New Year's 2007 -T0 BOLDLY GO ...

What is 'time' - a subjective projection on space?

Tick, tick, tick. There is goes!

It's like water through our fingers or rather, through our very being. We are either gifted or cursed, with the magic ability to ingest and evaluate 'LIFE' -consciousness, as it flows right through us. And we mark 'time' in the dance of life. Terry MacHardy (Class '71) & Family

Time - 365 days for our current concept of a 'year' -a circle based upon the revolving earth and return of the seasons. Circles, rings, -actually loops. The cycle goes around and comes around but never back upon itself. It continues onward and outward and we mark the uniquness of the progress, with this system -'time'.

Perhaps the distinguishing factors on our personal voyage -our loops in space, are lessons garnered through 'experience' and the subsequent changes we put into effect, to create new outcomes and changes in spatial 'life' direction.



(Gary Wilkins Class '71)



Do the loops get smaller and pick up speed as we voyage outward from our beginnings? They seemed longer when I was in High School and were characterized by our 'common' activity or 'comm-unity' or 'comm-union'. I wonder what we as a community, have learned collectively?



"All That Rises Must Converge", says one book title...and perhaps we shall converge once again -briefly- to recognize and reflect upon a 'loop in time' through the symbolic process of 're-union'.

So NOW, we, -true time travellers- boldly step into our new year, perhaps recreating our vision of self (or not).

Happy New Year All.
Les McConnell

Christmas

So here we are.

Me writing and you reading.

An interesting process. There is no evaluating of body language when reading, no facial cues. It is straight from my conscioussness to yours. This really is quite intimate. There are no social filters to distract except for language and one's comprehension of meaning and one's continued interest and focus.

Christmas is many things to many people.

We have the traditions, (-'a virgin birth -man of miracles -son of God' -) the garb of 'organized' Christianity, as set forth almost 300 years after the man -Jesus - died; sanitized of the "Jewish-ness" and made palletable for Romans by Constantine when brokering between competing strains of this snowballing 'after-movement'.

And as of late, we have the purely historical focus on the controlled emergence of the Nag Hammadi "Dead Sea Scrolls", 'the Gnostics' (Gnosis =Knowlege in Greek) ranging from the Gospel of Thomas, the Gospel of Mary to the Gospel of Judas -wherein Judas is actually a hero; these deemed as heracies by the "established" powers of the church back in that time and reinforced to present day in hopes of dispelling any thought of a continuing 'blood line' -"sang-royale" or 'grail', -holy or not .

Where does 'belief' come into it and what of the 'Christ'-mas?

Putting asisde the 'man forged' religion or husk and focussing upon the underlying message delivered by this (Jewish) Galilean of the House of David, perhaps it comes down to His precription - to be 'careful and considerate' in our communication while treating 'others' as ourselves, - from how we talk to our children, our wives, husbands, partners, friends and strangers - in what we say and what we choose to omit; then continue through to how we behave.

If we put into practice the prescritption, it is thought that we have a shot at integrating our projected (outer) 'child/ego/personality-mask' with our own dormant (inner) 'god' and achieving a higher level of existence (heaven). And one can perhaps achieve this with the help of an organization "Church", priest, teacher (or not).

Words are containers of messages. Our body language and facial gesture create the spin. Ours is a tricky existence. We shift moods, as we might shift gears when driving - almost without thought. We ought to be careful and conscious of inner choice -think before we speak or act.

Perhaps the underlying lesson in "Chrstmas" is more about consciousness; knowing when to implement choice - of "not speaking" or "not doing" - to achieve 'stillness', about striving to attain the ability of cutting through emotional ego-distraction and hugging one's partner, child or friend at the most difficult and vulnerable of times. Would this be the beginning of true 'giving' or "for-giving" and perhaps "real" convergence with a higher existence?

Good luck to us all in the quest given each of us in this life and - yes- Merry Christmas to my old and re-newed friends.

Remember to see each day -as your first and last. This will put a memorable spin on the gifts given and received.

Be well.
Peace be with you -/Shalom aleichem-/Salaam aleikum

Les McConnell.

Louise Lacey - Always hip and without a doubt, always cool.

Louise is one of the key people working with Bob and Gaby Houston, Cindy Houston and Scott Jones along with many other fine people at the company 'A.D. Display' in Chateauguay's Industrial Park.

I was at their Christmas party the other night and was pleased to watch Louise perform with the singer who was hired for the occasion. She has grit, gumption and courage and has brought up a lovely family with her husband Ken. (Schillgalies- Class of 68, I wonder if Mr.Plewinsky remembers how to pronounce his name?).They enjoy canoeing in the summer.

These are two good people.

Old Friends

Can there be anything in this life of greater value?


These old friends are (left) Richard Rankin and (right) Barry Stephens.

Perhaps they do not look quite the same nowadays, but in our collective hearts, they shall never change -two exceptionally bright and most pleasant souls.

Meanwhile, I went to the mall today; that which we used to refer to as "the shopping centre". I had only intended on dropping my client Christmas cards into the mail at the drug store. But then I got to thinking about getting some cards from the art store for my high net worth clients. So I meandered up the mall towards where Zellers used to be- it's now Harts'. I passed by what used to be Radio Shack but is now 'The Source'. No luck. I did not care for the artsy cards at all.

But on the way back two heads appeared over a plie of stacked fruit cake boxes. Mr.Mullahoo! My grade 7 teacher from 1967. "The Man". The lagoon swimmer! One of my all time favorites now retired ( my daughter won an award named after this man) is with the Lions Club! So he has gone on to another level of service. He really is so cool.

You can read about him a bit further in the entry from May 18 or 19 Titled Look Deep into The Past. So- I bought a fruit cake for Christmas.

Saturday Pre Christmas
(Pictures below Rose Mancuso/ Mike Glezos/ Ron Enros -from year books)

Well as you can tell by my blog activity lately, my time is taken up by other things - nailing down pricing on hotel etc, business, the markets
and of course the "bah-humbug" season of spending money -Joy to the Wallet. I feel like I'm being dragged kicking and screaming into the Holiday Spirit.

I become more prickly with age, I think. I mean I'm just getting over the summer for heaven's sake. Christmas music was blaring in the stores the day before Holloween! AHHH!

Yesterday was interesting.
While waiting for Jane to emerge from Indigo downtown, I bumped into Mike Glezos (Grad '72) and Betty - his lovely wife. They had just been to a movie. He's a tech manager with CGI -good company!

Three hours later in Chateauguay, IGA grocery shopping, I bumped into Ron Enros (Grad '70) and caught up on his business. Wow! I never thought E-Bay could be so intensive! It's been a two summers since he was last in my back yard in the gazebo playing guitar with me and Jimmy Williams.

And then - yes - I forgot the margerine! Had to go back to IGA.
And there she was - my old friend Rose Mancuso Bariel (Grad '73) who now works for the School Board. "Just couldn't get enough eh, Rose"!

So now it is 12:35 PM Sunday afternoon, I am writing, as I sit in my pyjamas and I want to be in Westmount in an hour to see and hear my Folk Singer (sister) Glenna McConnell playing as a guest to a Christmas choir. Better get a move on. You should check out Glenna's web site and hear her - she's great! She writes all her own material. Great Album! I love it. (http://www.glennamcconnell.com ).

Eileen Now and then.

Above: with her husband Allan, who wears the black T-shirt.

Left: Eileen in Gold and Allan in centre.


Over on the right we have some photos from the past with a number of familiar faces. Can you spot the ones you know? Hey! There's Gary Colthorpe with ...

1970


Howard S. Billings underscores it's crest with the -Latin Words 'Carpe Diem' - Seize the Day.

Reinforcing these words are three elements -Tradition, Pride and Achievement.

High School, like life, is made up of moments and individuals; some good, some bad, but some that are just down right great. These moments and the people who make them are remembered for good reason.

They come together like living points of light, through the combination of time spent, dedication through practice and having fun, to achieve not just a 'winning team', but something more important -spirit.

The team concept, became the binder that held many of us in a certain 'sameness'. If the team did well -we all did well. Our teams were our examples. The people on the teams were representatives of a higher order in all disciplines. They became examples of what could be, through the setting of goals, fairplay and going out 'and just doing it'.

What they could achieve on the ice, just perhaps, we could use to inspire ourselves in areas of our own perfection and most important, as people.

The 1970 Senior Hockey Team, was composed of some very special human beings.

Their coach was one of Billing's greatest mentors - Mr. Rossiter.

Some of the players -Grant Wilson - a modest and determined athlete, Barry Kaye, Barry Oliver and Norman Leroux -fine team players who could inspire more with their sense of teamwork and quick smiles than any shout from the bench. Danny White, John Lahache and Brian Roy brought determination and power to bear.

While those on the ice -indeed, had a job to do, so too, did those behind the scenes. One of the finest people Howard S. Billings had - on the ice, at the bench, at a dance or simply walking down the hall - always ready to greet in sincerity, was someone many of us truly admired and respected -MR.Ed Quinn.

This team had the magic.

Part of the Danger and the Magic
of Chateauguay.

Stephan Fuchs

I recall when Stephan was much younger, his getting on the bus to go to school.

It was a time I was considered older and maybe even wiser by his age group at Billings. (I like to delude myself from time to time.) Stephan is now older and wiser. He is known for his prowess in the courtroom, going after some fairly big shots, who have had their way with the "regular people".

A lawyer's life is not easy, especially if one is in court much of the time. One has to prepare and keep one's eye on the detail and on what the opposing attorney has not done. Lawyers take the 'butt' of many a joke. It is when you get a good lawyer, that you thank goodness and get on with your life.

Like Lawyers or not - I am told by those who have paid for his services, that he is great to have on your side in the court room. We have to remember that lawyers are human beings, make mistakes, are fallible and are born with their own demons to wrestle with and then they have to take ours on too.

Here he is having lunch with me today at Rigoletto's, perhaps Chateauguay's best Italian Restaurant, near the green bridge leading to West End at 68 Salaberry where, for a change,he is "the client". Stephan graduated after '72 and I will be very pleased to see him at the reunion as a 'friend of 72' .

The Man With The Heart of Gold

Mr. Roddy McManus.

I am truly very lucky to have Roddy as a friend. We have known each other since summer days in the sand box and his beautiful green tricycle when we were kids.

He is very talented - a Producer no less, with a Quebec media firm; always 'on the go', putting together TV or Film deals sometimes pitching to CBC or others, sometimes writing.

It just kills me when I receive a call from him and I say - "So Roddy - what's new?"
And he'll respond .. "I just finished talking up a deal here in Cannes at the Film festival. I'm on a balcony overlooking the Mediterannean, the beach and -Wow!- you should see the bathing suit on th..."
"Gee , thanks Rod."

He is self effacing, gentle and knows how to make people feel good about themselves without 'slapping it on with a trowel'. His lovely and intelligent 'better half' - Roslyn (Happy Birthday Ros!) has been known to work in some very unique circles putting togther 'fashion shoots'. (you would never believe who -even if I told you).

Roddy is still remembered for his abilities on the key boards with various bands (The Angry Young Ducks). And he still hangs out with Ricky Rice form time to time.

Roddy is very talented. He can quickly visualize the power and potiential of an idea or an angle. His mind is sharp and his heart is kind. He always has been and is still, a "good" man.

The Journey Begins

The Journey Begins
After considering the impact my first encounter with Jimmy Williams, I concluded that there are times in our lives punctuated by moments of internal drama that herald the way to who we will become.

Darkness, loud music and flashing lights, the dance, beer breath, cigarettes, beautiful young women, my lack of inhibition to flail about and call it ‘dancing’ – to the ‘15 year old mind’ present fragmented images of what success might be. ‘Behavior personas’ tried on as a child models adult shoes and hats in the mirror- characterized that evening for me.

How fragile and tentative the kaleidescopic fabric of reality!

My fantasy for that evening crystallized for a moment, suspended, until the spell gave way to a higher power. In one decisive moment a young man jumped off a stage –a shooting star shearing through my new universe. Orbiting heavenly bodies veered within the sway of a new magnetic field, my vision eclipsed by the brilliance of a bright new star.

I watched the beguiling Motown moves, determined to learn.

He was a stranger in a strange little town with the attention of all, friendly and -the not so friendly, in need of an ambassador or guide in our world, just as I needed one in his. He would be my cultural guide to the ‘world of cool’.

I telephoned home. A new friend from school would be sleeping over that night.

Perhaps I had discovered that which I had never had, –a brother?

What was to unfold during the next two to three years would change my trajectory- forever.

Some very special people from our collective past :

Catherine (Wylie) and Ernie Laporte

I remember when I was not quite in my teens, there was this self possesed and magical young lady with poise and grace walking through the development where I lived. I had a profound realization that day that ball hockey with "the guys" was not quite all there was in life.

Later in High school there was a young man who was handsome, carried himself with a sense of purpose and charm. He was an athlete and all round good person -someone whose character would not be bad to imitate.

In my teens I could not have ever said such things out loud. But looking back and at this picture
I know two good people when I see them.
There are others - John Dempster, Dave and Annette Maclean, Judy and Frank Deere , Richard Rankin, Lynda Young, Debbie Hanney, Gervase Bushe, Colleen Hillock, Michael Sarrey, Gerald Finlay, Cathy Gulkin, Dave and Steve Porier, Bob and Gaby Houston, Barb and Dan Zimmerman and many more.

What is a reunion?

What is a reunion?
By Richard Rankin

(Pictures: L:Bruce Craig C: Gerald Finlay R: Vincent Murphy)

Is it a union formed anew after separation? Is it to reunite again?

I don't think of it in those terms.

None of us consciously separated. We all walked out into the world and continued on with our individual lives after high school. Some remained in contact with others.

I do not place any real importance or significance in that. Why?
Because our individual memories will immediately overcome any obstacle that one might assume would be inherent due to the pasage of time.

You walked out of the room to answer the door bell and when you walked back in you picked up the conversation right where it left off.

Look at the pictures that have been posted on the blog. The thirty five years since graduation are a mere construct.

Reunion? No. This is a social gathering - an assembly of familiar friends. Nothing more and nothing less.

Walk back into the room and rejoin the conversation.

Trick or Treat!

You've heard of 'Find Waldo'? Well find Tommy Lauder .... back in the day.

(Thanks to Linda Porter for the picture.
Was this up in the orchard?
(1970-71?)

On a Dime a Pivot Po

On a Dime, a Pivot Point in Time

My life turned on a dime- as my very first bottle of beer was handed to me; a time before cans. There behind Massey Drive we stood gathered in communion under the crisp chill moon, surrounded by woods and landfill mounds covered in grass, rock and moss, the ideal spot to start out before a dance.

Steve, Robert, Andy -with his thick glasses and a cowlick over one eye, Freddie –in a proper sports jacket and tie. (He blamed his parents.) We all had hair over our callars like the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, Animals or Monkees - but Freddy had a Johnny Carson cut – ah, but he was OK.

Debbie with the blue eyes and infectious giggle was there – (she only lived up the street), Connie with the flashing eyes and button nose, and Ross – was too. Now there was a guy who could dance up a storm. There were very few of us males who could or would, while most other guys hung out along the wall- but I’m getting ahead of myself.

It was early November, dark and cold. Our smoke and breath hung on the dank chill with the field mist. A lot of good the cold beer was for me. As it was, I hated the stuff and could barely handle cigarettes – ah, but it was for good cause right? I took a mouthful trying to swallow, but my body wasn’t standing for it. I silently retched, turning off the path and into the thicket. I gratefully spat. Taking another swig I gargled while pouring half the bottle out. Sheepishly, I made my way back. “What a fraud!” I thought, boldly reaching out for another. Ah- grade eight. I guess I had finally made it.

Trying to think of something clever to say, I was saved by a new set of voices – more girls! I heard chatter and laughter. Debbie (Giggles) greeted them. Debbie, Donna, Bonnie and Linda. Wo! They all looked great! But, what were they doing here? Better yet? Had I died and gone to heaven? How did I end up in this lucky position? I wonder if they had even seen me with a beer? I had already ditched the second bottle. Would I have looked different or better in their eyes or just stupid?

The gang began to make it's way over towards Maplewood Church. Thank god – I could warm up a bit. My feet felt like cold tinned fish and I was trying to control the chatter of my teeth. Oh great! What a ‘man’! (I could just hear my mother's parting words as I left the house earlier - "Wear a tuque, it's cold out!" It was still in my jacket pocket. But -hey! I was cool. Right.

It was fascinating to watch the maneuvering as we sauntered up Mcleod. It was musical chairs, but with people, as we vied to link up with a partner. Of course we might have simply been walking up the hill, but not in my teenaged mind. Wouldn’t it be cool to spend the dance evening with-who? I had not raelly thought that far.

Debbie (Giggles) was my buddy, but I think she may have wanted to be more than that. I didn’t know what I wanted, but I knew she was my pal and that was how I liked it.

Debbie and Donna were on either side of me. How could they? I mean this was me! Could they not see? I was nobody. Surely they would be more interested in older guys. Boy! Were they ever nice to talk to me –they were so relaxed, as if they had known me forever! And Debbie- God- she was the spitting image of Haley Mills! I fought internally over every word I issued, fearing that one of my feet would slip solidly in my mouth.

I mean- I could try, but it was hopeless. Everyone would be after her. I had never in my wildest dreams thought that she would ever talk to me! Did I really existed to these people! Wow! That in itself had made the night. This gave me a new sense of confidence. I could feel it. And then there was Bonnie, Donna’s sister. Were they fraternal (but not identical) twins or something? Both so beautiful, each in their own way.

Just ahead were Freddie and Linda. He turned his head, looked at me and then at her and said something. She turned and looked at me too. The moonlight played in her smile, dimples, the laugh, the walk-prance. Bam -gorgeous!

I don’t know how I made my way up Mcleod.
I don’t remember what became of the others.
All I know is that I found myself in the Friday night Willibrord School dance with HER on my arm.

I do remember dancing in a circle and not being afraid.

My mom, my sisters and I used to dance in the kitchen when doing the dishes –and mom loved to dance. We would turn up the radio and let loose. I had ‘one-up’ on most guys my age (15-16) since they would not dance -at the dance.

But there was a new 'step' out now and people were no longer required to hold hands, twirl or swing. Thankfully mom had taught me one of those - (step to side, one back , one forward) – which enabled me to learn quite quickly some of the line dance steps that evening.

Tonight though was somehow was different to other dances. I could feel it. We had new people this year from other schools outside our district and then there were those whose parents had just moved to Chateauguay from the city recently. The mix was just not what I had expected.

Hopeton and Ross could Dance – especially Hopeton,-from the city – where they probably danced all the time, I figured.

I could see Hopeton looking at HER. Something tugged internally, something I only usually felt in Hockey –competition. I danced harder, reaching out using more of the jitter bug approach.

The music stopped half way through 'Green Tamborine', lights went off and bang! A live band erupted on stage. What the hell was it? How could we even dance to it? They were black and had exploding curly hair, played horns and would not stand still! The Beatles would surely never stand for this! I mean four guys were to be up there singing in harmony. (No?) My little world and culture suddenly got bigger.

What was this? What a beat! Brass and horns! We all stood, mesmerized. The shock of "new" was wearing off as we found ourselves 'alive' and not just entertained.

And then it happened. The singer looked over to the side wall, near the entrance – pointed to someone and motioned to come up on stage! Who was that? What the hell was he wearing?

It looked like orange curtains made into pants- but not straight legged or flair bottoms- no no, these where wide bottoms with sewn inserts on the sides while maintaining a skin tight rear end. He wore white shoes-and it wasn't summer and they were not sneakers. His hair was fluffed up rather than traditional tight curls. His matching orange shirt had a high collar. He later said, “I’m not black, I’m Moka brown!”

Could he MOVE! There he was, up on stage as if it was nothing- twirling and bobbing, knees likes pistons, right to the beat . He knew all the words to the song being sung.

“Bah bah bah bah bahhhh” the horns punched- “I feel good y’all… like I knew that I should y’all…, I feel riiiight…” and he sprang off the stage into the crowd and continued his Watusi like gyrations. One of the stage hands shone a spot light on him and a circle formed.

She was drawn magnetically forward with everyone, while I stayed my ground, like driftwood on the shore as the wave recedes back into the sea.

She joined the the magic circle- mostly girls, to check out the wonder kid.

I glanced over at Hopeton. He too, appraised the situation and had a curious look I had never seen before in class. And Ross, well, he had joined the circle too.

This guy was a indeed a wonder to behold. Jimmy.
My modest teenaged life’s direction, had just turned, once again, on a dime.

Have a good weekend people.

A lecturer, when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked,

"How heavy is this glass of water?"

Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g.

The lecturer replied, "The absolute weight doesn't matter.

It depends on how long you try to hold it.

If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem.

If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm.

If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance.

In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes."

He continued, And that's the way it is with stress management.

If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, as the burden becomes increasingly heavy, we won't be able to carry on. "

As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again.

When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden."

"So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow.
Whatever burdens you're carrying now, let them down for a moment if you can."

So, my friend, why not take a while to just simply RELAX.

Put down anything that may be a burden to you right now.

Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while.

Life is short. Enjoy it!

Here are some great ways of dealing with the burdens of life:

* Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.

* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

* Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it

* It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others.

* Never buy a car you can't push.

* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't have a leg to stand on.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

* The second mouse gets the cheese.

* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

* Birthdays are good for you. The more you have, the longer you live.

* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.

* Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.

* We could learn a lot from crayons...

Some are sharp, some are pretty and some are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all have to live in the same box.

*A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

Have an awesome day and know that someone has thought about you today......I did.>

MR.MUSIC PLEASE...



Reunion Music:

Keep in mind that on the Saturday afternoon /night of our event in May 2007, we will be having a modest reception beginning at 5:00 PM and dinner for around 6:30/7:00 PM.

John Saunders and perhaps a second person to Host/MC the event.

We do not want music to drown conversation since the whole idea of Reunion is to see and communicate with as many of those we have not seen in 35 years. But we do want dancing, and music. So we will have an area nearby to escape to for chatting.

Now- at this juncture we have eliminated the Bonaventure Hotel due to cost and more to the point, they have eliminated us, since they had an offer from a convention for 150 rooms pre booked but it required the ball room we might have used.

Lynda Young Chapleau and I have been in discussions with various alternate locations and are now close to finalizing potentially with the Hilton Dorval where qulity is high and prices far more acceptable. The location is great since the Airport is a few blocks away, as well as the Rail and bus points. The parking is free if you are attending the event -unlike Bonaventure hwich was pretty steep per day.

Also, for those who wish to reserve a room there over night Friday, Saturday and or/Sunday, the price is $99 per night which will not be included in the cost of the Reunion ticket. So you are not required to stay over night at the hotel, but if you do wish to reserve and or do your budget calculations, you now have the cost.

We are still looking at other locations as alternatives, but this one looks like the best (so far) for our needs. The final decision will be announced in two weeks. Either way, the Hilton Dorval will hold a certain number of rooms just in case anyof you wish to think about it for the next few months.
I will report more as we continue on.

MUSIC:
Rod McManus, Mark Stafford and I met to discuss this entertainment.

We have a sketchy format now that involves a DJ to play music, but also we are looking at the possibility of having a place in the ball rooom where equipment such as drums, guitars, amps etc. will be set up, so that those who are inclined to jam, or wish to perform a song or two, may do so. DJ would play a while, then time spots open for our musical friends.

If you know, or remember any one of our old friends who used to "perform" in those years or has done so since then and might wish to do so at the Reunion, please encourage them to contact me. If you think they might wish to be involved in doing a "number" by themselves or with others on this magic night, I seriously doubt if they will have the opportuniy to play in front of all their old friends like this again.

Now your task is to send me a list of songs you think our DJ should have going -during dinner (subdued), during the reception before hand (less subdued?) and after dinner, music that captures the times of highschool.

Send your suggestions to Les McConnell at e-mail # mcconnell.leslie@videotron.ca.

Thank you.

Before HS Billings there was Chateauguay High...but before that...


This is a reversed image. So you are looking from up Macleod down towards Maple - before there was a "Maple" it seems. Thanks to Lynda Young Chapleau.

Looking Back, Looking Up and Looking Outward.

In the year 1967/68, I entered grade 7.

The class pictures presented here (some terribly over-exposed with darness) are but some, containing students we looked up to; the demi-gods roaming the halls on high, - (grade 10).

(Click on these for a closer look.At the time they seemed so grown up to my grade 7 mind -still do perhaps!)

This was a new world, a foreign culture of ever changing rules, new inner yearnings, desires, academic goals and plenty of distraction.

Chateauguay High took on a new name. Funny how that happens in life. I looked forward to Chateauguay High.
Who was Howard S. Billings anyway? (Ah ! Maybe next entry.)

We looked up to new and more grown up role models who projected conflicting yet magnetic unspoken codes. These were imbedded in their 'look' and demeanor of sophistication and experiential knowledge. And sometimes, revelation occured through the direct passing on of puzzling information! I recall Ingrid J------ explaining the strange and perplexing uses of some our body parts. This process was supposed to be fun? Another time on the school bus going home Gaham R----- explained in more detail what one could do on one's own if one was so inclined to such experimentation. Eurika!

The learning we were to take on transcended boundaries contained in bold type between two covers. The High School world had invisible class rooms that were outside and inside our walls of perception.

You were either 'in' or 'out', you either 'got it' or not.

Lessons were constantly learned -malicious lessons, angelic lessons, lessons of love, admiration, attraction, hatred, fierce competition, lessons of passion, lessons of authority and not simply that of teachers or administration. There was a very sly guerilla war going on at this level -inside and out, in school and at home. We were changelings, taking off the 'home' persona which we left by the door, to be picked up when we got home again, but the fit was never quite the same.

I suspect there are only a few 'old souls' contained in young bodies, on their reincarnated second go-round, who are truly ready to appreciate the activity of study, contemplation and the aquisition of knowledge at that age.

How many teachers were (or are) gifted with the ability to cut through the invisible masks we were trying on. Who had the talent to awaken neophytes to the higher calling?

How many teachers could set aside their own fragile home lives and personal inner angst to ignite the hunger for wisdom dormant within us? Some were capable indeed. Many were not. Many had to simply be content to don the role of referee. The punishment they would take from many of us- incredible! Many of our teachers grew old very quickly and they were not paid their due by a long shot. If our parents only knew...

And yet- here we are today. Wiser?

I should think so! The learning we did was primarily on the playing field of "social order" and "human dynamic" and secondarily in the arts of learning to learn.

The subtleties as well as the outright harshness of some of our experiences are still indelibly tatooed onto and within our collective psyche.

And yet through the kaleidescope of those five years -in and out of love and misery, detentions, soccor matches, hockey, football, basketball, fist fights, awakening sexuality, ski trips, substance experimentation -from the nectar of the gods to the wafting smoke of Alice's catepillar and beyond- here we are.

But understand this. We were not empty vessels waiting to be filled when we entered therein. We were already imbued with our characters, biases, cleverness and perhaps the lack thereof, in short, - we had an inherent nature of our own.

High School may have molded it to some degree, but only to the extent to where we were deemed by others, to be ready for a world that moved in it's own time and rhythm.

The question was, 'could we hit the pavement running' and discern the beat of that rhythm?
Are we even now able to descern the 'rhyme' or 'reason' of our external worlds coproate, political or social?

Some of us yes. Others no.
Some of us now set the beat while others do the dance.

So- What have we done with ourselves since then -in this, "The Real World"?
Have we changed since high school?

Have we gone over to the 'dark side' of all that we rebelled against?
Could it be that what we thought to be rebellion-was actually the process of "breaking on through to the other side" of our quite natural existence?

Speaking of which, it's time for all good boys and girls to go to sleep now.
Night Night sweet children.
And Peter Pan where ever you are...here I come! Look out Wendy!

While I was in grade 9, who were some of the people in grade 10?
Here are only a few.
Look closely. Some really good people.

High Scool Was Great! Especially Gr.9

Now, I know it wasn't great for everybody, but it was for me. Even the scary moments.

Grade nine is a stupid year for boys. I just don't know how girls could put up with us. Oh yeah- that's right! They are busy looking at all the guys in grade 10 and 11.

I remember being in Mrs. Thomas's English class and she had to go down to the office for something.

I didn't know that she had asked Mr.Dikaitis to keep an eye on her class through the door window while she was gone. - I mean, the least she could have done was given us a warning! Do you remember him? -the aspiring weight lifter with the glare of a bulldog set for battle?

I of course, a 5 ft. 4inch aspiring leprechuan saw right away that Donna Sloan had left her purse open on the wire basket beneath her desk.

"HMMM", thought I, "now here is a challenge! Just too quiet in here, must do something about this. I wonder what Donna has in her purse?" Not the brightest crayon in the box was I.

I discovered a wrapped little thing attached to a string and I began to twirl it about. I do not believe I understood the import of this little package - but hey! it had a string so ...

I felt myself lifted body and soul out of my seat, high up in the air and rushed out in the hall smashed up aginst the top of the lockers by the scruff of my neck, feet dangling .

I could no longer see into my class room, but I could see across the hall where Mr. Dikaitus had been teaching -math I think- and I could see Jimmy Williams in there looking up at me. I had never seen Jimmy with that kind of concern before... or was he trying to stifle a laugh?

I'm sure we all have stories. That is one of my least memorable for dignity and intelligence.

Of course there were all the "women" from that grade level. I think I fell in love every time I passed someone in the hall. Of course there were teachers too! Miss Westgate who become Mrs. Devos and then Mrs. Sally Clark.

When looking back to grade 9, I think there was only one guy who could really keep his composure, dignity and emit the light of "cool" from his eyes other than Bob Oliver (who was in grade 10). He had grace under fire, sense of humour and a smile that made everybody feel good. He was and (I hope) always will be, a delight to those he chooses to associate with - Mr.Hopeton D'Aguilar. His parents have solid reason to be proud.

Anon

Old memory,
Haunting dream.

Ever side glanced, in a crowd.
Was that her was that him?

Who would she be today?
Would stars align?

Hopes still shine
and leave old pain.

To meet,
but just once - again.

Alas.
t'is in vain?
Thus the condition-
Humane.

Yet despite such refrain
on last breath,
your smile
remain.

LM
Oct.2.2006

More Really Good People...Are the Luckiest People.

Familiar Faces?

Self Filling Cookie Jar Recipe

For those who need extra income (without having to get another job) to save for the reunion or any other goal, have a look at my free educational website.

I set the site up for my clients and their children to learn more about making money in the short term. It is also set up for family and friends to help them control the relationships they may have with their own financial advisors.

It is not a sales device for me. There is no cost and no expected obligation.
It is made up of ideas that may be of some help for some people and not all.

I have written one of the concepts many of my clients enjoy. I call it - the "Self Filling Cookie Jar Recipe".

See the site lmcconnell.multiply.com or don't. It's just a suggestion.

Budget Mind for our Reunion

We have been in communication for this event since April 2006.

In the blog as well as in broadcast via e-mail I have posted a "vision" that consists of a hotel with a "sit down dinner" plus entertainment. I have hinted at the possibility of even some of our High School Rockers doing something too.

Now let's get our wallet in sync with the vision if we have not already done so.

If you have someone you can stay with in Montreal or Chateauguay - great! You're going to save money.

If you, like many others have already been saving a little bit per month since May 2006 -Well Done!

Now, the costs are not all in yet so we do not know what the final cost and or discounts will talley. But let's not let that get in our way for saving the money we need for the event o.k.?

Usually on the Victoria Day weekend costs are higher at Hotels - check in Toronto or Vancouver the cost for that week end and you will see for a Downtown Hotel a cost per night at around $285 -$300 per night. So on the high end $300 x 2= $600.

If the cost to eat at a Hotel is $75 for a decent meal plus $25 for wine = $100.00

If the cost of entertainment were $25 a head - then add on another $25.00.

So just ball parking here, we have $600 + $100+ $25= $725

So, if you can save on the accomdation -great! Do it. You do not have to stay at the hotel.
Then your ball park estimate cost goes to $125.00 without hotel.

If you started saving (as I know a number of you have) - from May onward, then May to May is 13 months divided into $725 = $55 per month saved does it.

If you have alternate accomodations with friends and family -then $125 divided by 13 =$9.61 per month needed if you started saving in May 2006.

If you are only starting to think about saving now, I would say it is late in the day.
It is high time to save the $725 divided by 9 months= $80 per month if you like hotel rooms all in.

But if you have a friend or family to put you up, then $125 divided by 9 months =$13.00 a month for the next 9 months.

Now the figures above are just estimate high ball park figures and are nowhere near final with discounts. But please do not let that stop you from getting your budget together now.

As one person said in an e-mail today."I would hate to think that someone cannot make it because they can't afford it."

Well I would hate to think you cannot make it because you woke up one week before the event, looked at the bank book and thought "Geee, maybe I should have had a plan."

If you fail to plan, then plan to fail.
Be prepared and save more than you need to so you won't have a problem.

Survivors of a Dawson Moment











Sue Davis's daughter Jill



Jane and Les McConnell's son
Jacob








That Which Lingers

The nightmare
passed over
and
no one
has come through the dark
into the light
heart unscathed
by the shadow
cold steel
touch.


We who are
still here
wonder
why
another angel
had to fly
afar.

We all learn
one
at a time of
the fragile
fabric
- our woven
intricate existence,
sewn with the yarn
of
arbitrary nature.

Can we
go on
to find
comfort
in our invisible
community-
cradled in the memory touch
of valued old friends?
O my soul-
may we
all
be
well.

Les McConnell Sept 19 2006

"Come in" she said, "I'll Give ya shelter from the storm..."

Sue Davis on Dawson

Hi Les, I just read the blog for Wednesday. I'm so glad you found your son safe and sound. I too, have a kid at Dawson. My daughter Jill had left her morning class just 15 minutes before the gunman entered the building or she would definitely have been in that cafeteria. I got her cell phone call at about 1:30 to let me know she was at Marionopolis visiting friends. What a horrible, horrible thing to have to deal with as young teens. I don't know how I would have handled anything happening to her from this distance. I thank God that police were nearby and could contain things before any more were hurt or killed. Next week will be tough for these young kids. As I told my daughter, she will be a support to her friends and her community as they will be for her. Don't let terror win you over. Remember your mom's British tenacity. We're NOT afraid!! It's a comfort to her and I know she will need it. She is exhausted by the reports of all a kid her age shouldn't see or never know. She feels a certain guilt about not being there for her friends. She knew the young girl who died. The post traumatic stress will be huge. My love to the families coping with tragedy and grief. We are all with you Dawson!

Feel free to publish this too, Les.

Tell Jacob that we are thinking of him... Jill and me.

Times of Innocence



Thank you Kathie Harnest for the picture of a time of simpler moments.
When I have more time I will put the names below.
Meanwhile see if you all can spot Lynda Young, Kathie Parsons, Rod McManus, Richard Keeler, Elizabeth Dowler, Carl Noble, Dave McLean. Who else can you recognize?

The I Trajectory

What you chose to focus upon,
What you choose to remember,
How you choose to act:

These clothe who you are.
And these things
shall you radiate
from the centre of your sphere-

casting your effect,
to some degree,
upon all,
whose orbits
intersect.

LM Sept 14 2006

My Son at Dawson College


Normally Jacob would have stayed a few minutes to discuss things with his teacher, but today he had to hurry to meet his grilfriend one floor below.

The building has an atrium, all floors look out over a central internal court yard. Opening his locker he was startled to hear BANG -BANG- BANG continual firecracker sounds coming from above. He looked out into the court yard. Everyone was running, on the various floors and in the court below. Running could be heard above.

Word went around like a wildfire of a gunman.
About forty of the kids hid behind the lockers along with Jacob, as shots continued to be fired -BANG -BANG- BANG, from the floor above.
"Is he across the atrium aiming over here or upstairs?" Someone shouted.
Glass shattered and spayed nearby.

After about 45 minutes a policeman leading "point" in front of four others providing cover, herded the frightened students from this floor and out of the building.

The students could not help but notice a pool of blood at the entrance where the gunman had initially started the rampage as he penetrated further and further into the school, allegedly, calmly shooting as he went.

I was one mile down the street in the centre of the city at a business lunch with a client when my sister called my cell, tears in her voice, as she asked if Jacob was at Dawson today.

I left the lunch in shock and panic. I sped west along Rene Levesque to Fort Street but the police deviated traffic out to the high way away from the college.

I made my way back to Westmount from the West.

My cell phone was jammed much of the time as millions of people were trying to get in touch with their loved ones.

Having found a parking spot 4 blocks west of campus I began to run to find my boy.
The cell phone rang.
I briefly heard my boy's voice, but the signal jammed with overuse.
It wrang again.

"Dad I'm safe and out of the building."
"Jacob!" I shreiked, "Are you ok?"
"I am fine -safe, I'm coming home."

If you have family directly affected and need information, the family of the wounded young people who are at the hospital, may call the follwoing hot lines for information:
514-280-2880
514-280-2806

I hope you do not have to use these nunbers.
Les

Dreamscape Chateauguay Sept.10.2006

(L: Gail McAleese)

( R:Judy Vokey)

In Dawson College 1973 Richilieu Campus near Selby Campus, David Gray taught the gentle art of writing from “perceived” experience drawing upon the beat generation authors Jack Kerouack and Paul Bowles.

“The mind is a perception device and one should write from experience in order to get past the “blank page” syndrome.” He might say.

“Who is to say that what you dream has not been experienced?

You students who have recently left high school, have yet to swim out into the great stream of life. Few of you have yet to initiate life altering adventures to write from, so, as aspiring writers, you must begin with experiences you have had including those perceived in dream. Go ahead and create your ‘mirage –montage’.”

Today, I will toss in to the blog a dream journal entry.

For those of you who get bored easily with reading, go on back out to the golf course or back to the TV – or do the lawn or wash the car –whatever- it’s Sunday.

It’s o.k.

And to Tom Lauder who observes that this blog is ‘bizarre’. “Yes- I suppose it is, but so too, is life sometimes.”

Dreamscape – Chateauguay (REMEMBER –THIS IS DREAM ONLY!)

The sun shines. I plod my way up the street from the dam towards the O’Connor house, passing by St.Eugene on Salaberry, the river on one side, houses on the other.

It seems years since my last visit. Much has changed. Perhaps I’ll stop briefly to look upon the O’Connor’s residence, if just to rest for a moment and think back on past memories of some of the O’Connor’s social events.

This walk is dragging on. The house is nowhere to be seen. Instead there are farmers tilling the soil where the house, pool and Terry’s Gymnastic rings once stood. I look back towards St.Eugene – now transformed, a concrete throughway entrance going under Salaberry and the river itself, – a tunnel. A sign reads “This way to Lachine and Montreal”.

“Well it’s about time. I think we’ve all had enough of the damned bridge!”

But I still can’t seem to find my way back to the shopping centre. If St.Eugene is now a one way route, down through a tunnel, then that is not the way I need to be going; at least not yet.

Contemplating the farmers turning the soil, I hear voices coming from behind me. And there behind me, gesticulating and talking to another, is Judy Vokey! Wow! She looks great!

“Judy! –Hey! How are you?” I exclaim, “It only been 35 years!”

She stops and focuses for a moment.

“Les – Oh my god! Look at you! The hair is cut, jeans are gone, gray in the hair – but I still see you in there!”

I explain to her and her friend that I seem to have lost my way in all this change and ask for their help back to the shopping centre.

“Come with us,” she says, “Were parked in the lot just up the street and we’ll get you back to D’Anjou Blvd. We have to go back to the store now anyway.”

The store is located between IGA and Canadian Tire, just across from Jean Coutou at Maple street. I enter and they show me around all kinds of machinery and appliances.

A garden furniture display juts out of the wall above eye level across the store. What I thought was a mannequin – is now waving to me. I put my glasses on. There waving, smiling and looking directly at me is Gail McAleese – just as I remember her, trimmed bangs just above the eyes –still thin and lovely. I can feel tears begin to well up. I cannot stop them.

“How can this be?” I think to myself – elated yet profoundly saddened. Gail was killed in a car accident in Scotland not a year after her graduation in 1973. I cannot believe what I see, but I so do want to.

I turn to Judy.

“Judy, do me a favour and look over there to the wall display. Tell me what you see; my glasses are smudged.” – I lie blatantly. I don’t want her to think I’ve gone nuts.

I’ve accidentally interrupted her while she deals with a client, but she diplomatically ignores my faux-pas and looks up. (That’s Judy alright.)

“Oh yes,” she says, “The display - I told them to take it down. Kids always climb up and play on the darn thing. We’ll get in trouble with that one day. Hold on.” She seems to have noticed something else.

She strides over to the display.

“Young man,” she commands, “Come down from there this instant!”

What young man? I look back at the display. There a kid of nine or ten, short red hair fools around with a mannequin of a young lady in front of his friends down on the floor.

Gail is no longer there. I am saddened.

I remember days with her as a good friend. Gail and Debbie Vawer, sometimes Joanne Beda, hanging out front of the school. Sometimes Gail and I would go over to Beconsfield and see Susan, her lovely cousin. Gail put me up to running for school royalty one year – a good experience – Hopeton won out as he rightly deserved. And I had gained a true friend in Gail.

Before leaving the store, I approached Judy one last time.

“Judy, you’ve heard about the Reunion next year”. Will you be there?”

Her face always expressive – said, “For now, I don’t think so, but we’ll see.”

I could see in her eyes mixed feelings about attending such an event –things she would prefer to leave behind and yet people she would love to see –if not for one last time.

(End Dreamscape)

So, it was good to see my old friend even if in a dream, smiling and waving to me. I do miss Gail when I think upon her every now and again.

And Judy, – if you happen to read this ‘message in a bottle’, I do hope you are well and that you and others referred to herein, may see fit to attend the Reunion next May.