Shawnigan Lake School - Yearbook (Shawnigan Lake, British Columbia Canada)

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Society; subscriptions to either of these are received at 1331 Marine Building, Vancouver, B.C., with all the old-world courtesy of a starving jaguar let loose in a butcher ' s shop. Over fifty Old Boys, and a number of parents, are contributing regularly, some in small amounts and some in large, to the War Memorial Society which has financed some important school expenditures and is endeavouring to build up an endowment fund for scholarships and other projects at the school. Cheques to this worthy and indeed essential cause should be made payable to Shawnigan Lake School War Memorial Society, and all contributions are deductible from taxable income. CHAIRS FOR THE BIG SCHOOL Old Boys who have not already presented chairs for the Big School are advised that these can now be obtained from Mr. Carr at the School Hobby Shop, suitably carved with name and years at the school, at a cost of $25.00. Additional chairs are urgently required to take care of the increasing enrolment at the school. MARRIAGES Park e-Swanson — On September 17th, 1955, at Christ Church Cathedral, Vancouver; Gordon Parke (1945-49) to Cecile, daughter of Dean and Mrs. Cecil Swanson. Maclnnes-Shaw — On May 10th, 1955; Duncan Maclnnes (1947-51) to Molly Lou, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H. Shaw of Vancouver. ft ft ft cJLiteraru Section A DESK TOP It has never been varnished, but someone has tried to correct this omission with disastrous results. It bears upon it the scars of many battles, always between it and a pen, and it has invariably lost. Let us survey its peculiar and characteristic marks. In the upper left hand corner is someone ' s name stamped in block letters. Under- neath this is the inscription R.V. Then comes the thirteen-times table, together with an intricate geometric design, the result of painstaking effort. There are a series of gouges lower down, put there for no apparent purpose except to amuse the gouger. The greater portion of the right hand side is taken up by a diagram illustrating the differences between the American and the European agricultural belts (in blue, the colour of my ink). Someone has been at work on the edges of the desk. Now they are scalloped like an oyster shell, dinted and notched. These disfigurements interspersed with other markings make it look somewhat less than new. And I am not sure if a conglomeration of French idioms; of ill-assorted words such as Cyanide, Smudge, and Rut ; and of ugly ink-blots add to its already negligible beauty. — R. C. MALKIN. ft ft ft CASTLES IN THE AIR Castles in the air. Surely it is only in the English language that such a phrase can be found. The French, who are known for their logic, soon realize that a castle in the air is quite impossible. The Germans, who are admittedly an imaginative race, simply shake their heads in pity. Even the Danish, who love folk song and myth, find the expression rather foolish. In the first place, building a castle in the air must be very difficult unless one makes a habit of practising the art of levitation. Architects tell us that for the construction of any building it is necessary to have a firm foundation. This at once presents a problem. It would, I think, take a fair stretch of the imagination to consider the atmosphere a firm foundation. Another problem that arises (if one assumes that a foundation has been built out of air) is how to keep the castle from shifting. It would be inconvenient for its occupants on returning from a visit to find their ethereal castle had blown away. To anchor it to the ground would hardly be in keeping with castles in the air. This problem must be left unsolved. Assuming that construction has been completed, one finds that many inconveniences have arisen for the occupants. The first and most natural problem is how to mount or board this fortress in the sky. If you are a fakir the problem is easily solved — the Indian Page Twenty-Seven

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We should like to pay particular respect to Captain Owen Robertson (1917-19) on the award presented to him by the Royal Geographical Society for his Northwest passage voyage as the skipper of H.M.C.S. Labrador. He was awarded the Back Grant, named for the late Admiral Sir George Back, and given annually for exceptional work by scientific geographers and explorers. The cruise of the Labrador through the North- west Passage marked the first time a navy ship had made the trip; subsequently, she became the first navy ship to circumnavigate the North American continent. We should like to note also, in case this has not been noted before in our magazine, that Captain Robertson is one of seven Canadian navy men who possess the George Medal. He won it for taking command of a burning munition ship in Halifax harbour in 1943 after the crew had abandoned ship. The citation said that his efforts prevented a major explosion in the harbour. Brigadier S. E. E. Morres (1920-24) is Deputy Quarter Master General, Design and Development, in Ottawa, and now has serving with him Lieut. Colonel Harry J. Lake (1921-28). Brother Lieut. Colonel John F. Lake (1923-33) is in the British Army and was serving in Austria when last heard from. We understand that Lieut. Colonel Jim Groves, R.E. (1920-26) has retired to the country life of an English farm. Douglas H. Green (1922-29) still works the newspaper racket and is presently on the staff of the Regin a Leader-Post. Tom A. Piddington (1925-28) after a spell of teaching in California, has recently settled in Victoria again; his brother, Rev. Michael Piddington (1945-47) has been ordained in the Anglican Church of Canada and will soon be married and in charge of a parish in Northern Ontario. We had a long letter from H. Archie Turnbull (1918-22), who has spent many years in South Africa and was wounded in Italy in 1944 when serving with the 6th South African Armoured Division. Recently he has moved to Australia, where he lives at a fascinating address called Kissing Point Road, Turramurra, N.S.W. Turnbull reports that he learned a couple of years ago that Hugh Lander (1919-20) was killed in the Pacific war (though whether as a civilian or in the armed forces we do not know), leaving a wife and son. John D. Rockfort (1925-34) writes from Box 1904, Mombasa, Kenya, to say he is returning to British Columbia in 1956 after an absence of 20 years, and hopes to pursue his interest in Forestry and Reforestation here. In the sports line congratulations are in order for Tom Pearce (1931-40) who won the Canadian Epee Championships last May in Toronto. Also, Ned Larsen (1937-43) went to England last spring as a member of the Canadian Squash Team which played in an international tournament with England and Scotland. His brother Jack Larsen (1921-29) won the Pacific Northwest Veterans ' squash tournament last March. At U.B.C. we have the largest contingent of Old Boys we have had for many years. Hugh Wilkinson (1937-40) continues as an Assistant Professor in the School of Commerce. Studying at the University are John Madden, Barry Dryvynsyde, Willie Bice, Rennie Edgett, Gerald McGavin, John Burr, David Williams, Tucker Battle, David Read, Bob Simson, Hugh Mowat, Peter Hebb, Richard Douglas, Tom Robertson, Peter McBean and George Moffatt. Gerald McGavin is to be congratulated on playing for the Thunder- bird rugby team in his freshman year. Rennie Edgett, David Read, David Williams, Richard Douglas and Tucker Battle are also playing rugby on U.B.C. teams. We understand that John Strathdee is still at McGill, in 3rd year Engineering, and he has now been joined by John Kaye, taking Commerce, who has also turned out regularly for the University rugger XV. South of the line, Pat Gaffney is attending the University of Washington, where he is studying Radio and Te ' evision. Chuck Callahan has graduated from there with a degree in Electrical Engineering and is now with the U.S. Army. Also attending the University of Washington are Lyman Louis, Jeff Pruett, Michael Chadwick and Archie Patrick. George Wilson and Gerry Berg are at Stanford, and Ernest Pinkerton, having gradu- ated from there, is now an Ensign in the U.S. Navy. Ronald Obermarck is at West Point and writes how the rigours of Shawnigan life are now serving him well. Joe Stewart is attending Williamette College in Salem, and Stephen Knight is at Beloit College in Wisconsin. C. E. Paddy Morris (1929-32) a Vancouver barrister, is President of the Old Boys ' Society and has been active in keeping up our continuing interest in the school and suggesting visits of Old Boys to Shawnigan where we alwavs receive a very warm welcome. Ken Hanson (1943-47), vice-President, is with T.C.A. and (co-incidence, no doubt) spent his 1955 holidays in Barbados. Barry Dryvynsyde is Secretary; Derek L. Johnston (1926-28), who has completed a strenuous year as President of the Institute of Chartered Accountants of B.C., is Treasurer of the Old Boys ' Society and of the War Memorial Page Twenty-Six

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rope trick. But in this part of the world fakirs seem to be in the minority. The problem is still unsolved unless, of course, you are extremely wealthy and a helicopter can be obtained. Another problem is the draught through the walls and the floor. This is apt to raise the heating bill and give the inhabitants cold feet. But let us stop here. I hope that by this time I have dissuaded you from even thinking of building a castle in the air. Frankly it is a waste of time. Building castles in the air is quite impossible in actual fact. It is possible, however, in the imagination and this is why the expression has meaning. Indeed, if all my castles had been built I should now be better off than a fakir or a Rockefeller. —J. MADDEN. ft ft ft THE RIVER AND THE RUINED A faint breeze rippled the water, sending the rushes and reeds bowing back and forth. Jan stood on the river bank staring out across the stream at the spot where Hungry Pete had died. The soft evening light bathed his face, accentuating the lines and hollows. His hands shook as he filled his pipe and lit it. The bite of the tobacco, instead of being an anaesthetic, provoked his thoughts, and he found himself thinking about the day ' s happenings. What was the cause of the tragedy? The snag? But he had allowed for that when he judged his drift. Hungry Pete ? Certainly Hungry Pete was at fault, but even so, if he had had more time he could have untangled his net. The freighter ? damn those profiteering murderers. No matter who was at fault, Jan had lost his net, his means of livelihood. His mind probed further into the past. He remembered the peace and quiet of the evening before. A duck quacked, and rose, wingtips splashing the water ahead of the boat. Jan looked up. His eyes ran along the row of floats that marked his gill net, to the little raft at the end, whose lantern winked in the gathering dusk. He noted his boat ' s rate of drift against the shore, glanced up and down channel, and then let his eyes rest on the worn grey planking of his gill netter. Jan was not interested in the scenery about him. For forty years the river had been his home and his provider during the annual salmon run. Bu t forty years had changed the river as well as Jan. Where once the river ran fast and smooth, supporting the traffic of men and material, it now basked (full of silt and snags) languidly in the last rays of the setting sun. Jan was like this quiet slough; his days of rushing were over, and the marks of the years stood, like the silt and snags of the river, on his weatherbeaten face. Jan was not a thinker of great thoughts, yet in his mind he had summarized the character of the river. It was to him a spiteful woman that could not make up its mind where to go or what to do next; seemingly innocent, yet possessed of the power to destroy. This evening Jan had been worried. Not a pressing life or death worry, but a gentle ache. It was to do with Lew Khow the grocer, a man who often advanced credit at his store to needy fishermen. Such had been Jan ' s fate, and now Lew Khow was clamouring politely for the money owed him. Of course he would be paid when the annual salmon run arrived and the fishing became better. Lew Khow was a good fellow, but a trifle impatient. Jan puffed harder on his pipe when he thought about this. The ferry whistled, and Jan decided to pull his net. He ducked into the tiny pilot- house, and soon the unhurried chug of his engine rang out across the water. He came out of the pilot-house, clambered into the stern cockpit, reached for a lever, and the net drum began slowly to revolve. Each float whacked the stern roller as it came over the side. Jan could see the mesh as it trailed away into the turbid water, and, as he watched, the strands tightened and a fish appeared, entangled in the wily meshes of the net. Jan unravelled it and stood gazing at it for a moment before he let it fall to his feet. It was a fresh-run sockeye salmon, with the deep-sea silver still resplendent on its sleek sides. Jan took six more such fish from the net, tossed them into the hatch and whirled a bucket of water over the deck. He stood for a while, gazing out across the river and marsh. The reeds made a dark line against the silver of the stream. The cottonwoods and poplars, silhouetted against the sky, looked like a row of giants bending over the river. Their branches waved, and the wind brought a smell of wood smoke and rotting vegetation to his nostrils. From the farm across the river came the sound of a cow lowing, and somewhere beyond the marsh a dog barked. Jan shivered and the motion awoke him from his reverie, and realizing that his engine had died, he went into the pilot-house to start it. The engine running once more, he swung the helm over and headed the boat down-river to Ladner. A row of piles rose out of the gloom. Jan cut his engine speed, and the boat glided into a little float at the base of the piles. He touched the reverse, there was a brief whine Page Twenty-Eight