Banff High School - Yearbook (Banff, Alberta Canada)

Page 15 text:

Crip to O’fiara Early Saturday morning, thirty energetic souls turned up at the school grounds to hike to O ' Hara. We piled our packs and ourselves into four cars and left for Wapta, which is about fifty miles from Banff. We arrived at Wapta about ten-thirty and started up the trail which proved to be more than just an after¬ noon stroll. We stopped a little better than half way to eat lunch, then trudged on reaching the cabin about two o ' clock where we walked in on a honeymoon couple. They were a little surprised to see us but didn ' t seem to mind the intrusion too much. They joined us in our games and dances. After supper we all participated in a scavenger hunt but after hunting for an hour or so came to the conclusion that some of the objects were impossible to find. Then came time for the Lowly Ones to be initiated which was somewhat of a crooked game because whether or not they told the truth they still paid the con¬ sequence . After a cup of delicious hot chocolate we all re¬ tired to our bunks, of course not to sleep but I would be ashamed even to tell my best friend what was said and sung. Everyone was awake bright and early to have a hardy breakfast before touring some more of the beaut¬ iful terrain, returning in time for lunch which consis¬ ted of leftovers. On the way back we conscripted an army of all eligible males and marched onward letting nothing stop us, not even creeks. We reached the cars about four forty-five and returned to Banff, famished and tired, but the trip was well worth the effort. I

Page 14 text:

VaUcbictosuf. It is a great honor to be appointed class valed¬ ictorian. This year that honor fell to me. It is the privilege of speaking on behalf of the graduating class — summing up our school days, at this time, when we are so near the completion of our,last year. Next year we will each go our own way - some of us to university, others to various instructive courses. When we think back to our school days we will always wonder just how and where our old school chums are. Even now we look back to our first public school days. It seems so long ago that we held on to mother’s hand that first day of school, as the teacher reassur¬ ingly comforted our fears of being away from home. Soon, however, the scene changed — we became quite independent, for we went to school. Many are the mem¬ ories of our public school days. They are happy ones although a case of chicken pox or a trip to the prin¬ cipal’s office wasn’t so funny when it happened. The end of public school made us feel even more the people of the world. We felt oh, so proud to walk into the high school with the other students, then take our place at our own desks. We were even proud of our homeworkI But then things began to change. Our studies were more concentrated and carried more meaning. We no long¬ er thought that we knew it all and the more we learned, the more there seemed to be that we didn’t know. Gradually we began giving more thought to the fut¬ ure. We realized that we could no longer go along as one big happy family, depending on our parents and teachers for any decisions that had to be made. Now we must make definite plans for the years ahead of us. With the aid of Mr. Leavitt’s tests we survey the fields we are suited to. We share a great responsibility as the future citizens of Canada and the World. May we, the Graduating Class of 1953, have the wisdom to appreciate the unlimited opportunities which lie ahead of us. To our ever-understanding parents and teachers we would like to say ' thank you,’ for so ably seeing us through the happiest and most unforgetable time of our lives — our school days.

Page 16 text:

j ’izam in £DLt Dave White As I sit here alone in my own rocking chair And listen to music come over the air I say to myself, ’Dave, old man, you’re Square, You once were strictly hot stuff. - now you’re strictly nowhere.’ The soft dreamy music of Kenton’s brass section Encourages me in my mood of reflection My head starts to nod and it falls on my chest - Or would if my chest hadn’t dropped to my vest. (And sneaking of vests, when did they disappear? And I fitfully dream of a gone yesteryear.) The fashion in clothes was Victorian drape And records were made in cylindrical shape The neighbors would gather outside on the green To hear the new wonder ’The Talking Machine.’ And that was the thing for a season or two Till the horn disappeared and the box came in view With glazed walnut doors and crank you could spin The records were flattened and Jack, it was in. And when you took tootsie out stepping at night Behind potted palms you were hidden from sight The orchestra leader was always named Max Then somebody added a baritone sax. A banjo, a drummer, some blazers and slacks And some leader t hought of his own music racks And ouick like a rabbit the song - singing nation Adopted the craze that they called syncopation. So Sweet Adeline changed to Sweet Georgia Brown And Charleston became quite a musical town The laughing trombone made the tiger rag roar And St. Louis Blues was the only encore. Let mine be one of those uplifted faces Watching the bass player go through his paces Wearing moustaches and various hats And doing it all in the key of three flats.