Viscount Bennett Junior High School - Terminal Yearbook (Calgary, Alberta Canada)

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LITERARY And here is another unusual subject for a school yearbook - politics. However, it is probable that even the Russian ambassador would crack a smile at Jim Dunsmoor’s Isms for a Laugh . . ISMS FOR A LAUGH Socia lism , under which • . Some people do no labor: If you have two healthy cows. You give one to your neighbor. Commu nism , we are told By Bulge and Krusch the gent: You have twp cows, but then you give Both to the government. The Reds , although it makes you burn May give you some mil k in return. , Living under Fasc ism where A person has two cows Them he keeps, and with the milk The government he endows. ,• - ? . v In return for this deed They sell him some milk for his need. Nazism, under which Some people were so blue. You they quickly liquidate And keep your cow or two. Jim Dunsmoor, 10-30 Have you ever walked in the woods in Autumn and seen the creatures preparing for winter? Or have you ever seen a seagull hovering over the shore? Even if you haven’t the two selections which follow will make these sights seem real and near to you. Autumn in the Woods In mid-September as the sun dips toward the south and shadows lengthen, a sense of uneasiness hangs over the woods. The soft dying days are still balmy, but in the evenings streamers of mist gather above the stream beds. Outwardly the woods appear unchanged, yet throughout their quiet chambers all life seems poised upon the brink of some immense but unfor- seeable event. Winter is nigh! David Ross, 9-12 The Seagull The seagull flying over a ship. Gently swoops to take a dip, Down through the sky onto the rail. Then gently floats up to the sail. His wings he rests, then flies once more Across a breezy, sandy shore. Where children from their houses go, While he watches, white as snow. Norma Chisholm, 8-11.

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- — —t - . — t — - . 1 t i i 1 1 ) A | f 1 ) I •. j « 1 - 4- 1 m: J i , —. .• i. O ' v -• L Well, here we are at last with •the yearbook all done. We have worked to compile a regular encyclo¬ pedia of Viscount Bennett activities ' for 1956-57, and among other things, we have included several short ‘stories and poems by Viscount students. In the pages that follow, you will find some older material written for the Viscount Version literary con¬ test, as well as some new material, created especially for oUr yearbook, ... ’ . . Well, the stories speak for themselves, and the only words left to say are those of thanks and congratulations to all those who spent,valuable time writing them and to wish those who patronized our yearbook very happy and interesting reading. John Ower 10-32 Free verse poetry is an accepted part of ,our English literature today, and yet very few poems of this t£pe are ever written at a high school level. It is therefore a pleasure to present HerbRyll’s prize winning poem After the Game . The empty stands, The absence of cheering. The janitors Clearing away. The paper cups, The candy wrappers, T The empty bottles,. The pieces of paper So cleverly fashioned Into airplan.es. And the torn programs Left by the jubilant fans. .• iu. ' if No players In-striking uniforms Are to be seen. The naked white lines Marking the yards .. : .. , With their : Ghostly white figures; The goal posts Standing alone On the c empty: field • Of green, . , , A lonely sentinel, This was .the site Of. joy And despair And hopes; .;•• . Of the multitude f ■ Rising with the score Higher, higher ..... Only to be crushed . : By a break-away ; i Or a touchdown. Executed by The opposing team. Herb Ryll, 10-30

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LITERARY And now for some short stories. In the four selections which follow, one has a surprise ending, one is about creatures unknown to man, one will keep you chuckling for hourd and one is a matter of life and death. Quite an interesting batch of reading. SUCCESS OR FAILURE ? He stood there in the shadows, tense, nervous, poised for action. Not long, now. His unseeing eyes-stared at the people who hurried back and forth; they were noisy but he didn ' t hear them. Soon...-.soon.... How many years had he waited for this moment? Ten? Fifteen? Ever since he was a kidl Shaking fingers scratched a match, lit the cigarette which dangled from his twitching lips, then almost as quickly stubbed it out. A few minutes and he would know. A lifetime of dreaming and working and training - an eternity of watching and waiting and listening - a few minutes and his career would rise or fall. Would something go wrong? Would there be a hitch, a hesitation? Would he be a success or failure? Readyl He choked ' down a deep gulp of air, pulled up his mask and ran his finger¬ tips over the cold metallic smoothness of the object in his pocket. Now! He blinked and walked into the room which was bright and familiar to him. Over in a corner a mousy-looking cashier counted wads of money - beautiful money. A crisp brunette beamed brilliantly at a housewife who stood before the teller ' s wicket. Two old women gossiped with a shabby army veteran. The cheerful bustle gagged and became a deadly hush as they■caught sight of him. He heard his own voice, miraculously without a tremor, giving the commands re¬ hearsed so often. The brunette stopped beaming and with darting little glances at the revolver, began to put the money into his tattered suitcase. One of the old women tittered hysterically and the old soldier opened his mouth to protest but a wave of the weapon sent them cowering against the wall, A warm glow settled over him. He was master; they were eating out of his hand and the entire world lay at his feet. He was a t amer, taming his lions, Nero casting captives to the beasts, Alexander, terrible in battle and Judas jingling thirty pieces of silver in his pocket. ■ ' He leaned over to pick up the-suitcase. From the corner of his eye he saw a form lunge. Wheeling, he fired once - twice. The figure folded and crumpled like a balloon relieved of its airi Suddenly a terrible sickness, a choking nausea was sticking in his throat; his whirling, twisting stomach became a pit of crunching ice. His knees melted away..... The curtain dropped. ' With one accord the audience rose to roar a standing ovation. Later, critics dashed to typewriters to assure the public that a great new young actor had begun his climb to glory --to success. Ruth Coe, 10-30 A BRUSH WITH FME A flash of lightning; a bolt of thunder; rain pouring down torrent upon raging torrent - and the horse which Kim Shannon rode neighed in undenied terror, ns the thunder clashed again Fleet reared. ■ u hoal Kim yelled desperately above the roar of the storm. It was of no avail. Fleet was panic stricken and began- to tear across the- field on a dead run. Just ahead, Kim saw a low-hanging branch and tried to duck. She was quick - but not quick enough. The ground seemed to rise to meet her and she struck it with a terrific impact. Black¬ ness swept over her with nauseating sickness as she lapsed into unconsciousness. After that she knew nothing until the next morning when the voice of her mother awakened her, How do you feel, honey? - Mom...I...I think I fell, didn ' t I? When I was riding. I know, sweetie. But you ' ll be O.K.- Doc ' feathers says so. Only - he says you won ' t be able to walk for a couple of wreeks.