Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

Page 21 text:

Anna Cameron All the world ' s a stage. Cam ' s ways are quaint, but we love her! At breakfast her coffee stands unnoticed while her toast balances precariously on her little butter dish, their owner deep in thought or exhausted from her morning run around the gym. This, proving rather strenuous and achieving the minimum result, she soon gave up. She has many strange habits that puzzle us, of which the most confusing is her frequent request to be excused from the table. Just what she does on these excursions still bewilders some. Her eyelashes also form an object of wonderment; it is strange how they are straight one day and curly the next. Her tastes run to apple-juice, raisins, and Mr. Gregory Peck. Although we are never really annoyed at Cam, we come pretty close to it when she holds us up indefinitely in her last-minute preparations before going out, but we are pacified when we see the final result of her lengthy labours. Cam holds indisputable authority over us in all matters concerning the stage and theater, and it is in this field that she hopes to continue her studies. New York, prepare! Cam ' s on her way. Margaret Hardy Nevertheless, you shall not get the better of me. I am an Englishwoman. ' ' — Charles Dickens. When Hardy returned to England last January, she was missed by all, especially by the House of Fry. The sudden loss of brain power was a blow to Six Upper, who missed one of their chief homework consultants. After writing her London Matri- culation exam, she assured us that she had failed miserably, but when the results were published we learned that she had passed with high standing. Hardy, with quiet determination, usually won her own way — whether (during a sugar shortage) she persistently collected chocolate bars for overseas parcels or, with even greater strength of mind, she denied herself her favour- ite sweets in order to preserve her girlish figure for her return to England. We wish her continued success at the London Univer- sity where she is now installed. Suzanne Mess It is she who dabbles in the arts. And from each to each she darts. Sue is our grand source of information on opera, ballet, stage, music, art, designing. Her indefatigable pursuit of knowledge in such subjects often has us reeling, but asking for more and more. Sue also makes and clothes delicate and intricate dolls. She truly is artistic to her finger-tips . Lost Articles was her job as House Senior, and every morning found her soothing the harassed losers of everything from a pencil to a pair of glasses. Public Speaking has twice given her the opportunity to fire us with inspiration over Canada and the Arts . She has completed successfully the Junior Matriculation and sometime in the near future she expects to attend Art School where it seems quite probable that Cezanne will be eclipsed by Suzanne

Page 20 text:

Janet Edwards agree with no man ' s opinions — have some of my own. Janet Edwards alias Bugs or Ed — our perfectionist in almost everything from Tennis to Chemistry. Despite our complaints that one is supposed to be issued brains, brawn or beauty, she goes right on hogging the three. Friday, her greatest accomplish- ment — getting out of the dishes; the amount she pays Ann to come for her at just the right moment having been a subject of great sitting-room speculation. Ed ' s unique feet may spring from her equally unique habit of walking a mile to school and back — and home for lunch! We suspect she does it so that she will be able to give her children the old I walked a mile to school through sleet and rain routine. Somehow labelled as respon- sible and so entrusted with the collecting and sorting of fabulous sums any time there is any activity involving money. If Elmwood but knew the hours she has spent locked in the sanctuary of the sitting room trying to discover where that fifty-cents went to or — and this is far more drastic — where that fifty-cents came from. Since McGill has become as traditional an Edwards field of action as Elmwood, we never doubted — despite all her ponderings — which would be the college of Ed ' s choice. Philippa McLaren I do not long for wealth or fame, I crave no laurel wreath I long to turn a handspring, though And whistle through my teeth. Philippa McLaren — Elmwood — called Pip — is our sprightly dark-haired member of the sitting room and the sole member of Six Matric — always keeps us posted on the school activities upstairs — we feel she has won her place in history by her never-ending enthusiasm for those little, sticky pink things called War Savings Stamps — renowned for her hats which she valiantly wears to school to put our more humble headgear to shame — her pride and joy is a plaid pork pie. After many faithful years yearning over As time goes by in honour of Humphrey, she suddenly switched her attention to three little notes in Eddy Duchin ' s Embraceable You — poor Bogey, on the rebound married Lauren Bacall — with Davy she takes the prize for being a giggler, but Pip accompanies hers with squeals. Pip is the sitting room ' s baby, being the youngest and smallest of the five. 1945-1946 finds her working hard in the hope of thrilling the Ontario Department of Education. Next year may find her almost anywhere. Betsy Allen How wonderful it is to find A truly scientific mind. Ballen is our energetic Head of Fry, and although she took over that post in the middle of the year, after Margaret Hardy ' s departure, she has done an excellent piece of work. Every morning sees her trying to persuade certain members of her House to stop talking before prayers and to take ofif those bracelets. Outside of her regular duties, her main occupation seems to be attempting to blow up the chemistry lab or to paralyse the olfactory nerves of her schoolmates by the odours that pervade the corridors in the vicinity of her experiments. However, we trust that what we have suffered will not be in vain and that these researches will contribute to her future fame, as she prepares next year to take Entrance Examinations to Cambridge.

Page 22 text:

Paula Peters Her sunny locks Hang on her temples like a golden fleece. Carefree and blond is our long-legged P.J. — a House Senior who has been at Elmwood many long years. On Saturdays and Sundays she avidly listens to the Opera and the New York Philharmonic and the rest of the week she forgets or loses things. In Spanish and Sports Paula excels — but most of all in drifting into profound day dreams of what we know not. P.J. is a provocative mixture of scatter-brain and budding genius and, of course, like all geniuses, she loves to argue about anything; anywhere; and anytime. She was the busy head of the Cadets last year, and this year an even busier Nightingale House Sports Captain. Although, through the course of the year, at odd times P.J. has lost practically everything she owns, she still has most decidedly not lost our friendship. The Best of Luck, Paula, in that future which is a question mark. V.E. DAY ON May 7th school began just as usual — well, not quite as usual. There was a certain excitement that had been under the surface for days ; it was almost as if everyone was holding her breath. But classes must go on and so they did until suddenly just before noon we were told to go up to the Boarders ' Lounge for a news broadcast. And with what was, I ' m sure, record-breaking speed and noiselessness, the school assembled. As the announcer ' s voice told that the long- awaited day had finally come — that Germany had surrendered — there wasn ' t a sound. Only the oldest of us were supposed to under- stand the true significance of this historic moment but it seemed that even the tiniest juniors who had no memory of anything but war felt that this was a great moment in their lives. After the announcement we were dismissed for a day and a half ' s holiday and left to spend V.E. Day in our own way — being merry with the crowd thronging the streets or thanking God in our churches or both — for it was a day of joyfulness and thanks- giving. And so, each of us spent V.E. Day in her own way; then on the day we returned to school we went over to join Ashbury in their Chapel and give our common thanks. We had a very beautiful and moving service — Janet Caldwel l and Edwin Pilgrim reading the lessons and Brigadier Hepburn giving the address. After the service, we gathered around the flag pole for a remembrance service. It was a service I think few of us will ever forget. As the head prefects of the two schools laid the wreaths at the foot of the flag pole, the sun shone suddenly from an overcast sky as if echoing our words of a moment before, We will remember them.