Strathcona Tweedsmuir School - Paidia Yearbook (Okotoks, Alberta Canada)

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The one that really iced an already sore head and sour stomach, as the sun was rising in the east was, Hwhen you've worried me to death, don't come crying to my funeral. Just let the whole world know that you killed your mother Ne all tried to circumvent that floorboard, but to no avail only prolonged the symphony. from a neighboring board Recently we had a were working. One of the up to the hardware store new men for with worry.H . Crawling over it Jumping over it produced a thud and a sympathetic groan while the carpet men carpet laid. Ne were eating our lunch came into the kitchen and told my mother that he was going nails so that he could repair a slightly loose floorboard in the hallway. She thanked him but refused his kind offer by saying,UPlease don't destroy the ecology of this house. That floorboard has served me well. That's my built- in warning system. It doesn't bark or biteg it doesn't shedg it doesn't need a licence and I don't have to feed it.H The young man seemed puzzled and we all looked at each other with that look that implied we didn't want Mom letting strangers know of her approaching senility. The workman returned to the hallway and in a few seconds we all followed him. Ne wanted to look at that strange device before it was covered by that new carpet for another fifteen years. Never can tellg we might need one of those in our own homes someday. PAUL MCKENNA GRADE 12 MINNER, LOCKE SHORT STORY CONTEST, 1978. A STORY ABOUT A GIRL WHO LOST HER DOG I woke up last Thursday and went to see my dog Blackie but he was not there. I went to get my Mom and told her that the dog was lost. I got my friend Deidre and we went looking for the dog. Ne heard a band. It was a circus band, so we went to the circus. Ne watched the circus and at the end a man held up a big box . He opened the box and there was Blackie. He asked if anyone owned the dog. I said it was mine so we went home very happy and played with Blackie. AISLING REIDY GRADE I MY DOG My door is wrecked. My dog did it. He did it with his teeth. It cost 550. My dad got very mad. He got so mad we sold him. ROBBIE MCCALLUM GRADE I l 27

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LUCKE SHURT ST DRY ALL THE WORLD'S A FLOORBOARD Before they signed the purchase papers the contractor assured my parents that he would personally see to it that every problem common to a new home would be set in order and, true to his word, he fixed everything my mother told him was wrong. He even repainted an entire wall that the moving men scraped when they carried in the stereo set. However, there was one problem that seemed more difficult than the others. when anyone walked down the hallway there was a loud squeak that could be heard throughout the house. Mr. Anderson, the contractor, believed that the squeak could be fixed by nailing the guilty floorboard from underneath, in the basement. He worked on it for several days but the squeak seemed louder than ever before. Mr. Anderson finally gave up trying and told my parents that the carpet would have to be raised in order to get at the board properly. He told them not to worry, that the carpet men would be coming the following week, and that then the floor would rest in peace. It all seems so long ago now that I really can't remember the circumstances, perhaps the carpet men were overbooked, or one of us had the measles, but the carpet men never came. The carpet was never raised and the squeak was never fixed. At first the noise bothered my mother very much. I can remember her telling my dad many times that they would never be able to sell the house, if they had to, with that loose floorboard screaming out for a few nails. But like so many things in life that bother us, we learned to live with the loose floorboard and soon the noise of it became part of the hum of existence. To be perfectly honest, the noisy squeak was sometimes a household helper. A little squeak meant that the baby was near the stairs and that the safety gate should be checked. A still lesser squeak meant that the cat was heading for a night on the town, so open the door and let her out. As we grew up that loose floorboard was to play an important part in our lives. We now laughingly call that board the Htruth tablen, but at the time it didn't always produce a smile. when we first started going out at night my parents set a curfew, but they never stayed up until we arrived home. They didn't have to. They had that damned floor- board. Over the years the melody remained the same, but the lyrics changed weekly. HYou're a half hour late, but thank God you're home safely. Goodnight.H Hwhat can you possibly be doing until two o'clock in the morning ?H nIt's about time you're home. You've missed breakfast. what are the neighbors going to think ?H The girls in my family had to listen to the same tune, but the lyrics were slightly different. HOnly tramps stay out after one o'clock in the morning.Your father will have plenty to say to you tomorrow.H 26

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I have been that if you repeat mind, and also the not be long before to plant a garden. THE TRIALS OF VEGETABLE GARDENING working on an advertising project for Mrs. Foster, and everyone says anything often enough, it will eventually Hsink inn. with this in emphasis recently about Hgetting back to naturen, I know that it will someone in my family gets the bright idea that it is time once more How well I remember last year - indeed, I was quite enthusiastic, for we happen to have a farm near Calgary and I could envision row upon row of delicious, edible goodies. But it didn't quite work out that way. Having a patch plowed was easy. We watched someone else do it, but to find a crew to build a small fence was like finding hen's teeth. They would do it next month, next year, or even last year, but not then. HNo problem,U said Father,Hwe will do it ourselves - must be good and strong - seven footers, well-pounded in, and a spot of barbed wire.H We hauled posts. We dug holes. We pounded. In spite of a line and measure, the posts were somewhat zig-zag, because every time I hit a rock, I certainly wasn't going to waste time digging it out. I dug a hole next to it, east or west. The line of posts resembled in straightness something like the hind leg of a donkey. Father shook his head, but there was no time to redo it. He did not even give my blisters time to heal before he headed for the wire. Have any of you ever done battle with a shiny new roll of barbed wire? You get one end stapled to the first post and carry the roll on an iron rod to the last post. I thought it weighed five hundred pounds, or maybe one thousand, but by the time we reached the last post, I had revised my thinking to two thousand pounds. Next, you use a wrecking bar to tighten the wire from the first post, pulling around the first post until the wire is taut. NTighter,H said Father, Hit doesn't ping.H Nell, if the first post is not well and truly anchored, it will decide to collapse as you tighten the wire. This means starting all over again, and shows that you did not do what you were supposed to do in the first place. Another thing I learned was that barbed wire is as cunning as elastic. when you attach one end and try to tighten it to the next post, the first end waits until you are bending down, busy with staples, then it whips around and hits you a stinging blow on the backside. HB0-ingn it shouts gleefully as you leap forward, in great pain, barbs impaling every part of you within reach. Hwhy are you dancing about like that?H asked Father. HGet on with it. The seeds should be in.H with blood dripping, I carried on until the fence was considered horse-proof. Everything Father does has to be horse-proof or bull-proof or both. Then came the fertilizer. Not for us the artificial kind. Oh dear me no. It had to be the real stuff, right from the barn. The tractors were busy elsewhere, so it came down to good old me, with a wheelbarrow and pitch-fork, digging in an ancient barn, whose floor, I do declare, could not possibly have seen the light of day since 1900. I plodded back and forth for hours, indeed days. 28