Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

Page 80 text:

THERE The days become eternity in a land Where the frailties of man Are yet Unknown. The Goodness of God has kept it As virgin as The unchartered corners Of the universe. Within it, existence and non- existence Rule side-by-side in A mystical domain. This is the birthplace of Stars, and the pyre For their fiery ashes. This is nowhere, And yet, Everywhere, In a universe where The finite is impossible. This is a creation Of the mind, And a reality more true Than the Known. It is seen in the deep blue Of summer skies, And found under cool, mossy rocks Of the glades where birds Sing for a moment In ecstasy And are gone. S. Roloff 12E SKIING AM MONT ORFORD Unter klarem blauen Himmel, Und auf schneebedeckten Hugeln, Sieht man frohliches Gewimmel, Und man denkt, man hatte Flijgel. Wie sie flitzen, wie sie sausen Auf den Skiern durch den Schnee, Und der Wind, man hort ihn brausen Tut auch an der Nase weh. HOW I STROVE TO WIN THE INTERMEDIATE CROSS-COUNTRY RACE The race I am going to write about was the race of my life: I don ' t think I will ever win a race like that again. It was approximately two miles of ups and downs and took place on what was really a perfect day for running, a cool Monday afternoon in the second week of April. A breeze was blowing gently that made it even cooler. The sun shone but clouds constantly kept on blocking out its warming rays. Even though the day was perfect. I was in no shape to run. I hadn ' t warmed up or prepared myself for this hoping-to-win race. Anyhow, I was going to accept the consequences and try my best. Trying my best was exactly what I did. We had some 60 or 70-odd guys running this race. Ned Larsen blew the whistle and everyone took off. I was so nervous I didn ' t even hear the whistle blow. Everyone had left before me. That really started the race off poorly but those nervous tensions flew away and I was off on the race of my life to victory. But. that was two miles off and I had blown the start through nerves. However, after run- ning the length of two football fields I felt great again. I was in first place and remembered what Coach Bernman told me in swimming: Peter, if you start off in first place you can keep yourself in first place. I did just that, but the cost was a great deal of pain. Coach Berriman ' s advice forgot to in- clude that you must push beyond your own limits. Even before half way through the first lap I found Mark Francis pushing me harder and by the end of that lap pain shot through the right side of my stomach and my throat hurt whenever I took a breath. Besides the pain I had to fight against the devil inside my body. At the start of my second lap the devil seemed to have control. The pain was unbearable, like having a thousand spikes thrust into my sides and throat. The devil was tempting me to fake a passout or else simply to let Mark Francis pass me. But somewhere else inside me an angel was telling me to push harder and harder. Strive to win for there is a reward for all this. By the time I got past the main gate the pain was so bad I was going to fake a passout but just then, suddenly, the angel came to power and the pain was gone. I felt like a new man and even more determined to win. I pushed onwards with Mark Francis right beside me and so I pushed harder to keep ahead. The devil was starting to come back again but the good angel knew her job and kept his power to a minimum. I began to smell victory as I pulled into my final sprint with Francis close behind. My legs carried me so fast I managed t o reach the finish ahead of him but only by a second. I had really pushed to my limits and taken 10 seconds off the record. Then the angel left me to be criticized and punished by the devil. By golly! Did I ever feel pain. But that left after about 15 minutes and I felt good. I had won the race of my life. Probably I will never win a race like that again as long as I live. P. Thompson, 10A I Abends dann beim Apres-ski Sind sich alle klar Dass so schon wie heut es nie Am Mont Orford war. T. Henkel Grade 13

Page 79 text:

Not long afterwards, the master died of remorse, or perhaps guilt? The house then passed to Marie and her husband. It would seem as though the house had had a last minute reprieve, but it was only to be temporary one. Just after their son ' s fourth bir- thday, Germany moved into France. With this the house forgot all the good times and began to crumble for the last time. Spirits were low in France and the family was no exception. The end really came when one morning a smartly dressed Ger- man officer marched up the walkway and rang the bell; still no answer. The officer gave up and walked in. He found Marie in her husband ' s arms. The officer saluted and held out his hand politely, but they did not move. I have an order to take this house as District Headquarters , he said in remarkably good French. The days that followed were hell. The Germans became less and less polite until one evening the new master and the officer got into a flaming row and began to fight. The next morning they took him out to the woods. The house remembered the first time the old master had carried his wife over the threshold. They stopped at the old wall. The house remembered the maid who was now employed in a munitions factory in town. His hands and feet were tied. The house remembered. The order was given and all the men raised their rifles. The house remembered the evening of the party. Fire! said the officer. The house remembered the second marriage. The men pulled back the triggers in one move. The house remem- bered the young boy ' s birth. Two nights later there was a tinkling of glass and then an ex- plosion. The officer had paid for the death of the house with his own life. For the second time in three da ys they stood a person against the wall. Again the order was given and Marie fell to the ground, a heap of lifeless cells; but the house no longer remembered. It had fallen to the ground, lifeless, grey stone. It had been a double execution. R. Wooley 9 A1 TO THE READER So now you sit to read a rhyme, Come, scan this work with hearty bliss And think of rest, and all the time You spent not reading rot like this. I am one whose ink is found On ruined paper everywhere, In my attempt to seem profound I ' ll twist your mind until you dare To put the paper down and think what does it mean ... how could it be That while I think these verses stink, The author calls them poetry. S. Roloff 12 E THE BLIZZARD My family was a poor, humble Scottish mining family who lived on the banks of Loch na Nigheadaireachd, a wee loch. We lived in a sturdy, old cedar house which was built by my great-grandfather when he was fighting the Campbells. It was the winter in the year of Our Lord 1859 when a fierce blizzard hit our house. Father was out gathering sap from the maple trees and I was in the house helping mother with the churning. At suppertime father had not come back; suddenly, the wind screamed and a massive white blanket of snow fell on the house. The wind played a dread- ful tune of high notes and low moans. It was so strong that it made the walls shake. I spent my time looking out the window to see if I could find father; sometimes I saw blurry images but they turned out to be trees. That night I had awful thoughts about my father; he was standing beside a haystack, frozen and hunger struck. I could bear it no longer: I put on my coat and muf- fler and hurried out. The wind pricked my body like ice picks but I went on. I tripped over something, and there on the ground lay my father, dead. A. Krempulec 7A

Page 81 text:

But gte$ko 4be 0»k .$am another ship, It ivjj g wgyrg7iyjth th ji Tinr mysterious light, S As § ! , iOi? r 4S ' tr p re P arec ' t0 fight. • y Tr1B +§i3t we,dT?or» anol trTe cannons flashed ' ' Ttntt-lhewsaieJt ' uh powder was on the wind, But I know not why There was no clatter or distant din. Both ships ' sails billowed in the wind As one gave chase to the other. One ' s cannon flashed again and again With no reply from the other The sky turned red as the battle raged, And then came the dawn: Both spectre ships were gone! Sketch and Text by M. Cheney 11 A1