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