Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

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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

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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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tinuous pounding. Our single suction pump was all that kept us from the green depths of the ocean. On the navigators word that we were drifting towards a not-too-distant shore had added the much-needed fuel to our de- jeeted minds and weary bodies. NVithout Warning, a welcome new sound was added to the roaring of the wind and sea-the familiar echo of breakers, thrashing themselves to foam on ragged rocks. We were safe. We would live again. At least, some of us would now live to go to sea once more. For only the experienced know the dangers in- volved in landing under such conditions. But we knew that the storm had failed to kill, and the sea had delivered us again into the world of life. HURRY -Pe ter Wigston Wliat is good, what is bad, Why are there sane, why are there mad, Who makes the laws, who wrote the book, VVhy do we wonder, why do we look? What is love, and what is hate? NVhv must man seek out a mate? What is sorrow and what is pain? Why the clouds, and why the rain? A million questions are asked by me- Why am I man and not a tree ? Who gave me life? I want to know! I must find out before I go .,.. Twenty