Altona Collegiate - Green and Gold Yearbook (Altona, Manitoba Canada)

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He looked around and slowly raised himself. A branch tapped softly against the windowpane. He crouched low. “Go away, please, go away. Got to have a fire.” He clutched wildly at his shirt. “Where is that hammer?” Then, like the breath of a child, his mood changed. He got up as if in a trance. He walked to the window and threw it open. He stood there letting the cold night wind rush past him. He could see the river, its restless waves gleaming and flashing coldly, unrelentlessly as the moon¬ beams struck it. He stared at the river. Even in the moonlight it was brown and muddy. He laughed. “Huh. This old hammer. This old hammer,” he quavered. “It killed John Henry. This old hammer—it killed—John Henry. But it can’t kill me—it can’t kill me. Tommy,” he said, “Tommy, if they ask you any questions, tell them you don’t know, Tommy.” He was trembling violently now. Sweat stood out on his forehead and he clutched at the window sill. “Please, Tommy, tell them you don’t know.” A dark object was bobbing in the river. He started; jumped back. “In the river? Did you say river? It’s only my hammer, Tommy, get me my hammer.” He started for the object in the corner. “Did you hear?” he rasped. “I got to have my hammer.” The old man peered into the dark corner, sighed, and slowly turned around. He shuffled toward the door, opened it and looked out. Hollow, bitter, pitiful—that laugh. The night wind bore it with a sigh. It was only a faint whisper of a laugh soon lost in the moaning of the wind and the surging of the river. The man heard. He never once looked back at the empty house behind him. He reached the river. “Crazy,” he muttered. “Go away, I didn’t do it. Can’t even talk to myself.” He was standing on the footbridge leading across the foaming river. His ashen face was turned toward the west as he braced himself against the wind. The waves came surging down below him, sweeping around in muddy brown circles. An old rotted piece of timber floated by, tossed on the waves, now submerged, now sticking up like an arm outstretched for help. Blurred bits of foam flecked its edges as it rose and fell helplessly in the murky water. Mud swirled over the jagged rocks, dashing against them in furious revenge. “Can’t even talk to myself,” he repeated. The man on the bridge didn’t move. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he gritted. “Where’s God? I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t find it. I can’t find anything. I’ve lost it all—lost it all. I don’t want my hammer, Tommy, I don’t want it. Ain’t there a God somewhere? Can’t you find it, Tommy?” Desperately, he searched the river, the road, the sky. His eyes fastened on a gleaming object just above the horizon. Something clicked. “Thought I’d lost it. Tommy.” From some¬ where in the water it came. “Don’t you want your hammer, Tommy? Better wash it first. It’s muddy.” The wind and the waves could not cover it. Harsh, cynical, bitter—that laugh. Still he didn’t move. “Aren’t you going to tell me to go away. Tommy?” “Can’t talk to you right now, Tommy. But some day I’ll tell you, Tommy. Don’t you worry ’bout it. Got to go home now” . . . The man at the window shivered. He turned his head and looked at the hearth; it was cold. “Ever since that day,” he muttered. “Ain’t seen my hammer since.” Elizabeth Falk Grade XIa — Mark 90 Winter I heard the laughter of a child, a child at heart, in form— It echoed in the halls of dearth, in jocund manner borne. That chilly laugh, and flighty manner smote deep into my ’wakened soul; I saw how life, that willful potter, had turned its facile smile to stone. I searched its lines for deeper meaning— some reason for that lifeless laugh; But reason there could give no answer; The meaning lay in her captive heart— A stony heart that was bleak and lone. —Elizabeth Falk XII. 16

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Festival Debate In recent years, debating has been added to the competitions in the Southern Manitoba Speech Arts Festival. This year our Collegiate again took the CFAM trophy. Our affirmative team consisted of Margaret Kehler and Gail Lang, and the negative team was made up of Vernon Hoeppner and Lawrence Kehler. The rhetoric and eloquence they employed on the resolution that “Manitoba needs the newly-proposed general high school course” yielded sufficiently high marks to gain the championship over the Winkler and Morden teams. Mr. Lyons and Mr. Heide coached the debate teams. Left iehler, to right: Vernon Hoeppner, Law Gail Lang, Marge Kehler. FESTIVAL The 1961 Southern Manitoba Speech Arts Festival was held from March 6 to March 10. The annual Speech Arts and Music Festivals have been the climax of cultural activity in southern Manitoba since the inception of the Festival in 1932. All talent is drawn from the schools of this area. The festivals mark the culmination of much hard work on the part of many students and teachers. 1961 Southern Manitoba Speech Arts Festival Trophy Winners WINKLER KINSMEN TROPHY.Winkler Grade IV MORDEN LUMBER AND FUEL TROPHY . Ingrid Kehler, Altona H. H. JANZEN TROPHY.Ruth Martens, Morden ALTONA WOMEN’S INSTITUTE TROPHY .Victor Friesen, Altona DR. W. COLERT TROPHY . Lois Epp, Altona W. TERNOWETZKY TROPHY . Morden Grade VIIB ALTONA REAL ESTATE TROPHY.Howard Dyck, Winkler CFAM RADIO SOUTHERN MANITOBA TROPHY . Altona Collegiate WILLIAM M. ENNS TROPHY . Altona Grade IIB P. T. FRIESEN TROPHY . Maureen Andrew, Morden MORDEN KINETTE TROPHY . Marylin Topley, Winkler WINKLER CO-OP CREAMERY TROPHY . Alexandria School JOHN WALKOF TROPHY . Jack Giesbrecht, Haskett 18