Elmwood School - Samara Yearbook (Ottawa, Ontario Canada)

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SAMARA 31 illuminated fountains with mists of water enshrouding the golden figurines, the people stroll, or the more wealthy, in their thin woollen shawls, rattle in the antiquated black and red taxis to the night clubs. They stop at the Florida in the centre of a majestic park dotted with rushing fountains and spot- lights. Inside they are shown to a marble- topped table in a large round room with green vines creeping up the walls. Their eyes follow the vines to the roof which thev find is the starry sky. They see the dance floor elevate to their level and watch some more enhvening, rhythmic Spanish dancing. At the same time let us follow others who pile into taxis and go down dark streets untfl they reach brightly lit gypsy caves. Unlike most gypsies these are wealthy, as they make money dancing for the tourists. They lead the tourists into small cloisters covered by a trellis with vines from which hang clusters of grapes. The gypsies are infinitely happy and flash their teeth at the bewildered newcomers who watch them dance as gracefully as pro- fessionals amidst the stamping of feet and clapping of hands. Now at three thir ty in the morning, all, whether strolling, visiting the night clubs or gypsy caves, come home tired and happy. Oh! Oh! They have no keys and the care- taker is asleep! Never mind, for they are not troubled. They clap their hands and stamp sticks, and after a few breathless moments hear the tap of a stick in reply. Soon an old man comes limping up the street with all the keys of every building in the district on a ring, and unlocks the door of the building. Thus ends a contented, perfect Spanish evening. Esther Prudham, Form 6 Upper. A Transformed World When snow comes drifting down, covering the hills and fields like a mysterious veil it reminds me of a strange but beautiful fairy- land. The light snowfall of the night before trims rooftops, trees, and shrubs with a filmy lace. Silvery icicles hang from the frosty eave- troughs like icy spears. Along the lane, large spruces sparkle like giant Christmas trees sprinkled with diamond dust. The road is a thin white ribbon covered with a blanket of feathery snow. This enchantingly beautiful scene fills me with wonder as 1 stand looking out on a world that has been transformed overnight. Katherinf, Connolly, Form 5C 1. The Forgotten Dead Remembrance Day is a tragic day,— a day of sorrowful recalling of loved ones. These heroes, the forgotten dead for whom we mourn, are they really to be pitied? Who were the dead? They were men and women hke you and me. They felt pleasure and pain; they sinned and sorrowed; they were petty and angry, loving and kind. The old man went to war. But what did war mean to him? Why, he was alive again, young again, and needed. He was shot through the head. Terrible, you say. Was it? He was saved from a rheumatic old age! The youth went to war. He died and lives forever as one of the forgotten dead . What did he sacrifice? A life of hated toil, on a farm already too small, was his loss. But what of the average man, the family man? He gave up his life, but after all he had lived. His death had a meaning. Does not the tragedy remain here on earth in the lives shattered by the absence of the dead? These are the families, the toilers, the survivers who must struggle on. The broken- hearted widow, the sorrowing mother must struggle to keep body and soul together. These are the ones who deserve our tears. The dead are cared for, at rest, hallowed and loved. What they might not have attain- ed in life they have attained in death. Their spirit has become immortal, eternal. They are heroes forever. Is it then so bad to die a soldier ' s death? Sheena Ewing, Form 6 Upper.

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30 S A A4 A R A well without. She would have her fine home, delicious food, beautiful clothes and probably a very happy family relationship. But would it be the same kind of life that a young girl at my age, and of my family, and station in life would have? There would never be any privacy in her life. Every move she made would be noticed and commented on. She would never have any freedom to do the little things she had always dreamed of doing. Her life would be dedicated to her country and her people, and they must be put before her selfish desires. No, I would not give up my life of freedom and happiness for a demand- ing impersonal existence. As for the popular rich young girl, she, too, could have anything she wanted,— good schools, fabulous trips, and many friends. But there would always be the striving to stay popular, the friends who might be undesir- able characters, having been given the free- dom to do whatever pleases them, regardless of the inconveniences and unhappiness of others. Her home might be one of constant quarrels and bitterness as are many of the very wealthy homes of today. Would she be content and happy with what she had, or would she always want more? She would probably have one tight little clique of friends who always saw just themselves, and were snobbishly conscious of outsiders or newcomers. There would not be the excite- ment of meeting new people every day and learning more about them; the interest one gets from judging a person ' s character or as- certaining the type of individual he may be. There would be no enjoyment in having everything one wanted because there would be nothing to look forward to, no goal to set for oneself, whether great or small. I would not be in her shoes for anything in this world. Take the daughter of an immigrant. That girl would have nothing, but she would be happy just working at making a home and friends in her new country. She would at last have a small feeling of security, having rid herself of fears of the great oppressor. Just the feeling of freedom would make her con- tent with her lot and she would strive to start anew and build a worthwhile life for herself and her family. Yet there would still be those inner fears remaining from her former life, the hardships of rebuilding her life and the feeling of not quite belonging. Lastly, would I change places with you? No, I think not. You may be the happiest, most contented person in all the world, but so am I. I have a happy home, friends, a feeling of security, and a sense of belonging, and most of all— a lot of fun. I would not change places with anyone in the world. Sue Belcourt, Form 6 Matric. An Evening in Spain In a city in Spain the shops close for siesta time. The siesta is important. Everyone must rest to prepare for a gay Spanish even- ing. Now, by a Spanish evening I want you to think of an evening that lasts until about three-thirty in the morning. Why not come along and see what is is like? The streets become filled with lively Spaniards in their brightly coloured clothes. The store windows gaily reflect the flashing red and blue neon lights and the striking red umbrellas of the busy sidewalk cafes. The voices of the happy people mix in the air and float up into the penthouses of the wealthy senoras who also depart, smartly arrayed, into the crowded streets. The care- taker soon locks the huge wooden door of the deserted apartments, but the fact that the caretaker has done so, and that they do not have keys to get in by themselves does not concern the Spaniards. The cafes busily serve steaming, oily Spanish delights and penetrating cheap wine. From the cafes people file to the theatres to watch vivacious Spanish senoritas dance, their gay, red skirts, accented by polka dots and white flounces, swirling. The clapping cas- tanets and stamping heels, mingled with the shouts of ole from the enthusiastic audience, add to the gaiety of the evening. Out to the grand streets again, past the

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32 SAMARA The Tyranny of Fashion Among teen-agers as well as grown people, the tyranny of fashion is felt. Fashion maga- zines are selling as fast as political ones, and no newspaper is without its fashion adviser . The Lady cannot go out, for her coat has stuffed shoulders, or because her shoes don ' t have the latest cut. The dress she bought last year is absolutely useless, because the neck- line is wrong. She will spend her last cent on new clothes. The teen-ager cannot go to school because his jeans look too new, or his leather jacket doesn ' t have creases in the sleeves. The girl must have a pair of saddle shoes and a big scarf. But mother, every- body has one! is the usual cry. The teen- agers, still so insecure and in need of feeling they belong to a group, would rather die than go dressed differently from the gang. It has not always been so. The fashions before the first World War did not change so quickly, and it was not so essential to be dressed exactly according to the fashion. Another difference is the rise of the teens. In the beginning of the century they were considered children, but today they are scrutinized by psychologists, and have realized their importance. They claim a special pos- ition in society. So the teen-age fashion has become very important. I believe that there are two main reasons why fashion has become as tyrannical as it is today. One is the development of communication of news between people. We have movies, radio, and newspapers to tell us what is happening in the world. Therefore the wo- man knows it the following day when Dior has stated that the skirts are to be longer. She can more easily follow what is happening. In earlier days, people in a community dressed alike, and now the whole world is a community. The fashion centres dictate, and the people obey. The other reason is democracy. Equality has given us the feeling that it is absolutely necessary to be dressed just like everyone else in order to be equal. Everyone has the right to be equal, and therefore must be equal, some people think. The We must live up to the Jones ' feeling arises. There is a great middle class everywhere, and the people of this class seem to think that there is only the choice of being a slave to fashion or a social outcast. The tyranny of fashion is playing with the whole world, and making fools of us. Every- one must be alike, not only in dress, but also in speech and manners. Social conformity is starting to be a problem in the world of to- day, and certainly the tyranny of fashion is the cause. Helena von Numers, Form 6U. A Sad Dog One would think that dogs really under- stand their owner ' s thoughts. Last Good Fri- day, our beagle dog, only a year old, had to be killed. We were all sad, but the dog too seemed to realize that something was amiss. His usually, pert curly tail was dropping, and when he wagged it, it was not the same cheer- ful swishing as on other days, but a slow wag as if it were an effort to be happy. His large eyes had a look which made his whole face reflect the sadness which was in our own thoughts. He didn ' t run and jump but lay quietly at our feet, as if he knew he was staying with us for the last time. Pamela Moore, Form 6jM. Sunrise The sky is grey and birds are sleeping, But see! A ray of light comes creeping. Yonder over there it gleams And sheds a light on Childrens ' dreams. Another and yet another still Comes shining o ' er the distant hill. And now the sun comes into sight To banish shadows of the night. It brightens skies to a pastel shade Of blues and greens which soon will fade To colours of a rosy hue Which start the day to life anew. Jane Rowley, Form 5B.