Balmoral Hall School - Optima Anni Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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12 them chickens on to fry. Glad to see you all. Have a piece of fudge to keep you on the way home and come back soon. MARGARET BERRY-Form VI Troy The night is still. The great walled city sleeps Unsuspecting. Startled by the clashing armour, Alive! The brick resists, But unrestrained Hungry flame devoursg The city moans, Shuddering, quivering, Black walls masked in smoke Spilling blood: A starving rat seeks shelter, but No shelter is- Terror in waves Splinters the night Rises and defeats the stone, One cry - the walls are down. VICKI GRIFFITHS-Form IV Miranda The Witch Miranda was a witch with a sense ol humour. She had a love of doing far-fetched things, of which her mother was trying her best to rd her. But, in the old lady's words, We witches can't do everything, you know! Miranda and her family were very ordi- nary-looking people. No one in the neigh- bourhood ever suspected that they were the cause of the inexplicable power failures, or the mysterious appearance of full-grown trees from the middle of the street. It really was not the whole family who were re- sponsible: it was Miranda. One day Miranda decided to think of the craziest thing she could, and make it hap- pen. She really was in no thinking mood, but the neighbours did get a surprise when they saw ninety-year-old Mrs. Binney come down the street riding a bicycle and wearing flippers! , We really must do something! moaned Mirandas mother to her brother. This time she really has gone too far. I say she needs something to get her mind off mischief, replied the young war- lock. Say, a boy. Miranda and boys? Are you sure you're feeling okay? Yes, of course I am, but, well, she's at the age, you know. But the trouble is we don't know any eligible warlocks. Hey! Wait a. minute! Does it necessarily have to be a warlock? There's a nice young boy who just moved in down the block. I'Ie's in Miranda's room at school. Do you think that maybe . . .? Oh, nonsense! Not a warlock? Why I wouldn't think of it! replied his mother. A'But you didn't, he replied, slyly. The next day the two schemers started dropping gentle hints to Miranda- They had to take care, though, or she might begin to suspect. After a week, when none of their hints took effect, mother and son had another council of war. I've decided we must take direct action, he said, like inviting this Paul character over after school. I'Ie's the captain of the football team, and I'm trying out, so I can use the excuse that I want some pointers from him. And so this Paul character was invited home one day after school. As it turned out, football was never discussed. Paul took an immediate interest in Miranda's rock collection, and they spent all afternoon plan- ning a rock-gathering expedition. Paul soon became as one of the family, and, lo and behold, Miranda stopped her tricks! Except once, two years later, just after Paul had asked Miranda to marry him, she was so happy that . . . down the street came Mrs. Binney - riding a bicycle and wearing flippers! JUDITH GARDNER-Form IV T3 1 1 hu 'IM- -'ll 'W 5 f i!!! , I !'iIf,5.! x. ' vP'li' I'xaf! 'ex H, Xxx ft! W N. 5. ' 'gs I g. rg 0 SAM

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11 Mun - The Inventor of Division Sixty minutes, of sixty seconds, divide an hour. Sixty, and three hundred degrees, divide a circle- Ten, and two constellations, divide a zodiac. A heritage from Babylonian sages And all resist the destroying hand But what of man, inventor of division? Black and white, divide a race. Creed and philosophy, divide a nation. Agression and animosity, divide the world. A heritage from Modern sages. Who yet do say: United we stand, divided we fall. SUSAN FOLEY-FOI'm VI A Chance To Talk A grating of gravel and slamming of car doors announced the arrival of some visitors in the farmyard. Probably city folks wantin' eggs and some of them chickens I dressed before breakfast. just when l was goin to help Ma with shellin' the peas. lt's bad for her rheu- matism to work so hard, but she just wont quit. Tressie Metzger dried her hands on her apron and looked out of the window. She brightened visibly and called to her old mother who was keeping closer to the warm air rising from the furnace. lt's Mrs. Gingerick and her grand- daughters from Minnesota, come fer a Christmas visit. Tressie straightened her prayer cap and strode to the door, shouting to the dogs to be quiet. Come right on in and take off your wraps. Drat them 'Coon dogs, they get all excited and scittery if anybody but Cecil comes near 'em- Yes, Cecil's out just now: he'll be sorry he missed you. I-le's gone fox- huntin' with some of the boys fer the bounty. Didnt you see the three of 'em, already hangin' by their feet from the first tree as you come in the driveway? He gets six dol- lars, what with the bounty and the price fer pelts. Why dont you children go on over to the barn and see the kittens. We've got two new litters. That old tabby cat with only three legs which limps purty bad, which Cecil runned over with the mover last fall, had a litter, but most of her kitties died. just about the same time, Cecil was cuttin wood fer the furnace and he found four baby 'coons in one of the trees he was chop- pin' down. He had chopped through two of them before he knowed they was there, but saved the other two. and brought them home. We gave 'em to the old tabby cat to nurse and put in a couple of the dead kittens to reassure her. Well, purty soon she began takin' no notice of her babies who werent movin' and took care of them baby 'coons just as proud as could be. She mother-ed 'em like her own until they got too rough with her. Une of the 'coons died from somethin' 't ate and Cecil spoils the one that's left somethin' terrible. Why, he goes out to the barn and the 'coon comes runnin out from behind the bales of straw and digs in his shirt pocket fer raisins. He loves raisins, and that's where just about all of mine go. but he's such a funny crittur with his bright eyes and shy ways that we just cant let him starve. But l never let Cecil bring him into the house ever since he sneaked in one dav with the 'coon and just raised the dickens. But at least he didnt get into the eggs. l guess it was about the only thing he didnt get into. UMa was pleased to get your card for her eighty-fourth birthday. She got forty- three cards from people and so many were pictures of flowers- They know what she likes. I'll go git the card-holder and you ken look at them while I stoke the furnace. This bitter weather sure eats up the wood. Why, Cecil had to go over an git another load from Yoder's wasteland yesterday af- ternoon and we've made a good hole in it already. But I suppose up where you live. this seems purty mild. HHere are our Christmas cards too. There aint quite so many of them but some are real clever. My niece Fern sent this here red one with her name worked into the first letters of the verse. lt took us thc longest time to find out who sent it, and Ma still thinks that whoever sent it didnt sign her name, but Cecil noticed that Fern hidden away there. Aint it a pretty red? Well, if you must go, I guess you must. Here are some eggs and a few little things we canned last summer. No, dont worry about them. The eggs is the usual price. Cecil's goin' to be comin' in and wantin his dinner so l'd better hop around and put

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13 Caught In The Act Ever since my early childhood Aunt Sop-hy had lived with our family. Despite her apparent lack of physical handicap, she did not work. She was always 'feeling her arth- ritis' which naturally prevented her from doing the dishes on her day. My mother regularly prodded us children into washing them, stating emphatically that Aunt Sophy could not cure the ailments fate had pre- destined. My mother, a staunch believer in astrology, frequently predicted earth-shak- ing events which, sad to say, generally came to nought. My father believed, on the con- trary, that Aunt .Sophy was a trial of his soul planned by God. We five children merely wished she would do the dishes. With these cheering philosophies behind her, Aunt Sophy frequently lamented she would be better off dead, but I suspected it was to hear us deny this profusely that she said it. One morning the family rose early for our annual 'blackberry day'. My father. despite the contrary opinions of the rest of us, believed he made better blackberry wine than could be bought. Thus we picked berries every year. Aunt Sophy did not generally go with us, but this time father decided to rouse and invite her- Being the oldest, I was designated for the joyous task. I was amazed upon entering her room to find that she was not abed. Shortly after my announcement to this effect, we all heard a whistling and the sound of gravel crunching. Astonished, the family observed Aunt Sophy merrily round- ing the bend in the road, riding a bicycle and wearing flippers! It was evident from her wet appearance she had been for a 'dip'. The thought that at the moment occurred in five little minds was, Doubt we'll be doing her dishes again! JANE' THOMAS-F0rm IV Edward B. There was a boy called Edward B. Who n'er obeyed the elderlyp One day he did a dreadful thing - He ate some blue and yellow string. The string got twisted up inside, Alas, that very night he died. This is a warning to all little boys -1 Never to play with dangerous toys. FRANCES SPRINGBETT - Form III Epitaph Of A Town Now only the weather-torn timbers remain, Bleached by the sun and rotted by rain, And winds alone visit the cabins and mourn For the death of the town which stands hushed and forlorn. It was wrought by bold men who westward were lured By legends of goldg their reason obscured And blinded by greed, they fought to survive In the struggle for gold: the town sprang up and thrived. A town of the goldrush it seemed should be great. But not so with this village, for contrary fate Had otherwise ruled and would not reveal The gold which the mountains were said to conceal. And men who through their own greed had been caught By the tales, turned false as the gold they had sought, Embittered, they left and drifted around The country, and with them the life of the town Whi-ch had symbolized hope, which had made their life gay Was brought to an end and left to decay. Thus the soul is now gone from the town on the plaing Its swift glory past, it cannot live again, And winds alone visit its cabins and mourn For the death of the town which stands hushed and forlorn. KATHRYN NEILSON-Form V g Heritage The jovial peasant ladies waddled to the door to shake the damp hand of a handsome young man. The man looked like a stately redwood tree set among bushy evergreens- The flamboyant colours of the peasants' dresses contrasted with the man's grey suit. His eyes, deep-set with a pensive air, and his wind-blown, sun-baked complexion look- ed out of place encircled by a stiff, spark- ling-white collar. The father of the man gave him a reproachful glance for his Sil- ence, but continued to laugh with the pea- sants. Gradually each of the guests at the home-coming party left. Two of these peasants strolled down the dusty trail gossiping. All that book-learning and politics has gone to his head.