College Avenue Secondary School - Cascade Yearbook (Woodstock, Ontario Canada)

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ALPHONSE After supper, Jack and Tom went whist- ling merrily down the garbage-cluttered alley. They scuffed along, hands thrust deep into their pockets and their eyes straight ahead. Around the bend, they stopped short. Their young, inexperienced eyes did not see the warm glow ofthe setting sun on the dis- tant horizonp their cheeks did not feel the cool crisp flow of the night air, their noses did not sense the fresh air found in the wide expanse they were now standing in. Jack nudged Tom. Do you see it? Will you believe me now? Tom blinked and stammered, I sure do. . . . . . . . .but I don't believe it. It can't be for real l They looked at each other and then edged forward. Their minds were racing with a unique oneness. They communicated yet they did not speak, hear, or make any motions. Should they challenge it? Should they report it? After all, you don't run across one of those every day . What was it? Well, it is hardta say. It was like a statue, yet so huge that it could pass for a building. Green, metallic eyes protruded from a colourless visage, neither smiling nor frowning. Its nose was large and slightly flared. The head was round and sitting on a massive slab of granite, and al- though there were no limbs, .lack found it in a different place every night. Jack called him Alphonse and had been to see him faith- fully every night. To night, Tom had ioined in .lack's pilgrimage. Tam swallowed nervously again. How long has he been here? Oh, about two weeks that I know of. You come here every night? llYUp.ll IlW1y?ll Jack shrugged, almost indifferently. Heck, I don't know. I iust do. It seems to call me all the time, as if Alphonse is lone- ly. Tom became incredulous. Has he ever said anything? No, but that doesn't mean he never will. What I want to know is, how did he get here? I mean, who on earth would want to make such a beast? 'll want to go home, Jack. It's getting dark and I'm cold. Scared of the dark, kid? Boy, if I had of thought that, I would have never asked you. Tom blushed uncomfortably. His eyes were darting around and his fingers fidgeted with his coat buttons. His breathing was hard and irregular. Night was falling and the stars would soon cast their eerie shadows over Alphonse. He stoodas the grim protector of the valley's people. Jack broke the silence, speaking slowly and carefully measuring his words, Maybe, iust maybe, Alphonse wasn't made by man. Maybe a thing from outer space put him here. Why else would he sometimes look as if he understands or wants to speak? He's probably very dull and stupid--not even worth speaking to! Tom shivered, I don't care. I'm going home. This place gives me the creeps. You are crazy Jack, for bringing me here. You are just plain crazy! Tom stumbled away as fast as his legs would carry him. Jack watched him go and he sighed resignedly. A few minutes later he stood up stiffly and, waving a farewell to Alphonse, he followed Tom's retreat. His hands were in his pockets and his head was hanging in deep meditation. The dark sha- dows soon engulfed Jack. Slowly Alphonse opened his mouth . He crooked in supplication, Don't leave. Don't leave. Please don't leave. His green eyes flashed in sadness and his mouth dropped in sadness. If only I couldtell themgoh, if Icould only tell them. The next night Alphonse was gone. Jack found no trace of him when he came for his nightly visit. He left with a heavy heart and a sorrowing spirit. He knew this to be no mere fantasy, for his mind still communi- cated with Alphonse. By: Simone Groen, l3B THE LAST DANDELION We are gathered here today My friends To say good-bye forever-- For Summer days have fled, And autumn well upon us. Though I may never be again. My future sons and daughters might, To say hello to my old friends Wl1a stayed by me. In rain or snow. Thus the dandelion bowed his head And nodded in the wind, Laid himself down to sleep-- An everlasting one. The grass around him Sighed and shook with cold For snow was falling-- A blanket for their woes. by: Elaine Manuel 9C 1 X i..WLl.W ,lille

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A SALUTE TO HALL WALKERS Around and Round the halls they go, When they'll stop even they don't know. In straggling lines or groups of two, The students of College Avenue. Around and Round the halls they go, Shouting loud and whispering low. Kids of every age and size Out for their daily exercise. Around and Round the halls they go, Some, they run, some go slow, P.J. frowns, and then he sighs, For this routine he does despise. by: Simone Groen l3B Lv UGGHH! Playing football in the mud, As a rusult of the flood. No one cheering, no one crying , Only lying in the mud. Fingers coated with the slime, Uniform saturated with the brine, Tackling, blocking, with little success. Running is difficult in the mess. Can't distinguish the teams apart, The ball's been lost since the start. While going back to the huddle, We lost two players in the puddle. by: Roy Hallock BLACK AND WHITE Birds sing ioyfully in the tree tops, The doe and fawn walk through the shaded forest, Water ripples gently over the rocks. But yet, something is wrong, From near and far you hear the cry of pain. l hear the screams of terror as buildings burn, The looting, killing and beating is wrong, A group of people cry out in the name of freedom, How can it be so, When people belittle each other in the name of God. Dear God, why must people be this way. A man is a man no matter what his color. Was it the child's choice that he be born black or white? Please let them understand. Can't they realize that one is no better than the other? by: Marilyn Brown, l2E THE MONEYGOD The moneygod conquers all, The moneygod takes all, He can make you, or break you, Love you or hate you, lt matters not to him. He takes what he wants, And then takes more, Leaves you feeble and sore, As he searches for new worshippers, To bleed them once more. He is a parasitical god, Takes but gives not, All those who worship him soon fall by the way Asking for help, And being bled more, For their mighty god, The almighty moneygod, Personified by a great dollar sign, Cares not for his worshippers-- Only himself. He lives in a huge castle, Way up in the sky, Made up of gold bricks And man-sweat not spared. His worshippers built him that castle Way up in the sky, And bled for it all-- For their mighty god, The almighty moneygocl, Personified by a great dollar sign, Cares not for his worshippers-- Only himself. The moneygod's followers Are a mighty, large clan-- From all walks of life, All creeds and all colours. They worship him only, Will do anything to further his cause. Nothing too great Should the moneygod whisper it, Yet they cannot hear the loud shouts and sobs Of a child who has had nothing to eat for days The moneygod's clan are a stalwart bunch But as soon as they can no longer pay, He drops them-- For their mighty god, The almighty moneygod, Personified by a great dollar sign, Cares not for his worshippers-- Only himself. By: Judy Reynolds, l2B THE PLAYER He ploughed down the field, With the greatest of ease, He tripped over his feet, And smashed up his knees.

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FROM US TO THEM We are erotic politicians. We are a new generation of whole people . We get into your love-stream faster than any other brand. ln the classic mood, we make miraculous music upheld by the eloquence ofthe past and reaching deep into the Future. Waiting in our fleeting houses, we want the world and we want it now. Most ideas of youth assume that all rebels finally ioin the herd But you can't ignore us. Even if you don't like us you have to listen to us because we and our music are everywhere. Dig us--go on and try Dig us--if you dare The world is ready for a mystic revolution, for a discovery ofthe God in each of us. There's a love in our world, Our World, not yours: A world that was always for off the map in eighth-grade geography. Things aren't always knowable and certain To walk through it is it's essence. We know your world, where lite has been cast naked, its bare skin marred, tarred, scarred, and feathered. But we don't like it. Let us not like it. by: Gary Moore, l3A HAPPINESS Why is happiness, so cruel Just as you have it, in your grasp. It turns to tears and s P s G W G Y Leaving you sad and misty-eyed Till once more this feeling returns. Your hope will last for all time. by: Tom Simpson DESIRES We say we're free but we're not really, you know. We must obey this law and that law. Wemuststaywithinthelimitsofsociety orwe're called hippies and looked upon as outcasts. We desire happiness but absolute happiness cannot be found in books or build- ings. We want to wear our hair long and our skirts 'short but there are some who oppose such changes. We want to see life--glowing and shining with brilliant colours--but they, the conventional ones, say this is wrong. lt damages our minds and bodies. Why are we not free to choose what we want and don't want? Because we are prisoners of a re- pressed, dictatorial society. by: Kathy Todd IIA SO YOU WANT TO BE FREE One day in a glass bowl, a goldfish swam around and around. Through the glass the Fish could see people moving freely about in large spaces. He wanted to join them. As he watched, his desire grew day by clay. He asked why he couldn't have this free- dom that these people had. Then one day, his chance came. A person bumped and knocked his bowl onto the floor. At last, he was Free. He died. So you want to be free? You say democracy is a word? It states all men are Free-yet-the law restricts you--limits your freedom. Consider the fish. He thought he would be Free. He died. Freedom to do whatever you want is not freedom. No. lt's chaos. Death! We are bounded by the law, natural law and the laws of our country. lt it were not so, we would die. by: Elizabeth Fennema, l3A When one writes, If one writes at all Inspiration should till the soul: For true writing is Feeling, feeling put into words. It seems impossible that something so complex could be turned to But look above. by: Doni Jovanovich l2B