Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

 - Class of 1943

Page 9 of 66

 

Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada) online collection, 1943 Edition, Page 9 of 66
Page 9 of 66



Riverbend School for Girls - Vox Fluminis Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada) online collection, 1943 Edition, Page 8
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Page 9 text:

Vox Fluminis 7 rushed to the front and the graduates glided up to receive their certificates. The church service was over. A garden party was held on the lawns of the school with cameras flashing and graduates swinging along in step to the band music. At last the talking and laughter thinned and the painful goodbyes had to be said. The height of the day came in the evening-a dinner party at Mrs. Joseph Harris' preceding the dance. In the drawing room of the school, radiant grads whirled about in rhythm to the music of the conventional Whirlitzer. All has to end sometime including this. It is a memory now but a radiant one. There is a pride tucked away in each of us for the dear school that is behind us. It is a comfort to know we can visit it again and see the girls who are still there-but it will never be quite the same again. B.D. Elm Pwphwf, 1943 For I dipt into the future, Far as human eye could see, Saw the vision of the world And all the wonder that would be For the class of '43. Elizabeth Auld--As she shaketh her knobby forefinger, infants quake under her glance. Pat Bernard- With hair askew And nourishment through, In a garret sublime She writeth a rhyme And starveth all the time. Marylyn Carey- Under a Neopolitan moon With a guitar He sits to croon, Marylyn looks up with adoring eyes And thinks of all those other guys. Nancy Complin- Busy, busy, all the day Writing, writing in her way, Never has much time for play. Cshe doesn't need it.J Doris Cook- She holds their hands, She fans their brows, She's dressed in white, Those wolves, Wow, Wow! Audrey Ferg- Smeared with oil, carrying a coil Of rope, our engineer, Runs through ye trustie old garage Calling all the males dear, Jean Gardiner- In a coffin, still and white Lay Jean out like a light. CAnd there we leave her.l Lorraine Ingram- Florida in the winter, Miami in the fall, Just a little social butterfflyb That's all. Elizabeth Irish- The men in her life were many Her acts were young and gay, But the way she drove that poor old car, Drove all her friends away. CTch, Tchlb Mildred Longstaffe- In Spain or England, Australia or New Z., Or is it just Canada, With one of the males she led? Audrey Robb- 'Twas brillig and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe But Audrey, oblivious of all, Just sat and said Oh Babe. Kitty Rainey- Up, up, into the blue, She always obeys the Golden Rule, In the air or on the sea, That's where her heart will always be. Rosa Rayner- Holding his hand, By his bed at night,

Page 8 text:

VCDX FLUMIINIIS EDITORIAL- STAFF I Editor .......,... . ........,...., Literary Editor ...,..,... Literary Assistant ......... , Business Manager .... Advertising ,............... Activities ...... Sports ..., Humor ..,................,.......... Room Representatives: -.--..-.---..--WMARYLYN CAREY PATRICIA BERNARD -.-.,----.--..------NANCY BUSHELL ELIZABETH IRISH 5 LOIS PARKHILL ' l JACQUELINE PORTEOUS LOIS DUNBAR MCGUINNESS s EILEEN GARRIOCK l NANCY STOVEL ' Grade VII and VIII .......... ,..............,................. S HELIA SMITH Grade IX ,.,,.,,..,..,.....,....,,,. ........... D OROTHY D. MACCALLUM Grade X ,,,,,,,, ,.,,. ....,..,............,,,.............. P EG GY AULD gli .K AS THE submarines maraud the oceans, as the Stuka bombers annihilate smiling villages, as our armies struggle with death, we, too young for actual comfbat, carry on to destroy the distorted ideals which have blighted the World. Through realization that the horrors of war are the result of ignorance and greed, we understand that we must create a finer way of life. Our hardships and dangers will be many. We may be destroyed but our heritage of liberty will never perish. We shall be the foundation of a new era. These present years are confused clashes among Nationalist, Fascist, Com- munistic and Democratic ideas, which advance and recede before the mighty onslaught of power. The power of arms, national resources and industry is all important. It is our duty and privilege to supply the power which will blot out these forces which threaten our democratic way of thought. T'his year book is an appeal to all girls to present an unbre-akable front to the Fascist menace. Let each individual live up to her noblest ideals, so that we shall see the rising not the setting of the sun of Peace. - ' . . . unef0Z'A, 1943 AS IS customary, the weatherman cast aside 'his witchcraft and pre- sented a spring day to be dreamt about. The whole day was a dream, to be remembered. Graduation day to some is perhaps but an annual event but to those who are experiencing the limelight of the occasion it is one of those glowing events of a lifetime. There is, during the whole day, ex- citement enthroned in each graduate's heart, but always there steals through the melancholy thought that school days are to become but a memory. Three o'clock arrived and it found us rustling a-bout in our long white dresses, exchanging flattering remarks and deciding wewwere the best grads ever. Slowly, gracefully, one by one we took our places in the church. It was sad to think that it was the last time we would sing the school hymn as members of the school. But the words held a special mean- ing for us all as we looked ahead into --we knew not what. Mr. Martin gave to each of us a thoughtful glance at what might be our future and how to determine it. Then the prizes. The little ones



Page 10 text:

8 Vox Fluminis There sits Rosa, ' Jean Parrish- Dressed in white. Cooling, cooling his fevered brow, That little English lad knows how! fTch!l Is it Blondie or Earl, Or Jackie or Neil, Or just some other jerk? As long as she gets a man she figures She doesn't mind the work. Eleanor South- , Fifteen children by the Zider-Zee, Betty MCGUIMSS- There lives Eleanor happy as can be, How in the heck did we get Holland in this? Oh well, it's a life of utter bliss! Betty Shiels- Present Indicative, Past Imperfect, Future Indefinite, Object Matrimony. Helen Trickey- A general in the army, A commander of the fleet, Or will it just be Harry To say Oh yes, my sweet. Ann Parkhill- Those lights and glare, Those eyes aware Of the audience. Woo Woo! That Hgweat big man With the Howers in his hand Is sure to be waiting for you. She thought he called her ffcuddiesy' Betty Leslie- And looked up with adoring eyes, But all he said was My jeep jumps puddles, Baby, what a surprise! Um ZUJI! WE, grade XI, being near our last hours, do hereby bequeath those things-such as we have. To the young 'uns who follow on, we give, first and foremost, our ink-stained class room- complete with Miss Martin and the book-case. To you we leave the drowsy hum of endless groans in study period, and the intermittent banging in the pipe at the back of the room. Flitting through the generations of newer victims, a faint echo of Marylyn's opera, whispers through the room, fol- lowed, double forty by Sergeant Mc- Guinness' bellow. Perhaps, even ten years from now, odd phrases from Kitty's speeches will appear, and, per- haps, a reincarnation of Nancy's brains in some new form. Is there an orange-blonde mop three inches long? The original I fear will soon become platinum. Poor Elizabeth, she did try to curl it. What else have we? Our pictures- the ones we won in those endless Glamour, allure, Pert and sweet, That's her line, sir, Be careful, elle est secrete. Qaacle if ticket selling contests-The geometry books on the desk. And Ann's eternal pillow in exams. Pea-green it is, with white flowers-take care of it- it may help. Also Pat's case in the corner. The one you stumble over every time you walk up the aisle. And Miss Bell's tissooos, -and Mrs. Wilson's finger- nails Cwowl. And the Bills. And the Harrys-or will we? That depends. And poor old George- Do 'ou 'ove me, George? -someone did . . . once. And all those drug-store wolves, or is there a new generation of them? There were those plays, too. The Little Princess'-the French one- Earnest-we hope you do better than we did. And Tinker's poetry, and Eleanor's I keep telling myself, and everyones Are you kidding? Poor kids-lucky kids. All those men we're leaving or did they leave us those 866 ???? And this should be left before it dies a slower death than it is now. So, little Vocium Fluminum, look after our paltry possessions.

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