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

Page 43 text:

1 ' SjCL Un j, a . Spring is a medley of songs . . . the clear high call of the meadow lark, the cawing of the crow, the chirping of the robin calling his mate. Spring is a hundred different fragrances all rolled into one. The perfume of just- bloomed flowers, the steaming earth coming to life after the long winter, the gentle breezes, bringing with them the fragrance of many mysterious things. That ' s only the beginning. Then there ' s the smell of just- scrubbed floors, newly-waxed wood, and freshly painted walls. Did you ever see so many new colors? The blues, the reds, the yellows, and the greens, every hue under the rainbow. Spring is laughter . . . that very special type of laughter. You hear it over the back fence, in the school playground. It is the gay bright laughter after months of ex¬ pectancy. Spring is a hustle of activity . . . Junior beating the carpet in the back yard, little boys shooting their multi-colored marbles, little girls with their skipping ropes, and the birds working feverishly to get their nests built. Most important of all, though, is the spring cleaning . . . cleaning the house from attic to basement. Spring is a welcome . . . civilization wel¬ coming the coming of spring with open arms and a joyous song in our hearts. Spring is a season of awakening . . . the delicate green of the first leaves bursting forth in all their glory, the fragile flowers lifting their petals toward that special spring sunshine, and the miracle of the tiny seedlings growing up, ever upward to the life-giving sunlight. Spring is walking to the small church in the early morn of the Sabbath, and giving heartfelt thanks to our Maker for this wonderful, wonderful season. Spring is the season of love . . . the young lovers walking arm in arm down a shady lane, the garden lovers in their gardens pampering and clucking over their tiny plants as a mother hen does over her baby chickens, and spring is that extra smile of love and consideration we have for our families. Spring is happiness . . . the breathless children, their eyes ablaze with awe and wonder at the ways of mother nature. Spring is that extra something we give of ourselves. Spring is what makes us glad we ' re alive. Donna Posehn 3A SmaJze Siynali a fieatnJz 0 . 9 fjuit Jlaue 7a rr I just love to smoke. Why? Why do you smoke? is the question that people ask me many times. I have several good reasons that I would like to pass on. It is such a clean, refined habit. Think of all that warm delicious smoke being drawn into the lungs, and there, soothing them by depositing particles of tar. And then, I don ' t have to brush my teeth because it makes my breath so .pleasing to everyone. I love to smile after a good long drag on a cigarette because I know that it makes my fingers and teeth so pretty and yellow. I must smoke as much as I can, of course, when children are around. What a good example I set for these youngsters who will be craving for a smoke because they see me smoke! Ah! but here ' s what I especially like about it. It proves that I have self-control. In what other way could I show this so effectively? I can control smoke, make it flow through my lungs, nose and mouth. How wonderful! When someone offers me a cigarette, I certainly don ' t refuse. It shows that nobody can persuade me not to. What a self-reliant person I am! I just love to spit. And what else fosters spitting as much as smoking does. Oh, the love of it! Then the second best reason that I ' m so proud of is that it makes me look so manly. A cigarette hanging out of my limp mouth, big puffs coming through my mouth and nose, sometimes almost suffocating me. Oh, how manly! Smoking starts fires and destroys millions of dollars ' worth of forest and property, Balfour Beacon ' 59 isn ' t this wonderful? What fun! And just think, I have a part in it. I always like to know how strong I really am. I can accomplish this through smoking. I want to see how much poison my body can take before it kills me. I ' m keeping track of the number of packages of cigaret¬ tes I smoke. I can hardly wait to find out how many I will have to smoke before it kills me. Ten thousand, twenty thousand? I don ' t get much money but what I get is spent on cigarettes, and if I ' m lucky, a cigar now and then. What better way is there to spend hard-earned money? Donate it to welfares, hospitals, buy worthwhile things, improve my education? Never! Smoking is the best way. I spent at least $200 a year on smoking. Oh! what a won¬ derful, joyous extravagance. I had a girlfriend once who smoked like a locomotive. That ' s why she was my girl¬ friend. I could have looked at her for hours on end, her face enveloped in smoke, those lovely red lips munching on the end of a cigarette, her teeth stained the purest gold by tobacco, her breath delicately tobacco- scented. She would talk out of the side of her mouth, still smoking. How beautifully she could talk! I ' ll always treasure those words, Hey, honey, gimme another cig. Friends, take these reasons to heart. Invest all your money in cigarettes. You ' ll be a penniless beatnik like me but you can smoke, smoke to your heart ' s content. Smoke until you get yourself so saturated that you won ' t be able to look at another cigarette for half an hour. Maybe then you ' ll experience that great rarity, perfect earthly bliss. Bob Natiuk 3A 7a GanAif She ' s really not much of anything, But her loud cries through the house do ring; Especially when her tummy starts growling. And she starts her pitiful, piercing howling. A soft wet nose and shiny black hair, With big sad eyes and a mournful stare, Large floppy ears always in the way, And a waddle that makes her swing and sway. She ' s really quite spoiled, I must confess, And by now I ' m sure you must have guessed That Candy isn ' t something good to eat, But the dog that sleeps quietly at my feet. Della Korchinski 4C GJvud- - Mgm, Christmas season means to me Holly, ivy and a tree, Presents, turkey, carols sung, Stockings in neat row hung. Children nestled in their sleep On a promise not to peep. While their heads do whirl around Will our stockings, too, be found? And the tree so gaily stands. Welcoming us, with open hands, Tinsel, balls and lights galore, Hardly any space for more. Now the snow so peacefully falls All along the garden walls. It softly falls without a sound— White and shimmering to the ground. But Christmas means much more than this, A joy to fill our hearts with bliss And as the story we relate, A Saviour ' s birth we celebrate. On this time our Lord was born, T ' was a clear and frosty morn, Today we worship him in praise. On this of Holy Days. Vivian Radu 3A 41

Page 42 text:

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°

Page 44 text:

Ode to- llte feooJz What inspiration overcomes one so dead, As when the Book is open, And it is read! Knowledge and wisdom, comfort and pain, All thoughts of holy men, Written, not in vain. Priceless and godful, gladful and sad, When life in paper is clad, To make man rejoice, weep and cry, Think and rise, shout and sigh. Give me that Book, give me the Bible, I want to weep, rejoice and cry, I want to think, shout and sigh, And to rise, higher, higher, by and by. Bob Natiuk 3A Dan H. Slock Associates Architects - Engineers Regina, Sask. Moose Jaw, Sask. Cindercrete Products Ltd. Regina and Saskatoon • CONCRETE and SOLITE BLOCKS FOR EVERY PURPOSE Dr. W. K. Martin 710 Medical Dental Bldg. Phone LA 2-6790 Regina, Sask. ‘Tftcvifi ty ' Barber Shop and Beauty Parlor Expert Operators in All Lines of Beauty Culture Exclusive but not Expensive PHONE LA 2-9568 2162-12th Avenue REGINA Rent an Underwood from the Manufacturer UNDERWOOD LIMITED 2512 Eleventh Avenue Phone LA 2-3452 42 Balfour Beacon ' 59