Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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memoriam AVID CLAXTON, while fishing with friends along a swift Labrador river, died by drowning' on the fourteenth of June. David was two years embarked on a eareer in medieine - a c-areer ehosen through the knowledge that he eould help people, and chosen that he might best be prepared. He was twenty-two. The son of the Honourable Brooke Claxton, he was at Pickering' College from the fall of 19-16 until June, 19-19. liven those who barely knew David remember well the understanding and eoneern for others that marked him among his fellows. Those of us who lived on the corridors with himg worked with him and struggled with and against him on the playing field, are strangers to death because we are young, and to us it is unreal. To eoneeive of a friend having gone from usg not returning at some time, nor living elsewhere still, is beyond our thought, And in this we may eome me-loser to reality than in a eolder eoneept of the grave. lf there is truth in the poet 's thought, I am a part of all that I have met. then there is truth that David remains among us. For this quiet, and reserved young man left with all whom he met, and where he went, not only the memory ot' himself but a measure of his kind and temperate per- son. L 1-1 rr: David 010.71071 ' Setenzceh

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students. The Department of Education gave the first experiments their blessing, Because of the Pickering experiments they have since established training courses in conservation teaching for elementary school teachers Sixteen REPORT -Denny Burton And yet, when looking back In retrospect, I see in all the things I Did. Only part of what is free. And freedom counts but as a memory For I have done so little. Above the skies so azure- The love of life and spirit Bound here upon green hills XVithin each petal, a shaft of concrete Holding dear each thin tiny thrill Of rain on rocks and call of bird so wanton. And the spheres resound with notes Vnheard before, behind the bell Chiming with never fear of time. For there in that brown cup Hangs, what I know as God 's measure. Calling from the slates Upon broken shells of dust, I see the formula: IVherein all is given to Him, And I see all the things I did, And I have done so little.

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One May afternoon in 1949, while the school prepared for examinations, a student found himself in serious personal trouble. When he went to Dave, knowing he would find understanding and help, he discovered him busy tutoring another student whose troubles were academic. Somehow, despite the time and energy which he poured out on others, David did his own work with determination. Ever troubled by his in- adequacy to give to others what he called, something concrete,'l he began his study of medicine with motives in the highest ideal of the profession. No, David Claxton cannot go from us. There remains more than a memory. The warm, strong personality is too real a thing for death's conquest, for though he did not know, David did give of himself, some- thing concrete . In Labrador, where he worked on a construction site as a medical assistant, we know he will have been more to many men there. When he fell into the cold, rushing waters of the Guy's River, those with him risked their lives in a futile effort to save him. The lite was lost we know, but through our youthful ignorance, or be it wisdom, he remains among us. I AM OMNIPOTENT -Bill Purres-Smith VVhen I speak The world shall resonate. VVhen I weep The waters of the oceans Will rise to the mountain tops, Filled with the people 's tears. Il I i I VVhen I laugh, The peaks will shatter VVith the thundrous echo Of the masses' laughter 1 Q Il fl When I die, Then the world dies With me And with it A universe of tears and hopes and fears. Eighteen