Central Collegiate Institute - Analecta Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

Page 29 text:

PROPHECY Prophecy These fates that I will prophecy, Only time will prove but true; And so you Grad’s of Central High I come to pen the fates of you. Of Hale the Physicist, I do read He has, so says the latest journal Perfected that which we all need: Popcorn, with a hulless kernel. Nobel man Radford we must salute, His contribution has made life easier, Cereal from guns we need not shoot, We now can have them soggier, creamier! Our own Olympiad—Patricia Powers, Is dashing to and dashing fro: She’s caught her man, a cold, and all, We proud to have her in our Hall. Through a book store window I perceived, A book, to wit, “Cherchez la Femme”. Pulitzer prize winning—’Twas well received, Author Zemans tells “how” for men. Circus had its yheel called Ferris, Now business has its tycoon Harris, Wheels do roll; so they say, Bill made “his” with curds and Whey! A word or two I must state here Of Scientist friend and old companion. Miss Watson, to whom I toast my cheer, Inventor of the tearless onion. Christopher Evans, the British tout, Has been seen scanning the wickets With the ponies it’s been his lifelong bout His ambition: to have the winning tickets. To Riback and Stevens that medical team, All our eyes must be raised, Of the “Crop” they are the cream, For emptying bed pans they are praised. 27

Page 28 text:

BOB WATKINS— I haven’t got a clue to this French.” Pet Peeve—Text books with¬ out pictures. Ambition—To be a charter¬ ed accountant. Future Fate — French 30, Chem. 30 and .Math. 31. Activities—Volleyball, Homework! SALLY WILLIAMS— ‘‘Must I have one?” Pet Peeve—Biography forms Ambition — To be a Home Economist. Future Fate—University. Activities—Y-Teen, Basket¬ ball, Bowling Club. SINCLAIR YOUNG— ‘‘What is this? Kiddies’ day?” Pet Peeve—Trouble. Ambition—To get a decent golf score. Future Fate ■—- Money and troubles. Activities—Glee Club, Curl¬ ing, Volleyball, A.Y.P.A. FRED ZEMANS— ‘‘Dark and roving eye.” Pet Peeve—Bleached blondes Ambition—To become a law¬ yer. Future Fate — University of Toronto. Activities — Students’ Coun- SANDRA WATSON— ‘‘Ah, drop on your head.” Pet Peeve—Routine. Ambition—To Join the kan¬ garoos. Future Fate — Australia and kangaroos. Activities—Booster Club, Y- Teen, Baske tball. VIOLET WOODS— “I resist anything but tempta¬ tion.” Pet Peeve—Temptation. Ambition — To become an air stewardess. Future Fate—Airplanes. Activities—Y-Teen, Basket¬ ball, Skating. MURRAY YOUNG— ‘‘Give me another kiss, will ya huh?” Pet Peeve — Overcrowded front seats. Ambition—To be a pharma¬ cist. Future Fate —- Police court for overloaded cars. Activities— Basketball, Hi- Y, Bowling Club.

Page 30 text:

PROPHECY ta Newspapers all, have their photo. The bylines carry the courageous epic, Of swimmers, Allison, Gale and Hashimoto, They swum the Elbow—“Found it Hectic’’. Pam Jones, I see upon the rostrum, Oration is her folly now, Proclaiming sufferage for all women To her, we men must take a bow. Clark and Clayton’s (The Store for women), Have “Dashing Duds for Dandy Dolls”, Costumes guaranteed to catch your he-men, For this lure, every man falls! Sproule’s sprouts, for Brusseled people, (This alliteration you may well take note) Are the rage; they shout it from the steeple Fried or frozen; to eat with sour-kraut. And so the time has come to say Adieu, But to the Grads, to all of you, I wish the best—the best for years to come, And may you have your share in happiness and fun. —Fred Valentine. VALEDICTORY—Continued. It is with mixed feelings of regret and achievement that we see the pages of these years closing. Soon we will put this book aside and begin another. With the passing of time some of the characters may grow dim, but your motto: “LUX SIT ( ' Let there be light)” is written into our lives. And so, to you Central, to all you mean to us, to your classrooms, even to your halls but, above all, to the teachers who personify for us your spirit we say a reluctant farewell and a fervent thank you. You are our school. We will not forget you.—The Class of ’56. —PAMELA JONES. 28