships has heard of Zobby; his daring battles with Space Police and his attacking of over two hundred space vehicles has made him an enemy to all. Pot opp yorr hands, was the first brilliant statement he made. (Zobby was very shortsighted, I believe, because he didn ' t see we already had our hands up.) He was now standing in front of us with three disintegration guns, one in each hand. He struck me as a dashing example of a spaceman. His handsome, orange-colored face, plus the two exonifying electrodes protruding from the top of his head were all I needed to tell me that this was a monster!! The four eyes blinking in suc¬ cession and two teeth sticking out from each of his four ears on the bottom of his chin made me think of a friend I once had. Estimating his meager seven feet, six inches, we deduced an important fact about this monstrosity. WOW! ! What a basket¬ ball player he would make! Yes this was Zobby De La Z-O-O-O-M of Planet EX-ER- TION, the brave, dashing monster of space. Vert ' s da loot, he commanded, open¬ ing his toothless sixteen and a half inch mouth and speaking in his half Venusian and half Moslem tone. Without waiting for anyone to answer, Zobby disintegrated Shreddy, our cook. This made me SO ANGRY, for Shreddy made the best crab stew in all outer space. Now are yo goink tu tak? This was my chance to get rid of Zobby De La Z-O-O-O-M for good. Follow me, I said nervously. Leaving the other four and Shreddy ' s ashes, Zobby and I proceeded to the rubber strongbox which was located in the stern. We climbed into the transport car which would take us from one part of the ship to the other. As I shut the door, I heard a scream and turned around. I saw Zobby was crying, crying with all four eyes. I asked him why, and he moaned, Yo clust da dor on ma fingors. As I tried to open the door, I stepped on one of his four webfeet with my twenty pound magnetic boots. Zobby was on the verge of disintegrating me. Slapping dow.n the corridor, Zobby ' s four flat-webbed feet sounded like pan¬ cakes being dropped on a cement sidewalk. You all is a nastii monster, I com¬ mented. Ven I ask furr yorr pinyun. I ' ll ask furr it. I presumate that you all ain ' t an edjugated parson like me. Ven I ' m tru mit yo, ma frand, any resemblence between yo and an educated 40 parson will be purely coincidental, Zobby threatened. Somesing tells me, Zobby that you es goin ' tuh fix my wagon. As we entered the room, a plan was formulating within my mind. If I could get Zobby to avert his eyes from me for a moment, I might be able to capture him. He went to the safe and started to open it. ' Curses ' , I had forgotten he had four eyes, two of which were looking directly at me. Desperately, plan after plan raced through my mind. Not one would enable me to catch Zobby. There was only one thing to do now. I did it. I fainted. Zobby was gone when I came to. Yes, I had met Zobby De La Z-O-O-O-M, but not on my terms. Someday, perhaps, we will meet again; and when we do.. George Hleboff 3A QUaiti a jj the fiatf The white grain terminal dims faintly behind us as we head across the turbulent Churchill River. The boat fights the bucking waves. We resent the slowness of the craft. After all, aren ' t we going to visit the symbol of the English and French Empire of the Hudson Bay? Certainly, we are going back into history as we view and ponder over the ruins of Fort Prince of Wales. The Churchill River and Hudson Bay sur¬ round the three sides of the precarious peninsula on which the fort is located. The landing is dangerous on the rocky, ragged shoreline. Moss-covered boulders dot most of the peninsula. Then we look ahead. In all its majesty, glory, and romantic history, stands the fort! Approaching the only entrance, we notice a high wall in front of it. Onrushing enemies could not make a direct assault on the gate because of this barrier. Rusty cannons pro¬ trude through the port-holes hammered out of the eighteen feet high walls. On each side of the entrance, a plaque announces the fort ' s history: Fort Prince of Wales. Built upon plans drawn by English Mili¬ tary Engineers to secure control of the Hudson Bay for the Hudson Bay ' s Company and England. Construction commenced in 1733 and completed in 1771. Surrendered to and partially destroyed by a French Naval Force under La Peouse in 1782. Its ruins are among the most interesting Military remains on this continent. Reading it, our minds wander back to the past, picturing the French ships on the bay, cannons booming, sailors shouting; and finally, the English surrendering sorrowfully. We enter the fort. It is in ruins now, the stone structures inside have collapsed, some of the cannons are half buried in the broken stone; but a few dozen still point threaten¬ ingly toward the waters. The floor of the fort is uneven, built on the rock foundation itself. Even in ruins, the fort portrays strength and endurance. It is time for us to go. Night is approach¬ ing and a storm is brewing. We make our way down the rocky slopes, detouring around huge boulders and jumping over small ones. Climbing into the boat and shoving off, we look back at the fort, wondering if the ghosts of the soldiers are not pointing the cannons at us now and lighting the fuses. Port Churchill with its terminal loons ahead of us. The water splashes higher against the sides of the boat as the wind increases. We are leaving Fort Prince of Wales, but not without memories and pictures; and a better appreciation of cjr glorious Canadian heritage. . Bob Natiuk 3A ' Winte i Twinkling bright on the solitary land, Winter came forth with an icy hand, Piling the snow in a mountainous heap-- Making a bed in which flowers could sleeo. High on the hills deer and antelope run, As the chilly winds they try to outrun— Like chickadees on the snow alight The wintery winds they have to fight. When the sun hides like a darkened lam), The horses with their hooves do stamp)— Wild with the coming of the storm. They head for the shed that is cozy and warm. The wind changes from friend to foe, As a fawn is buried with his mother do 1 Is this the way that winter should be More like a hurricane upon the sea? That is just what happened here, Taking the life of nature ' s deer. The wind should chase the snow in flight— Instead of becoming a thief in the night! But as the rays of the morning sun Rise to show what winter has done— Twinkling bright on the solitary land, They show the marks of an icy hand! Lorene Bard 3A Balfour Beacon ' 5°