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

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Barbara Tarr - Glen Gairn - 1966 - '67 'Tarr - Barr' was president of Form VI for half the year, a member of the Library Executive and the choir. One of the very few supporters of Broomball in the Senior School, Barb was often found out on the ice, wondering who she would play against. ,Her plans for the future are a series of Should I or shouldn't I's , We wish her luck in whatever she decides. Nancy Taylor - Craig Gowan - 1965 - '67 'We that are true lovers run into strange capers'. Tidy, the mad raccoon, has been head of Residence, joint head of the Junior Library and door - holder for the past year. She has great plans for next year none of which she will divulge, Got 'daymich', Tai? lane Thomas - Ballater - 1964 - '67 'Glad young, mad young futurist. ' Nothing calms her love of life, not even the crutches she sported for three months. Our head of choir and editor of the Yearbook seems to have an affinity for balconies. She hopes to attend U. of A. next year and perhaps some dances. Elaine Wadham - Braemar - 1963 - '67 Our petite recipe collector plans to attend U. of Victoria next year for a course in journalism. A member of the Magazine Executive and choir, she loves music and reading and is quite a poet. This 'tres' loyal Braemarite should have no trouble spreading her musical laugh through B. C. next year. Marilyn Williams - Glen Gairn - 1963 - '67 Glen Gairn's House Head, a member of the Library Executive and choir, Marilyn plans to attend U. of M. next year, with a major in Maths. Spending half her time in the pool, she is bound to get the degree in Physical Education she ultimately seeks. A prefect and school organist, she excels in piano and enjoys figure skating. Hey, Merrill, your wig's slipping. . .

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Ian Moore - Ballater - 1965 - '67 Ian, our North African, competes with Diana in the alto section of the choir and is on the Library Executive. Among other hobbies, she enjoys lighting fires in wastepaper baskets. Isn't there another flame, though lan? Next year she plans to go east for university. Lesley Morris - Glen Gairn - 1962 - '67 'Carrot top', although active as a prefect and display director of the Library, still managed to go to house games, occasionally. Les was frequently seen haunting hair salons in vain search of a shorter hairstyle - 'Does she or doesn't she. . . ?' We wish Lesley luck next year when her talents lead her to enter Fine Arts. Cathy Pennock - Craig Gowan - 1955 - '67 As joint head of the Junior Library, a prefect, games captain of Craig Gowan and mezzo in the choir, 'Handsome Harry' still had time to skip a few Mondays and be the 'perfect pampered Purdian'. Excelling in gym, and a member of the M, C, P, , we're sure her blue bomb and cheery personality will carry her to success at U. of M. next year. Best of luck, C, P, lean Riley - Craig Gowan - 1956 - '67 School captain, prefect and great supporter of Craig Gowan, 'Smiley Riley' will be much missed next year. Busy skating, singing in the choir and helping on the Magazine Executive, 'Big Bertha' still found time to Eat seven course lunches and curl her hair 'Everett' Thurdsay. Altough her plans are indefinite, we're sure Jeannie will succeed in whatever she attempts. 'Toodles, LR, and good luck'. Denise Roulston - Braemar - 1959 - '67 'Born with the gift of laughter, and a sense that the world is mad. ' Always actively engaged in living, Denise has been a mezzo in the choir, a member of the Library Executive and played on the school volleyball team. Despite a growing interest in the field of professional music, she plans to attend U. of M. in the fall. Leslie Stovel - Ballater - 1962 - '67 Weekends found Les on the ski slopes trying not to 'Sprange' her angle or in Fort Garry on various and sundry errands. A member of the M, C, P. , she was often seen 'creeping' down the Crescent. Our busy class president and advertiser spent her week days at choir or playing on the school volleyball team. We wish her luck in Nursing at U. of M. next year. 'HW 53? 'Nl' fl?

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A cv-0 '3 - . gp... ,,,,-......-......-.-...-....... X, -at-v'-Z -.--F 3---ai'-..--.,. ..ai1---1...--Q.-...vu-n ef -1 Lf -Y LIT! AKY 1' rm gram My roots cling to a scarred granite cliff in the Canadian northland. The Canada I know is not that of the rush in man-made cities but is the timeless immensity of nature. I have not felt or seen the devastating touch of the human hand. I stand alone overlooking the rolling forests. The sun is not trapped between skyscrapers or hidden by smoke but is re- flected by the tiny lakes and its influence is felt by all. My neighbours are the trees, animals, rocks, and insects that constitute the world of nature. Around me lie the multitudes of this different world and beneath my feet lie an eon's history, for I am a solitary jack pine standing on the peak of a cliff. My race's life is based on the sun as your race is based on the love of money. Without the sun, creation is non-existent and without a creative force one is dead. Christians believe that their Son is the creative force in their lives. My soul is produced in a search after my sun. All trees are composed of bark as skin, whether white or brown, of sap or blood, and leaves or needles as clothes, yet there are never two of us alike. Our differences lie in our shapes. My trunk and branches have been twisted in all directions in a search for the sun. Unlike a human whose soul is hidden under layers of personages, our being can be seen by all. Sunbeams have moulded my character, my form. The development of my form is my history. By studying my shape one can understand and know me. I began as a seed, a pine cone hidden in the ground - by a squirrel busy in preparations for winter, yet very forgetful of his caches. For a winter I lay in the warm soil of mother earth's womb. I felt my first sunbeam early in spring and my search after the sun began. The granules of moist earth fell from my form as my head felt the first rays of sun. As each succeeding ring was added about my trunk, my shape was changed. My branches formed, grew, extending their arms ever outward, my roots spread further away, seeking pockets of soil, and my head always pushed heavenward, towards the sun, Battles with snow, tain, and wind hardened me. With each successive storm, another member of our stand was lost. One cold, blustery night I lost the last of my companions. As the wind wailed around us he murmured, Beware: your test- ing is yet to come ! With a loud creak it split, crash- ing to the hard cold rock and Ibecame the solitary jack pine on that cliff. Before my testing came, I felt the cold of winter seeping into me, freezing my sap, enjoyed the quiet rest of the long dark days, and was again thrilled by the sun creating life within me. It was late in an August evening when the clouds which marched forward with a sound like the steady rumble of tramping soldiers. I tensed despite my education and my warnings to stay supple. Protection? None. I was alone facing the assault of the heavens. The storm drew near unhesitatingly. Then suddenly a sound came from heaven like a rush of a mighty wind and the sky was aflame with tongues of fire . I bent and swayed but the grip of my roots was loosening. Then I was falling. There was a resounding crack. I felt the wind whistling over me, no longer through