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

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TIME What is time? I would suppose it means our lifespan if we think about it in present terms. After all we can't look at a watch before we are bornor afterwe die, and being selfish creatures we are interested only in Me , and me is the present. What 'is time for? On first thought I assumed it was to place chronologically a certain event. Now I am sure that time exists so that I can waste itl Take for instance, now! I wasted ten minutes oftime thinking about what topic to waste the next fifteen or twenty minutes writing about. Sometime after you've iust had some fun and say, I had a good time , retract that statementmy friend, for you didn't have a good time, in re al ity--you've wasted good time. This point cannot be disputed because since time cannot be stopped, it isalways being wasted. It seems to me that the only way to stop wasting time, is to die, but alas, the minute you die, some innocent child will be born somewhere, who will waste every second of time you've saved. By: John Near, l2B IN THE SUMMER OF THE HAWK My life is love, a guilded path, A life too tight, too great a task For one as Ip The fruits I reap To move myself, A mind too deep Upon the shelf that sits in vacancy of mood Will link together, simmered and stewedg And take me to my wondrous dream, Leave out the world to fight and steam. Those who are blind and fail to see the existence of reality, I pray will find their broken way, A land, someday, so far away, A land of peace and icy and love, A revelation from up above. Give up the life they mourn and miss, And follow the children from out the Abyss. The flash of colours fills my eyes, The world of truth, in spite of lies Unveils now, a rapturous sight: Like sun, so bright, yet dark as night: I see the city beneath my feet, A challenge great, a time to meet, And as the sands do shift and sway, I loose myself and fly away. by: D. Robb IIA SOMETIME tell the world there's nothing left there's something left left is right it's a gift of Time you have seven weeks next Tuesday do it this Time or the world's over. tell the world something nothing that's ifl confusion . middle of the day something's wrong do it on Time or the world's over. tell the world it's all right there's still Time a speck of light in my mind. suppertime. interruptions. do it now or the world's over. tell the world may be tomorrow may be seven weeks tuesday wednesday. midnight. dream now there's no Time left the world's over. by: Gavin MacKenzie l3A THE HAUNTING It cannot be avoided, Its lurking everywhere, Waiting for that one false slip, Waiting there for e'er. It will haunt you when you're sleeping, Haunt you when you wake, Haunt you thru a whole life long, Till your soul is nigh to break. And when that time arrives, fAnd its later than you thinkj, You'll wonder what has happened, You'll wonder VVhere's the link? For it has now been broken, The old life and its breath, The one that keeps us living, Until we breathe of death. by: Sandy Collver IZC ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A GREY PERSON Death calls thee, Come. Obey! You cannot run From his cold hand, And razor-edged Scythe which cleaves And levels all men. This grim reaper Makes strong men Cringe, and rich men Shudder, for no Bribe, no whining plea Can stave off His hungry assault. No man can hope To evade his blood-daubed blade Neither caste, nor riches, Can influence his iudgement, For all of man Must face the reaper Either walking or crawling. by: Richelie Trotter EOS age lightly sat upon that brow or on those limbs now old but see how mother's dying now a death that's been foretold aunt's and uncle's, hollow tears dispassionately cried will not erase, those thoughtless y and make this death subside and mother's window open wide admits the mid-day gloom that draws the faded drapes aside flowing liquid in the room look out across the city there toward the filthy bay a strangled gasp from up the stair I guess we've had our day by: Andy Lanaway ECTS

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UP AND DOWN Colborne Castle, located in East York- shire, is the oldest castle in England. All that remains in one wall and a tower with 427 steps. When he finished reading the article, John was- very much interested in the castle, but being a typical tourist he had no idea where to go or how to get there. The Tourist Information Station is over there, mate. Thank you. Pardon, sir ftourists should be polite, the handbook said, he thoughtl could you direct me to Colborne Castle? Yes, sir, 'the agent said, be glad to. Go to the edge of town on this road and. . . John followed these directions, and in two and one half hours, he was at Colborne Castle. It was getting later in the evening as he crossed the plain to the castle. The steps went up the inside of the wall. 427 steps, he thought, l, 2, 3, .... 5I 52, this could be monotonous, he said as the sun went down. l6I, 162, l63 ....... The walls were covered with mould and ivy. 226, 227, the railing stopped. Half way, he thought. 398, 399, 400 . 27 more. He yelled this time, his voice echoed into the darknessand the cold. 425, 426, the steps ended at the 427th. A small door was at the end of the corri- dor. As it was late he decided to go back down instead of continuing to the door. l26, l27. It's darn cold, he thought, 207, 208. It was pitch dark, 236, 237, loneliness came, 364, 365, over him. All he could, 4l6, do was count, he kept gro- ping on his way down, 639, 640, 64-I ..... by: Wayne Ray, l3A' A CHILD OF WAR She was shivering with cold, standing all alone. Her dark eyes filled with fear, standing all alone. She was thin with hunger, but her plate was empty. She had not had a meal for a long rlme, but her plate was empty. She longed for a mother, but she had no home. She longed for a father, but she had no home. She is a child of WARI by: Cathy Vanderspek IOC WITH DEATH - HE WILL DEPART Death, death, death ......... With the weary detachment of one who has been hardened to tragedy, the uniformed officer absently surveys the room and awaits the ambulance. Onthe night stand is a scribbled note addressed, To anyone in the world who cares. It flutters in the chilly morning breeze and would blow away except Nfor the pill bottle resting on it--the empty pill bottle. The officer steps nearer and his lips silent- ly form the words as he reads: To anyone in the world who cares. Who am I? Why am I living? Where am I going? Life has become stupid and purposeless. Nothing makes sense anymore. The questions l have asked are still unanswered and now I am convinced that there are no answers. There can only be pain and guilt and despair here. My fear of death and the unknown is far less terrifying that the prospect of the unbearable frustration, futility, and hope- lessness of continuous existence ........ Glancing at the lifeless, sheet-draped form on the bed, the officer shrugshis shoulders heavily and turns away. For him, it's routine--just another suicide. For the am bu I ance crew it's routine--just another D.O.A. Millions of people will read of this trage- dy, they will shake their heads and say, A pity, he was so young, too bad something can't be done about it. When tomorrow comes, they won't even give a damn! Death, death, death ......... By: Mary Czerniawski, l2B O fire and fury cover my self build walls, where no wall should be hide and suckle me, in thy grey wealth protecting the riddle, the rhyme that is me Away in my armour hiding my all in a place that only I know seeing and knowing that others are small hiding, remaining, where no one can go throwing my thoughts in the wind lying with my distraction no one will know I've sinned here in my concrete abstraction I will be, in my small places peaceful and calm, with rage wearing my many faces sounding my chronicle page by page Reading, not knowing the puzzle that's:me licking the wounds I cannot let heal eyes open wide, I just don't see joyously aiding my own betrayal The fire is out, the fury has died if l never did love I would never have cried but have lived in the heart of a dove lt's over, I'm lost, I'm no longer a man I can't stand in the wind that blows so I'll crouch, within my walls, if I can and live so that nobody knows By: Andy Lanaway, l3B

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WOODSTOCK INGERSOLL and DISTRICT LABOUR COUNCIL Man Must Have a Continuing Relationship With Nature Man is much more than the other animals. His brain is so much larger, he has a soul and a conscience. But man, like the other animals, is a product of Eatth, subject to her laws, and he must have a continuing relationship with the outdoors, with nature, or he loses sight of his place on Earth. He must realize that he can tinker only so much with the delicately tuned machinery of this planet, or he will destroy himself and the planet. LOCAL 636 U.A.W. Occupational Safety and Health-- An Issue Whose Time Has Come For tar too long we have assumed that grease, noise, overhead dangers, cutting knives, fumes and all the other Familiar hazards were a natural concomitant to holding a iob. For tar too long we have assumed that a worker had to lose his hearing or destroy his lungs to be a family breadwinner. We have no right to assume that today. With massive research, with better plant design and engineering we can command the technical capability so workers need not shorten their lives nor lose their senses to earn a living.