Trinity College School - Record Yearbook (Port Hope, Ontario Canada)

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The Future of Farmland? In my opinion all farmland in Southern Ontario should be frozen as of this moment. I say this for several reasons: it will solve the housing problem in Southern Ontario, it will cut out sprawling un- planned housing developments, it will halt the tremendous centralizing of Toronto, it will force other centres to grow; and finally there simply isn’t a better solution to the problem of Southern Ontario’s disappearing farmland. This disappearing farmland frightens me be- cause I can actually see it happening. A hydro station five miles away and a garbage dump two imiles away have both cut out acres of farmland. A new road will, if successful, pass out where I live Staking even more land, just as the 401 and the sub- division around Port Hope have done. I can re- imember passing the Channel 9 television station and ithinking that we were almost there. Today as isoon as you pass Pickering the highway splits into eight lanes and you are practically into Toronto. It [is obvious that something has to be done. Unfor- tunately nothing is being done and this is why I sug- I gest a total ban on the sale of farmland for any other purpose than farming. Although many people feel that such action will create more problems than there are at present, I feel that it can only be bene- ficial. A freeze on farmland will solve the housing pro- blem in Southern Ontario. There is a tremendous demand for housing in this area and at present houses are springing up everywhere. Rather than solving the housing problem this new house build- ing is increasing the problem. The answer is, to go to the other extreme. Stop all house building. By freezing farmland I think you will force in- dustries and people to other communities: This will halt the big centralization of Toronto there- by helping other centres to grow outside Southern Ontario. A halt to the centralization of Toronto will solve a problem that as yet has been unsolved. A plan such as this will also stop sprawling un- planned housing developments and that certainlv would be a good thing. I also honestly feel that there is no better solu- tion to the problem of Southern Ontario’s disap- pearing farmland. Government ownership of large tracts of land and community simply will not work quickly enough. Urban expansion is happening so fast that I feel this total freeze of farmland is the only solution. 15

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A Commentary T.C.S. is not a flawless structure; never- theless it is a good one. It comprises a closed system, secluding us, the students, from the real world as it prepares us for the open system. Whenever the School witnesses a decline in spirit, I feel it is not through a fault of the system, but rather through a weakness in the character of the student body. The point is, we let triviali- ties enrage us; they subsequently bring us down because we are so vulnerable. My reasoning is this: if a senior student uses his power in a way we think is ridi- culous, should we let his actions affect us? If it is our belief that he has acted wrongly, then aren t we placing him below our stand- ards? If so, should we let such an incident cause us to fly off the handle? Never! Op- position to such action should be taken, but it should not take the form of heated gossip One unjustifiable “blunder’’ should not lead us to hatred of the School Most of us fail to realize that this school is almost an ideal model for the society around us. Those who can do little more than express their negative attitude towards the school must ask themselves how they expect to cope when they are on their own, unless they expect wealth to be provided for them. Pleading for a more suitable system (i.e. in the form of more weekend leaves) makes about as much sense as asking King Faisal to hand-feed us his oil. I am not attempting to cover for T.C.S. — as I said, it is not a flawless structure. I believe that as society changes around us, there are areas where the school should change as well. For example. Chapel could be revamped, ex- posing us to more modern writing, rather than the traditional Bible readings. Basically, I wouldn t like to see anybody give up on the school. Everybody will always be a victim of position, no matter how h up in the hierarchy he might be. And to who have been beaten by the system r gd the newspapers — the shock W

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Why I Like Canoeing It happened in an examination room. My mother, who would rather remain anonymous, was writing her B.A. English paper a couple of years ago, when a rather unusual thing happened. “A person ”, she recounts, “who had been perhaps over-nervous about the exam he was to write later that day, took an excessive amount of uppers. As a result, instead of writing an intellectual composition on various Chaucerian or Shakesperian works, he bent his mind to the writing of an essay entitled “Why I like Canoeing ”, for two hours. This paper was, unbelievably, a two hour major work, apparently eloquently written, but on what the title suggested — canoeing. ’ I don’t want to be particularly inane, or naive, but canoeing is the topic I plan to write about. I have an un- ' equalled love for this sport, and it has given me many experiences, one of which I shall tell now. Once upon a time, about eight or nine years ago. Mother and Father decided that they didn’t want any- thing to do with Junior during the month of July, so they sent me off to camp. My luggage was packed, and i one sunny day, I was taken to the bus. This was the first time I had ever been away from home, and naturally, j I was deeply grieved. I was to take a three hour bus trip up into the wilds of Haliburton. It took me quite a while to shoulder my sorrow for the departure, but having done so, I thoroughly enjoyed the remaining two hours and fifty-nine minutes of the trip. Upon arrival, I instantly began to have fun. I proved an interested archer, an avid marksman, an able swim- mer, a spastic diver (you can’t excel in everything — it looks too good) but most of all, my memory of canoe- ing is the clearest. Ever since the beginning of camp, I completely detested canoeing! ! As I grew more mature (?) however, my sentiments changed, and I became an enthusiastic fan of the sport, exercising every opportunity to venture out into the deep, man fighting against lake, armed only with paddle and life jacket. Unfortunately the lake almost a lways won, but I persevered until I became a master canoe- ist — I no longer needed to wear a life jacket. Five years, seven canoe trips, approximately twenty (twenty too many) overnights, and innumerable God-awful hikes later, I went on the canoe trip of all canoe trips — the culmination of all my knowledge and experience. It was a ten day affair in Algonquin Park, starting at the uppermost reaches of civilization and end- ing at the main outpost at Canoe Lake. My superior (?) experience enabled me to take the helm, and for an enjoyable nine days, we laboured, and occasionally lazed our way to the place that was to be our campsite for the last night. We had planned the trip well enough, so that we spent our last nocturnal visit with the park ! on Lake Tanamakoon, the home of a girls’ camp of the same name. We stayed at a campsite directly across from the camp, and notorious for its use, called “White Rock’’. It was there that I had my most memorable ; experience. Another adventurous soul and I set off that night across the bay, to pull a boyish raid on the girls. This was about as late as I had ever been up, but at the time it seemed well worth the effort. We noiselessly crept out : of our tent, tiptoed down the bank to the canoes, put a canoe into the water, and quietly pushed off the shore. ; The night was as black as pitch, and the stillness of the moonless night seemed unfairly broken by the soft, ! constant splash of our paddles, as they dipped into the water. We made our way slowly across the bay (the sky j being black, which impeded our progress) so as to be able to distinguish any markers to aid our attack. I was J I helmsman again for the journey, and so it was the other chap, in the front of the canoe, that spotted the camp s ; dim light first. Apparently someone was still up, as we had hoped. Our goal was in sight! !