Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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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

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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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lite ary adrift -ARNOLD HUNT UR TINY vEssEL LURCHED and wallowed menacingly as each mountainous wave overtook us. For a second or two in every ten we seemed to sit motionless on the very crest of a snow-capped peak with only the boiling foam and lashing spray to mar the illusion. Then, hesitantly, as if our little ship was una.ble to decide on her next move she plunged almost straight down into the trough. The gloomy darkness ahead was grotesque and uninviting. NVe silently watched. The very gates of hell seemed to have opened be- fore us. The dim phosphorescent atmosphere that prevailed on the compara- tive safety of the crest was far more reassuring than the cold inky blackness that now engulfed us. A queer sinking feeling in the pit of our stomachs commanded us to close our eyes and to try to forget our hazardous pre- dicament. Then as if by magic we were over the crisis and thankfully headed skyward. Each of these seemingly endless cycles gave us the satisfaction of believing that we were that much closer to safety although actually we had only the remotest chance of survival. VVe were all, with the probable exception of myself, rugged, hard-living men who normally would know no fear-but this was different. This was not an ordinary battle with the elements but a great show-a magnificent one- sided show of force, of undying strength, that raged on and on without mercy. Helplessly we looked on for there was absolutely nothing we or any human power could do. NVe were in the hands ot fate. We lost all count of time. Gradually the blackened storm-whipped heavens were replaced by a dull metallic gray that stretched without a break as far as the eye could see, The day was on. XVe were without food or water, and the tempest raged. In a vain effort to erase from our minds the ever- present spectacle of the turbulent seas, we turned to inspect the condition of our boat. Until this moment the little cutter had been given not a moment's notice. although this hull of wood and iron stood between our life and death, and only because of her sturdy construction was there the possibility of our de- liverance from the grip of these furious waters. Her seams had opened in several places, and a great deal of caulking had been dislodged by the con- Nineteen