Daniel McIntyre Collegiate Institute - Breezes Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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2 D. M. C. I. BREEZES a poor appearance among other school papers? This is merely another instance of unpardonable lack of school spirit. The press is said to be a moulder of opinion. Will the “Breezes” ever be such? I am trying in this article to turn the thoughts of those few who read editorials to this great need in the hope that there wiil be a real school spirit here in the Collegiate in the future. Cannot you who follow us, help to bring it into existence? We are going—leaving the Collegiate. We shall never have the right to enter it again as pupils, but to you we look to “Let your light shine,” to make your influence felt. Perhaps many years hence, a Dan. Mac. pupil reading this “ancient” paper will laugh at the thought that in 1928, the Collegiate lacked school spirit. Let this be my greeting to such an one: “O, friend, unseen, unborn, unknown, Student of our sweet English tongue, Read out my words at night, alone, I was a poet, I was young. Since I can never see your face And never shake you by the hand, I send my soul through time and space To greet you. You will understand.” —C.C. THE FRIENDSHIP OF BOOKS “Books are constant. The while I live Courage and wisdom and strength they give, Laughter for glad times, faith for sad, Many an hour with them all I’ve had, And whether the world praise me or blame, The books that I’ve cherished remain the same.”—Guest. J HAVE been adventuring today—adventuring in old Spain. I have sailed in ponderous galleons over the seven seas, and returned to her ports laden with rich treasure. I have mingled with the colorful throng in old Madrid—the gay and gallant Spanish dons, and the lovely, vivid, laughing senoritas. I have shuddered at the horrors of the In¬ quisition, and thrilled with excitement with the delighted crowds in the Plaza de Toros. I have seen Spain’s past glories, her former greatness, her ancient splendour. I have lived for a few brief hours in another century. Brief, indeed, they were, but hours of crowded, glorious living in the truest sense of the word—living in a fairyland found between the faded covers of an old book. I wonder, now, if you were disappointed when you read that last sentence? Perhaps you felt it was in the nature of an anti-climax; you may have expected an out-of-the-way explanation, possibly a new dis¬ covery of science whereby man may be transported into by-gone ages and live as those who went before have done. And then you And my outburst has been occasioned, merely by an ordinary, commonplace book. But those are two of the most incongruous adjectives ever applied to that thrice blessed word. For there is magic—living, pulsing magic in books. Books contain

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D.M.C.I. BREEZES Published by the Pupils of the DANIEL McINTYRE collegiate institute JUNE, 1928 Ctittomi SCHOOL SPIEIT yHAT an intangible thing is school spirit, and how hard it is to achieve! Looking back over the years spent in High School, I feel ' that a great many of the pupils in the Collegiate have missed altogether that glorious, wholly entrapturing thrill which comes when one has wished (oh, so much) that one’s school might win, and when the old Dan. Mac. has come through —the flying “C” triumphant. That hasn’t happened often enough in recent years, and the reason is only too apparent. There is no enthusiasm. There is too much of this “Oh well, what does it matter who wins!” idea. A calm, equable temperament is very well in its place, but its place is not in the Colleg¬ iate, where everyone should be out to win—if not really by action, at least by encouragement. I first noticed Dan. Mac’s, lack of spirit this year at Field Day. Now Field Day was once the occasion of the School Year. Three High Schools met, and battled for supremacy, all shouting school yells with great gusto, and “booing” similar attempts on the part of other schools. Rut behold ! This year Field Day was a fashion parade, a family re¬ union—what you will. Almost as large an attendance as had in former years lined the fence and swayed the grand stand, now walked leisurely about, talking, or sat comfortably (too comfortably!) in parked cars outside. Some enthusiasts cheered the efforts of the athletes, but their number was far from being large. What encouragement for our repre¬ sentatives! Is it surprising that they tried in vain? Then came rugby. Our school entered for the first time, and a lively game took place at Wesley Park. Surely not more than twenty Dan Mac’s, (excluding the team) saw that match or knew who won. It has been the same throughout the year, in skating races, swim¬ ming races, basketball games, hockey games , debates, the oratorical contest—but is it of any use to cite more instances? In my own field of endeavour, I have found the same listlessness. ,! It seems that it is ‘cissyfied’ to contribute to the ‘Breezes.’ Poetry is ‘dumb.’ No one reads editorials. There aren’t enough jokes. There should be a year book.” Bright suggestions and opinions, all of them, but do they go any further? Not an inch! “Breezes” representatives are elected for popularity—rarely for ability, and they have to be prod¬ ded severely before they will consent to write even a list of class officers. With such support, is it surprising that the “Breezes” makes

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D. M. C. I. BREEZES 3 words, which in themselves are wonderful, but which, in the hands of a master form that most beautiful of created works—a story. Perhaps you disagree with me as to that. You may regard a mar¬ vellous picture or a fragile piece of statuary as unsurpassed in beauty. You may thrill to the strains of music and revel in the sweet pain, which beauty always brings—amid a flood of harmony. Or perhaps you wor¬ ship nature and find the heights of happiness in the everchanging glories of the sunset, the rich, glowing velvet of the butterfly’s wing, the soft, tinted satin of flower petals, the strong, rugged beauty of the trees—untranslated through the medium of art and music. True, all these will satisfy that indefinable longing within you if you but have “eyes to see, and ears to hear.” Yet a book contains all this, and, what is more, it gives the glory of art, the thrill of music, and the wonders of nature to those who do not or cannot , realize these for themselves. And books are friends, true, constant and unfailing; friends for a rainy day. Friends you may trust for comfort when you are weary of the ways of men. They are an ever-present refuge from the weary tread mill of work-a-day life. They lift you out of th grey and dreary plane of a humdrum existence in a monotonous, commonplace world, and fill your life with deep, glowing color. They irradiate romance and adven¬ ture and carry them into the dullest of existences. They fill the lives of the poor and oppressed with beauty. They cheer and enlighten the starved minds and souls of countless unfortunates, and make life bear¬ able—nay, transform it into a thing of everlasting joy and purpose and loveliness. For those who glory in life and find joy in all it offers, books serve to intensify and strengthen their happiness, to give them ideals to fol¬ low, and a goal to seek. Anyone may be enriched with their gifts if he but will. Open the covers of a good book and lose yourself in the wondrous, breath-taking mystery of beautiful words. Let your imagination have full sway and carry- your soul into a light-flooded world of fancy. Some there are, who, in their ignorance and folly, scorn the poetry which books would bring into their lives, and refuse steadfastly to be enriched with the proffered music. They do not realize their loss. But those who know and appreciate books are indeed fortunate beings—for they hold the key to fairyland, the realm of Peter Pan, the spirit of eternal youth, whom they may hold ever in their hearts. They have a secret place wherein to find courage and hope and strength to face the new day. They achieve the heights of joy and the depths of sorrow. They live! —M.A. NOTICE The staff of the “Breezes” wishes to thank the Commercial teachers and pupils who were kind enough to type all copy, thus relieving the editorial staff of a great deal of worry.