Pickering College - Voyageur Yearbook (Newmarket, Ontario Canada)

Page 29 text:

park at evening -Don Baker HE YEAR My FATHER, MOTHER, and I were driving to Nova Scotia, to my mother's home in Sherbrooke, we passed through Moncton, in New Bruns- wick. As we were approaching Moncton, we saw the Peticodiac River which runs through the city. The river was almost empty of water. There was a small stream of water winding its way through the crevices in the drying expanse of muck on the river bottom. NVe went on to Moncton and found a pretty little park where we could eat the picnic supper that mother had prepared that morning. The setting sun added to the colour of the flowers, trees and deep green grass that made the place look like an Eden. At one side of the park was an open space looking out on the drab Peticodiac River, and in the middle of this clearing was a gaily coloured look-out hut. It was almost dark as we finished our supper. XVe walked around the park admiring it, and paused at the little hut. Then I heard it-a low grumbling sound in the distance that sounded like a train approaching the nearby station. The noise grew louder as the seconds ticked by. For about a minute it kept increasing. I stood transfixed as if my muscles had frozen. A million thoughts ran through my head. NVas it an earthquake? or an atom-bomb blast? the world coming to an end? what? Then my eyes turned in horror: far down the river-bed I could see a glowing form dancing, wriggling, coming in my direction. The noise grew and grew as it came closerg the glowing light became brighter in the half-light. of dusk. It was quite close to us now. My stomach grew tight, the blood rushed to my head, and I began to feel woozy. I almost keeled over as the monster, bright with phosphorescence, came roaring past us. I did not notice myself turning to follow its path as it disappeared around a bend of the river-bed. Dad and mother were standing a few feet away from me, but I did not see them. All I could hear was the diminishing sound of the monster and a laughing from out of the darknss. Suddenly I seemed to come out of a trance, and I looked down at the once empty river-bed to find to my amazement that it was full of water. As I stared over the tlowing river, I realized that I had seen the tidal bore of the Peticodiac River. The power and on-rushing force with which it had come still had me in a state oi' bewilderment until Dad's voice came through to me: NVe should be moving on now. Twelzty-fire

Page 28 text:

head to the window. Then she quickly gathered her belongings, staggered to her feet, and walked past me to the exit door. I immediately sank into the seat with a feeling of relief, and allowed my eyes to wander across the faces of the people within my vision. The man seated next to me was middle-aged, dapper in dress, and quite nervous. He was completely absorbed in the paper which he was read- ing. The rather attractive young girl opposite me probably worked in an office. She was dressed in nylons, red high-heeled shoes, and ausomewhat tight-fitting dark blue suit. I had proceeded to undress her mentally when the conductors tired belligerent voice yelled out the next stop. My thoughts were shattered: I continued my survey of the people. There were short ones, fat ones, tall ones and ugly ones. None of them impressed me except one. He sat in a pensive mood, shoulders slumped, his hand stretched across his forehead as though to shield his eyes. He looked haggard, overworked, I felt somehow that even now he was worrying about some problem in the future. He was a useless worrier. The bus clanged to a stop. A storm of people rushed on, re-filling the gaps left by the people descending to the street. A car's horn honked, tires scrceched, then cars raced by the window as the light turned green. The bus clanged a warning to a straggling car as we lurched forward. l watched a small boy cling fearfully to his mothers coat as people brushed by him, Then I arose, straightened my coat, and proceeded to push and shove my way to the exit door. The reek of alcohol from a derelict 'S breath reached me as l descended the steps. The cold fresh air came as a welcome when I reached the street. HA LCYON -John Luck The sea and the sky were blended- An island peak, in the haze, suspendedg Nature showed what she could do -Still her most powerful forces, Hold them abated, strangely still, As we clove nearer through the silent deep, Until, hours later, still becalmed, The island, grown in splendour, Broke forth in natural color. Green and grey-purple of palms and shadowed heights Rising in grandeur from the blue-flashing-orange, And the sun set on our bow, Pale stars, and shadows behind. Twenty-four

Page 30 text:

ctivities dramatic club Haw in-:sc'R1BEn HIS PLAY, The DcriI's Disciple , stuffed with every- thing from the ragbag of melodrama . . , with just that little bit of my own which makes all the difference. There was little of the Hragbagn quality apparent, however, in the Dramatic Club 's production of this modern classic during the week of Visitors' Day, 1951. The audience sensed excite- ment and colour aplenty-redcoats and a courtmartial, a race to save a man's lite, the reading of a will and at rattling of family skeletons in the cupboard, but with all this, there were tenderness and courage, heartsearching, and an examination of the ideas by which men live. These latter perhaps constituted the unique Shavian ingredient, and for an amateur cast to project it clearly and sensitively was no mean feat, however friendly the audience may have been. Mrs. Jackson created with the professional skill this audience has come to expect trom her the character of Judith Anderson, whom we saw grow from a warm-hearted girl behaving correctly and kindly as a parson's wife should, into a woman of wisdom and understanding. Bill Maguire played Parson Anderson as a man of God and a man of actiong he was hearty without being pompous and righteous without being priggish. Peter NVigston's Dick Dudgeon clearly hated sham and cruelty with equal violent-eg the inner gentleness beneath his swashbuekling and waspish exterior vas revealed not only in his scenes with Judith but also by his warm solicitude for the boy Davey, played with conviction and a surprising poise by Bob Melville. General Burgoyne was given the dignity that Gentleman Johnny required by Jim Watson, who con- veyed much of the irony and wry humour inherent in the part. Burton Kellock and Bill Purves-Smith managed convincing effects in their charac- ter roles of the not-quite-bright Christy Dudgeon and the somewhat dour and meticulous Lau-yer Htl-1.l'll i7l.9. John Luck played the proud and em- bittered Mrs. Annie Diudgeon with great effect: the problem of female im- personation was smoothly solved. Much colour and atmosphere were provided by several smaller roles, in no instance did a bit part lower the standard of performance-a high one for an amateur production-that was in general achieved. A happy combination of imagination, colour sense, and practicability marked Denny Burton's sets. Their most notable component was perhaps Twenty-six