Danforth Technical School - Tech Tatler Yearbook (Toronto, Ontario Canada)

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64 -TECH TFITLER STRHUGE- .fLHllGUAG6 V . Not long after the Second World War, Servicemen began .to return to their homes from all parts of the -World. They brought with them memories. of far' mysterious places. - .. ,T 14 ' - 1' 1, To assist their ,memories in bringing back the wonders and marvels of the places they had been, 'they brought with them little souvenirs such as Bracelets, Cameras, Money, Pictures, Watches, Guns, and Knives. To these men, the ,trinkets they, brought home with 'them' meant' somethirigqf They seemed to say, Remember where,you'got me? Remember you paid Fifty Cigarettes at that funny ,little store in Japan? . -1 Yes, these little trinketsbring back mem- ories, understandable only to those who know themt ' 1 . ' A certain person. I 'know was given- a wrist watch that came from somewhere in Holland. It was given to this person by an ex-serviceman. To that man it could have told a story. It may have been able to say things that only he could understand. The receiver of that watch probably thought of it as nothing more than a sou- THE TRlFiV'5LLER5i. W awaa2Q One 'day as I danced blithely down the Road of Life, I chancedi to meet three travellers. They ,were clothed in darkness, inky..mists lswirled about them and their vile smells permeated the sweet air4and they were called Fear, Hate and.Anger. N' A ' These Travellers -have wandered through Time from day to day,. through. sunrises and sunsets, through the storms. 'and sunlight, in- the black of night or in the silver moonlight, through forests, and teeming cities, over land and sea, ever searching for a place to rest. , V L . They came to a Church, by the Road, ani were about to knock ufpon-the door, when the Spirit -of Goodness appeared and said to them, This is forbidden, you may not, enter here. Pass on. So they went on their way .U . . . , i There were ,many houses beside the Roadq houses where Love, Peace, and Freedom had rested. ,Once venir from 'a Foreign Land. It would surely be'a wonderful ,thing if we could listen very carefully 'to the continuous- tic-toc 'of this watch and'-change -it into' wordsfchange 'it intouthe autobiographyof 'a few metal cog- wheels. . - A 'T ' Yes, if only we could understand, would it not be of the utmost interest to hear the strange tales it could tell sincenthe time it was in the earth as a raw Imaterial until this present. day. - y ,- It would, no :doubt,' be interesting 'to hear the numercus..peop1e who haveglanced at ittto see if it was functioning properly, to find. out when to 'go to work or turn onfthe radio. ' - ,This insignificant little watch may' have been the instrument .by which a tiring squad were given the order to fire.- Then again, by its split second accuracy tif it was accuratelit may have been- the means of saving a life. We may well stop and thinktof the tales we could hear if only we could understand this strange language. . ., ' an again the Travellers stopped to knock, but the Spirit of.Gondness appeared and said, This is forbidden, and l-t-shall-not be your resting place. Depart. 'T 'So they went their way . . . . . .. - . And so the Travellers 'happened upon a child, and they delayed to .Speak with Him, but yet again the Spirit of Goodness, appeared -and spoke .once more, This is. forbidden. There is- no room' here: Pass on. So they went their way . . .... N - -, . - These never-'aging Travellers, doorried fo roam the Universe forever on their eternal journey, have been repelledyand can' lie ' turned away 'forever 'to resume fheirsearcli in 'ceaseless agony, which they bring upon themselvesq You 'willmeet them many times, and each time you meet them, will 'look upon giem-iwith Pity, and say, 'This is forbidden. ass on .' . .'. ' ' . ' ' . . ., , I , . . .. . , . - ' 'i ii . , 1.-1 1. 2.5 i t We in

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TECH TFITLER The next morning when Barney came sleepily above, the captain was pacing the deck furiously. What's wrong, Grandpa? Barney asked excitedly. tfDid pirates come or something? No, roared the captain. My catch was stolen by some low-down thieves. Best catch I ever got! Stolen! Humph! , If I'd had a dog, Barney stated fiercely, he'd have caught the fish stealers, I bet. Have you thought it over Grandpa? About the dog? No, you can't have one. But Grandpa, sobbed . Barney, he'd guard the boat and everything. I Now, just a minute, said the captain, becoming a bit calmer, . I'l1 get ye a dog, lad, and mebbe those thlevin' devils 'ill try to rob me again, and then we'll see. Hmm! So Barney and the Captain went ashore sized mongrel for fifty cents. The excited boy finally got the dog, whom he called Chips, to the Sally Anne, after dragging him from every tree and promptly being dragged to the next. I When they boarded the boat, Captain Hanks let out a bellow that must have been heard at Sunny Cove, half a mile down the 63 lake. There, safe and sound in the hatch, lay the fish. On top was this note: Dear Capt. Hanks, Seeing as Barney wanted a dog so badly and you weren't likely to be getting him one, we took your catch to let you think it had been stolen. When we saw you and the lad leaving the Sally Ann, we were pretty sure you were going to get a dog. Here's your catch back again and you best be keep- ing the mongrel for protection. Yours, Mike and Joe. Captain Hanks read the note aloud. He wasn't sure whether to laugh or be angry. Finally he said, All right, he can stay. Barney breathed a sigh of relief and then asked anxiously. About christenin' 'im, Grandpa. We'll call 'im Chips, but do you hit him over the head with a bottle like Mike did the Nancy Lou, or what? Well, said the Captain gravely, I don't rightly know, but we'll have to look into that. Yep, that we will. my ecrmo DEBUTH A., ea Meow, ,usa lt is said that actors are made, not born. I am a product of a maternity hospital which is, I suppose, reason enough for my being a theatrical failure. In the rear portions of my head, I always nourished the notion that some day I might be a great actor. The pros- pect enthralled me. Perhaps I had fallen under the charm of Hollywood movies. Per- haps I was living in a delirium. No matter. The fact is that when approached by the drarnatics director of the young people's club of my church, I accepted a part in a skit. During the week prior to the first practice my imagination became extremely fertile. l envisioned myself as John Barrymore, stirring audiences to the point of hysteria. l saw myself as Henry the Fifth urging his armies on to the siege of Harfleur. I once even caught myself portraying Lady Mac- beth, but my mind had been overworked that day, for after a good night's sleep I was back to normal. However, my imagination and pride re- ceived a shattering blow at the first re- hearsal. To my intense disappointment, I found that my part consisted of only one line, to be exact, seven words. I buried my dignity and assured myself that to become great one must start at the bottom. I would learn my role perfectly, I resolved. I would study it till I knew it forwards, backwards, and upside down. I later realized that that was a tremendous error. My part in the skit was really quite in- significant. The production was a satire on radio broadcasting. The section of the play in which I participated was devoted to com- mercials, a very fruitful field. A budding Stis Skinner was to ask the familiar ques- ions: Ladies, do you feel tired when you get up in the morning? Do your arms ache after doing the weekly wash? When you stay out late at night, do you get bags under your eyes? You need a stimulant. l Then came my big moment. I announced in a voice oozing with friendliness, Try Pankhurst's Pink Pills for Pale People. Those dynamic words were to form my debut in the theatrical world. The night of the performance arrived. As I-had vowed, I could recite my line in any direction requested and after much painful practice, I had achieved the correct tone of voice. I was ready for the theatre. There was no question as to my success. My few words received more applause than any other part of the play. For weeks afterwards my friends congratulated me. They said they had never seen or heard anything like it, and I never once doubted them. But it made no difference. The theatre and I there and then parted company. I had definitely made a place for myself in it, but I could not get myself to occupy it. Perhaps I should explain why. Maybe you wonder at my leaving the theatre at the verge of an apparently magnificent career. Let me return to that fateful night. With the time of my entrance rapidly ap- proaching, I stood in the wings shivering violently. My colleague began his spiel and my moment was only seconds away. My teeth started an extremely realistic imitation of a machine-gun. Then I heard my cue. After a last desperate attempt to compose myself. I stepped onto the stage. This was it, the climax. I strode up to the microphone and to my absolute horror said in a thin quavering voice, Try Pankhurst's Pale Pills for Pink People .

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