Guelph Collegiate Vocational Institute - Acta Nostra Yearbook (Guelph, Ontario Canada)

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in the spring sunshine discussing their new neighbours. The new man's occupation was un- known, but it was rumoured that he was a doctor who had come to the town to depart from his medical practice and start working in the interests of retarded children. Mrs. Crabbington Spiteyap- per said, There doesn't seem to be much need for such a man in this com- munity, unless it's for that poor Mrs. Toiler's youngest boy. They say he's not quite right you know. and her husband is always coming home drunk-etc.-etc. This malicious old woman screeched her tale of family and communfty discord to all the attentive little birds around her. Mrs. K. came over on the Mayflower you know one wonders if she Snootworthy tfamily -and sometimes hadn't come over on it hersellf noticed a negro hanging a plaque on the front door which bore the inscription, Di: K. M. Fitzpatrick, Psychiatrist . She seetned to take this as a good sign. for she remarked to her husband that they seemed to be able to keep a servant. just as the people were begnning to hurry home for dinner a new boy joined the crowd. He was standing quietly to one side when Big' Aloe Hunter. that super giant of the gridiron and a full twelve and one hall years old. came up to him: XVhatcha doin' over on this side of town? he said, Get lost or sumpin? No, I live in that white house across the street. Hey fellas, yelled joe, like a big mad cat intending to play with a mouse. Dere's a whole family of negroes living with de Fitzpatricks: come on over and meet Curly. And they came, like bloodfthirsty weasels. to molest a fellow creature. and to increase the problems and uncertain- ties of life in this human jungle for this human being. By now a great crowd. of both young and old, had collected to deride and scorn the unhappy Curly. Finally. through the din of the braying asses and clucking hens, little Curly made it .ACTA NOSTRA 45 register on their dull minds that it was his father who was a psychiatrist and ntedical doctor. lVliat? roared one of the overstuffed business tnen on the street. much like a lion whose domain has been taken over by a field mouse, 'IX family of negroes owns that house. on our street, in our district! lust who do they think they are? chattered several old ladies. They ought to be put in their place. Those black children mixing with our children. lVe shouldn't allow it. Hut in a distant corner of the play- ground two children remained playing until one of them lell from the top of a high slide. ller screams ol terror carried the mob to her like a swarm ol bees, and a swarm ol bees probably would have helped her as tnttch as they. lVliyl, we lnust get a doctor, some- one said. Yes, yes, we'll have to get her to the hospital. She seems to have broken her leg. Aloe, you run over to Elm Street and get Dr. Brown. No, l'll take my car. No, my car isn't here. Oh dear, dear. clutked several old women, what will we do? Nleanwhile. as the taltn, cool and collected white people chartered away like a bunch ol chipmunks trapped at the wrong end ol a rifle range. little Curly had run across the street and brought his father. Dr. Fitzpatrick came, and owing to CIurly's foresight an ambu- lance came. and soon the little girl was a pleasant hospital room with sale in her leg in a cast. Non' let us walk past the playground. There is Mrs. Spiteyapper and what is .vim saying: Did you hear how that wonderful Dr. Fitzpatrick and his nite little son got little -ludy to the hospital while Dr. Brown was oll golfing? .Xnd there's Big ,foe Hunter: Hey, boys, can that new kid ever heave the old pigskin. Let's get hitn on our team, eh?

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44 ACTA NOSTRA spot without his act, but il' he knew he was gone, he would get a new tamer. a better one, who wasn't afraid of the big cats. That afternoon, he walked over to the trailer, in which just the night be- fore he had been joyfully welcomed back into the troupe. Today he must tell Ron his decision. lVith determination. he flung open the door and mounted the ste Js. 'l'Ron. he began. and realized he couldn't look his employer in the eye, I've decided to leave the circus. I'm no good to you anyway. now. I'll leave tomorrow, and you can get a good tam- er in no time. I checked with some of the people who wrote to me when I was in the hospital, and several of them know tamers who are available for a j ob. X'Vith that, he turned on his heel and hurried off, leaving an open-mouthed Ron james behind him. Stunned by the words, the circus-owner sat down very suddenly, wondering if he had heard correctly. That night, as Leando was packing his bag lor the next day's departure, he was startled to hear a muflled scream from the direction of the main tent. In amazement, he ran to the main entrance. Saja had escaped through a cage door left loosely closed. The ringmaster was trying with a little success to keep the spectators in their seats, while some of the attendants were getting Saja back into her cage. Then a small child ran out from the audience and Saja, sensing easy prey, dashed for her, at the oppo- site end of the tent. Thinking quickly, Leando jumped in front of the child grabbing a whip from one of the closest attendants. Realizing this new assertion of authority, Saja turned, snarling, and slunk back into her cage. The child's anguished mother rushed up to claim her offspring, and the reliev- ed expression on her face more than sufhced as thanks for Leando. Ron trotted up to him, a wide grin on his face. l'Velll And you said you couldn't handle the cats! I guess I imagined it. 'EI guess so. Still eager to start next week? Have I got my job back? asked Leando hopefully. You never lost it. The two men sauntered ol? together, arm in arm, through the summer night. Behind them, the familiar sound of lions' roars echoing through the tent welcomed Leando back to the circus. -, 4M,, do ,,-dg 4 Man, An Advanced Animal? Prize junior Story By Robert Adsett XIA The playground was a mass of scream- ing, carefree children ranging in size and actions from the small chesus mon- kies to lumbering muscle-bound apes, and from the slow honest turtle to the fast, slippery. unpredictable snake. They had one thing in common. They were all white, and more, they were all very conscious ol being white. Their parents. too, were all very conscious of their colour. so conscious that all the little monsters on the playground knew that they were superior beings to the little coloured children across the track, al- though at times one would wonder which children were the blackest. Today they were all very excited. A new family had moved into the big white house just across from the play- ground and everybody wanted to see the new people. They milled around, chat- tering and fighting like bluejays at a pan of suet. It was Saturday morning and most of their elders were also out

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46 ACTA NOSTRA C C O M311 ls AD lSl8.l'1d Prize Senior Essay Hy Frmtlc SI'i7C'.YIIilC XIIIA Everyone I think has, at sotne time, reached that low point at which he cynically wonders il mankind is worth trying to understand. 'l'h's question usu- ally arises in the mind alter one has been badly used or betrayed by another ol onc-'s so-called brethren. ll'ith his laith at a dangerously low ebb, the victim wonders il' he should heroically ignore the incident and look lorward to better things: or wltt-ther, letting it teach him a lesson, he ought to lollow henceworth the sale, sure course ol' minding his own business, and look upon every man as an island apart lrom himself and there- lore ol no concern to himsell. lfortunately most people, recognizing the existence ol' weaknesses in the hu- man race, reject tlte latter course. Let us attempt here to lind out why every rational person would do so, whv the statement no man is an island is a basic concept ol' society. Consider the hypothetical cz-se of a man who, having lost all laith in man- kind, decides to become a modern-day Robinson Clrusoe in order to solve, in a iterative sense. the probletus ol living in 5 society. ll he were given an ideal spot and sufficient supplies to last the rest ol his lile, it is almost conceivable that, barring illness and accident, he might spend his years with some degree of ease attd peace. ll he did manage to survive under these conditions he might, dis- regarding the lact that at every turn his lt-'low man had helped him to get estab- lished in his isolation. even claim to have disproved the theory no man is an island . llut what a price he would unknow- ingly have paid lor his lonely Utopia! He would be giving up his native right to a seat at the plavhouse ol Humanity where in rf-alitv all the people of the world are the actors and he one of them, even though he considers himsell' as be- ing apart. He would be removing as much as he could ol the element ol' un- certainty whichfwhile it is admittedly the underlying cause ol lcat and worry --is. at the same time. the spice of life, giving taste and appeal to what would otherwise be an unpalatable dish. ln a word, this pessimistic refugee lrom lille would be shutting entirely out ol' his hearing that glorious melody which the poet lllordsworth called the still sad music ol humanity . There is no music more lascinating, more complicated - alternately violent and livicl as a thunderstorm, sometimes quiet and soothing as a ripple in a sleepy I-ond-and at the same time, more sub- litre, than this music . To any normal person such a deliber- ate shutting out ol' this wonderful music would seem the height ol' tragedy: in- deed lor the majority of mankind such a lile would assume a bleak aspect too terrible to contemplate. X'Vithout even considering the Bible which expressly commands over and over again that we have a care lor the situa- tion ol' our lellow man, is not humanity lor its own sake, worth the investment of understanding and patience? XVhen one linally becomes aware ol' the hidden everv human soul, when potential in I one's trust in another person is reward- ed with some noble or courageous deed on his or her part, one realizes that the this investment ol large dividends on sums ol understanding and patience are more than ample. In fact they are so great that they can make life a satisfy- ing venture. Perhaps the reader questions the exist- ence ol' a modern day Robinson Crusoe? Literally speaking it is probable that no such person exists: but it was not my intention that the example be taken literally. I ask the reader to take a close look at his circle ol acquaintances. Does he see among them people who keep to themselves-people who belong to no organization on a voluntary, no-profit basis-people who are constantly engross- ed in making their nests as comfortable