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

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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.

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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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14 Before he became a senator and went to La Paz he used to laugh and joke with us but now he holds us in contempt, as if we were mere animals. A'He used to be proud he was a peasant but now he seems to be ashamed of it. His father is different. Remember when he arrived here from the city all dressed in black? It was rumoured his wife had died. The first couple of weeks it seemed as if he were running away from something. He never told anyone of his previous life. as if the very thought of it was painful. I don't think he's even told his son. It must have been a terrible tragedy. But what could it have been? He is so kind and understanding. I remember . . The conversation was carried by the wind across the fields, the ending to remain a secret- The cool evening breeze from the Andes came through the window and eased the deep furrows in the man's forehead. He was staring at the black fringe of clouds grow- ing quickly on the horizon. Gradually each star disappeared behind ominous clouds. just as each of his achievements had been over-shadowed. So the first star was hidden by the falling veil, he remembered his Peace Corps teacher. A second was hidden, and he thought of the correspondence courses, then examinations, his trip to La Paz, his election as senator: then last of all his ap- pointment as ambassador to the United Na- tions. All that was left was the moon. The people in La Paz accepted me into their social groups, but not without enquir- ing glances. and whispering rumours. The newsmen often asked me about my family and childhood. What was I to tell them? I would be in a gutter with my wild ain- bitions in no time if I were to say I was a peasant! A long silence followed - the lull before the storm, then like a thunder clap it came. Why can't one's actions speak for themselves? . . . All my work, my suc- cess, and I am still just a peasant! But, how could I tell the President this to explain my resignation? In frustration his hand sought something, anything to give vent to his temper. He grasped a vase. The china shattered on the hard dirt floor into as many pieces as the raindrops which were now falling. Among the fragments lay a piece of fine paper. A diploma - 'Cum Lauda! . . - His father was a doctor! . . . The ambassador Walked slowly into the Presidents office in La Paz, never lifting his blood-shot eyes from the floor until he reached the desk. When he did raise his eyes he saw a small man, with twinkling eyes, playing with his resignation. To his amazement the President jokingly said, I wondered when you would learn of your father's fame. You know, he saved my life in the war. Resignation? Do you think I would let a promising young politician fade into obscurity, as his father did because of that 'tupid doubt concerning- his wife's death? You have to go to the United Nations and ask for help to improve the peasants' living 'onditionsf' And with ia rip his resignation was in the wastepaper basket. The storm had passed, and the rain had cleansed, and a new man was created. CATHERINE CAMPBELL-FOI'm III On a Luke Along the shore the golden sun is dancing Clearly shining: clearly shining. Boats in glowing foam of white are passing. Fastly moving: fastly moving. What happens to these visions so enchan- ting, That travel fast: that travel fast? Do they still go on in beauty never-ending. Their difference vastg difference vast? Let us gaze at beauty in glad adoration, Minds having cleared: minds having cleared. In appreciation seeing the glamour Of scenes God has painted: scenes God has painted. MARGARET KENDALL - FOI'l'!l III No Fuss? Bare feet sound on the basement stair: Protesting squeals rend the air: A muffled voice is heard to declare, A'This time I'll do it without any fuss! Soapsuds flying! Yelps and crying! Water splashing! Teeth are gnashing! Puddles streaming Everywhere. Yet I had said, quite unaware, This time I'll do it without any fuss! Though now the room is a sight to be seen, Our little dog, Kerry, is spanking clean: And I'm forgiven and back in his grace As he slaps his tongue all over my face. JANE FERGUSON-Form III