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

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B L U E A N D W HITE 1949 19 FIRST PRIZE TO SUMMER Summer sunshine lying thick Upon the sleeping grass . . . Zephyrs wafting butterflies. As languidly they pass . . . Flowers wilting in the heat And drooping toward the shade . . . Soon their leaves begin to curl. And brilliant blossoms fade. Air a-cpiiver with the song Of humming-bird or lark . . . Busy insects wending home Before the day grows dark . . . Stillness . . . and the summer sounds Which soothe the tired ear . . . Drowsy heat . . . and sleepy sun A slumber-time of year! BONN I RICHARDSON. 1.SA. SECOND PRIZE FROM ME TO YOU Up all night! night after night! Studying, stuffing, with all ray might! Physics now. Chemistry later. To all the subjects, do 1 cater. With tireless zeal and doing my best, 1 attack my studies and seldom rest: Dark and drear is History, And Algebra proves a mystery. Books piled high upon my desk. Ready to start with plenty of zest: I glare defiantly at temptation. In order to go into deep meditation. But as weak-willed saplings bend and sway. So my will wavered . . . sad to say; ‘‘There’s a good show on at the Centre to-night!” “No! No!” say I, “I must study with might.” But alas! alack! the tempter won; 1 simply couldn ' t resist the fun. Studies forgotten, I hurried away, My buddy and I at the show to stay. But woe! ah me! on the morrow morn. When exams loomed dark and the glamour was gone, 1 suddenly knew that to study was better Than face unprepared, exams in a flutter. So comrades fair, and comrades strong. Let my advice now pass along. If happy you’d be when exams are nigh. Yield not to your buddy . . .’t will pay by and by. ANNE MATHIESON 91). L—=-zl THIRD PRIZE ON BEING JILTED My heart has been embittered ’gainst A creature men call female; P’ver since my sweetheart dear Declared our love was stale. No more for me that maiden fair. Wh ose thoughts were to beguile; No more for me that pretty face. That thrilled me with its smile. My life will never be the same. Gay laughs cannot conceal The aching pain within my soul; For wounds of the heart don’t heal. Beware, you helpless, defenceless male. Before it comes to this. Don’t let them ever fool you, With one, deceiving kiss. Tread with care the paths of life, Or soon my fate you’ll share; And trip on one of the pitfalls. Caught in a woman’s snare. Never, never, no, nevermore! A slave will they make of me. Most cherished of all earthly things. For men, is to be free. And if we chance to meet some day; if thin and wan I be, Remember well, and never forget. A girl did this to me. ALBERT MATE 13A. HONOURABLE MENTION FAIRIES At night when l am tired. 1 go to sleep and dream, 1 dream about the fairies; They are so nice it seems. I dream they live in acorns And are as pretty as can be. Their dresses are all made of silk. And they sing and dance with glee. 1 like to dream they’re dancing: They dance so prettily; Their dainty dresses swinging As they sing so merrily. But when the fairies tire, Sparkling like a coloured jewel They climb back in their acorns. . . . And I get up for school. VICTORIA BECK IOC.. HONOURABLE MENTION POEM (?) 1 was asked to write a poem! That’s as funny as can be. ’Cause anyone that knows me knows 1 can’t write poetry. Now first I’ll say 1 like this school: It’s the finest of them all! The teachers and pupils are the best; So’s our principal Mr. Ball. And now that L have finished This wonderful piece of prose; You’ll take just one quick glance at it. And into the basket it goes. HELENE SCOTT 11C.

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18 BLUE A N D W HITE 1949 his ears each morning. At the door he had paused to plant an obedient kiss on his mother’s soft cheek, before he left for school that morning, little dreaming what was to befall him. Now he was stumbling back to the white frame house where he had lived for almost a year. Eddie ran up the rickety steps crying, “Moth-er-!” Dashing into the kitchen where his mother was just putting away the breakfast dishes, he threw his arms around her. “Why Eddie,” she spoke softly. “You’re home awfully early—what happened honey?” Tears glimmered in Eddie’s eyes. “I—l— had a fight,—th—they hit me, and—” “Who, honey?” “1—1— don’t know — they go to the school -— they called me a dirty — and said 1 was a scairdy cat — and told me 1 didn’t belong—. Yh—why, mommy?” Eddie’s little body was rent with sobs. “I’m not any different from them—am—am I?” Eddie’s mother took him on her knee. “They’re just little boys, honey,” she whispered. “They haven’t grown up yet. f ' hey don t under¬ stand that you’re just the same as they are, underneath, only the good Lord gave them white icing, and he gave you chocolate.” LONNI RICHARDSON 13A. HONOURABLE MENTION THE BEGINNING, OR THE END? The cold eerie wind was pounding against the hospital window beside me. 1 had been sitting on the soft padded sofa for nearly an hour now, but that hour had seemed, to me. nearly a whole lifetime. Emptiness seemed to be engulfing me, slowly, slowly. The clock was wearily dragging by each precious minute. Each tick, tock, re¬ sounded like the ringing of a bell, long-lost and forgotten. Every long while a few hurried foot¬ steps were heard at the far end of the corridor, and perhaps a door creaked noisily closed, each tiny sound echoing as if it were human, and breathing its last breath. Again came—silence, silence, silence! Oh, how much longer can it last? Death seemed so close, so very close. 1 arose, walked to the window, and peered out into the still, lonesome darkness beyond. 1 turned at last to realize again that only time could tell whether this was the beginning of eternity or the end of a living terror. Please, please, tell me! Suddenly an ambulance screeched, but for only a few min¬ utes, leaving again empty, monotonous silence! At last the long awaited footsteps approached me and 1 jumped up. eager to hear the verdict. “How is he. Doctor?” I inquired with breath¬ less anticipation. “Oh, he’s fine. Very well indeed. I think you will be able to take him home in a few days just as lively as ever,” was his self-assured reply. I heaved a sigh, an enormous sigh of relief, for my Tiny, my own little white mouse with the broken leg, was going to be alright! ELIZABETH MURRAY. 11C. THIRD PRIZE THE IMPORTANCE OF GOOD MANNERS In spite of what seems to be a popular attitude, good manners are important. Most people to-day (and I must confess, most teenagers are in¬ cluded), rank good manners along with cod- liver oil, as something forced on you in your defenceless youth, but which you violently refuse as soon as you are able. Good manners are not only for children but for everyone; they are the oil which keeps the wheels of the machine of society turning upon one another without friction. By good manners I mean, not rigid enforcement of the curtsying school of eticpiette. but thought for and pr otection of. others’ rights and con¬ venience. Good manners should be like old brogues, comfortable and familiar, not like satin slippers, used only on state occasions and even then rather painful. One glaring example of the lack of good manners in everyday life is often shown on our buses. My aged grandmother and I, riding a Detroit bus on a twenty mile trip, stood swaying from a pole like sailors in an Atlantic storm, while a stalwart youth kept his seat in front of us. When we had swayed, rocked and lurched over seventeen miles of highway, we reached the youth’s stop. He got up to leave, and. with a smile befitting Sir Walter Raleigh, gave up his seat—to me! This example of bad manners is an all too common one. .Men are not the only portion of humanity lack¬ ing appreciation of good manners, nor are the transit systems the only place this lack shows up. Women are great offenders as well. Girls seldom stand back or hold doors for older women: they seldom modulate their voices from less than an ear-splitting pitch in public places. For making- up. women consider any place an appropriate boudoir. One traveller in the United States, eat¬ ing at a restaurant, kept his temper while the woman next to him combed her hair, and applied her lipstick. Even he. however, thought it too much when, as she powdered her nose, a delicate film of powder settled on top of his soup. Exas¬ perated. he ordered hot water and proceeded to shave himself, to the great amusement of the other patrons. When the woman turned and saw him, she snatched up her bag and stalked out. Although the man’s action was drastic, at least it was effective, and lie certainly had just provocation. The boy and the woman are not isolated in¬ stances ; their actions are indicative of a general condition. In the mill race of modern life, the little niceties of behaviour have been discarded; good manners are felt to be unimportant. When people realize that good manners really are im¬ portant. the machine of society will start pro¬ ducing more harmony and happiness and less discord and strife. MARJORIE E. RODDY. 13B.

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20 B L UK AN D W H I ' I ' E 19 4 9 CASTLES IN THE AIR “For 1 dipt into the future, far as human eye could see, “Saw a vision of the world, and all the wonder that would he; “Saw the heavens filled . . .” My eyes and thoughts, despite my earnest efforts, wandered from the droned memory- work. Through my window, a new Spring beck¬ oned me out to bask in her warm sunlight and breathe her perfumed air, using all her magic arts to cast a lazy spell on my mind. My errant thoughts drifted away, carrying me far forward into the future. . . Tall, crystal towers spiralled up into an azure blue sky; now and then a golden airship with a thin tail of flame flashed past to a distant goal. Around me strange, beautiful, silent people moved effortlessly on smooth pavements which sped along through the streets, and small tear¬ drop aircars floated over the roads. 1 allowed myself to follow the throng and saw many wonders in my wanderings. Great theatres were filled with spectators watching music upon a screen, music of colours, blending and changing constantly. In engine rooms, mighty dynamos created unimaginable power by breaking matter into energy. Underground factories were worked by metal robots controlled by one man at a switch-board and rollers turned the moving side¬ walks on which the civilization travelled. Lux¬ urious homes were situated high in the crystal buildings. Furnishings were of strange light materials unknown and undreamed of in the present and lighting as bright as the sun ran through tubes around the rooms. With the ease of a dreamer, 1 stole into one of the golden airships, and rose to dizzying heights above the city. In all directions, the populated area was spread, blocks of slender buildings interspersed with cultivated acres of parks and farms. Beyond the city was forest, unused land of which the people of the city civilization had no need, and beyond that was another city like the first. Far stranger than these marvels were the people who ruled this scientific and beautiful world. Relieved of the need for physical work by their robots, they were free to develop their minds fully for research into every realm of knowledge. 1 saw rooms full of these people, large-headed, strong-bodied, working n prob¬ lems so abstruse that I could not begin to fathom them. Alas, however, everything beautiful must come to an end. My dream castles were shattered and 1 was brought rudely back to reality, the present and my work by the shouts of a child outside the window. Spring still smiled in from without, but I went back to my poem with a bit more interest in what Tennyson meant by: “Saw a vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be.” JIM SNFDDFN. 13A. FIRST PRIZE ART — JERRY BROWN 13C