Walkerville Collegiate Institute - Blue and White Yearbook (Windsor, Ontario Canada)

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30 BLUE AND WHITE 1948 you have two to the thirty-third power, or, in round numbers, ten hundred million ancestors. This is many. many, times the population of Eng¬ land at the time of the conquest. Now since your forbears all came from England, one of their an¬ cestors must have come over with illiatn the Conqueror. Ouod Erat Demonstrandum.” ‘“Yes, Dad. And leaving him to fond recollec¬ tions of that great stuff, I delved once more into my book. “—And she replied ‘You are so—’ ” “Jane, will you do me a favour? Run upstairs and get my number ten steel knitting needles in the green bag, on the right side of the cedar chest, beside the red box under ' Plutarch’s Lives’.” “Yes Mother.” Up I hurried, only to find that the knitting needles were not in a green bag at all, but in a brown leather case on the left side of the cedar chest. 1 could not find “Plutarch’s Lives” at all—not that 1 wanted them. “‘Here they are, Mother.” Placing them on the table. 1 picked up my book once more to discover whether my hero would die or live. “Slowly the lady turned and looked at the desperate man. Slowly—” “Say Jane. I’ve just found one of the most interesting questions in a ‘C’ exercise here, Get a piece of paper and a pencil. ‘A man is going on a fishing trip and wishes to choose some books from his library to read while he waits for the salmon to bite. If his library contains ten books by Thackeray, six books by George Meredith, five books by Jane Austen and three by Agatha Chris¬ tie, in how many ways can he choose five books, if no more than two can be by the same author?’ Now isn’t that interesting? Let’s try it.” “Yes Dad,” 1 said aloud, wondering inwardly why the man did not have the good sense to take the three books by Agatha Christie and be done with it, and how the author of the question ever managed to overlook Shakespeare and the Bible. One hour later, having sent the man off on his fishing trip complete with his five books, I re¬ turned to my own. “‘Speak, speak or I die!” Oh. 1 have already read that. Now where was I ? Oh yes. —“And she replied ‘You are so—’ ”, “Mercy, child, it’s eleven-thirty. Off to bed with you this very instant. I do declare.” “Yes. Mother.” JANET HUGILL, 13A. THIRD PRIZE DRAWING SECOND PRIZE BEHIND THE WHEEL The moment 1 step out of the house, car key in hand, the family automobile senses that I am coming. Immediately it stretches itself out length¬ wise and sideways, bringing the cars parked in front, behind, and across the street several feet closer. Once i have become settled behind the wheel and have turned on the ignition, the gasoline recedes to some remote channel, refusing to allow the engine to turn over under my trembling foot. Suddenly it returns and the engine, were it not Alex Puskas

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BLUE AN I) YV H I T E 1948 29 LITERARY FIRST PRIZE LIFE WITH FATHER - - - AND MOTHER or A Peaceful Evening with a Book “For months now lie had worshipped the ground her dainty feed trod, and had gazed from afar at her breath-taking beauty. Too long he had delayed. He must speak. If only he could see her alone for just five minutes; but she was always surrounded by bevies of giggling girls, or a group of handsome admirers. Moreover ( how could she!) she even encouraged and flirted with some of them. But tonight he was in hick. As he quitted the warm, bright room, which was full of gay, chattering young people, lie espied her. alone. at the end of the hall, leaning against a pillar and gazing, with those adorable blue eves, wistfully out of the window. Noiselessly he approached, his mind a chaos as he tried to assemble suitable words with which to address her. ‘Pardon me. but might I speak to you?’ he queried, and. as the passionate words rushed out. lie continued, ‘You arc the most beautiful creature I have ever seen; your hair, your eyes, your lips, are so lovely. I adore you! I would die for you. 1 cannot wait another moment but must know immediately—Will you marry me? Speak, speak, or I die! ' Slowly the lady turned, and looked at the desperate man. Slowly the lovely lips of which he had spoken parted and—” lane, come and dry the dishes. How many times must 1 call! Jane!” “Coming, Mother.” And leaving my heroine with her mouth open, 1 scurried out to the kit¬ chen. Never, it seemed, had there been so many dishes, so many annoying knives and forks. But linallv, at considerable risk to my Mother’s best china. I was able to dash back, settle comfortably in my chair, and get back to my story. “Slowlv the lovely lips, of which he had spoken, parted, and she replied ‘You— ' ” “Jane, don’t tell me you have no homework tonight, Jane!” “I got it all done at school. Dad. “Humph, you couldn’t have had very much. You voting people don’t know what work is. Now when 1 went to school it was a different story. “Yes, Dad.” “Where are you in your Algebra now?” Oh. we’ve just learned all about Permutations and Combinations.” All, yes. Great stuff. I remember that sort of question. Using the twenty-six letters of the alphabet and the ten digits, find how many licence plates can be made, if each plate contains two letters and three digits, and if no plate may begin with zero or a letter. Great stuff, great stuff. You know, Mathematics is a wonderful subject. Did I ever tell you how I proved that your ancestors came to England with William the Conqueror? No? Well now. you have two parents, four or two squared grandparents, eight or two cubed great-grandparents, and so on until ’n’ genera¬ tions back you have two to the nth power ances¬ tors. Now, allowing three generations to a century (a conservative estimate since they married young in those days—you know grandpa says his grandma was married at thirteen) in the eleven centuries since the conquest, you find that SECOND PRIZE DRAWING R. Erdelan

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BLUE AND WHITE 194 8 .51 C that tlie car is out of gear, would try to race off to Detroit without me. All is ready and I shift into first. Slowly, (at least not more than one mile per minute) 1 let out the clutch and press down the accelerator. As 1 leap into motion 1 suddenly remember the car parked in front and the possibility of one approaching me. 1 hurriedly stop to view the situation while the unco-opera¬ tive motor stalls, all by itself, and only because 1 forgot to put in the clutch with the brake. Despite the obstinacy of the car and the angry expostulations from my father, 1 finally am on my way. However, my troubles are not yet over. 1 reach Lincoln Road just in time to see a huge bus making its way toward me. There is exactly the width of the car plus one inch left on the road for me to pass it in. Even the car is worried and its voice quavers as it unsteadily makes its way onward. Fortunately the car engine and the bus engine speak the same language, and the bus desperately removes itself to one side to let me by. At the next intersection the light suddenly turns red, leaving me in the midle of the road as usual. Of course, all the traffic at this moment wishes to turn right into the street which 1 have con¬ veniently blocked. There follows a brief moment of co-operation between the car and me, and a more lengthy one of unco-operation. The result is that everyone “patiently” waits until the light turns green and 1 am able to proceed out of the way—or rather, I am allowed to proceed. With a gallery surrounding me, the operation becomes more complex. The engine, it seems, desires a short siesta and comrade clutch co-operates to the utmost by pushing my foot back suddenly before I can get the accelerator down. Time un¬ fortunately will not stand still and just as 1 get started the light changes. In desperation I make the legal right-hand turn, my face reflecting the colour of the stop-light. At this moment Father takes over, and the car completely changes. The engine begins to purr smoothly and the clutch follows Dad ' s every wish. In a short time we are safely home. As I retreat from the iron monster called car by its friends, I glance at it keenly. It is standing sedately, scarcely rilling the large space between the other cars. How is it possible for it to have such a dual personality! ALICE MOORE, 13C. Patronize O if r Advertisers FIRST PRIZE CONTEMPLATION In caps and gowns with joy they take their place— 15ut without me. My cherished dream of joining them in pride Now cannot be. And as they cross, a final time, that stage Of them soon bared. Sweet thoughts flood them, and long lost memories That I have shared. A birthday cake: a tribute valentine To one endeared: A skit we wrote; examination days We always feared. Thoughts passed of dances; physics: rugby games; Forgotten math; Of shattered test-tubes and a small black book; Of ill-earned wrath. But far away cannot 1 still lie with them That moment last? Cannot be part of all they symbolize Of years now past? Why not? For though I be not there in flesh. My dreams are there; And thus I can be part of that one sweet Experience rare. JANE MAY HELL THIRD PRIZE PEACHES, I LOVE THEM! Having idled for two months, Lois and 1 were thinking of joining the Loafer’s Union when someone mentioned the prospects of a job at a peach orchard near Harrow. A job! That meant money, and money meant everything! We im¬ mediately approached Mr. Johnson, the manager of the orchard, and stated our case. 1 le scrutinized us carefully and then said uncertainly. Well, there is a shortage of pickers - So. the next morning we arrived at the peach farm, hair well-combed, and neatly attired in shorts, blouses and saddle shoes. The other workers stared curiously but no one spoke to us. It didn’t take us long to realize that we were the only city-folk in the group. Soon a tractor and wagon came chugging through the orchard and we all climbed on. arranging ourselves among the ladders and peach baskets. When we stopped, the workers grabbed ladders, threw them over their shoulders and had started for the nearest peach trees before Lois and I had decided which end of the ladder to drag behind us. Soon we too began picking. The motto of the orchard seemed to be “Take a half-hour rest every five minutes”. Fortunately, we were paid by the hour and not h the number of baskets that we picked. -