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So what happens to them for one night of the year, a night that someone, years ago, called Hallowe’en? Why do those same kids sud- denly think they have been given a license to destroy and steal on that one night? You probably wouldn’t recognize them walking down the street yesterday. They’re the same youngsters who walked by you the day before and the day before that. Young, cleanâ€"cut, seemingly well-behaved, neat, they are our youth. We should be proud of them; we appear to be raising them well. If a police officer walked into a school, kids wouldn't crowd around Now that we have you feeling good, here's another note. Card arrived in lots of time Wasn’t that a lovely weekend with all the sun and warmth? It would certainly be nice if it con- tinued for a while. The Liberal received its first Christmas card, Wednesday, October 26. Hallowe’en brings out the worst. Why? “What was your holiday like?" someone asked me the other day, as I sleep-walked through the office after two weeks testing Florida’s blazing sun and sands. I mumbled some sort of an answer, still manfully trying to adjust myself to the fact that, even though the sun was shining beautifully here, you knew that winter was just around the next concession. However, I did have a fine holiday and if that questioner is still concerned, perhaps this entry from my journal of Oct. 21, will give him a more complete picture. So far as it having any significance to the region, perhaps I can- rationalize that numerous people from the area have experienced something of the same thing on one or another of their sorties to the south. Ft. Lauderdale, Fla., Oct. 21, 1977 â€" The sky is grey today for the first time, and the wind is whistling underneath, the natural accompaniment to such a gloomy overhead. But it’s also whistling away most of that gloom, so that by noon, the sun should be back in its rightful spot as reigning deity. ‘ Right now, I am sitting on the beach on my bathroom towel - you're supposed to leave them behind and rent beach towels â€" getting ready to take the plunge. as it were. ‘A couple of young boys with air mattresses, are challenging the waves, while two middle- aged women, some six feet from the shore, kneel down and lower their advancing bottoms into the last-gasp crescendo of those same waves, tittering happily with each ticklish return. Ho, Ho? But that is the extent of their living life to the fullest; a few more feet out and they would get their hair wet. Now, one of them is emerging from her watery play pen, looking just the slightest bit smug. as if she had just chased up and down the Himalayas via a roller coaster. Some 20 feet in front of me, a young mother, her bronzed belly 10395 Yonge Street, Richmond Hill L4G 4Y6 Ontario wausum ROBERT MAXWELL Emma non WALLACE The Libeval IS published every Wednesday by Division; which a|so publishes The Banner in Auvc the Bolton Enlevplise. PAGE A4 By JIM IRVING Life is meant for nature Em Iihtral ,_ regional " viewpoint v by Menospan Communiw Newspapers Limited North Auvova, Newmarkel, The Woodbvidge Vaughan News, and N0, of course, they wouldn‘t. They’re too civilized. But they weren’t civilized Monday night when such an outrageous display of mass hooliganism broke out on Yonge Street in Aurora. And some, in our area, showed us the real meaning of courage by stealing bags of treats from little children while they made their rounds. and spit at him, call him a pig, throw eggs at him. They wouldn‘t punch him in the face. Would they? Eggs, (good grief, how could they throw away such expensive commodities) were hurled by the dozens at people, cars, police, anything that moved. protruding ever so slightly over the inch or so of string around her that passes for a bathing suit, plays in the sand with her three or four-year-old son. Somewhere along the line, the spirit of Hallowe’en has been missed by many of our youth, and it’s their destructive ways that will eventually spoil it for everyone. She is the architect, however. While she fashions a multi-storied castle, he chips away at its foundation with his combination boat and sand scoop. Before she has completed the last turret, the castle will already have begun to list. “You’d better be careful,” the woman said, “where there are small fish, big ones follow." In the background, a police siren, as inevitable as the sunshine, declares its autonomy over the streets. Insults were hurled with wild abandon. I‘ve never seen the Atlantic like this before, not that I’ve seen it all that much. It’s nature at its most flamboyant today. It’s not fair to young children, and it may not even be fair to some commercial enterprises, but unless this type of nonsense ceases, Hallowe’en should be cancelled. Before somebody gets killed. In Richmond Hill, youngsters set fires. None of them was serious, but no fire is if it’s caught in time. I started to go in the water at one point and made some casual remark about it to a couple taking pictures nearby. I didn’t know what she was talking about until I looked out a few feet and there was a school of fish â€" one, long dark shadow on the water â€" flipping up and down and in and out of the waves with the kind of glee I can never remember experiencing at school. The happy students were gone within a few minutes. heading farther down the shoreline â€"â€" Miami, maybe â€" a wonderful sight while it lasted. Next came the clean-up squad â€"â€" the pelicans â€" first high up above and then skim~ ming low over the surface and occasionally ducking their bills underneath. I went in after that and the waves knocked me every which way; more fowl than fish, I'm afraid; exhilarating none the less. School was out by the time they arrived, however. But maybe it was only a kin- dergarten class and they were after the graduates. I‘m sure Mother Nature knew what she was doing. She always does. I think life was meant for nature, alone; it knows all the rules and follows them. Man has never been able to do that. WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 26. 1977 Our schools colours were green and white and these were prominent in the bound cover. The first page generally listed the staff of the Orbit and within the next few pages faces of past friends and teachers stared back from 20 years past. 'r At R.H.H.S. the book was named the Orbit. Pretty jazzy . . . eh? A recent trip to Belleville uncovered a few of my books and I have spent the odd hour or two leafing through the contents amid the odd chuckle or comment from the rest of the family. Iii a way, the most important issue to me was the Orbit for 1957. This was my first year in the hallowed halls on Wright Street. I guess most yearbooks were the same no matter which school you attended. The student’s council for ‘57 was almost a family affair. Kitty, Tom and Martin Pick all served on the executive along with President John Passmore. When was the last time you took a long, lingering look through one of your yearbooks? The yearbook was the big thing and, I certainly hope, still is. You could divert all your money to lesser evils such as 455, jawbreakers, twenty-five cent pack of Trump cigars and maybe a second plate of chips but you always made sure that your form rep had gotten your payment for the annual catalogue of school events. I don’t know what a student council election campaign is like nowadays but let me tell you, back then it was a rip snortin’ affair with everyone and everybody trying their darndest to get your vote. There was the initiation dance, the Wit- ches’ Whirl at Halloween, the Sadie Hawkins’ Dance and the highlight of the school year, the Annual Prom. DANCE COMMITTEE Then comes the picture of the dance committee. In this issue it took only half of page eight but what a terrific job these 10 people did. Add to these the ever increasing number of ‘sock hops’ and you can see how busy the committee was. The graduation class of ’56 was featured on the next three pages and then we get down to what high school life was all about. I like leaves. I like to walk along on a sunny fall day and kick through the yellow and brown carpet that rustles and crinkles and dances with each scuff of my toes. The weather has been kind this year. It has permitted those tan- talizing little creatures to hang above us on the trees, promising to drop down today, tomorrow, or someday soon. The leaves have not been wrenched off kicking and screaming by a rude wind. This year, they have been allowed to descend gracefully, at their leisure. It has been an autumn of quiet surrender, of gentle driftings down, of long sunny days when the light was filtered through curtains of yellow and orange, and reflected up from floors of bronze and gold. yet? Because I am about to turn practical. For leaves are all very well if they are covering vacant lots that don't belong to me, or on sidewalks maintained by the town, or in disarray in someone else’s yard. But when they are knee deep on my lawn, and someone has placed a rake suggestiver across my doorstep, I find the little critters less than delightful. Last week our grocery store was sold out of green garbage bags. It is not until fall that I realize the drawbacks of Too Many Trees. Briefly, it is Too Many Leaves. By Bob Rice KHZ/kg KICHMONVH’LL ' W'"V5®n77 man/>10pr ILL UBEQAL Have I waxed lyrical enough Wandering through the RHHS yearbook SOLD OUT sharon's sunshine I MAY HAVE SOLVEP MY HIGH PROPERTY TAX PROBLEM-- That is because everyone in town is stuffing plastic full of crushed foliage, and saying unkind things about modern technology when the bags refuse to withstand the pressure of even a fraction of the leaves from the tiny tree that was planted with such joy last spring. They sudder to think of the investment in Ethylene that will be required to give decent burial to the produce of that tree in five years time. The air should be acrid with smoke. Kids should be underfoot poking the fire with sticks. Adults should be yelling at the kids to get away from the fire, and using the space vacated by the children to stand before the blaze and poke it with sticks. was planted with such joy last spring. They sudder to think of the investment in Ethylene that will be required to give decent burial to the produce of that tree in five years time. But the worst part of bag stuffing is that there‘s no fun in it. The first was over the cat. One side held that it was unfair of the other side to bury the aforemen- tioned pet in the pile of leaves the first had just raked. The defense held that it was all in fun. “Fun for who?" asked the cat. SPLIT BAGS The garbage bags kept split- ting. There was a debate about whether that was the fault of the You know of course what should be done with leaves. They should be burned in huge hon-fires in the ditch beside the road. But :he ditches have given way to storm sewers, and the leaves of Markham may only be burned in barrels, which we don’t have, and which I won’t remember I need until leaf-raking time next year. That still leaves us knee deep this year. Like you, I have been brain- washed into believing that removing leaves from our lawn is the primary civic duty of fall. So this afternoon, 7 we stormed the yard to take and pile and stuff First there was the Music Club. Our fearless leader was Warren Atkinson whose initiation to teaching at R.H.H.S. was to have me in his class. Next comes the Library Club whose function I never really understood. This was not because there was no need for such a group (there certainly was) but I was too busy practising in the music room. There are also features about the Camera club and the Drama Club and then comes one of my favourite pages . . . the Cheerleaders. Let me tell you, Jake . . . good 01’ green and white had some of the best girls in the whole of Canada . . . bar none. whole of Canada . . . bar none. Barb Bain was Captain in ’57 and the rest of the squad consisted of Sandy, Dinny, Nancy, Gail, Bonnie, Sherril, Leslie and Judy. I wonder if they can still remember some of the cheers today? BADMINTON The Badminton Club President was Dave Semple. I would like to state right here and now . . no one could dance like Dave Semple . . . Dave stood about five foot nothin’ but when the music started there was no way of holding him down. period I understand that Dave now lives near Newmarket and is still actively engaged in work with the Air Cadet League as he was back then. The pictures on the next two pages cover the initiation and I doubt there is one of you who will ever forget those days. Several different assemblies are then covered prior to the pages that highlight the various literary talents of some of the pupils. I was feeling a bit down about the fact that I was never asked to contribute to this sectiOn in all of the. years I spent in high school but, I understand that the editor of this paper was never asked to either. Various socials are then highlighted in- cluding a somewhat obscure line in the feature on the Halloween Dance. “A little lady in flowing skirts and blond curls fluttered away with third prize and identified himself as Bob Rice.” Me? You’ve got to be kidding! The Prom pictures come next and there in the corner is a picture of the ’57 Prom Queen, BURN ’EM WFESTER You ARE. NOW ENTERlNa No TAXE6 ALLOWED TOWN 5H I P POPULATION“: ONLYQNE JxDDV,|.IPnuâ€" .-.n leaves Only wall-papering puts more strain on a marriage than leaf gathering without a bon fire. In one hour, the two rakers at this address managed to have three major confrontations. El): ifihn'al METRDSPAN-NDRTH DIVISION Subscription tales, By mall, $10.00 pet year m Canada 52000 per year outside 0' Canada. By camel, 80 cenls, evevv ldur weeks, Sungle copy sales 720 cent; Norman dellvéry where carnal Eerwce exnsts. Second Class Mall Regusnauon Numbel 0190. l Roben Maxwell-General Manager John C. Fergusâ€"Advertising Director Ray Padley Jr.-Field Sales Manager Graham Henricksonâ€"Circulation Director Norman Slundenâ€"Production Manager BYoolngR MAYoR FESTER THE UBERAL Ron Wallace - Edilov Larry Johnston - New; EgNOI Hal Blaine - $1. Sta" Write! Fved Simpson - Spons Editol Ross Hodsell - Civculation The Libeval is a member 0! the Canadian Communin Newspaper Associau'on, The Omavio Weekly Newspaper Association, and the Audi! Buveau at Circulation. The cements, both editovial and advertising of The Lnbeval are protected by oopyrighl and any my EORRYâ€"wE'RE FULL UP 10395 Yon_g_e_ Gail Kingsley receiving a kiss from Gil Christie. Honour Grads and Commercial Grads front and centre and then into the Sports section. Pages upon pages . . . the basketball teams, the football teams, the house leagues, the girls’ volleyball, senior and junior basketball teams . . . our winning track and fielders and then into the real nostalgia. FORM NEWS I guess when the yearbook came out almost everyone turned immediately to the class picture and the Form News. The Form News was that wonderful section wherein one member of your class had been chosen to immortalize his or her fellow classmates for posterity. One never knew what was to be written about one and therein lay the mystery. Barry Smith from 118 â€"â€" ‘His hobbies football, basketball, girls.’ Some people’s names may be familiar to a few of you and others will be as unknown to us now as they were back then. Stewart McCowah from 11A -â€" ‘Keep your eyes on Julius Caesar and not on shapely Marney.’ Buit Winstone in 10B â€" ‘Ambition â€" Ar- chitect, Fate: Building Demolisher.’ Marylou Lund fro-m 9E â€" ‘Who took my lock?’ Ronnie Cosgrove in QC â€" ‘Who wants a cigarette?’ And finally an old school chum from a long way back who is quite active in Richmond Hill today, Mike Bumie, who resided in 9B at the time â€" ‘A big man with a small mind’. vMe‘? Oh yeah . . . I almost forgot. Let’s see . . . there it is on page 63 . . . Bob Rice in 9E â€" ‘Always looking for an argument from a certain girl.’ HUH? Do you want to know the truth . . . I can’t, for the life of me, remember who they are referring to. While I ponder some of the signatures on the last few pages I would like to leave with you some words of wisdom from the ol’ Millpond Philosopher - - - “to stand up and take your licks . . . means your chair is too low.” Well, théy can’t be right all of the time can they? nge Street P.O. Box 390, MC 4Y6. Ontario TELEPHONE - 834-8177. 831-3373 éMALL PORTioN 0F RICHMOND HILL VOLUME 100, NUMBER 17 FORMERLY A Markham - Vaughan stuffer, who was asking too much of mere plastic, or the purchaser, who insisted on buying inferior merchandise. The third argument concerned the wind that sprang up just as the leaves were all raked into neat piles. One side held that it was the responsibility of the person who deemed this to be a proper day for leaf raking. The other side considered the wind to be an Act of God. Yes, I do like leaves, but in their place. H-anging securely from branches, or extending the table for dinner