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

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Gift What l have given you is a tiny piece of me for better or for worse or for what your grey eyes see Perception of the reason I let you come inside is far far more the matter than words which simply die. l've smiled and screamed a lieg a sin ripping you from me 'til both we stood our beaten heads drooping mournfully And many times we would have trod away down different lanes but if we had I doubt that things could ever be the same. So gifts will age and in the passing fade from consciousness as endless dreams are slowly changed despite their worthiness Just a tiny fragment of time and history And someday may you find it and give it back to me. E.W. Boyd First Prize Poem, Gavin lnce Langmuir Writing Competition

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The End of the Automobile Age ll' you have to go to the store a mile away how are you going to get there? Be honest. Which would you rather see, dirty, grimy automobiles driving along a slab of concrete or your fellow man walking or cycling along a path made of good old mother earth? Now you are being silly. You just contradicted yourself. Now look back to the first question and think of a better answer. I say that we do not need most cars because there are better ways of getting around. We can't get by without cars, says North America in unison. I reply in my humble oration, Yes you can! How? inquire the millions. I quickly answer them with the suggestion of a largely magnified public, and intercity transportation system. But that will cost too much, whines the North American population. At this cue I launch into my humdrum financial hypothesis, complete with estimated figures. I say that 20,000,000 people spend two dollars daily on gas and fifty dollars yearly on in- surance. Then I say that the same 20,000,000 people buy tive thousand dollar cars every ten years making two million cars a year. Finally I say that 70 million people pay a hundred dollars yearly on taxes for roads and sewers. All these figures are less than the real ones. Yet, ifall the money of my estimation went to public transportation, there would be 32 billion plus dollars yearly. That is easily enough to pay for subway and bus service for 99.99 7o of the population. Oh! reply the confused masses with mouths agape. Well then, what do those in the auto industry do? they ask, trying to trip me up with their feeble arguments. Not even bothering to answer, I let them figure out for themselves that they would be employed making and running transportation systems. They would also be busy ridding the world of many of the hideous concrete strips crisscrossing the nation. But it's such a hassle not to use a car, complains the North American race. Ahh! l quickly counter, That thought is an offspring of the automobile age. I know from experience that in a city, a bicycle can usually get around more rapidly than cars can and if there were no cars they could get around even faster. As a New York millionaire once said, lt's much easier than fussing with a chauffeur. But you can't ride bikes in the winter, say the people, hoping they have found a weak point. I'm quite upset at how lazy my countrymen have become. Listen you lazy bums. Between our new public transportation system and those precious gifts of God we call feet, we could travel better than with autos. Feet are the most natural form of locomotion. Walking has been in use since before the invention of the wheel and the discovery of Ere. It is reliable and totally non- polluting. No parking. No cost. The people of North America linally and reluctantly become mildly interested. Tell us about long distances, they order. Sure, I say trying to supress my grin. I'm sure all of you would rather sit on a comfortable bus, train or plane than behind a steering wheel being chased by a trillion and one cars on a high- way. I won't mention how much faster trains and planes are. I also won't mention how much less pollution there would be without cars. Before the people could open their mouths I hit them again. And planes will be cheaper by a great deal because without cars gas will be as cheap as water. Wow! the crowd exclaims. Picture these two scenes side by side: First picture the city we know today full of streets and cars. Now picture a city with nine- tenths of the roads removed and parks in their places leaving only a few roads for buses. Which picture do you like better? The second! yells the crowd, now very excited. In the excitement I confess the one fault in my crusade, hoping they will not notice. There will be some people, however, that will not be able to do without cars. They come in two groups: the isolated and the infirm. I will give in and let Joe Farmer keep his pickup in order to get to and from other means of transportation. The infirm, or those who could not easily get to subways and buses, would be the recipients of a new type of welfare. I call it taxi welfare: It would be a free taxi to the doors of those who need it. These are the only cars needed. Hurray! yell the millions ol' people having heard nothing of my last statements. Now, having them all eating out of my hands, I decide it is time to drive home my point with a little sarcasm. There's one drawback, I say being as serious as possible. Many jobs will be lost. Silence falls over the crowd. Thousands of doctors and nurses will be out of a job if we get rid of cars because there cannot be any more car accidents. Trains, buses and planes do not have as many accidents as cars. Banners wave, streamers fly and the population of North America screams and cheers. I know I have them convinced. Tom Hayes

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octumal Thought l'he quest xshieli ratelss ins inner tore .-Xnd sets the pgiee ol lile l leud ls sought und lound by less indeed Uiiodl Whitt dost thou lim e in store To quench the loss my heart does need. lts purpose pray, wits not to bleed And live its life heliind ai door! lts use with pain would I adore lf love was found und left to stay. But God, He cries to me at night This quest in vain, l hear him say The prize will come within your sight lf left to last, behind your life. But day, it comes . . . to me my strife. David Thomas Honourable Mention, Ciaiin lnee lurigrmiir Writing Competition