Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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28 SAMARA Western States. It was plain to see that these boys had spent many an hour practising their different tricks and stunts. After these exciting events were over, we were driven back to our hotel rooms, where we had a bird ' s eye view of the 1951 Stampede Parade. This parade was the most fascinating one that I had ever seen. It was four miles long and took two hours and fifteen minutes to pass. Very soon after it had gone by the Alayor told us that we were going to be treated to what they called a Calgary Stampede Supper. We were driven a few miles out of Calgary to a very luxurious ranch. Here the hired men had set up tables and eating utensils. Not very far from them was a fire with a spit over it; close by this were hundreds of buffalo steaks ready to be cooked on the spit. This was really a western supper and we filled ourselves as full as possible. Time passed very quickly, and as it grew dark, we decided that it would be wise to return to the city in order that we be on time to view the 1951 Grandstand Show. We sat in the A Iayor ' s private seats again, and since the stage had been set up directly in front of us, we had a wonderful view of all the pro- ceedings. This was the most thrilling grand- stand show that I had ever witnessed, and from the minute it was over I knew it would long remain in my mind. After it was finished we went back to our hotel rooms and crawled into the comfortable beds, tired, but feeHng happy. As I lay in bed that cool summer night, I thought over the day ' s happenings. The conclusion I came to was that it was not often that a girl of my age has the privilege of viewing so many dif- ferent things in one day. I also knew that I would never forget the 1951 Calgary Stampede. AIarion Welbourn, 5C Fry Twillingate Between my home town and the North Pole there is nothing but thousands and thousands of miles of icy blue waters and Arctic glaciers, which look like floating mountains. Twillingate Island consists of two large islands, which are connected by a concrete bridge at a narrow tickle . Although the two islands are quite large, the population is quite small and scattered. There are sixteen little hamlets or villages around the seacoast, and one larger one which is called Twillingate. Each village has a name such as Crow Head, which was named so because of the number of crows that fly around the salt water, near the cove, each year; and Robin ' s Cove, Ragged Point, Paradise, and Blow Me Down. The town of Twillingate takes up a very small part of one island and a very small part, right across the harbour, of the other island. The harbour is one of the safest in Newfound- land and often when a vessel is caught in a storm it rushes full speed ahead for Twillin- gate Harbour. In Twillingate there is only one main gravel road which runs right through the town. Outside the town there are other narrow, gravel roads which connect the nearby coves and harbours. The homes of the Twillingaters are built in fields on one side of the road, on the other side is the sea. As the roads are very bad, one would not expect to find many cars or trucks. But no one likes to walk a long distance in this generation, so cars and trucks have become very popular. Last year there were about eighty cars and trucks on the island. The main public places are a small post office, telegraph and wireless office, theatre, fourteen stores, three quite well-equipped schools and six churches. One of the churches on the North Island is very large and is painted a gleaming white. It stands on a high hill overlooking the Harbour. As it is often said, if a vessel is coming into harbour, and cannot find its way to safety because of rocks or shoals, it should proceed forward, right towards the direction of the church. The hospital at Twillingate plays a very great part in the life of Newfoundlanders on the North Coast. It is a large gray structure at the bottom of a hill and directly behind it is the New Nurses ' Residence. To the people

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SAMARA 27 crows, the corn grew; as he shot the crows, the corn was harvested; and as his son was born, the corn reproduced. Day has never failed to come. I see the first ghmmer of light as it peeps over the horizon. I watch the darkness slowly vanish and the yellow sun thrust its glorious colour through- out the valley. The farmer appears at his door- way, scans the sky and smiles. He works all day in the fields, and as the sun sinks slowly in the west, turns homeward. Darkness draws around, stillness is everywhere, and the earth is asleep. The day will come, the corn will seed, day will pass, corn will grow, and, as the day will end, so will the corn be harvested. Yes, I believe all the phases of life follow the same pattern of life as the corn I guard. He spoke no more, and I awoke. I had been told a strange story concerning things I had never thought of before. When I arrived home. Father informed me he needed my help in the morning. It was time for harvest, so the scarecrow was coming down. Meg Reynolds, 5B Keller The Calgary Stampede Last July my father and I were invited as guests of the Mayor of Calgary to attend the Calgary Sta mpede. We departed by plane bright and early one morning from Edmonton, which is our home town, and arrived at the Calgary airport two hours later. Here we were met by the Mayor and a few of the officials who were connected with the Stampede. After being introduced to every one of them we were driven to the Hotel Palliser where two rooms had been reserved for us. We said good-bye to the welcoming party and they arranged to pick us up about one o ' clock in the afternoon. Later on in the morning. Dad and I decided to go for a short stroll to view all the goings- on. The whole city was one blaze of colour. On each street corner there was an imitation corral made from painted brown logs, while inside it, made from cardboard coloured to suit, was a cowboy on a bucking bronco. There were many different coloured streamers hanging from the windows of the buildings and around each street pole were twisted pieces of tinted paper. On top of the Canadian National Railway Station in huge, red block letters was written, Howdy Partner, Wel- come to Canada ' s Stampede of the Year. Every car that whizzed by seemed to catch our eye. It was not because of the colour nor make, but because of the licence plates. Every- one of them seemed to be from a different province or state; yes, this stampede certainly was a great attraction in the West. Every- where we looked, we could never miss seeing the flashy coloured shirts of the cowboys, or hearing the clinking of spurs on the pavement. As we walked on we noticed, about a block in front of us, a crowd of people standing around something. Going to investigate, we found them gathered around an old chuck- wagon. At the back of this wagon stood two cowboys, one frying bacon and the other flipping flapjacks. Here we got a perfectly good meal free. The idea was to take one of the paper plates, which were set on a table near by, and stand in line to await our turn. When we got to the front, onto our plates were flipped two pancakes and a few strips of bacon. To top off this western hospitality we were each given a cowboy pin with the in- scription, Welcome to the Calgary Stam- pede. After this wholesome meal, we decided to go back to the hotel and get cleaned up before our hosts returned for us. They arrived shortly after one o ' clock, and informed us that the first item on the afternoon program was going to the exhibition grounds to view the chuck- wagon races. When we arrived at the stadium we were ushered to the Mayor ' s privat e box seats which were right down in the very front. The different heats were run off and every single one of them was exciting. The winner who was from the State of Montana was presented with the first prize: three thous- and dollars. Next we viewed the bronco riding and roping. Most of the competitors in this event were American cowboys from the

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S A A I A R A 29 from the islands and the bays nearby it is a great friend. The two main industries are seahng and fishing. Each year in Alay the fishermen and their crews leave their hometown harbours on the fishing schooners, which have been moored all winter in the harbour. They sail for the fishing banks of Labrador. In late August or September they return with, most times, a good catch. The money these men who go down to the sea in ships get from the selling of their load of fish has to keep them and their families until the next spring when they will again go to do business in great waters. The sealing fleet leaves for the North in March. To most men this sport is a challenge and a great adventure. They return in May with usually bumper loads of furs and hides. This is a little about life in my home town. In many ways it is different from most people ' s home town. But the old saying No Place Like Home, still holds strong. Audrey Ashbourne, VC Keller Sundown The lake is smooth with only the faintest suggestion of a ripple on it. The mirrored trees wave silently back and forth with dis- connected lines in the murky deep. Tall, jagged pines, standing like sentinels in a seldom broken line along the even shores, are surmounted by peaks of misty dimensions. A loon laughs joyously, raucously, as it paddles around the lake, appearing and dis- appearing at will. Tiny golden fingers probe the long, spread branches, making the lake look dusty brown. The sun sinks slowly, glowing red, drawing after it its blanket, the night. The rim slides unnoticed over the edge of the world, and the ever-waiting night shadows all in its starry, billowing cloak. Sheila McCormick, VB Keller On Leaving Elmwood Good-bye dear school. The time has come to part; But though I wander far afield, I leave with you my heart. Happy days, and sad ones Spent within your fold, How hard it is to go away. And leave you to grow old. But I must go and seek a life From all that I hold dear; And I shall ever leave behind My happiest moments here. So with a sad and backward glance At scenes that are a part of me, I disappear from out it all; Good-bye dear school, so kind to me. Diane Boyd, VI Upper Keller Wherever I may wander, and Whatever I may do, I ' ll ne ' er forget the good times here — My youthful days with you: The memories of past and present: The days that now are gone: The memories that can ' t be taken. For they ' re a prize I ' ve won. Leslie Anne Jackson, VI Upper Nightingale On leaving school I will be sad, Not only I, but all 6 Upper — There will be times we would be glad If we could down an Elmwood supper! Years we have worn green socks and tie But never more shall we be seen — Our Motto, Highest of the High — In green serge tunics on Sparks and Queen! I hope that you will think of us. As I will always think of when We day girls went to school by bus. And boarders paced in their small pen! Patsy Knowlton, VI Upper Keller