Tillsonburg District High School - Tatler Yearbook (Tillsonburg, Ontario Canada)

Page 34 text:

' tk , Prose and Fiction edited by Richard Jones Poetry edited by Leone Turner ON WRITING AN ESSAY by Eric Steele, XIII fPri:e-Winning Essay on Light Themej When you think of it, this is quite a big world we live in, and on thinking of it, everything in it quite marvellous. A great many of the wonders of the world have inspired poets and musicians. Artists travel all over the world and spend hours reproducing on canvass the beauties they encounter. Business men find relaxation and pleasure in a small garden. Professors and scientists spend their lives studying nature. Besides natural phenomena there are the great things wrought by man. To write about all of them would fill volumes. Speaking of writing, there comes a time in the life of every student when he must write an essay. That is just the time when he is not inspired by nature, the wonders of the world, or, it seems by anything else. The student receives his assignment, goes home to his room in the quiet of the evening, opens his book, picks up his pencil and tries to think of something to write about. It isn't that he cannot thinkg perhaps he thinks too hard. Innumerable muddled ideas speed through his mind while nature's wonders elude him. In sum- ming up a description of the view from his window he finds a deficit of adjectives. In the millrace of thought, an inspiration struggles to the surface, only to be pushed down again by the lack of a first sentence. Hours later he is still writing and tear- ing and throwing away worn-out ideas. With a wail of despair he jumps up and paces the room, tearing his hair as if to pull forth an idea in that fashion. He bathes his hot, feverish face in cool water, and when the haze before his eyes rises and the hammering in his head slows down he chooses a fresh pencil and begins again, with the same result as before. The next morning he awakes and his mind turns to the night before. The hor- rible realization comes over him that he is still one essay short. At school, when the teacher asks him for it, he raises haggard eyes and replies resignedly: No, ma'am, I haven't it finished. 32 HARP OF THE WINDS f'Winner of First Prize for Serious Versej 0 seeking wind that plays through the willows, ' i Bending the boughs to your desire: Bending the boughs that in your hands Release their music even higher, Higher aloft in ecstasy Than any song has right to be. 0 wind that shakes the aspen leaves, A million voices to release, A million voices singing soft An echo of the song of peace: O song why must you disappear For greater ears than mine to hear? Harp of the winds, so great, so wide, That stretches o'er the countryside, Played by the wind, whose mastery Now wafts your song to infinity. Ruby Makins, XII. POST-EXAMINATION MEDITATIONS fWinncr of First Prize for Light Verscj The joyous hour has now arrived, The hour for which 1've dreamed and strived,' I've tried again my mark to win- My last exam is handed in. Those awful hours of toil are o'er, And now I crave through yonder door To dash: I surely now have earned the right To leave my books, and SLEEP at night! Few yards ahead my paper lies Within the clutches of the wise, Worn pedagogueg if only it I could retrieve And change one word before I leave. Short time within which he 'will bear My fatal document to where It will be read and judged and marked: On such a trip IT has embarked. Elsewhere 1'll go and I shall try To sound composed, secure. But why? 'Twill only be a waste of breath, For actually I'm scared to death! Richard Jones, XIA. THE TATLER

Page 33 text:

,gm uno'-if Q Isl +. . s Ban LITERARY SOCIETY BACK: L. Turner, V. Thompson, A. Gerhardf, R. Mannell, L. Bridge, A. Turner, M. Howey, P. Boughner, K. Sandor. CENTRE: D. Currie, B. Mason, K. Webster, J. Denys, J. Hunter. FRONT: D. Peacock, J. Howard, R. MacLennan. LITERARY SOCIETY ELECTION I 948-49 1949 brought to T.D.H.S. a Literary Society election that was, to quote a source who professes to know- extra- ordinary. The two parties were led by Ken Webster of the Pyrotechnicians and Noel Rokeby of the Rockettes. After several unavoidable delays and a colourful display of artistic ability on posters, one fine morning in the fall the two parties met face-to-face in the battle of words that is planned to direct vnfes in a certain direction. This year, because of the increased enrolment, junior and senior assemblies were necessary at the cost of a phenomenal rise in the blood pressure of the candidates. The results of the voting were close, in fact, a recount of presidential votes was necessary, but the final results showed that all but one Pyrotechnician candi- date had been elected - President, Ken THE TATLER Webster, Vice-President, Jenny Denys: Social Vice-President, Barbara Mason fof the Rockettes Jg Secretary, Jo-Anne Hunter, Treasurer, Donald Currie, Editor, Amelia Gerhardtg Assistant Editor, Russell Mannell. The following, defeated at the battle of the polls, retired to lick their wounds and watch the fireworks: Noel Rokeby Cdefeated by two votesl, Helen Spanics, Leone Turner, Dorothy Weeks, Richard Jones, Jean Scrimgeour, Richard Rokeby, but they can take some consolation from this excerpt from the Official Results Report: We wish to congratulate all candidates on one of the most exciting election campaigns the school has had in recent years. The suc- cessful candidates can now safely be said to have conducted the affairs of the Literary Society very successfully, as they will probably not carry out any rash policy after Easter to spoil their excellent record so far. Noel Also-Ran Rokeby, XIII. 31

Page 35 text:

THE MISTAKEN IDEA by Leone Turner, XIII IP:-'ize-Winning Essay on Serious Themej Long, long ago in the remote countries of the East there lived people who prac- tised sorcery and witch-craft. If they wished to cause the destruction of an enemy, they built a small doll in the like- ness of the foe and pricked it with thorns or other sharp objects, hoping, in their superstitious twisted minds, to be able to thus destroy their enemy. Who would believe that such conditions exist today? Such conditions are present and will be present as long as racial prejudice thrives in the twisted minds of our people. We also raise an image or standard, to re- present all the qualities that we find objectionable in people different from usg we pierce this image with the barbs of comments and with the thorns of ridicule. Why do people act this way towards people of different colouring, different race or different creed from their own? The answer is the same as it was hundreds of years ago-ignorance. People are always confused and resentful to things that they don't fully understand. In order to keen a feeling of superiority, they make fun of a man whose skin is yellow, black or brown, mock a man who attends a syna- gogueg ridicule a man who prays differ- ently, scorn a man who is Hebrew or Negro, or virtually exile him because his name is Goldberg. To appease their vanity they segregate black from white, or French from English, or Christian from Hebrew. Perhaps some small little voice inside you denies that you could act that way, but the next time you find yourself laugh- ing ata joke about a Jew for even a Scotsmanl or avoiding those who are of different beliefs than you are, or feeling a smug glow of satisfaction because you are so much superior, pause and ask your- self if this is fulfilling the principles fought for and achieved with the Bill-of Rights and the Declaration of Independence. The basis of all discord in the world today is the prejudice that one race or religion feels toward another, and until such stupid prejudices are abolished, we shall try, in our ignorance, to destroy our enemies by piercing false images that we have erected. Is this sophisticated society, that has evolved from the age of witch- craft, really so much improved? THE TATLER HEART'S DESIRE by Richard Rokeby, XII fPrize-Winning Short Storyj ' The room was dimly lit by the fiames in the open hearth, old widow McSloy sat quietly tatting and mumbling to herself. Another figure enters the room: it is Hiram McSloy II, only son of widow Mc- Sloy. He is extremely bashful, and has yielded to his mother's wishes ever since he could stand, but by the determined set of his jaw it would appear that on the eve of his thirty-eighth birthday he has decided to do something, whether his mother consents or notf He has lain awake at night for weeks making up his mind. He has wanted to do this ever since his twenty-first birthday. All his friends had by then married and settled down while he was still tied to his mother's apron strings. He quietly approaches his mother, kisses her brow and says, Mother I am almost thirty-eight years oldg I have decided to--. Yes, Hiram, rasped the old lady. That is I would like to-. HYeS.!9 Well, you see I-. Yes. I-I-I guess I'll retire early tonight. A good idea, said dear widow McSloy by way of concluding the interview. All his hopes had been shattered by that ominous Yes. He went up to the loft, and thought and thought. Finally he decided that since he would be thirty- eight tomorrow, he would announce his stupendous decision to his mother, whether she liked it or not. Why shou1dn't he have one? All his friends had them and they seemed to make life so much easier. As we peer into the room the following evening we see Hiram again approach his aged mother, and dispensing with the kiss, he gets down to business. Mother, I've decided that since I am thirty-eight now I have the right to do something that I've wanted to do ever since my twenty-first birthday when all my friends had left me to get married. They found a new friend to help them through the trials and tribulations of life. Why shouldn't I? The town is full of very fine specimens, and I think that I have seen my heart's desire. Of course, it will cost money, I'l1 want to go riding with her, and I'll have to find room for her to live in, but I've planned for that. Ever ll 33