Trafalgar Castle School - Yearbook (Whitby, Ontario Canada)

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i S.CM. Bazaar All records were beaten m fun and funds this year. Takings at the sale were $600. Expenses have to be deducted but nevertheless this represents a most tangible sign of school spirit both on the part of the students and the visitors. The money will be used not only for donations to the many causes which S.CM. supports but this year a pew will be given for Grace Chapel. What would happen if we could not travel? It would mean, for instance, that I could not go to Connecticut for Christmas. Travel is a must. We should not be as advanced as we are to-day but for travel. If the fashion changed, how should we ever get to know about it? I should never have been able to come to this school and Jcmene would never have been my room-mate, unless, of course, she swam from Columbia. It takes less than two hours to fly from Toronto to New York; from Hamburg to Toronto takes sixteen hours. It would be possible to go to a funeral in Europe and be on time, if you live on the North American continent. I do not think that space-ships are necessary for travel. What do we want of the moon or other planets? I think that we feel as comfortable down on earth. If I had a free ticket to the moon, I should sell it and take a trip on our world and see the beautiful sights our own planet has to offer. PETRA VON FESTENBERG, Grade IX. Page 27

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Pedro Twice a week the same thing happened: he would be awakened by his wife around five o ' clock, he would dress, drink his coffee and set out for the mercado libre . The fresh morning air, still scented by those tropical flowers, surrounded him and he always inhaled it with the same longing as a thief staring at a jewel. On his donkey, the heavy burden of fresh vegetables and fruits added colour to the scenery. But this morning, Pedro was in no mood for contemplation: he lacked enthusiasm and vigour. The stalls with their faded coverings were already set up and the market was teeming with life. Vendors yelled at each other and laughed at their own jokes but Pedro was gloomy. With simple indifference, he put his fruits out on display, the good apples at the top, the rotten ones below; here the melon, there a couple of guanabanas . The truth was that he was bored and his soul seemed lifeless. For how many years had he been doing this? Ten? Twenty? An infinity undoubtedly. The same faces looked at him twice a week, in their eyes the usual question: Vale, can you give them for a few centavos cheaper? They knew he could not, for after all he had to support his family but they were as obstinate as his donkey. Then the boys would sneak up from behind and steal the best oranges and he would scold them, patiently in the first few years, then later angrily in a blast of Spanish. Of course, he dealt unfairly with his customers, especially with those who hid their money under the mattresses and claimed to be poor. He gave them the dented vegetables and occasionally he kept a few centavos. They could not count anyway. If his wife had been there, she would have sent him to church to ask forgiveness. But Pedro shrugged his shoulders and pulled his sombrero down to shield his black eyes from the hot sun. He needed and earnestly wished for an event which would bring life back into his soul so that he could cry out with the usual gusto. Had he not pulled down his hat, he would have missed her. As it was he had to look out sideways and she was approaching from the north side. She was ghastly thin, very small, extremely dirty, Pedro thought, and definitely not a customer, so why look at her? But he had to do so, for the next time he looked around, she was standing in front of him, her eyes first devouring the big melon on the floor and then being raised to his with a tender longing. Pedro was not used tO ' being charitable because he thought that a penniless creature like himself had no money to give, and was not that the only charity? The woman ' s look told him he was desperately wrong and that she was ter- ribly hungry. He felt a jab somewhere inside and it was pressing hard. His blood began to move with fresh rhythm and he smiled. Her eyes became hopeful. Pedro stretched forward, raised the melon and placed it in her hands. Then Pedro ' s soul was in rhythm with his blood and he yelled: Come to Pedro. He is here and has the best! Renata Pennacchiotti, Grade XIII. Page 26

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Self-sufficient Me I was standing there alone: always alone. Realising that I did not like anyone, I understood that it was natural that no one was extremely pleased with me. This had been the case from the very beginning but was I lonely ' r ' Of course not. I had a wonderful friend; myself. I love myself. I am honestly and truthfully in love with myself. There is nothing I do that does not please myself. It is plain to see that I am an all- round girl: it is heart-breaking to realise what other people are missing by not accepting me. Being alone all the time, it would seem that I should have a little trouble keeping myself occupied and my spirits up. To most people this loneliness would cause extreme moodiness, but to me, certainly not. 1 am the happiest person you could meet. Why, I am the funniest person in the world: indeed I keep myself laughing for hours. 1 am extremely entertaining. I realise that other people finding themselves in this same situation would let their morale drop in order to obtain friends. This is not the case with me — because naturally, wanting to please no one but myself, I keep my morale up; in fact my morale is so high that on certain occasions I find myself patting me on the back. This, of course, is extremely satisfying because, as everyone knows, without a little bit of praise one loses confidence in oneself. I confide in myself. Never do 1 keep anything from myself. My most per- sonal prob lems are shared with myself and do you think myself turns around and repeats what I have told her? Certainly not. She realises the importance of a problem ' s being kept secret. When I am in trouble, myself and I always figure out the solution, for as you know, two heads are better than one! Myself is very brilliant. This is extremely lucky because, not having anyone else to assist me, one of us must be smart. Now I suppose you are wondering about the nice little things your friends do for you. Do you realise that there is not one soul who behaves better to me than myself. Why, not once have I caught myself yelling at me; not once have I caught myself talking about me behind my back. Then the most im- portant, thoughtful thing of all is — not once has myself gone downtown and forgotten to buy me something. Yes indeed, myself is terribly understanding. Who else would cry with you when you are crying? Truly you can see that I am certainly the most self-sufficient person you could ever meet and I shall continue to love myself until myself proves herself unworthy of my love! GAEL FERGUSON, Grade XII. Page 28