Halifax Grammar School - Grammarian Yearbook (Halifax, Nova Scotia Canada)

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through, and eventually, responsible citizens, interested in their country and caring enough to vote. Maturity is all this — and much more: it is the growing out of the childhood of the mind. To a child the mirror yields nothing but beauty and perfection. In the black abyss below his white pedestal are mortals with mortal faults which he is first to perceive and cry out against — not so with a mature person, who strives to correct his own faults before lashing out at those of others. A child has desires; they enslave him. He becomes a victim of his whims; be they ful- filled, he becomes greedy and spoilt; when denied, he is frustrated and moody, not so with an adult, who is in command of his emotions and practises self-discipline. Refused another ' s toys, a child will deprecate them, that his own may seem prettier; failing to attain a friend ' s perfection, he will tear it apart, that his own lack may seem justified — . He who is mature respects another ' s talents and makes them his personal pride. A child chooses his friends merely by their attire or material possessions — and will be the one to hurl the first stone when these are lost or exhausted. He is machiavellian and, when in the company of his select elite, will think nothing of maligning a former friend to get into favour with the new. An adult prizes true friendship above all emotions, bases it on true understanding, and is last to speak ill of it. Becoming mature is, without doubt, a difficult process. It requires of an individual a real sincerity with himself, the ability to admit and criticize his own failings, and a true deter- mination to overcome them. It is for this reason that many remain children all their lives. The skies were grey, but far off on the brink of the horizon the sun appeared as a disk through a thick haze. The horizon made an imperceptible transition to the sea, which reflect- ed the greyness above it. Taking in all the sights around him, mixed with the pungent smell of fish and of sea air, an old man walked slowly by the harbour and down one of the quays. At its edge he stopped and surveyed the sea. His face, strangely tranquil in the midst of the restless sea, was that of a sailor. There was no mistaking the leathery skin and the discerning eyes, which held a look of approval for the scene to which they were so accustomed. He was dressed for warmth in a thick wool sweater, coarse trousers, and heavy shoes. A narrow-peaked cap completed his attire, which was so typical of the old pensioners like him who abounded in this town so close to the sea in every aspect. He walked on to the end of a quay, as if expecting something. But no ship intruded upon the emptiness of the harbour. No sound could be heard but the slow ripple of the grey waters, and the distant mournful wail of a foghorn. Then, far off on the distant horizon de- licate shapes appeared. As they approached, they could be identified as seagulls; their white bodies wheeled and dipped from the troughs of the waves to the highest heights of the sky. Their keen eyes soon sighted the lone figure, and they, flew toward him quickly. The old man, at his turn, soon recognised their swooping flight. A smile broke over his wrinkled face, and as the birds approached, his eyes radiated a benevolent light, as if he was experiencing some great inner peace. In the melancholy yellow of the setting sun which had finally penetrated the haze, the sea-birds swooped about the old man as he fed them breadcrumbs. He called each one by name, and the birds responded with their cries. A conversation between man and nature in the midst of great natural beauty, perhaps one never to be repeated by anyone but this enig- matic old man on the edge of life, was taking place. At last the man bid farewell to his strange friends as they flew off into the blood-red disk of the sun, making its final plunge into the sea. The man ' s mind soared with them into the unknowable regions of the night sky. He had no fear of his end though he was very old; he was at one with nature, and his soul was not alone. David Hirsch SEASCAPE 20

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Nothing thanks, just a nice talk. I know you ' re extremely busy, but this shouldn ' t waste too much of your valuable time. Shoot. I ' m doing my last show for you this afternoon, Urbis. If you want a raise kid, just let me know. I ' ll think about it and let you know to- morrow. You don ' t listen too well, do you? What ' s that? I heard you say you ' re quitting — oh excuse me, retiring, that sounds nicer, doesn ' t it? Now you didn ' t hear me very well either. We ' ll give you another ten a year. No Urbis, I ' m leaving. Yeah, leaving. After all I ' ve done for you and you ' re not even grateful. What am I going to do? First thing you might try is one of your memos. And then an ad in BILLBOARD. You ' re not that stupid, Urbis. I ' m not, but you are! Leaving a number-one station without thinking it over. Think about it for a few days, Kid, and then we ' ll talk it over, okay? Goodbye, Urbis. Yeah, yeah. See you in a few days. Kid. And the ritual continued. Calling movers, throwing a lease-breaking party, selling the furniture, closing the bank account, and all the rest of those petty little things that mattered so much. He had his plane ticket and was ready to take off. Two days later, a taxi took him by the exit ramps and billboards he hated. Past the housing projects where thousands of pimple-faced radio fans turned him on every day, and over the gray deserts on the way to the airport. Bill landed in Kingston a few hours later and, after being cleared through customs, met Hal at the airport bar. Soon the cement turned to dirt, skyscrapers were transformed into small buildings, but most important he was working with Hal again, and Hal was the same, even though the argyle socks were gone. Contrary to the false illusion of today ' s young people, maturing is not a process of the body. It does not come automatically in teen-hood, and can not be perceived through phys- ical appearance. Growing sideburns or mustaches, smoking, getting a car, standing with the crowd on street corners, telling anecdotes of what we two did last night — these are all tricks which teenagers employ to pronounce themselves mature — with negative results. The process of maturing takes place inside an individual. It is an introspection, a self- criticism, and a determination to overcome one ' s many shortcomings. Growing mature is, therefore, a different process for different people. To some it is the assertion of indepen- dence — not from the establishment with revolt and irresponsibility, not from Dad with contempt and disrespect — but from the crutches of conformity, of prefabricated opin- ions, petty prejudices, and passivity, which society provides for those who are unable to stand up by themselves. To others, being mature means being responsible — responsible stu- dents, able to work for themselves, responsible people, willing to accept duties and see them Leah Edelstein — U3 ON BECOMING MATURE 19

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wo First Prize DAWN Kenneth Gordon It was dark, Then a light flashed across the sky, The clouds burst And flew away, A fiery ball showed itself From the east the light came. I stood staring As it hypnotized my brain. It showed me happiness. While the lands all around filled with life. The birds chirped And the whole earth seemed to wake up. I strolled along the paths. Trying to remember that beautiful sight. I wondered if I would ever behold that sight again. To be filled with the joy of being alive And knowing that nature is beautiful Wherever you go. Second Prize MY MIND Andrew Lynk Tis a secret within me. Who I do not know Tis a whirlwind of thoughts Parts of thoughts and wholes. A person within me Who creates and destroys. He is a form of unexplainable Within my own brain, And hope of finding him Is fruitless and in vain. JHiJJL One Second Prize A PIT Cathy Shaw First Prize PEOPLE Ann Grantmyre People are very sensitive to races, creed and colour even if they say they are not. You must have respect for people even if you have a dislike for them. People usually fight because of anger and disrespect, but people steal Emd kill be- cause of neglect and sometimes in defense. People often lie because they are afraid; a brave person hardly ever lies, but a person that is afraid and can ' t face the truth often lies. But since no one is perfect, we all have lied, stolen and fought sometimes. Lonely unwanted hole of dark. Cold and greedy place for sadness. Dirty and roomy. If someone goes in? In they stay.