Sunalta Junior High School - Vista Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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Halfway down the lane he turned into a path which led to a blue lake. Running down the path he came to a boat hidden under the reeds. He jumped in and without pausing a second, cast off from shore. In the middle of the lake he let down his line and leaned back in the boat sighing happily. But his happiness was short lived. Soon dark clouds overcast the blue sky, and the rumbling of thunder and streaks of lightning was upon him. Soon the boat was rocking and the waves were lapping over it. Clinging to Tippy, Tom began to sob, “We’ll both be killed, I know we will,” he sobbed. The waves began to die down but then rain started in torrents. For hours it seemed, Tom sat in the rocking boat. He was cold and wet. Tippy began to bark. Tom looked at the shore. “There’s a light,” he cried. “Maybe some one is here to save us!” “Tom, Tom,” a voice cried. “Where are you?” In a minute Tom found his voice and answered, “Out here in a boat.” In less than five minutes Tom was in the arms of his father and on his way home with Tippy following wearily. “I wished I knew how someone besides me knew of that spot. Dad. It was certainly lucky, for otherwise I’d never have been found.” —Elaine Walker, 9D. SOUTH AMERICAN FACTS These facts have been compiled by Ernie Radcliffe and Jim White of 8C. Both boys lived in South America for 11 or 12 years. Jim White was born in Talara, Peru, and lived there until just two years ago. His father was with the International Petroleum Company. He speaks Spanish and is learning French. Jim hopes he will not have to live here the rest of his life but would like to return to his native haunts. He says the country is slightly up on that of ours for less clothing needs to be worn and things are freer, such as hunting, fishing. Everything is right at one’s back door. He came out through the Panama Canal and thence to Jamaica, from where he proceeded to New York, and on to Calgary. Ernie lived in Barranca, Columbia. It is down the Magdelena River from Bogota, the capitaj. He flew out as far as Panama from where he took the same route via steamer as Jim. He also speaks Spanish and likes South America too well to ever leave there for good. He says the flowers, birds, trees, are all much nicer than ours. The cost of living is very high. Prior to his coming to C anada, he had always gone to England for his vacation. One of the mysterious wonders of South American countries is that of the shrunken heads, unknown to the white man. The na¬ tives of Ecuador and Colombia are noted for these mysterious doings. A poncho is one of the most valuable pieces of clothing to the natives. It is worn in the mountains for warmth. They have a wide 57

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hours of labor we shall have time to enjoy the finer things of life: art, science and music. So that out of the Turmoil of Europe, shall arise a glorious Canadian Nation. With vision our nation shall be THE LAND OF PROMISE.” -—Wilda Oxley. (This was a prize winning essay). WE MUST LIVE We must fight and then go on! To uplift rights and bury the wrong. To keep this land we love, as free As our home’s land across the sea. To hold our hopes and cherish pride, So in our home love still abides. So hold the fight and love good cheer For right is might and God is here. Though armies tramp and men do die, There are these words, that lift to skies ‘‘We must fight, and then go on, To uplift right and bury wrong.” And as we watch our men go by. They cheer, they sing, and hold heads high. And now home friends do not fear. For right is might and God is here. —Raymond Pilkington, 8C. IT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED The day dawned brightly. The sun’s rays shone brightly into Tom’s room. It was Saturday. Tom jumped out of bed and ran to the top of the stairs. “Mom,” he yelled, “have you packed my lunch?” “Yes, Tom,” answered his mother. In a minute he was downstairs. Taking his lunch he rushed out the door without saying good-bye or even having his breakfast. It was a glorious morning. The sun was like a ball of fire in the sky. He ran along the road with his dog for some distance, and then turned down a shady lane. “It’s a good thing only you and I know about this fishing spot. Tippy,” he said. 56

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variety of color and are made remarkably well by hand. These ponchos resemble a large blanket and have a slit in the middle to put the head through. Instead of pack-horses and donkeys, they use llamas and burros in Peru and other South American countries. Along the flat coastal plains are a series of tiny railroads and stations. The common natives live in small huts made of mud and corn stalks. Hammocks are used for sleeping purposes. The natives eat great quantities of starchy vegetables. Their bread is made from uka, which is a root. It is cooked and then beaten to a powder. Fishing and hunting are indulged in, in most parts. Licenses are not necessary, except for guns, so one can hunt or fish at any time of the year. side of the Andes are large tropical jungles. These are filled with many disease-spreading pests. There are great mineral deposits there, too. Gold, oil, salt, silver and mercury are among the valuable minerals found. Many tropical fruits are grown on the large plantations and a lot of them are shipped to North American ports. Among the fruits are bananas, oranges, lemons, limes, paltas, mangos and coconuts. Candies and apples are highly priced because of the scarcity. An apple costs between ten and fifteen cents. To end this bit of information we advise you to take a trip to South America some time and see the beauties and wonders of the place which we cannot fully describe here. THE FARM I like to see the little pigs go dashing to and fro, I like to see contented cattle lift their heads and low, I like to see the blackbirds perch on roof and barn, I like to see these things down on the farm—■ And yet there’s home! I like to see the happy robins build their nests in glee, I like to see the chipmunk go scampering! up a tree; I like to see the little roosters stand upon their toes, And flap their wings and try so hard to crow— And yet there’s home! I like to see the farmer ploughing in the field, I like to see the hired man, the heavy pitch-fork wield. I like to see the windmill so very very tall, I like to hear the old horse stamp impatiently in the stall— And yet there’s home! I like to see the old hen with chicks gathered round, I like to see them eat as they scratch the ground, It’s fun to see the cow after she’s led you through the mud, Stand on the side of the puddle and calmly chew her cud. And yet there’s home! —Peggy Elder, 8C. 58