Churchill High School - Victory Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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FEAR by Cathy Hughes The waves were pounding out the surf, Destroying life with reckless mirth. The ships were tossed about at sea, While people for their lives did flee. The wrath of Neptune shown that night Filled one small boy with eerie fright; For trapped upon a narrow ledge, And grasping tightly to the edge, He watched the waters rising high, And felt the cold of death draw night. The waves were beating at the shore, But one small boy felt fear no more. HOW TO LIVE WITH A SISTER by Barbara Stogryn Living with a younger sister is a very difficult and widespread problem. My mother says that when I was an innocent child of four, I actually longer for a sister. I find this increasingly difficult to believe. Just taking today ' s events into consideration, I find myself praying I could be in that blissful state of being an only child again. However, enough of this hopeless, wishful thinking. We elder, molested brothers and sisters must learn to face facts. Psychologists tell us that this is just a restless stage which the poor dears are experiencing, and ten years hence, we will be longing to hear the patter of little feet again, even if they ' re pattering on a meticulously laid-out dress pattern. Therefore, the question is how to steel ourselves against total mental and physical collapse during this period. We shall begin by analysing the problem. A sister is the lovable little bundle you tuck into bed at night, kissing her tousled curls and handing her your comforting old teddy bear. Then, precisely six hours later, she awakens you by playing a lively game of tug-of-war with the cat ' s tail. One minute you are soaking up her praise and worship as she says that she wishes she could be as grown-up as you, and the next, you ' re bribing her to tell you where she hid your lipstick. She saves up for half a year to buy you some special oil pastels for your birthday, and, just to make sure they work, she draws a colorful hopscotch on the driveway. Thus we are back to where we started, the only conclusion we have made being that sisters are undefinable. However, from this fruitless attempt of understanding, we discover that sisters do have a few healthy ideas, and possibly, with a little encouragement and a lot of patience, they may amount to something, someday! PAGE 100

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ALABAMA ABE by Ian Robertson — 9-37 As soon as I neared the surging mob, I sensed the hatred it had for the Negro family which had just moved into our predominately white neighbour¬ hood. Several white leaders, seething with hostility, spurred us on to more malicious acts. Old Abe Jackson appeared in the doorway of the house and screeched at us to get off his property. When several whiskey bottles ex¬ ploded near his head, he roared some obscenity at us and returned to his house. Filled with rancor, we began to spread gasoline around the Negro’s home. Finally our leader, half-crazy with hate, tossed a match into the pools of gas. Through the swirling flames we saw an old man with several other figures kneeling on the floor. Some of the more fanatical “white-power advocates went away satisfied, but others like myself were wondering what we had done. COURAGE by Wendy Rodgers What is courage? Do we know? Is it a tear that doesn’t show? Or is it something hidden within Way down deep below the skin? What is courage? Tell me please. Can it be bought, like Bread or cheese? No. Courage is something wonderful, Something you cannot give, But is kept inside your inner heart, All the days you live. Courage is when you hide your fear, Even when you’re dying, Or when you laugh to protect yourself. Even if inside you ' re crying. Courage is being able to face, All your lifetime of disgrace. Courage is being able to laugh, When you have a tear-stained face. Yes. Courage is something wonderful, Something you cannot give. But is kept inside your inner heart, All the days you live. PAGE 99

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AN IDLE” DAY By MARILYN GODEY When the girls set out that morning the sky had been bright and clear. They had no idea that just beyond the horizon a storm was brewing. Carrying their canoes across the portage the girls had begun their journey. They paddled slowly down the meandering river, listening to the loons laughing insanely from the banks and watching the many waterfowl float silently among the reeds. Lazy thoughts drifted through their minds and several were singing softly to them¬ selves. At noon however they had left the main river and branched off into a small tributary. Now the current was against them and they had to work to gain any headway. There was no time for idle dreaming. Storm clouds were gathering rapidly on the eastern horizon and the sky was grow¬ ing increasingly dark. Seeing that they were approaching a rainstorm the girls led their canoes into the reeds and made themselves fast upon the mud. Just as they were getting the tarps out the storm struck. Clutching the plastic tarpaulin over themselves for dear life the girls were now sitting huddled in the bottom of the canoes listening to the rain thundering down overhead. A good half hour went by before the rain began to slow down and then the storm passed away as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a turbulent lake. As the girls discovered when they ventured forth from under the tarps they were on the outskirts of Lone Island Lake, their desin- ation. Just across the lake was the beach where they were going to land and spend the night. Seeing their objective so close at hand, the girls reefed their crafts together and set out. As the lake was far too rough to go directly across they edged their way around the rim by haul¬ ing themselves hand over hand through the reeds. An hour of strenuous labor was spent at this task before reaching the opposite shore. Now there was just a clear patch of water edgd by rocks to get through. The breakers were pounding against the rocky shore as the tiny canoes set out once more. The white-capped waves drove mercilessly against the puny crafts as they forged their way valiantly forward. Paddles flashed in time as the canoes crept inch by inch onward. The girls muscles were strained to their utmost, pull, pull, fighting an uneven battle against the waves that threatened to toss them upon the cruel rocks. Slowly, ever so slowly they edged their way forward until at length the blessed haven of the reeds was gained. The first canoe scraped against the bottom and the girls piled out to pull it triumphantly onto the beach and then they flopped down exhausted on the sand. WHO WILL HELP THEM? By KAREN DOHERTY Hungry faces, large sad eyes Swollen stomaches, painful cries Homeless children, meal-less days Will for them, you people pray? You at home after a hearty meal, Turn to bed, while the hungry steal. Dark long nights : n open spaces, There you ' ll find these lonely faces. PAGE 101