Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

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The Choir Opening Organ Recital On Monday evening, November 4th, we had the pleasure ot hearing the well-known organist, David Ouchterlony, give a recital on the recently in- stalled Casavant organ in Grace Chapel. On the same programme, we thrilled to the voices of our friends in the Chapel Choir under the direction of Dr. Stanley Osborne. Along with compositions by Willan, Vaughan Williams and Davies, the choir sang Dr. Osborne ' s own composition, Eternal God. Among the compositions that we heard from Mr. Ouchterlony were a chor- ale prelude on Walden by Dr. Osborne and his own Trumpet Tune . Mr. Ochterlony ' s true artistry was keenly felt by each member of the audience but his genius revealed itself at the conclusion of the evening. At the end of the programme sheet, as though it had been put there as an unimportant after-thought, the words Improvisation on selected themes were printed. It became an appropriate climax to the recital. Dr. Osborne presented our guest with a sealed envelope, seen previously only by himself, containing two original themes. Mr. Ouchterlony returned to the organ without a moment ' s hesitation and gave his listeners a taste of humour, delicacy, pensiveness, majesty, vitality, tender feeling, and, in sum- mation, infinite musical beauty. The programme was tremendously well received and we all agreed that the Chapel Choir was a worthy complement to this rare musician. Department of Music Page 23

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Earle Grey Players The Festival Company ' s programme on October 30th at the Whitby High School Auditorium was attended by a party from ' O.L.C. ' We enjoyed excerpts from Henry IV Pt. I, Julius Caesar and As You Like It and thus in one short mid-week performance saw in costume many Shakespearean characters with whom reading had made us familiar. We also met Mrs. Mclntyre, so familiar to many of us in the Home Eco- nomics Department at O.L.C. and now a member of the Faculty of the High School. Good luck, Mrs. Mac! I have heard people talk of the romance and beauty of the mist gliding in over a calm sea and of the rays of moonlight shining through it: of how a soft breeze stirs the leaves, taking away the heat of the day and in its place leaving the sweet smell of the tropical flowers. This is all very well but I am under the impression that our writers have great imaginations. lust listen to my side of the story. You are out on a date, dressed m your favourite dress and wearing the latest hair-style. You have your newest dream-boat whom you are trying to impress. He has his father ' s convertible, is wearing his best suit (his only one), and is trying just as hard to impress you. You are down by the sea but are there twinkling stars and a full moon? Certainly there are not. A thick fog rushes in, followed by dark, black clouds and a strong wind which cools the heat of the day so much that you wonder why you did not bring your father ' s racoon coat. Suddenly the sky opens and you immediately decide that a bathing suit would have been more practical than the coat. The car now has a strong resemblance to your rich friend ' s swimming pool. Something trickles down your face and if a mirror were handy, a glance would tell you that it was your carefully-put-on mascara. The latest hair-style is best left to the imagination. This ends your romantic date and begins your career in the adjective business. One ' s stay at the College is all too short but one ' s copy of Vox CoUegii remains, a souvenir of the special events which took place during one ' s time there. Students of ' 58 will remember with pride the fact that they were here when Grace Chapel celebrated her first birthday, on November 3rd. The anniversary was marked by a service at which we enjoyed not only a sermon from Rev. W. J. Johnston, D.D., a member of our Board, but also the part played by our School Choir. On the Monday evening following, the open- ing recital on the new Casavant organ was given by Mr. David Ouchterlony. Margaret Allen, Grade XII. First Page 22

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Distinctively Canadian What is a Canadian? What qualities does he possess which set him apart from a Scot or a Pole or a Spaniard? My quest to determine the answer led me back two and one-half centuries in time. I stood unseen on the shore of the mighty St. Lawrence as Champlain claimed our land for France, and watched as, despite trials, failures and dis- couragements, the little French settlements continued to cling stubbornly to the rocky shore and grow like a lichen as it spreads over giant boulders. Surely here was something admirable. This tenacity of purpose and dogged courage — surely this was Canadian, for no other nation has had to contend with such extremes of climate; bitterly cold winters, smothering the land in a blanket of snow, and summers when the sun blazes down, robbing the land of its vitality. No other land began in a tiny clearing on the edge of so many miles and miles of standing timber. No other people had to fight rapids and prairies and mountains. Here, in New France, I had found a clue to the Cana- dian character and so, my purpose here fulfilled, I moved on. I was in Ontario when the Loyalists came; those hundreds arriving on our shores, homeless, destitute, forlorn. Although friendless and poverty-stricken, they bore proudly that characteristic from whence their name was derived; loyalty. Their loyalty endured torture and imprisonment rather than deny their allegiance to the British throne. Yes, this was certainly a Canadian trait. Had Canadians not always refused to unite with the wealthy American nation, preferring to keep their freedom under a democratic monarchy? I heard gun shots on the warm night air in 1862 and saw a black man scrambling over rocks, to fall exhausted on the little beach that marked the beginning of Canada and freedom. I saw his pursuers, helpless, deprived of their captive, forced to return to the south empty-handed, seething with rage. But look! From behind bushes and trees, see how Canadians race to carry the fugitive to shelter without a thought that this man is ot a different race. Why should one colour of skin be better than another? Such a thing is not im- portant to the friendly, freedom-loving Canucks. Nothing could be more typical of them than their lack of prejudice. And so I moved on a few years further to 1867: Confederation. I watched the parade of the passing years unfold as province after province joined Con- federation, until Canada stretched from sea to sea . This nation, a perfect blending of French and English, Protestant and Roman Catholic, farmer and factory labourer, exemplifies the best traits of the home-loving Canadian toler- ance, adaptability and sympathy for all oppressed. Thus I had completed my journey in time and had learned what distin- guished a Canadian from his fellow men: courage, determination, loyalty, love of freedom for all, lack of prejudice, congeniality. But could I find one person or group of people representative of this ideal? This was not easy to decide as Canada is a blend of many races and cul- tures. But in my search I halted beside a solitarV figure silhouetted against a blood-red sky: the Canadian Infantryman or soldier. Like Canada, the mem- bers of the Royal Canadian Army are of many races, creeds and backgrounds. Page 24