Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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12 plained that she wished to get a pass to see her grandparents, her only relatives, who were well on in years. I was filled with pity for this child, who at the age of about thir- teen, had come over to the west with her parents, who had been killed, and now whose only wish was to see her grand- parents again before they died. I watched her as she entered the school house and followed her in hope of hearing the interview. As I entered I heard an of- ficer ask in German: What is your name? 'Anna Veriskovskyf' came the reply. A'What is your age? Fifteen. What relatives have you in East Ber- lin whom you wish to see? My only relatives, my grandparents. What are their names, and where do they live? Mr. and Mrs. Nick Veriskovsky, They live, I think, on I-Iamburg Street. Your reason for wishing to see them? My - My grandparents are very old and will die soon. I - I wish to see them before they die. That was all I heard and a few minutes later I saw the officer get up to confer with another officer. Anna sat rigid in her chair with her hands in her lap. About five minutes later he came back and handed her a piece of paper. As she turned around I saw the tears running down her face - she had got the pass. Anna's big day was the twenty-second of December between the hours of eleven and six. She had a week of preparation and waiting. A During that week Anna and I became good friends. She made preparations and with the little money she had she bought presents for her grandparents: a handker- chief for her grandfather and a piece of soap for her grandmother. In spite of these preparations, time passed very slowly. Finally the twenty-second arrived and Anna, her parcels under her arm, started out. I met her at the checkpoint and we walked through together, for I had a pass to see my mother that day. I offered to help her find the house. We walked up and down various streets near the wall until Anna spotted the house. Boldly she walked up to the door and knocked. A large gruff-looking man opened it and peered down at her. Meekly she in- is ii u quired, 'ADO Mr. and Mrs. Nick Veriskov- sky live here? Yes, he replied, but they have gone to the country to be with a friend who is very ill. When will they be back? Not until about came the reply. Oh, replied Anna after a long pause. Then with tears in her eyes she added, 'Tm Anna Veriskovsky, their granddaughter. Tell them I came. RUTH THOMAS-Grade XI eight-thirty tonight, Leaves Born from sticky buds they burst In riches green and beauty first: Then steals in glory to o'ercome each fringe The gold and crimson with sunlight tingedg The wind, the cold, the frost foretell The nearness of the deepening spell, While parent sheds the dead from high, Whose strength diminished with beauty's rise, Like tears that spring from growing love Fall from the darkening sky above: They float and swirl in eddy spray, Flames that triumph o'er shades of day, And they as only nature's slave, Fall at measure to their grave. MARCIA JACKSON-Grade X11 Ordeal At High Noon The house was hushed. Then, sudden- ly, an ear-piercing scream shattered the silence. I could put it off no longer. Day after day these unfortunate occurrences happened -1 followed by scenes, tears and tantrums. Life was too short and no human being should have to endure this. Why must I be the one continually selected for this job? I who am sought everywhere: but it must be done! Quickly I hurried up the stairs. As I paused at the door, once again doubts arose in my mind, but these were overcome by the thought that if 'twere done, when tis done, then 'twere well it were done quickly. So, I seized my victim and hurried into the next room. Then the struggle began! Eventually I forced him, writhing and wriggling onto the cold table top. With my knee on his arms and my elbows against his legs, he was trapped at last. Quickly I grasped a strip of rough white cloth and again forced

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11 discoveredf' Best jazz since Basie. You'll get plenty of publicity: we'll get an original story, and everybody's ahead. Okay, he sighed again, I'll tell you my life story, but it won't be quite the way you want it. More philosophical, I think. Sure, sure. just don't make it too high- brow, or you'll scare off half our readers. 'AWell, I was born in this city thirty years ago, the youngest of eight children. and l've lived here ever since. My father was a fine tailor, 3 note of pride crept into his voice, and financially we were fairly well off, but socially . . . l You'd think that in Chicago, being as far north as it is, there would be little racial discrimination, but you're wrong! We were the only negro family living in this white residential district, and the other families made our lives miserable, the kids, by teas- ing us, and the parents, by snubbing Ma and Pa. Right then and there, I made up my mind to become somebody that white people would admire, and raise up on a pedestal as someone special, with a very special talent. Then, from my greater height, I could mock them and their feigned superiority, as once from their make-believe pedestal, they had mocked me. This last was spoken with a sneer. And, dammit, I've done it! When I look up from the keyboard while I'm playing and see those fickle fools listening entranced, but privately wondering how a dirty nig- ger could be so damned talented, I think how much above those inhuman creatures I really am. And you, Mr. Alan Davids, you are one of them! By this time, he had become quite upset, and had raised his voice considerably, at- tracting the attention of the other musicians. As he was outwardly a shy and unpreten- tious man, he immediately lowered his voice, and, with a quiet, mirthless laugh, spoke, Now that I've put a-cross all my moral views, I'll get on with the vital facts of my unwarranted existence. Later, when the band had resumed play- ing, and I was once again seated at my table, I realized how much less enjoyable his music was now that I knew that his calm and smiling exterior was just a mask of pre- tence, to cover up the bitter hatred which was burning inside him. But though I dis- agreed with his beliefs, and hated the force which was sucking the very life-blood from him, I held a grudging admiration for this great musician, and I resolved that the bio- graphy which would run through the presses in less than forty-eight hours would contain none of those twisted thoughts of revenge, but would be merely a simple ac- count of what was actually a complex man. NANCY LITTLE-Grade X The Storm Deliberately Grey clouds gather an omnipresent gloom, Depressing . . . Imperceptibly The breeze bows to a heavy torrid heat, Oppressing . . . Majestically Thunder-rolls rip the despotic air, Impressing . , . Angrily Brilliant bolts sear a funereal sky, Frightening . . . Slowly A silver sphere slithers along the pane Relieving . . . Gradually A revengeful sun pierces the palpable shell I-Ieightening . . . Enlightening . . . Brightening . . . JANE MOODY-Grade XII Tell Them I Came There was a great feeling of tension and expectation among the people who stood in the cold solemn line. They were outside the school house in a poor area of West Berlin, waiting patiently in hope of getting a pass to go into the A'Forbidden Half to see loved ones they had left be- hind. As I looked down the line at the miles of drawn and anxious faces, I was struck by the face of a young girl who appeared to be no older than fifteen. She stood there ,in an old grey coat and a red knitted scarf with a lock of dark brown hair hanging in one eye. Her eyes were filled with tears and her mouth was set in a straight line in determination to keep back the tears. She looked as though she had been standing there for hours for her face was red and she was slapping her hands together to bring back the circulation. Gvercome by curiosity, I went over and spoke to her. After some hesitation she ex-

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13 back the squirming mass of flesh. He was screaming loudly by this time, but for him no help was in sight Slowly I reached for the sharp utensil by my side As I picked it up, a ray of sun bounced off the tip making it seem even more deadly A shiver ran through my vic- tim's body as I continued to move it towards him. The noise now increased and sudden- ly with a vicious kick I was thrown back against the cold white wall of the room. My shattered victim watched the spear- like object with fear and dread. Slowly I lowered the instrument, and, just as it drew near the spot where it was to enter the cloth, my victim wriggled out of my grasp. Quick- ly I pulled it away so as not to draw any un- necessary blood. The tedious task must begin again. As I brought the glistening point near the target, I had to tighten my grasp on the quaking mass below me. Slowly, I brought the point towards the place: tears now gushed from my victim's eyes. I touched the spot and began to push it into the soft white massg then with a thrust it was through: it was finished at last - the diaper was pinned! PATRICIA PENNOCK-Grade X Lament A shot, a bullet, the assassin strikes! All the world drops its flag to half-mast. Tears roll down bewildered faces, Eyes are filled with both pain and fear. He was not our President, Yet, at his death, we too cried. She was not our First Lady, But at her side we suffered. Together we stood, friend and foe. Together we murmured a prayer. In sorrow we assembled - united. We became equal - one in brotherhood. JUDITH DOWLER-Grade X But That Was In Another Country... Damn, said Heinrich Bonner. This was accompanied by such a violent pound of his fist on the wooden table that the naked light bulb, dangling from the paint- chipped ceiling, swung frantically for a few seconds. The little old man across the table broke into convulsive fits of laughter. He lowered his head to his chest, hunched his shoulders and pounded his knee, literally howling with with mirth. He had won another chess game. Shall we have another? he queried. Heinrich nodded. While the old man arranged the board, Heinrich looked around the room. The scene repulsed him. In each corner there was an iron cot, while the wood stove in the centre of the room pro- vided the only heat. The table and four chairs were the only other pieces of furni- ture. A glance through the window into the grey gloom of the morning showed a hundred and fifty of these one-room cabins. all with the same miserable furnishings. But the game was set. The old man leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his chin in deep contemplation. His sharp, black eyes seemed level with the players as he scrutinized each move. Heinrich shoved his queen halfway across the board with the tip of his forefinger and said dully, Your move. Three months in this place, and what do we have? Nothing. He placed his long slender fingers over his greying temples. and silently wished that Marta were there. He glanced down at the gold ring on the smallest finger of his left hand. She had given it to him before the escape. In case I do not succeed, she had said. If I do, you can give it back, she had added with a laugh. Her life had been sacrificed in coming with her family into a worse situa- tion than before. Heinrich Bonner had been a bank manager, but now he was unem- ployed. Again the air was shattered with Herr Schneider's raucous laugh. He had seized Heinrich's queen. I sometimes think the trip would have been worth it only if we could have left him behind, muttered Hein- rich bitterly. The door creaked open. Heinrich was on his feet. 'fHans, my boy, he cried, half jovially, How was it? A tall boy of about twenty had entered the room. His straight blond hair fell over sad blue eyes and a face too worn for the boy's age. Nothing Nothing at all. Same old ans- wer, 'We have nothing at present, but we will contact you if anything becomes avail- ablef Of course we both know it will not. Hans pounded his fists together. Refugeel We are branded as undesirable before we begin. Because we are in large numbers we are labelled with the same mentality and