Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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BARCLAY HOUSE Front Row: Pat Humby, Evelyn Konopko, Susan Charest, Lygia Pietracupa, Mary-Ann Ogilvy, Elizabeth Livermorc, Reisa Lush. 2nd: Hanna Deutschenschmied, Mary Ann Cipriano, Veronica Pimenoff, Marie (jauthier {House Head), Miss Stansfield (House Mistress), Ann Roberts (House Head), Kathie Milnes (Form V Rep.), Jackie Warren, Lynn Daza. 3rd: Betty Craig, Lois Hayes, Anne Charest, Leslie (Woodson, Donna Morton, Susan Solymoss, Helen Mc(jill, Janet Kearns, Christina Vincelli. Back Row: Johanne Perreault, Susan Ogilvy, Jill Pilgrim, Judy Bates, Rita Pilgrim, Colette Perreault, Elizabeth Rothgeb, Chris-Ann Nakis, Erica More. Absent: Matilda Baktis, Sophie Andrews, C ail Gilbert. LES FRUITS DE LA FERMIERE La fermiere prend une peche; EUe ne porte pas une beche; Parce que la beche N ' est pas dans la terre. La fermiere prend une pomme; Pour ITiomme Qui marche dans la rue Devant la maison. L ' homme ne dit pas Merci pour cela, Et la fermiere Ferme la barriere . . . Vite! Evelyn Konopko, Upper II MARCH The rain streaks down my window as I look out on the dark, drenched street. One dim street-light shines on the lonely corner and reflects in a dark violent pool beneath it. A car creeps along the slippery pavement, reaches a stop sign, and disappears around a sharp corner. The rain beats down faster now as a soaked woman splashes her way through puddles to get to her warm, dry house. Suddenly a light turns on in the house across the way. The light makes the silhouette of an old willow visible. Its branches creak as a gust of wind plays among them. A dead, soggy branch falls to the ground to remain there until the storm goes away. The rain begins to let up after seeing it has melted the last dirty snow mounds. Could this mean that Spring is on the way? Donna Morton, Form V B 20

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THE HOUSE PLAYS SHAKESPEARE REVISED judged by Mrs. John P. Rowat Barclay headed the Hst with a hilarious version of Macbeth . No one will ever forget the thickly accented My hands are dirty of Mac- beth, or Lady Macbeth ' s death scene. The surprise ending aslronside rolled in, in his wheelchair, finished the play in fine style. Gumming came second, two points behind, with The Taming of the Shrew . Petruchio got his point across to Kate and won his bet with Hortensio. The scene with Bianca and her screaming children proved a good ending to a very well acted play. Fairley ' s subtle satire of Antony and Cleopatra came third, a clever portrayal of a historical play. The acting of the bossy Cleopatra, and Antony came across very well and made a somewhat unfamiliar play very amusing. Ross placed fourth. Romeo and Julia emphasized the English- French situation between the Montagues and the Capultowns. Julia and Romeo died tragically, while Prince Edouard patched the two famihes together, accents and all. Donalds twelve-scene Twelfth Night ended the list only ten points from the top. The scenery was colourful as was the Elizabethan English retained in the play. Lines were hard to learn, but everyone managed. 19

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THE SEAGULL I won ' t pretend that I saw the gull right away, as might be expected, but as soon as I had collected my thoughts from their phantasmagoric voyage it was the first thing that caught my attention. The splendid whiteness of her elegant wings in flight was accented by the beautiful rays of the Newfoundland sunrise. It was strange that the bird should have come so far up the bay: since old man Fogerty had set up his old saw mill across the cove, the chemicals had been killing the fish for miles around. I lifted my head so I could watch the gull more closely, and the cool breeze obligingly swept the hair from my eyes. She was probably searching for breakfast. She turned smoothly into a spiral and circled gracefully down. I shifted my position quickly and lay on my stomach looking over the edge of the precipice so 1 could follow the rest of her flight down. She flew leisurely, and gradually became a small speck against the dark and angry Atlantic, far below. The fishermen would be coming in early today, for the ocean forecast a storm. Abruptly I swung around, pulled up my knees and rested my chin on them. It was completely silent and still here, disturbed only by the sound of the incoming tide crashing against the jagged rocks. I hugged my knees closer and held the moment to me. It was like seeing nature as it was meant to be seen — untamed and unscathed by human hands. In front of me I could see the bay gradually reaching out to the blue sea. Around me the forest was rolling on and on as far as my eye could see. Me — I was sitting in a kind of clearing on the edge of a chff. The solitude was complete and unearthly. My father used to say it was like being close to God, and it is. He was the one who first discovered this place. I can remember the days when we used to romp to- gether here in the field, laughing and joking, or occasionally just partaking of its loveliness. We had such fxin together. The tears smarted my eyes as I . remembered the lengthy ill- ness he was forced to suffer, and how his great joy of life never ceased, though his body slowly shrivelled up. But that was five years ago — now I am sixteen. I still have never missed coming up here every day to greet the morning. The only difference is that now Guy comes instead of Dad. Guy started coming with me shortly after Dad died, to keep me company in my vigil. He is one of the sweetest people I have ever known, and I guess I love him as much as I do my mother — not romantic love, mind you, but the kind of love you have for an older brother. Suddenly I winced as I remembered what Mother had said when I told her about Guy. She said that I was too old for such non- sense, which I, to this moment, do not understand. It ' s funny too, for whenever we are together in the village, laughing and talking to each other, I have noticed that a hush falls on the people around us. The elderly ladies cluck their tongues and nudge their husbands ' arms, while the younger people stare at me rather strangely. We don ' t go in- to the village except for school now, and even that is a trial. The children there all laugh at me behind my back, and their teasing is often very cruel. I think their attitude towards me has something to do with my friendship with Guy, although I can ' t think why they would hate me because of him — for there is nothing about him to dislike. He is perfect, to my mind. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to smile at him. He was seated beside me quietly taking in the scene. Then slowly, with dawning reahzation, I knew why the people of the village despised me and why Mother was displeased with me. Staring at Guy, I realized that they could not see him for them he was just a figment of my imagination, not real at all. But Guy and I know better. I turned my head slowly, my unfocused gaze staring out towards the sea. The seagull was flying home. Betty Craig, Form V A LONELINESS I often hope That some day The time will come When the pieces Of my jigsaw world Will form a picture Again. Hanna Deutschenschmied, Form V A 21