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Page 32 text:
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SENIOR ESSAY FIRST PRIZE GLITTER Bright, sunny day. Perfect for a walk. Too bright. I better don my rose-colored glasses. They ' re wild. When I gaze around me they change everything. Even dull things take on a glitter. Like pink diamonds. I walk on. (Really I ' m floating, because everything looks so good around me. You know, it glitters). Buildings, really huge. A marvel. When the sun bounces off the windows. Glittering. Yes, my world is pink. A glittering pink. Everything Is so nice. 1 walk and see couples holding hands, watches on their wrists glittering. Couples in love, the genius of man, the beauty of nature. But then my parents speak of school. I must go, they say. I ' m a big boy, six years old. But Mom, their world isn ' t my world. I ' ll have to study and learn and read and write. She speaks of the good of education and how I must grow up. Through my glasses I look and even school looks okay. Then elementary school is finished. And to high school next. And my marks are just like everybody else ' s. And my mind works like everybody else ' s. But some of my ideas are just a little different. (Which Miss Dubrofsky, my teacher, said was wrong.) I still had my rose-colored glasses and the world was still gittering. I was still young. Then with high school came even more respon- sibilities. Mama began to wonder about me. Said I wasn ' t serious enough. It was true, I guess. Must be my love. She was soft. Warm. Sometimes I ' d take her into my world and explain how pretty everything was. And her eyes would glitter as I showed her my world. Through rose-colored glasses. Then my love moved away. My world was empty without her. And I sought refuge in the great books. Books of love. Books of wisdom. Read through rose- colored glasses. Nature, genius of man, schools, books, love. A good life. Then my rose-colored glasses began to lose just a pinch of glitter. At first I was quite worried. I asked my mother. She said not to worry, it was just the coming of my maturity. With this maturity came a new experience. I would sometimes take off my glasses and look at the world around me. I would think deeply. I began to see evil in the world. There were visions of men killing their fellow men. Shouts for help from persecuted people. Greed. Hatred. Selfishness. Egomaniacs. Perverts. Killers. The inhabitants of the human race. My world? Quickly I saarch for my rose-colored glasses. The world is black! Sombre, no glitter. Where is the glitter? Beads of perspiration cover my face. Then I see an old man and a bird. Where are my glasses? The cruel de- crepit man throws a huge stone at the bird. The stone hits the bird. It kills him. The stone keeps going. Where are my glasses! Then I see them before me on the window ledge. As I reach for them the stone shatters them. And my world is shattered. I am a man. There is no glitter. Michael Weiss SENIOR ESSAY SECOND PRIZE STAIRWAY TO TOMORROW We cannot forget that we are the heirs of that great revolution. Let the word go forth to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans — born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage — and unwilling to witness . . . ' ' Those were the words spoken by an American who had just reached the top of the Stairway to Tomorrow . He stood there now after many years of hardship and labour which he endured to reach it. The criticisms of age, the bigotry and prejudices against his religion and his beliefs were all behind him. He stood there with a glittering torch In his hand; willing to show not only his country, but the whole world, the way to the future. He held it high and proudly for it represented his good nature, his boundless energy, his Intelligence, his ability to lead, his ability to reason. All this and much more he had to offer, and all we had to do was take it and benefit from it. Yet, in a sort of vengeance and jealousy and ignorance we rejected It; instead we pushed him off the ' Stairway ' . This man who did so much for us and could have accomplished so much more, could not help us now. His life was snuffed out before those who had hated him had a chance to tell him how much they had come to love him. It was, on that November day in 1963, as if a light on the earth had been extinguished. We could do nothing now but preach of his virtues and mourn his loss, while we searched for another like him. I feel, that it is with great forgiveness, that it is with great faith, that we were given the chance to have another leader just like him; indeed his own brother. When before in history had we seen such great talent emerge from a family in the form of one person, let alone in two. Here again was a leader of men but again we struck him down too, and with him went the hopes of an entire generation of young people. Why did we do 28
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Page 33 text:
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It? Was it because of his wealth? Was it because ot his nature? Was it because he believed, as did his brother, that the good in man is stronger than the evil? Was it because he believed in reason . . . and not violence? Many now stand on the Stairway to Tomorrow , but none stand at the top; and I feel none shall do so — at least not in our lifetime. It is not necessary to identify the men about whom I have spoken ... we all shoud know them. If all men are brothers , then I feel a deep and soul-scaring shame, for my brothers were killed by my brothers. Stephen Rae SENIOR ESSAY HONOURABLE MENTION JOURNEY INTO THE UNKNOWN The day was still young when I started my journey into the unknown wilderness of the Canadian Rockies. The warm sun had risen over the mountainous horizon, sending its beams over the rough terrain. The autumn leaves crackled under my footsteps as I set out. I felt as if I had discovered a new world, brimming with new sights and discoveries. There seemed to be no end to the various hues Mother Nature had used to change the tall trees from different shades of green to a rainbow of colours. Bright lemon yellows mingled with warm oranges. From time to time I could spot a tree that was not yet wearing its autumn garb. The narrow path that I was following led into a small clearing, which was filled with an array of late flowers. Birds chirped overhead as I stopped for a while to pick a bouquet of wild blossoms. An angry squirrel chittered at me when I accidentally came too near to his home. I knew that I could not linger here for a very long time, so I resumed my journey. I soon found myself walking along the sandy beach of a small lake. The water was so green that I began to wonder if somebody had dropped a large emerald into the reservoir. The view was unbelievable. The body of water was hemmed in by a bowl formed by the mountains. I looked up and saw the V formation of Canada geese flying south, against the powder blue sky that was dotted with soft clouds. It was getting late, and I knew that my journey into the unknown would soon end. How swiftly the time had flown! The sun was begining to move westward and was shedding its last rays of light for the day. The sky had turned from a light blue to a fiery orange, streaked with purple. As I came closer to the edge of the forest, I wondered when I would make another journey into the unknown beauty of Canada. 1st prize: ' THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME ' lil Katrln Partelpoeg won by RICKY STURKENBOOM SENIOR SHORT STORY FIRST PRIZE THE DANCE I sipped my beer slowly, the club was packed, action was wild. I gaied blankly at the dancer on the small stage in the center of the circular bar, then looked for Al. The dim light distorted my vision and the music stopped, the dance floor began to empty until It was nude, I lit a smoke for confidence. I was bored, everyone else in the club was flying, flying wilder than they ever had before, and I was bored. The action kept thundering a constant vibration into my soul, it would build to a peak and then I would explode and my boredom would vanish, my entire insight would transform into an un- canny desire to move, vibrate, and love. I saw Al. He was dancing. I drank two beers quickly and had two smokes, I had to keep my insides inside, I couldn ' t let myself go or I ' d land on that continuous merry-go-round of insanity; the insanity of the wild. When would the eruption of the music end? I wouldn ' t be able to keep control much longer and then I would never have control again; I wanted to lose it so much. I was relieved when the music changed from its luring ferocity to serene waltzes, and I began to search the now-relaxing setting for someone, I didn ' t know who, just someone. The baffling effect the contrasting mood took on me was awesome; I still searched. She sat at a long table alone in the corner with no-one, sipped her drink, and smiled at nothing. Her 29
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