Lord Selkirk School - Maroon and Grey Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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Jjbihahi UJ atksih ift Tloi J ' biAi (phi%£. “Hi there, nice weather we’re having isn’t it?” Aside from the poor sentence structure, that is a sentence which the average soul will repeat two or three times every day. In fact, the state of the weather is possibly the most bandied about topic in our vocabulary. Whether you have a b oy and a girl in a car on a moonlit night on Passion Peak, or a Russian and an American snarling at each other across a conference table in Siberia, there is one thing that they all have in common to talk about. That topic, my friends, is the weather. It seems that weather as a whole has been going to pot- ever since some corn-ball discovered how to seed clouds with silver iodide to make rain. Now, I have nothing against a farmer brewing up a little moisture to sprinkle his lower forty, but when he succeeds in flooding half the adjoining country-side, then I feel that someone must take action. Every so often one of these young clouds will get loaded and stagger across the landscape, aimlessly shooting off bolts of lightning, dousing picnic parties, or raining out the weather dis¬ cussion on Passion Peak and that, my friends is some¬ thing worse than high treason. The most obvious solution, I suppose, would be to abolish the weather entirely. That is impossible because the population of the world would find nothing to talk about. The next best solution then must be to control the weather. In order to do this a committee would have to tour the country to find out what kind of weather the people would want. I took a poll at our house last night. My mother wanted a cold snap so the car wouldn’t start and she could get Dad started on the basement. My uncle wanted a quick thaw so he could get out of taking his scout troop tobogganing. A farmer friend wanted more snow, to bring on a spring flood, to enable him to collect his flood insurance, which would allow him to loaf all summer. My aunt just wanted the weather to make up its mind because her corns were hurting. A small discussion followed, and after the cops had come and gone no one was speaking. Any committee formed by the government to control the weather would have a great deal of pressure put on it to change the weather in one direction or another. The raincoat and umbrella manufacturers would be asking for rain. The ski makers, skate manufacturers and sled people would be after snow. They would be backed up by the makers of bandaids, splints, plaster casts, and the Medical Association. The manufacturers of bathing suits, straw hats, and excursion companies would want sunlight and warm weather. The Passion Peak Playboys’ Society would want plenty of moonlight and the Man With the Axe would want a tip off on the decision, to enable him to stock up with the appropriate merchan¬ dise. One can readily see that if anyone did try changing the weather he would likely start another war over how it should be changed. My advice is, “Leave it alone.” Without weather our favorite topic of conversation would be gone. Aunt Bessie couldn’t complain about her corns, grandfather would not be able to test his arthritis against the weather forecast. Besides that, without the weather as a topic of conversation what would the young people do to amuse themselves on the top of Passion Peak? BY BILL GLASS Ouh (BocUidinq dimiM S c njd In the small town of Lachute, situated in the foot-hills of Quebec, is our boarding house. The house is off from the main highways and traffic noises. In front of the house is the peaceful North River. In the back are the Laurentian Foot-hills. We are located in French Settlement, which is a suburb of Lachute. In our boarding house we call ourselves a family. We eat our breakfast and supper together. Everyone is different but we all have some things in common. One thing we have in common is the “house,” and also the monthly rent. Another is the dog “Wiggins.” We remain together as a family through troubles and joys. Each morning one is awakened from a peaceful sleep by the surfeit voice of our landlady. Her voice is husky to that fascinating point just short of asthma. When she calls, all are awakened from their sleep whether they wished to be or not. Well, so much for the solitary bliss of our home. The food, although fine in quality, is short in quantity. The landlady believes in the old proverb, “that a penny saved is a penny earned.” She buys a roast for Sunday; we have cold roast and mashed potatoes Monday, hash and beans on Tuesday, stew and dumplings on Wednes¬ day, and if anything remains of the waste, it is given to the dog on Thursday. For Friday and Saturday we have hamburger served in four different ways, for four different meals and for the sake of saving. But along with the roast and hamburger there are also many different desserts such as bread and jam, jam and bread, jam, butter, and bread and bread and molasses. When 25

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FIRST PRIZE—“Lonely Isle’ by Thelma Fonager SECOND PRIZE- Fantasy of the Underworld by Anne Sommer THIRD PRIZE- Duck Season 1 by Lillian Janik 24

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saying the food was short in quantity, I meant, how can a nine pound roast, one can of beans and five pounds of hamburger be expected to feed seven people, for seven days and eleven meals. Well, so much for the food and its qualities. In introducing the boarders, whom I am associated with, I say, “Any resemblance, from this point on, to persons living or otherwise, is purely unintentional and coincidental.” First, for sake of duty, I introduce to you Mrs. Natosa Smith, our landlady. Mrs. Smith, who cannot get over the fact that she is no longer twenty-seven, is a rather pompous woman, nearly six feet tall and nearing the sweet, uncontrollable age of fifty. She can hardly wait to hear what she is going to say, and when she has said it she usually says, “Oh, I didn’t mean to say that.” She joytalks her way into every conversation, and then she lets her mind go blank while she talks about things that leave her speechless. Next to the landlady is her niece Arlene Smith, or the beautiful blonde bombshell. She is fifteen and lives with her aunt. She is blonde and entirely too young to be entrusted with such a dangerously provocative figure. She is forever trying new make-up and hair styles in order to make herself more “desirable”. She does things for her appearance for which car dealers would go to jail. Then there is the high-school physics teacher, who is always trying to find a new type of gunpowder or invent¬ ing new and louder firecrackers in the basement. Such as he are few and wide apart in the brains. He is nearing his fortieth year and as it has been said, “Life doesn’t (Jkhfiia Jhihjd On the southern extremity of Vancouver Island lies one of the most enchanting cities in the world. Sur¬ rounded by mighty fir trees and towering mountains, Victoria is truly a rare and picturesque sight. From her hiding place between the snow-capped mountains this small but friendly city seems to cry out to tourists to come to her refuge. Nestled between the sky-reaching mountains she is sheltered from the howling winds and roaring seas. It has been said that good things come in small packages and Victoria certainly proves this state¬ ment. She is beauty, enchantment and excitement all rolled into one; mystery and magic combined; every¬ thing a city could possibly be. Historical Thunderbird Park, which is situated in the centre of town, has many replicas of Indian totem poles. Directly opposite the scenic harbour lies Beacon Hill Park which is dotted with tiny duck ponds and flower gardens. Stately trees line the park’s paths lending an air of rich grandeur to the surroundings. Tiny thatched roofed cottages are located in the residential areas. With their old world simplicity they provide a typical English atmosphere. Along the main thoroughfare fragrant flower baskets hang from the lamp posts making an un¬ usual but breathtaking scene. From benches along the harbour, tourists spend idle moments watching huge ocean liners making their way to docks. Evening on¬ lookers are attracted to the downtown Parliament build¬ ings by the splendid array of lights. begin at forty for those who went like sixty when they were twenty.” He also is the owner of a sparkling nine¬ teen hundred and thirty-six Essex, and he knows that the surest way to kindle a blaze is by rubbing two fenders together. He has had more accidents and stalled more traffic than any other driver in town. Next, is Mrs. Abercrombie, who has learned many of our landlady’s ways. Her husband also lives with us, but is seldom seen and not very courteous. His downfall was glasses. Glasses can change one’s personality, especi¬ ally if emptied too often. She still seems to love him, in spite of his faults. They were married for better or for worse. He couldn’t do better and she couldn’t do worse. Due to her home life, Mrs. Abercrombie “has a very low bowling point,” according to the teacher. I think the next person you should meet is my best friend in the house, John Peters. John, like the rest, has many funny faults. He has a feeling now and then that he should raise garter snakes. He brings a litter of the creatures into his room and later suffers the torture from the loquacious Mrs. Smith. The last of the seven boarders is myself. I have some points worth mentioning, but being smarter than ex¬ pected, I regard silence as a virtue as of now. You now know what to expect, when coming to a small French-Canadian town: no sleep, food—let’s leave it at that, many different types of boarders and always one, such as myself, a little smarter than the others. BY JACK STEWART lBmJuma Approximately thirty miles from the heart of the city one can find the world-famous Butchart Gardens. Acres and acres of undescribable beauty promise the tourist hours of enjoyment. There are four gardens, namely, the Rose, the Italian, the Japanese, and the Sunken Gardens. This fairy-land of flowers, which is night-lighted, allows one to spend many evening hours in the utmost pleasure. F or one dollar admission you receive one thousand thrills in Mrs. Butchart’s enchanting wonderland. Hundred’s of tiny lakes dot the countryside providing hours of recreation for the sports minded person. Water skiing, swimming, salt water fishing and speed-boating are only a few of the very popular water sports. Each year hundred’s of people visit the beautiful city. It is no wonder, for Victoria, with all its panoramic views is truly the most charming city in the world. A single trip to the province’s capital will convince one, that there is no better place to spend a holiday than amidst the awesome splendour of Victoria, British Columbia. BY JEAN LESLIE dimwivmbk WbmJtwn The Wanderings of a Newspaper by Di-Anne Penner Honorable Mention—Essay 26