Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

 - Class of 1927

Page 28 of 78

 

Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1927 Edition, Page 28 of 78
Page 28 of 78



Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1927 Edition, Page 27
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Lowe High School - Towers Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada) online collection, 1927 Edition, Page 29
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Page 28 text:

24 The Windsor-Walkerville Technical School Year Book MY TRIP TO CANADA I was born in Lublin, Poland, where my father had a business of liis own, but lie was dissatisfied with it and three years later found him with the store sold and on his way to Canada, leaving mother, an older sister and a younger brother and myself, lie left with the intention of sending for us as soon as he settled down here and about two months later we received a letter telling us of his safe arrival and that he was in Toronto, Canada. After that letters came regularly and one day we received one which told us that tickets were on their way for us to come to Toronto. But we were destined never to get those tickets for the Great War broke out and all means of communication were stopped. Meanwhile things were going from bad to worse in Poland. The Bolsheviki bombed Lublin and to safeguard the people, a rule was made prohibiting anyone from being out after six in the afternoon. Only doctors were allowed out after that hour. About ten minutes past six, large crowds could be seen marching to jail for a night’s sleep. And then one day it was said that the Ger¬ mans were coming into the city. Every door was bolted and locked and we all ran to hide in the attic. About two hours later they came. It was lucky for the people that the invaders were driven out before much harm was done, but there was enough for us to remember. As it would take too long to tell about the four or five years of fighting and, as I suppose most of you know about it anyway, I will continue with the story of our journey to Windsor. Ont. Receiving tickets and money from my father again when the war was over, we started out. There were no passenger trains so we rode in an open box-car with the prisoners of war. We were in great fear for we did not know when our last minute would arrive, because the Bolshevik bombs were falling from aeroplanes all the time. At last we came safely to Warsaw, the beautiful capital of Poland. As there were no taxis, we had to hire a horse and wagon to drive us to another station. We left Warsaw and came to Danzig where we spent the time shopping or exploring. From there we passed on to London. We saw the king’s palace. Westminster Ab¬ bey and other famous places, but we did not know then that these places were famous. To us they were just something new. From there we went by boat to Liverpool and we stayed there two months wait¬ ing for our boat and idling away our time. At last our boat the “Min¬ nesota” came. After we were ex¬ amined by the doctors, we boarded the ship. For two days our ship was tossed about on the stormy waters and we were expecting the worst and had our life-saving belts on but the waters gradually calmed down and we were safe again. We had became acquainted with the cook and baker and through them we fared on the best that the ship could afford as far as eating was con¬ cerned. It was near Christmas time when we came to Montreal, and having changed into a small boat we first saw Canada from the Montreal dock. We boarded the last vehicle of our journey, the C.P.R. train. On the train I learned to say the word “time” and was continually asking the conductor if it were time to leave the train yet. My sister and I were practising to each other how we would meet my father as soon as we got off the train. Meanwhile, my father had moved to Windsor and owing to a delay did not receive our telegram in time to meet us at the station. We stayed about three days. Then one morning I had got up earlier than the rest and was stand¬ ing in the front room when somebody knocked at the door and entered. He spoke to me in English and I ran to tell the landlady about it. She ca» and poke to him for a few minutes, then exclaimed, “Why this

Page 27 text:

The Windsor-Walkerville Technical School Year Book 23 about it, and played on with our toys, blissfully unaware of the great turmoil which was tearing Europe asunder. But one day when we were in school, we were startled by the sound of the trampling of many horses. Looking out we beheld a great number of German cavalry¬ men, and. young as we were, we realized, that our town had been taken by the Germans, and that we were prisoners. This was my first recollection of the Great War. The Germans proceeded to take up their quarters in the homes of the villagers, many of whom refus¬ ing to submit to their wishes, were taken from their loved ones and made to work against their native land. Refusing to do this many of them were shot, or imprisoned. All this while, the deafening roar of the cannons, and the bursting of shells continued. Sentinels were posted about the town and the people were allowed to go only certain distances. Every day long lines of soldiers passed through our town, carrying guns, and ammunition to the Front. During the bomb raids, which were numerous, we were obliged to stay in concrete cellars, until the danger was passed. 1 remember one time when my father was taken prisoner, but he escaped by crawling through a small hole in his prison, and re¬ turned to us almost dead from ex¬ haustion. After about four years of this, we were given word to leave the town, as the allies were coming. Abandoning our beloved home we were forced to flee, taking with us only a small amount of food, ancl a few articles of clothing, tied up in a big handkerchief. My sister, and 1 brought with us a small wagon filled with a few necessities. I re¬ member well the starting. It was eight o’clock, in a September even¬ ing. 1918. and all the little stars were out. With tear-dimmed eyes wc hade our home adieu, and started out along the highway. Before and behind us, were long lines of the refugees, each carrying bundles of his property. It was a pitiful sight. to see old men and women stagger¬ ing along the dusty road, with their possessions in their arms. Tiny children hardly old enough to walk alone, trudged bravely on, carrying heavy bundles. One old man wheeled his crippled wife in a wheel barrow. About ten o’clock, we reached the home of an aunt, who gave us shelter for the night. Early in the morning, we started out again. The line of the refugees was now miles long. About noon we reached the city of Courtrai, but, to our dismay, we found that the cit y was being bombed. We sought shelter in a cellar of a large building nearby. We were obliged to keep damp cloths over our noses and mouths to protect us from the poisonous gas. Even then, many people died from the effects of this gas. Among them was my uncle. As soon as we were able, we continued our journey. From town to town, we wandered, always keeping a certain distance ahead of the scene of fighting. Once we had a narrow escape. We had taken refuge in a large house, on the edge of a little town. We re¬ mained there peacefully a week, but at the end of that time my father declared that we must move on. My mother protested, saying that we had been so peaceful that it would be well for us to remain longer. But my father was firm, and that night we set out. And it was well for us that we did. Immediately after we had left, a family of twelve moved in. The morning after their arrival a bomb shattered the house, and all were killed, hut a twelve year old boy. For over a month we wandered on until at last came the joyful tidings, that the Armistice was signed. The people of Canada well remember the joy that surged through the country, at the news that the war was over. But, to us in Flanders, homeless, and bereaved by the war, it was a god¬ send, and our joy knew no bounds. And now it is all over. May God allow no more world strife. ANNA P1NOO—C3B.



Page 29 text:

The Windsor-WalkerviHe Technical School Year Book 25 is your little daughter ! M I got frightened and hid myself behind the woman but finally I realized that this strange man was my father. So ended our long-deferred and lengthy journey. I hope that some day you may all travel to Europe but under more happy circum¬ stances. SADIE WEISBERG—C2B. o MOVING I was late in starting my school term, and as the number of lockers were limited, 1 was given one on the third floor, among the boys When my books arrived from the supply room, I spent a busy half- hour trying to fit them all into the very small space allowed each of us for this purpose. After a period of some weeks I became accustomed to my surround¬ ings and acquainted with my neigh¬ bors. Then, out of an apparently clear sky, decended a summons (or invitation) to the office. The prin¬ cipal said he had found a locker for me among the girls lockers on the second floor. I was presented with a key and told to move my books immediately. 1 went back to my locker to find a girl rummaging among its contents for I had left the key in the door on my hasty de¬ parture. “Oh, you must enter this poem in the Year Book! was her apology. When she heard of my prospec¬ tive move, she instantly enlisted to help me. The first load was trans¬ ferred safely. The second one con¬ sisted of pencil stubs (how do we ever manage to collect so many?) loose pages from note books, some of the less frequently used books, pens, rubbers, gymnasium shoes and my out-of-door clothing. My friend started down the hall while I remained to gather together a few odds and ends. 1 was startled by a scream and running to the head of the stairs I saw my dictionary on the first step, then a pencil, next a rubber. Picking these things up T rounded the bend in the stairs and caught my friend in the act of try¬ ing to hold in her arms those things which she had not already dropped, and attempting to keep her balance after a misstep, and kicking my Sun- day-go-to-meeting hat, all at once. (I never did approve of football for girls, especially when the ball hap¬ pens to he one’s best hat.) Rescuing my hat, I proceeded with great dignity to my new locker. Here I was forced to await the arrival of my friend who had possessed her¬ self of my key. We immediately set to work arranging my locker as best we could in the few remaining mo¬ ments. and hat in hand 1 was about to close the door when 1 saw my gymnasium shoes showing a ten¬ dency to fall from their place upon a shaky pile of books below. Before that catastrophe could occur I slammed the door and as I turned the key I heard a landslide inside the locker. At any rate nothing was outside. BEULAH HYER—C2D. . y SPORTSMANSHIP No period in our existence is so bright and fair as that of youth. Then it is that we plan to reach the pinnacle of fame and success. But when life opens out in full bloom so few of us really taste the riches dreamed of in past days. Instead, we are touched by the bitter reality that “Life is real, Life is earnest” and not a flowery path to be trod by carefree feet. However there is con¬ solation in the fact that if we are ‘good sports nothing will daunt us. Our battle cry will be ‘Forward to the Fray.” So, reader, let there be a light shining on your path leading you to

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