The Smile Always Said it All

There are some people from High-School days, that I can't ever leave out of my past.

Now amongst the images that float to the surface from time to time, is one in particular - she had this walk, no- it was a sway -hypnotic, and combined with her perfume... And the way she clasped her books to her chest with both arms, coyly, she might look my way.

Her eyes - Ah- her eyes, when she would bat those lashes, once and then twice! I wonder if she knew - I wonder if all of the girls in high-school knew the power they had over us stupid puppy dogs.

Her personality was just so - calm, friendly.

High-school can be a very scary place for a scrawny teen in a jean jacket, smelling of gum, cigarettes and SNAP -roaming the halls, not having done assigned homework, possibly getting caught, perhaps offending the wrong guy by looking sideways at his girlfriend and being challenged out back after school, or trying to say something with due seriousness only to have my voice crack.

Somehow she seemed to know and with one look, -just one was enough, to make me feel alright. She would smile .."Hi Les".
She made my day. Then she and Donna would be on their way. Angels?

To my friend Carol Broomer- many years later- ... well,
Thank you.

Thank you for being- you,
for being- there,
probably without even knowing what a positive effect you had,
on me
-and probably many others.

Now, who is that in the picture with you anyway -Jon Bon Jovi? Look at his smile -you see what I mean...he knows how lucky he is -( what Photoshop program version did this? Good job...almost seamless).

Congratulations Carol. You grew into your beauty with grace, keeping that smile of light, now with a great family, lots of good friends and health. You have reason to be proud. The beauty has always been authentic.

Know that you were appreciated by many of us in High-School.
Les

Past Perspective
Some time after high-school, after Dawson, after McGill, came the world of the brass ring and either "going for it" or not.

I grabbed for it and got it, - for a spell.

This is (or was) the view from our offices at the top of The World Trade Center, NYC . It was a low cloud cover day and the building did not sway as much as usual.
After eighteen years in the corporate world of international transportation, an intuition came upon me and I decided to exit that existence and go into another -closer to home.

Sometimes, it pays to listen to the inner voice.

What Recession and what Government?

Richard-

Those are very Interesting comments.

What I can see –tangibly-with the economy and market place, at least in the financial industry is as follows:

1. People are worried about the markets (US plus recession) and many do-it-yourself-ers are selling at the wrong time.

2. I know for a fact that there were fund companies and banks who for the last year offered “Notes” which guaranteed the invested capital from an investor and offered increasing value with the market. The problem came when the worry set in and market levels went down due to the banks exposure to sub-prime products. When the beginning of the real slide in October occurred, it ‘triggered’ these “Note Providers” (many banks and Fund companies) to sell all underlying stock and simply buy strip bonds in order to make good on the guarantee element. At least 1-2 thirds of October’s massive slide on the TSX took place simply for this reason since so many people had been sold these “guaranteed products”. The ‘bitch’ for the customers who purchased these is that the notes carried another condition…the investment is locked in until 2012 or longer. So, once the skies clear next year (in 6-12 months) these people will be pissed. But that is not my point. My point is that this one product alone, caused much of the price slide in October due to managers having to sell stock quickly to cover the guarantees by purchasing the bonds. This is another “Selling At The Wrong Time” situation thus causing the market to slide further downward.

3. So with values going down on portfolios, income for advisors on trailer fees or monthly administration fees tied to as a percentage of the value of a client’s portfolio is also down. So Christmas parties and bonuses to assistants are gone. I have had to cut my assistant from 3 days per week down to 2.

4. Mutual Fund companies who traditionally have client appreciation parties including dinner and Casino nights right about now ($3000-5000 cost) for any given restaurant – for the advisers who give them business throughout the year, have been canceling. So imagine the effect on the restaurants and the trickle down effect. I suspect many from my industry are canceling plans for winter travel. I know I have. Yet strangely –since I have modeled my business on a very cheap fee base for the clients, where the monthly cost from me beats out everyone else, my business activity is now increasing…I put in another $100,000 to certain investments for clients last week and a big banker brought me a new client who signed with me on the spot. But this won’t translate into new income personally for about a month.

5. What I do know from my time in this and the transport industry years ago, is that when there is the smell of recession in the air, the weaker cash flow companies immediately let people go or stop replacing those who leave. This attrition factor is now happening in many companies. –Nortel?

6. Also far less people are talking to me about planning to sell their houses or buy new ones…the last one (Canadian) to buy a condo in Florida was 5 months ago…. With the higher Canadian dollar, which as you know…

7. It is also a wonderful time for management to bust the balls of unions if not bust them outright with unbridled glee and perhaps legitimacy under the cloak of the dreaded R word. –GM, Ford??

So given the above factors, many are holding on to their money, hiring is in freeze mode, lay-offs are taking place in Canada, businesses are ‘receding’ where they can without killing themselves. Recession is occurring on various fronts…just not a massive one….not yet anyway once the trickle down process has hit other sectors in the economy we shall see.

The government situation is not helping. The opposition parties due to their philosophic disparities are not gaining legitimacy or credibility with the common man in their new found coalition. As far as the conservatives are concerned, they let the damned genie out of the bottle by calling the last election with hopes of scraping together stronger support…but they blew it instead.

So Canadian politics-- even with the opposition calling for economic packages as a mask to their political opportunism, is not good medicine and only distracts investors attention from the credibility we have as the world's strongest financial system.

…And a happy new year …fa ..la..la la ...LAAAAA.

Bah humbug?

Les

Snippets and Around Town

Today I was over at the 'shopping centre' drugstore loading up on Lipitor, contemplating the price/performance differences between Gillette Mach III, Turbo and the Fusion ( I know-exciting life!) when I bumped into our old friend Jacquie Ross. She, as always, looks great.

Do you remember Jacquie in high-school?
I do.

I used to enjoy her rushing about on a waves of humour and smiles. She had this long thick hair, short skirt or tight jeans and personality plus.
I smile when I think of Jacquie.

Today she had people in from Saskatoon -husbands at the Grey Cup and wives out shopping, with all to meet up at the Montreal Casino.

You never know who you're going to meet when over at the old shopping centre -now referred to as 'Mall".

If I am not mistaken, I breezed by Carol Mates a few weeks ago. I was focussed on some unimportant errand that I was running and it only clicked a few minutes later. I went back but she was gone. I guess she (if it was her) had come in for the HSB 40th Anniversary.
---------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks ago, Cathy Gulkin came to meet me at the Saint-James Club to chat about markets and life. Now there is someone who has talent. Did you know that Cathy is an ACTRA award winning film editor for movies and TV? Her daughter is very talented too. Her brother Jimmy, has done well. After leaving Montreal for the oil fields out west many years ago, he saved his money and went to Thailand and started a food exporting company -exporting to Canada and the USA. He stayed in Thailand, married -has a son now. Very successful!
---------------------------------------------------------

I understand Roddy McManus is working on the Montreal Canadians celebration with George Strompobolous of The Hour. They were with Justin Trudeau three weeks ago and Celine Dionne shortly thereafter. The show will be televised in January.
----------------------------------------------------------

As we all know, the stock market has presented a wonderful opportunity for those who have not saved up for retirement. Prices for banks, rail and basic good solid value (Cash flow producing systems) Canadian infrastructure, is at a 5 year discount. Thursday I put in another $100,000 for one of my clients and then Friday the market went up 400 points or more. I hope it tanks again and stays down for the next three months or so. But I think the prices are already factoring in Canada's 'Recession' which if not here now, will be here in a week or so.

Conversely, I expect weaker businesses will have to cut employment to keep their heads above water and therefore, it could be a rough Cristmas for some of our friends.

My business is tied to the value of people's portfolios rather than commissions. This allows commissions to stay with clients and grow for them rather than me. While I am not at severe risk, the income side is taking a hit as values decline ...so I will have to cut back some.

Hmmmm Barry Jones called to see if we want to go skiing up North the week before Christmas...well, I guess that's a "NO".
---------------------------------

My sister Gaye McConnell had a very successful vernisage/Art show last weekend where her water-colour paintings were on display. Wow! Talk about talent. Jane and I bought two new pieces (it was either that or the skiing...choices). I believe my cousin Greg Holden bought one too. There was quite a turn out. I wonder if she has a web site where her work is shown? Have to check.
------------------------------------

Anyway, here we are in Chateauguay. It's getting cold again. The ground is crunchy but we haven't been hugged by snow yet. Soon. Have to get Don Reid out of his house once again. He's got a great business in the Winter season, zipping around our old town with his plow getting our driveways done . (I just can't stand driveway tents- sorry, no offence ...) He also thrives in the summer trimming all the trees, shrubs, grass and maintaining gardens. He still looks like a million bucks. I know the day will come when he's discovered by Hollywood.
----------------------------------------

Oh yes -speaking about looking good, - I bumped into Janice Goodfellow over on Victoria street, in town the other day. How is it, that some people just don't seem to age or change shape?
Well- preserved comes to mind.
--------------------------------------------

I received a very nice e-mail from Anja Michielson a couple of weeks ago. Now there's another one...OK enough of that.
Suffice it to say she is still an airline stewa... do they call them service people or 'hostesses' now? I should check with Debbie Hillock who is married to Kevin Lyons -one of those flying 'nice people'. (Bring me another Champaign please.)
Anja was off to Europe for a few days...imagine. I saw her last spring in town also. Tall and graceful, lovely coat and beautiful eyes. Some people actually grow smoothly into their beauty as they age.

Oh yeah!- speaking of Airline people, Marianne Peacock is also one of those. I saw her picture on Facebook lately as one of the attendees of Billings 40th. You still 'got it' girl!

Which reminds me, if you have not seen those pictures, get onto Facebook and somehow become "a friend" to Sue Davis Worth or one of the Gurholt girls, (speaking of looking great Davis Worth and Gurholts) -then you can check out all the photos. ...
---------
How are you sleeping lately? Have you turned 55 yet? I did -in October. I find that every night I have to get up at around 4:00 a.m. and do yoga stretching for 15 minutes or so - 'Downward Dog and such(- no, not dirty dog) and then go back to bed where I do diaphramatic breathing for two minutes and thankfully submerge back into heavy duty dreamland.

Welcome to upper middle age. At least everything else is just fine ...knock on ..uh, well whatever.

US Election

This evening,
this moment,
this time -
History is made anew.
May this be
a pristine unifying moment
for America; for
OUR world.

Les McConnell
November 4. 2008

We are all proud of HSB Alumnus Dr. Seleda Williams of California, USA, the tall good looking one one on the left.

Say "Hi" to the governor for us Seleda!

All those who attended the 'Reunion '72 & Friends' last year, can say they met up with not only our old buddy Jimmy Williams, but his sister Seleda too.

Just another good example of how influences in life - from High School and friends, good decision making, passion, very hard work and determination - can get us somewhere. In each of us there is a seed that can be nurtured by ourselves and those around us.

The key I suppose, is not to give up or lose belief in one's self.
But where do we get that quality?

We grow it, in ourselves - despite all those who would oppose it's growth. The consistency of small steps everyday, gets us there, if we keep going in that one direction.

Well done Seleda! We are all proud of you and your family. What an example.
Les

Shadowland in October Country Collection

Exit from Eden (Revison 7)

Her footsteps crunched the gravel.

She thought, "There are still no sidewalks, amazing how small the houses really are, almost as if trying not to be noticed. They seemed bigger back then, when our house was a home - of sorts."

In the field around the corner, train cars stood waiting, overshadowed by the ancient water tower, brown with corrosion - a place of exploration, memories laced with summer heat, brows of sweat, perfumed blend, creosote and field flower, hide and seek, chase catch and kiss through the milkweed, boyfriends and then, safety when mother sent her out of the house in a panic."He's been drinking again, go quick, come back when the lights go out. It won't be long now. "

Down the street- the corner store, where she would buy single cigarettes on the sly and gum with her birthday money. And on high, steeples, two of them, having lost their mystery long ago, erect, biding their time.

The lonely wail of an engine echoed off the water down by the plant -crying out to her, resonating within, to a time of innocence, magic, hope, and the ever yearning for a prince to take her away.

She quickened her pace down Main Street, glancing at her own reflection in the ice-cream shop window.
" More dimension to the curves, not bad for my age, but true enough though, youth is definitely wasted on the young, and wisdom just a convenient crutch for the aged."

Movement approached from the side.
"Quick! Keep the head down! Next street left, to the water and the taxi stand! Run!"
Escape routes never to be forgotten, well-ingrained, uncoiled themselves.

"Keep them looking - but not too closely, keep them paying and let their eyes move on." That was what he always said. They're just pictures and the money will help us get to where we need to be."

"So much for the long discarded 'Prince of optimism and deceit' and those bloody pictures. I don't even look like that anymore. Yet even now, they haunt me through the Net."

The twin shadows reached out beyond the train cars. Bells tolled the hour. Mist spread it's wing lightly over the field, sheltering precious memories beneath from the onset of the dark. Essence of dried leaves and the hint of frost idled upon the breeze.

She sighed, not looking back.
"And home? Just an idea of someone else's happiness lies submerged somewhere deep within; best not think about it. Keep going; come back when the lights go out, shouldn't be too long."


L.McConnell
Sunday
October 19.2008

I've Been Working on The Railroad
(Prince Rupert '76) continued

Jake, a forty five to fifty something 'White Russian' by birth (-Canadian by choice) proceeded to take me under his wing until such time as I could fend for myself and "... knew which way was up". He was not a foreman, but rather, the moral back bone and wise man of our crew. He was in fact deemed to be 'holy' by those from overseas.

The few Canadians on the crew- blue collar in orientation, just stayed clear of him.

Jake did not fit any known mold as he did not watch TV that much, did not care for any sport and did not suffer fools. His blunt comments could reach into the root of any situation and deflate the greatest shows of male bravado.

We all climbed into the 'speeder' or 'crew car' by pecking order.

The speeder experience is the most wonderful thing and brings out the kid in all of us until we become jaded by the job itself. Imagine yourself zipping through the wooded and mountainous hinterland on tracks at lightening speed - better than La Ronde any day.

We pulled out of 'Rupert', heading for the Mill down the line, the ponds, trees, sky opening up. Secluded spots where man has never stepped, emerge 50 yards in front. Pools of water, mist rising and quiet - pure quiet- solitude.

The others in the speeder, used to the morning ritual are catching a snooze as we buzz through "the creation". Jake seems interested in watching my reactions . I suspect he's judging me, as if weighing my substance. 'Will the city kid make it -yes or no?'

We turn a gradual corner around a hill and there on the trees and telephone lines as if by magic- a regiment of Bald Eagles.

" Guys! Look!" I shout. "This is incredible..." when on the back of my helmet 'wop' !
"-ow!"

I could not restrain myself. I had never seen a real Bald Eagle 'live' before, let alone this many in one sitting and here they were - at least 8 or 9 of them, all about three feet high, yellow hook beaks, white or yellowing crests.

"Hey - new kid!" one of the workers reaches over from the other side and gives me a shove after hitting my helmet. "Shut up you mouth! Sleeping time!"

Jake observes me, apparently with great interest, to see my reaction, the suggestion of a smile playing in his steady eyes.

"But..." I reach to grab my helmet.
Jake put a finger up to his lips and raised an eyebrow.

"You have to figure" He whispers, "they go through this everyday. They've seen what you see and a great deal more, especially when they were in Angola fighting."

This is when I got my first lesson on culture. Apparently those on the crew with Mediterranean swarthy looks, were either from Greece or Portugal and the Portuguese in particular, ex-army regulars, were in from the colonial Portuguese Angola war.

"The one that just poked you," Jake informed me, ".. is 'Lil Tony'. Don't get in his way. Try to make him a friend. No one will ever bother you once they know he's on your side."

"Oh." I responded.

"You're from 'back East' and there is much that will be new to you. Try not to be an excitable kid, be cool, this is not a travel tour, it's our life and quite mornings on the ride to site are sacred."
I looked at the others , dozing.

"We only really start waking up once on the track, -once we've been on the job for about an hour and all the stiffness, aches and pains from the previous day have worked themselves out."

"..the Eagles.." I point.

"I know" he said, "- quite special, at first, but a regular thing out here, especially behind the canneries where the catch is brought in. Eagles, like gulls, come around for the innards left on the back pile. Easy 'pickins'."

Upon disembarking at our first work site, I cannot help but notice how Tony comes by his name. He stands, all of 4 ft. 5 inches tall, solid rock and I am to soon discover, one hell of a fighter -if not warrior in the traditional sense. 'Fear', I was to learn, has no place in his vocabulary. I could have used him at H.S. Billings.

During the summer, 'Lil Tony' would make a few extra bucks for himself and his shell-shocked buddy, Eduardo by ..well.. I'll get to that later... but I'm sure you'll find it to be rather strange reading when I do get to it.

The speeder made it's way through the hills where fresh crystal water cascaded down- water that one could drink straight from the stream.

Soon the air became thick. My nose wrinked at the stench.

"That's the Pulp Mill." announced Jake shaking his head and looking down almost in shame.
--------------------------
Within myself I had been trying to fend off homesickness that had been bubbling beneath the surface since my buddy Monte had left for for his job in Terrace. But now, the fabric of this new scenic reality and human adventure caught hold of me. I discovered that as long as I was on the job, and had my trusty narrator and home grown Merlin, Jake, with me, I tacitly agreed to become the Arthurian apprentice in this 'quest' - for tuition money, life experience and the Holy Grail -my undiscovered inner self.

The real journey had begun.

Me in my prime
- a picture taken by Jimmy Williams

Click on the picture and it magnifies. ...does that throughout this blog.
My...I was a cranky lookin' dude!

Prince Rupert Station Yard /II
continued...

I grappled with the bar on the frayed wood floor hoping to avoid splinters, while trying to pick the damn thing up. It was cold, hard and very heavy.

I recalled in grade six doing research for the project everybody in the school (and most schools at the time) was involved with on Confederation, seeing pictures of laborers -Chinese and white- at the sides of the rails leaning into their labours using long staff like things. If these were the same, I figured I was either going to break this summer or get into some really good shape despite my skinny 19 year old frame.

Dragging one end of the first 'pick' on the floor, I was able to negotiate my way out of the shed to the side of the "car" which had it's wheels affixed to the sides of the rails on the spur. Even though I wore leather workman's gloves, I could feel the chaffing on the skin of my palms. The thought hit me like a slap in the face how I would complain in the autumn when raking the leaves with my dad, about the blisters forming on my palms. In my minds eye, I could see Jimmy Williams back in grade 10 up on the high bars being coached by Mr. Peterson. Despite the gymnast gloves and chalk used, he had callouses upon callouses on his hands. They were like thick pads of leather. I was seriously wondering now, how long I could take this. Whoever coined the saying was right. "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."

The sun was just blinking through the trees from the East. It had already done so in Montreal I imagined some three hours ago. There was a mist shrouding the yard, but there was no covering the ever-present smell of tar coming from the piles of rail ties.

I had managed to pull three picks out in about four minutes and was seriously considering a break and some coffee from my thermus.

A little ways over, by the side of the track, lit up from behind in silhouette, a small crowd was gathering to watch my progress. Everyone was in gray coveralls and billy boots topped with the CN helmet. The morning quiet was littered with bits of language I could not place coming from the group. It sounded like a combination of Hindi or Pakistani, some Greek and there was some other language which turned out to be Portugese. There was one thing they all had in common - their apparent delight in watching skinny white guy trying to lug the pry bar picks.

Off to the side of this giggling coterie of linguistic jibber-jabber, (which I would grow used to over the course of the summer), a loner sat, on his CN helmet no less, one leg draped over the knee of the other, the upper foot rocking up and down ever so nonchalantly. He was was smiling, shaking his head and it was at that point the realization dawned upon me that I was the source of some hilarity.

"OK guys - help him out!"
They all moved at once .
It was the man who had given me the instruction in the first place.
There were some more picks left in the shed.

"Put it down and watch." he said to me, chuckling still.

He went into the shed, bent at the knees lifting two at a time in the mid section and passed them to the others. They hoisted the bars in smooth swings onto their shoulders and then gently put them into the 'work car'. He put his arm around my shoulder and walked me over to the group.
As the sun rose, his face emerged magically from the dark. He must have been in his fifties, but he was built like me only fuller in the arms and shoulders. His hair was silver and rust. Life had etched mystic runes upon the tawny leather above and beneath the eyes. His smile was warm. Instinctively, I knew I had an ally - a guide .
"Welcome to the gang kid. I'm Jacob or as most call me - Jake."
He extended a bony hand and I, gratefully, shook it.

Wednesday May 1976
Journal Entry

My first day at work went very well...considering...that my day consists of 11 hours of very hard manual labour.

My muscles have gone stiff on me as I write. I shall have to take a bath down the hall. My room is without toilet facilities; just a bed, a shelf, and old stove. The milk I kept on the windowsill thinking it would stay cool has curdled.

After work I made my way over to a book store in the small mall. There was a friendly lady behind the cash.

"People in this town seem nice," I said, " But they are unlike other small towns I have been in, in that I sense a general 'holding back' from strangers which I suppose is only natural."

She considered what I had said for a moment, given I suppose that I was the 'stranger' and she of course, one of the towns people. The words had already slipped out of my mouth, too late to snatch them back.

"Outsiders", she said slowly, peering at my soiled jeans, dirty hands while appreciating my unmistakable musk of sweat, kerosene and creosote, " generally come in to Prince Rupert on their way to somewhere's-else and take jobs for a while, that the town-folk might otherwise have. When they have made their money - they disappear."

"Would you like the key to the city with that ?" Handing me the purchased book, she winked. And there it was again... the smile.

1976 May 7th. En Route

(Journal Entries)
I'm on my way to Edmonton.

Montie and I have been on the train for about 26 hours since leaving Montreal. We expect to arrive at the Edmonton station for about 7:00 a.m. on Sunday and then meet up with Scott Johnson later in the day at the Library. Hopefully we'll find a job on Monday...if we are lucky.

The prices on the train for food are ridiculous.

At least we have the entertainment factor - drunks who enjoy singing through the night. Could be worse - babies crying.

1976 Monday May 17
Prince Rupert BC
Inlander Hotel

It's late afternoon.

I have spent another day at the railway station...waiting, waiting, reading, waiting.
Such patience I never knew I had.
All this for a job.

Did I make a big mistake letting Montie have the job that I had fought for?

I guess after a day like this one would think so. I sure hope something turns up tomorrow. I understand that today is payday for the work gangs, which for me I'm told is good, since once paid, some of these people never come back. Well hopefully someone will quit.

I'll either have to get in touch with Montie for money soon or go home this Friday. I am paid up in this hotel until then.

I am not homesick for home... but I am for my girlfriend.

1976 Tuesday May 18
Prince Rupert BC
Inlander Hotel
7:13 AM

I'll be back at the Railway station in about 15 minutes. It's just around the corner and down the hill and looks out over the Pacific and Queen Charlottes. It is strange to think I am on the other end of Canada.

Hopefully by this evening, I will have a job.
Well here goes.


1976 Tuesday May 18
Prince Rupert BC
Inlander Hotel
10:15 AM

Well it's about time.

Got it! I took a job in the Prince Rupert Yards. I start tomorrow morning at 7:00 A.M.
I'll be making $4.52 per hour and the shift is minimum 9 hours per day.

1976 Wednesday May 19
Prince Rupert BC
CN Yards
6:30 AM

The sun is not yet up. I have met the yard master. He gets to wear the white helmet while the crew have to wear yellow ones. I'm crew.

(I'm glad I ran into Scott back in Edmonton. He warned me to get well stocked up on steel-toed construction boots and warm light hunting jackets to wear under the over-alls and rubber wet ware. You can almost set your watch to the rain-fall here. It is clear in the morning with sun until late morning and then it pours on you. Then it clears by 2:00 or 3:00 PM.)

"Hey you - get some work gloves on and follow me." A yellow helmet guy commands me. He doesn't even look at me or say good morning.

"Christ I'm just waking up! " I think to myself. What happened to the ..you start at 7:00a.m. bit?

I can make out a white shack in the emerging morning haze.

"Here..." He says, "...Take the key and open the shed. Then bring out the 'picks' off the floor. Bring out six of each and I'll bring the car over."

He looks me up and down in disbelief.
"Oh by the way, have you ever done this before?" He asks.
"No, but I'm a fast learner." I respond -trying to sound motivationally correct.
" Well you might learn fast, but the question is, will you last?"

"Oh come on, " I think to myself, "It can't be that hard..."

The shed is right beside a parallel side track or "spur".
I manage to unlock the big padlock and open the heavy doors.


It's dark in there and I stub my steel toed boot against something and fall making one hell of a racket while bashing my shin on the way down.

From outside a head peers in.
"Ya gotta turn on the light first. " He says, reaching in to the side wall.
The bare bulb on the ceiling goes on and I find myself sitting atop a bunch of heavy steel rods.
"Those are the picks." he says.
He leaves me to continue the task.

I look down.

The rods (picks?), gray steel, are about an inch to an inch and a half thick in diameter and are about six feet long. At one end a point and the other flattened.
"O.K." I think, "let us begin".

I reach down and get my fingers under one of these things and pull.
"Oh Oh"

"Did I hear an 'oh-oh'?" a voice queries outside.

"Shit".

Roddy McManus Directs

Tonight see CBC 9:00 PM
the production of 'Simple Plan' with participation of George Strombopolous of CBC.

Directed by our very own

Roddy McManus!

Way to go Rod! We're very proud of you.

The End of The Line (Revised)

After High School, sometime during my last year in Dawson and beginning of McGill, 1976, I and the brother of my then girlfriend, shipped out from Montreal on the quest for a job.

"What have you got in mind?" He asked.

"Well Monty, I have a plan, but you have to have faith in me- and this will test us both." I replied.

He never knew how really scared I was.

The plan was to get on a train in Montreal and not get off until the end of the line - somewhere out west -presumably Vancouver. That train came upon a divide -one way to Vancouver, the other to Prince Rupert BC....North West, just under Alaska across from the Queen Charlotte Islands - Haida Territory.

We had about $150 dollars between us. It would last a few days, but the last thing I wanted, was to use it up and beg my way home to Chateauguay.

"So, OK, we're here," Monty said, "Now let's hear some more of the plan."

An hour later we were in the Office of Mr.Louis Arsenault, stationmaster of the Prince Rupert CN yard.

"Who 're you?" He looked us up and down and then back to the statistics on his desk.

"What do you take in your coffee?" I asked while looking around the office. My eyes settled on his stained coffee mug - apparently used for years, it sat over near a pile of yellowed news-papers.

"What d' ya mean?" He barked, still not lifting his head to look at us.

"I mean, what do you take in your coffee -one cream two sugars?"

The head rose, as stubby workman's fingers, yellow-tanned with years of nicotine, gripped the desk and pushed back, revealing a generous beer gut, well worn belt with a CN train buckle. The two day stubble seemed to grimace into a painful smile. The bleary red eyes blinked behind the coke bottle glasses.

"I know a number of Arsenault's back in Quebec" I ventured, "They are good people. So- ah, what time do you start work in the morning?" I asked.

"Why da-ya want ta know d'ese-'tings-fer-christ's-sake?" He demanded, all in one word, voice beginning to rise

Monty was gently starting to back out of the room.
"Monty - stay here for a second. This won't take long." I said.

"Mr. Arsenault you should expect to see me every morning as you start work. I'll have your coffee and newspaper all ready for you."

His eyes began to bulge.
"What d-y'a want?" He laughed, unsure of what the devil was going on.

"I want a job" I said.

"But d'ers no jobs." he retorted.

"That's precisely why you will see me every morning from now on. I will bring your coffee, newspaper, run errands, do what needs to be done. I will be your 'unpaid' assistant."

"I don't need any assistant". He roared, turning red almost to blue ... (blood pressure?).
"I can't pay you not'n anyways."

" That's OK ." I replied gently, " Something will turn up and when it does, perhaps you will think of me."

Next morning, we went back coffe and newspaper in hand- nothing. The door was locked from the inside.

We went back the day after -nothing. But this time the door was open.

On the third day -finally - a job..in Terrace down the track, a little west of Prince Rupert.

"OK, now you can get 'da hell outta my office and leave me alone." He said, sighing with some relief.

"Why?" I asked quietly, still sorting through some of his papers and moving his freshly cleaned mug and ashtray.

His jaw did a whip saw double-take. He could not believe what he was hearing.

"I gotta job for you! You fukin crazy or somtin'? " He shrieked.

" No, - you got Monty a job, and we thank you very much, so I'll see you tomorrow morning as usual, -until you get one for me."

H tried to swallow a choke or a gurgle.
He just stared at me and then at Monty and then back at me.
He just couldn't believe what was happening.

Monty gave me his last twenty dollars before getting on the train leaving Prince Rupert.

"Thanks - I 'll visit, but somehow, I don't think you will lack for 'friends' or enemies for that matter - so be careful."

















The Tamper Machine, I shoveled gravel in front of for 8-10 hours a day.














The Federal Fisheries Boat that Scott Johnson worked on upon the Skeena River. I met him a month after I got my job.









The beautiful yet treacherous Skeena River
























The Mobile Home four of my crew and I lived in at Tyee Station at the side of the track- which was the only thing in the station. It was more a 'stop' than a station.





















My Crew was composed of ex-soldiers from Portugal (some shell shocked I figure) after their respective terms in Mozambique after their days of colonialism had come to an end. We had Pakistanis and Sikhs in search of a better life. Oh yes, there were two bunks to a room. I had mine to myself for a few weeks, until a tall, mustachioed, muscle bound man stood in the doorway and noted my record player. He took over the other bunk.

I asked him how his left eye had clouded over to such a milky white -eclipsing all color?
"Oh it's dead, lost it in a prison riot." He peered at me from the good eye.

I could not think of a better time to put my girlfriend's picture up on the wall for all to see.




We used to enjoy going back into town to the tavern. It became rather activated when the Haida fisherman would come in after getting paid by the cannery for their catch. I learned to camp carefully with my glass of beer beneath the pool table until things would settle. Other rail guys used to be up for the fun.

Well that was a long time ago.
But I hear that either Beverly or Barbara Hague now run a fishing bout out that way. Remember Barbara's infectious giggle?

Lesley and Rick create a midsummer night ambiance.

Note: Turn your room lights off to see this and then tilt your screen forward.

Bruce Craig and Rick Kilpatrick begin warming up

Many Will Recall Going West

After High School

Rick Rankin and His Wife Leslie's Place near Ottawa

with Rick Kilpatrick in from USA along with Bruce Craig, myself and my wife Jane.

You can't see me since I'm taking the video.

Bruce's words are telling...

Step Around The Three Hundred Pound Elephant ...please.
-----------------------------------------------------------

"Yes, I have been in contact -with "X", by e-mail, over the past two years since before the reunion -every now and then." I responded.

He said, "I find that some people are really quite 'unique' when it comes to communications."

"How do you mean?" I asked

"Well ...in that they don't always answer or can't be depended upon to respond to my e-mail- even given that we are 'friends' or on a closer level than acquaintances.

I mean these are people who have a history with me and when I send an e-mail greeting, in some cases I don't get an acknowledgment. They don't even answer!" He said.

"Hmmm... I know for a fact that the ones you mentioned, have always considered you to be one of their "chosen" - not best buddies or lovers or anything like that, but close to the centre of their being, if you know what I mean."

"Well what is it with these people?" There was a slight touch of hurt in the voice.
"Are they just out-right rude or something?.. or is their silence supposed to 'be' the
"message-meaning-more-than-words" - like don't call me-I'll call you?" He ventured.

"I know what you mean - it can be quite perplexing, but- I think you may giving the 'lack of response' too much credit." I said. "I suspect that people these days are just really busy and probably this element is combined with a little complacence or mild laziness, since they know you and consider you a 'friend' and that you will know better."

"I mean, I think you are the type of person who, once you receive a communication, are very sensitive to proper communication protocals and get back to people very quickly. You, I suspect are the type who truly respects the nature of 'dialogue', in that, if one initiates communication with you, you owe them a response -and in good time, for anything else would be rude and a poor reflection on your character. But you also expect others -especially those who you deem as being special to you, to be LIKE YOU and behave 'in-kind'. And you get disappointed when they do not."

"All I know" he said, "is that some people are special to me and to get nothing in reply makes me wonder.

"What do you wonder?" I asked.

He paused and thought for a moment.
"Well in So-and-So's case, we had been kind of, close in high school and when I communicate with that person, it's like that "close" memory- is a 350 pound elephant sitting in the room and it must be tip-toed around- we or maybe, I, pretend it is not there since we are all grown now, even though I feel it's presence."

"Wait a minute" I said, "You are now talking about someone you went out with, or came close to doing so -or maybe you wanted to but it never did?"

"Yes." He replied

"So you figure then, that due to the 350 pound emotional memory elephant and underlying potential feelings, (that still could easily be there, if paid attention to,) but pretend are not, ... that So-And-So is in fact communicating with you by 'not' responding, - that maybe the message is -that they don't want to talk to you. So sometimes the elephant- potential feelings are too hard to ignore for them and that this elephant complicates the possibility of communicating with you -at this time?"

"Perhaps" He said.

"Hmmm - this is perplexing."

" On the other hand" he said, " When it comes to long distance e-mail communication with "friends from the past", I believe there are three types of communicators:

Firstly, those who were close and are responsible when it comes to communication.

Second - there are those who may have been close, but are poor communicators -that they do not respond in good time or at all, for various reasons -laziness, complacency and taking the relationship for granted -'You'll understand if I don't respond', or the 350 pound elephant factor causing fear in communicating. On a very subtle level they feel that by responding, it may tacitly imply acknowledgment of special feelings from the past...which complicate being "just good friends" nowadays.

"Third and lastly" He announced, "There are those who have always had dust-free, clean and neat simple lives with a plan - compulsively so; who have thrown into the trash can of obsolescence, everybody from the past. For them, the past does not exist. There is only "now".

These people are 'black and white' in nature. We recognize them from high school. They considered themselves "all-grown -up" and knew precisely what they wanted and have got it now - perhaps- and anything else is a distraction. Going to a reunion, would not be considered a worthy expenditure of what of their time -no offense intended, ...and you are simply a distraction, similar to distant relatives wasting time with well meaning innocuous chain e-mails - to be deleted immediately.

"Wow - you seem to have it all figured out!" I said.

"While I do not like the third group" he said, " I respect them since they are consistent. They never communictaed then and never will, although, I do feel very sorry for them since I suspect one day, when it is too late, they will wake up to the realization that they threw out that which may have mattered most."

"So you like group one and three, but you are perplexed by group two because they cannot conform to your sense of proper communication protocol or being afflicted by the 350 pound invisible elephant wish can be side stepped ever so gently."

"Yes" he said..." but an elephant -invisible or not- never forgets -especially when ignored!"

Variety at OLPH

Recently I went to the OLPH church up the street from the school to film my son, nephew and my sister sing and play guitar.

In that show were some familiar McNamee and Maude Family entertainers.

Here is their " I Wanna Be On Oprah" song written by Kathleen McNamee. They still have their harmonies.
So instead of Oprah, they are on The HSB Reunion72 and Friends Blog.
L

Every Now And Again (Revision).

So this person says to me..."It's 'the' classic case of bad timing,
or, perhaps the right time has simply not yet arrived.
I live in hopes. But I believe that a past 'true-love' and I are destined to somehow meet again."

"Really?" I said, "You believe in that old proverbial fairy-tale?"

" Well, - during high-school and after, any time I was 'uncommitted or not-going-out-with' someone, the person I really wanted, was either in love with, committed to, 'or going-out-with' someone else and/or had dropped off the grid of my awareness.

Throughout my life, that person has been in the back of my mind and every so often peaks through my dreams."

"Well, have you ever tried to connect in some way?"I asked.
"Yes - and I intentionally went to the reunion to see if that person would come too."

"And..." I continued.

"And nothing. They did not show.

"But are you unhappy?" I asked.

"No - I love the person I am married to and love my family.
It's just this nagging feeling in my heart, of something not complete, something special that might have been, or still might be -in the future."

"But if you are happy now, and with Family and you Love your spouse, what would happen if that special someone from your past suddenly showed up?"

"Oh God- That would not be good, I mean, as much as I yearn to see that special person again, - uh, no-the time is not right. I would hope that would not happen. What a mess!"

"Then you know why that person did not show, at the Reunion."

"I suppose you might be right." Anonymous said.

"But then, do you suppose that person feels the same way you do?" I asked.

"I really don't know at this point, although some time after high-school, we met and they said, that they had wanted to be with me too - but I was always with someone else when they were free or they were with someone else when I was free. So, as for now how they might feel, you never know, perhaps they do. But of course this could all be my romantic wishful thinking - but a lovely thought, just the same."

"Well, I think you're lucky in a way, since you have that little nagging hope and fantasy that keeps you dreaming and -occasionally wistfully thinking about some magic time and place which has yet to be or may never be, but in itself, is like a picture in the wallet - nice to have; -your private spot."

"Just think," I continued, "There are those from our past, who did marry their one true love from high-school and that was it.

There is no one else. They are either happy -or not.

And if not, perhaps they are wrestling with the conundrum of having gotten who they wanted, - but have grown away from.

Conversely, they may be contented and very happy and that's it.

But you, on the other hand, have something extra -as yet unspoiled by reality or your own human foibles and foolishness, (or theirs), -pristine, unwrapped and always fresh! And just think- you haven't seen them since College....would you really like to meet now? Would you like to give up the fantasy so readily?

Anonymous replied, while looking off in the distance, "These days - in our fifties, I'm pleased to be in good health and with certain means. And I hope that person and I, do meet,-at least one more time before we die. Until then, you are right, I still have my dreams -where that person shows up 'in the guise of youth' ...every now and again....

...But I have learned over time -through my spouse, to understand, that the outer crust of being, is not as important as the magic that attracted me in the first place, that is always there - a side glance, their smile, their laugh and their company.

So for the one from my past, - perhaps we were simply destined to appreciate the magic moments in each other's passing."

"That's a nice thought" I said, "but I bet you still live in hopes."

Rick Kilpatrick and his Masters of Writing!

...a pre-grad photo of me getting the award I mentioned, and a 2nd photo of me in grad garb with two of my sisters, Karen and Debbie (my mom hurt her leg and couldn't come). Also, here is a link from a professional service affiliated with the school that has 2 photos of me walking (well, technically, I'm standing in one and shaking the dean's hand in the other).

Well Done Rick...
wait until our old English teacher Miss. Green sees this...
and realizes you now understand the meaning of denoument.
L

It has been one year.
It has been one circle
and the energy goes around.
Friends and Memories
forever.

The Essential Rick Rankin


These days, Rick lives with his wife Lesley in Ontario. He clearly lucked out as she is personable, intelligent and a fine looking. They are both Lawyers by profession.

He still has his wonderful sense of humor, demeanor and heart. But while he has kept most of his youthful features, I don't think he wears over-alls anymore.
But in my minds eye, this is how I will always see our old friend. And nothing will ever change that image.

Lorraine R. D'Aguilar sent Rick this picture after the reunion last May07 and he sent it on to to me.

If you have any pictures of yourself or other friends from back in 1968-75 range, before during or even after high-school into college days, send them to me - I'll post them here.
Send them as jpeg images attached to an e-mail to the hotmail address listed above on this blog.

Remember these faces?

Mike and Gervaise
discussing the merits of ..what are they doing anyway?

I remember you
the night you had your party
down by the lake
your parents out.

I remember your freckles
your large Carley Simon smile
your lithe lean body
your tempting offer.

I remember your eyes
they sparkled with a tear
your yearning and my high held ethics
and my choice to say no.

I remember you
every now and then
and know I missed a gift
your pearls before my swine.

My present shrieks
to my idyllic high minded past
"Do it
you idiot!"

"No one will care
no one will say-
that you took the dare
-you were not in wedlock...
only high-school..
anyway."

Too late, -
POP! A bubble caught
on a branch
of time.
That moment
gone.

I remember you.

Putting Kid$ Through University
(Saturday 11:30 a.m.)
I was talking with Jane this morning over pancakes and coffee - our usual Saturday morning routine, where I get up, make the coffee and pancakes....

She mentioned that many in mid-life are now paying for more than one child to attend university and that this was a daunting feat for those who were already stretching the budget thin. As a financial adviser, I have noted how this one element of middle class family life can become an underlying stress factor for a family -the proverbial straw to the camel's back.

Most financial advice one will receive has to do with saving for retirement through an RRSP. If one tries to take money from that vehicle there is a big penalty.......and we don't even know if we will make it to age 69. So while there are obvious benefits in the RRSP program, there are also opportunity costs that one must endure while that money sits there accumulating for "retirement".

I thought I would write about one relatively safe way of financing some of the education cost if you don't have the money available for this purpose.

If you are interested in exploring this strategy further, since everyone's situation is unique, I would suggest you talk to your adviser first or call me during office hours at 450-201-1724. You can even have your adviser call me.

This method might also be used to reduce and pay yearly taxes or for up-grading the home.

Many will already be familiar with using a home equity loan - but most people only know to pay the loan from their earned income (out of pocket). There is another way.

What if you created an investment with the loan first and had the FIXED monthly dividend from that investment pay off the monthly loan and leave you enough to pay for tuition? Then when the need for tuition is gone in a few years, cash in the investment and pay off the lower balance of the loan? You then keep the difference and take a vacation.

The benefits are:

a) Paying for tuition from an investment.
b) Having the investment pay off the loan monthly...
C).. from cash flow that is not coming from your employment earnings or RRSP savings.

D) You might consult an accountant and find that the interest of the loan during the year, may be used to reduce taxes.

The key to the strategy is the use of a monthly fixed income investment (NON DSC or "Deferred Sales Charge") and wholesale or "zero commission" cost by the investment investment adviser.

If you live in Ontario or Quebec, I can help set this up. (Outside of those provinces I could perhaps link you up with an adviser who would help you with this.)

Modest Example

Based upon owning a paid off home worth $175,000 or more IN CANADA.

A) A $110,000 home equity loan invested at a cost of $10.00 per unit/share.

B) Equals = 11,000 units that each pay 8 cents per month ($880) to your bank account at month end. (use a high yield bank account "no fees or cost").

C) Pay the bank loan the approximate cost of $650 / month, leaving you $230.

D) To strengthen the investment compounding and 'pay-out' power, reinvest $50 per month from the $230 buying, approximately 5 more new units every month which will simply increase your monthly payout (monthly raise!) and increase the number of unit shares you own.

E) This leaves you with$180 per month (x12) or $2160 per year to contribute towards tuition/books/transport or boarding costs.

F) All the while, the loan is being paid off by the monthly investment dividends and not by your cash flow that is already being used for your cost of living.

If you have a home worth more, you could even go for more, say $200,000 which would pay out $330.00 per month (or $3960 per year) net of loan cost.


What are the RISKs?

Market Risk
Even if the market drops and the investment value goes down for a while, there is no "call" on your owned unit / shares. The bank is only concerned that the loan is paid every month.

Since you do not sell the units and only "hold" them, they keep paying your loan.

Investment Company Adjustments
One risk is that the investment company might one day decrease the fixed payout (or increase it - but that is good and not a risk.)

If this reduction does occur it will eat up the reinvested portion ($50) every month and perhaps decrease your disposable amount for tuition somewhat. But this is not too bad a problem and still enables the monthly allowance even if reduced.

Interest Rates
Another risk is that interest rates on the loan will rise.
So you use a 5 year 'fixed' 25 year amortization and not a variable loan.

Then if you wish, pay it off in 5 years with the investment balance.

Or keep it going and re-invest the amount that was going for tuition that has been eliminated. You can then even use it to buy a new kitchen or new car...whatever...

What if the Investment stays the same value or goes down?
Well, if you have a value of $100,000 after 5 years invested (having invested a loaned amount of $110,000) and paying out to you all those dividends, you can still pay the balance of the loan and have some left over... to perhaps pay for an Insurance Policy to cover possible future problems while you are alive if you are ever diagnosed with something serious...or you could contribute to your Grand Kids RESP...
Not bad.

If you have questions, call me or your financial adviser.

It is a tool that is being used by many right now.

Keep in mind that investment is not simply about gambling in the "market".

There are many kinds of investments ranging from risky to not risky.

Just like doctors with medicine, you have to use the right medicine to address the right problem. So too with the world of investment. The strange and wonderful thing about this "tool" is that you make more in cash per month as the "market" goes down!

(Saturday 2:30 PM)
I added something above .
You'll notice I write things and then if you look again a little later, the diction, or message may have changed somewhat due to afterthoughts. In today's case, it's due to procrastination. I am really supposed to be doing chores like cleaning the electronic filters... but then I get a thought and come back here to write it down.

Writing to me is like golf to my friend Bob H.
L

Happy Historical Easter

(For those who may be historically sensitive, please change the channel.)

What do you think of at this time of the year?
Hunting for eggs?

I remember going to St.Andrew's United Church Sunday School and singing hymns led by good old Mr.Reid and Mr. Longlay. Our grade was up in the back rows -familiar names - Oliver-Butt-Bossart-MacLean-Artagnan-McConnell-and others.

"..He holds the anchor... etc.

Church...organized religion.

Here is the church
and here is the steeple,
open the doors and
there's all the people.

Let's look back now - way back.
Let us take the blind folds off for a bit and put them back on later.

Imagine way way back, in Bethlehem, then Nazareth and Jerusalem, one becomes "the chosen" and ends up crucified. All the good philosophic strains are extracted from the movement and made into a religion.

A tax collector has an epiphany coming home from work and changes his name.

He goes out on the road with his perception of 'the message', - to Rome, where the market is a bit rougher - they feed Christians to the lions. To survive and adapt, they make changes to 'the presentation' of the message to make it more akin to those who are following the Sun God in Rome -Constantine and friends.

Hence - the holy day of the week is changed from Saturday to "Sun" day to make it less Judaic and more Roman. They change the originator's birthday to make it more convenient to Roman 'days off' and cleanse many of the Judaic 'House of David/God of Abraham' trappings to a more and Roman-ized spin- changing the wrapping to gear themselves to the desired new audience.

A new development emerges in the future times, -Rome- "improves" the home grown idea - "where two or more are gathered in my name, there I shall be", and inserts an ecclesiastic Latin speaking intermediary between the individual and her/his God - and adds some new secret handshakes, smoke and passwords.

Fast forward into the future, at a big meeting (long, long after the originator's untimely demise), (Easter), they award, in absentia, three things in one shot to the founder's nature, he is voted retroactively, a man, a spirit and a God. A Miracle.

Later, against the intermediary 'priest' idea, a spiritual and philosophic rebellion takes place in Holland and the west; a "Protest -ant" group of rabble rousers break free.

Not being able to pass up a good opportunity when he sees one, King Henry the 8th in England, needing some cash and wanting to change marital/divorce laws to his liking, snips free of Rome with the help of "Parliament' and creates the new Church of England while stealing all the gold, silver and precious objects, not to mention Real Estate (Feb. 4 1539), from the Catholic monasteries for the new church -which is led by -you guessed it- King Henry 8 himself.

As time goes by, in the "so-called" new territories across the ocean, First Nations peoples not-withstanding, Churches of various stripes, like good spiritual lube, lead the way to "appropriating" Real Estate for the good of our ancestors and therefore -us today. We also get our own brand of cigarettes and lung cancer. "Was it good for you?"

But Let us not forget the original message irrespective of wrapping - "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you."

Just where does Peter Cotton Tail come in to this?
Not 'Thanks-Giving' anyway.
Perhaps Halloween?

Damn! I can't eat chocolate due to high cholesterol.

Now where is my blind fold?

Who We Are -What we make of ourselves.

Who would have thought back in high school that I would end up being a Financial Adviser/Investment Adviser, by day and an aspiring writer by night?

Unfortunately, back in the day, I really had no use for math. It was akin to memorizing the rules of Scrabble without ever playing the game. Much later, that point of view changed. I went back and recaptured what I had left behind - but with motivation.

I thought I might like to be a Lawyer - but the reasons were too superficial, so after doing the B.A. in Political Science and a good deal of thinking...I thought "not".

To be fair, who really knows in high-school, what they would like to be by profession, if never having had a stab at experiencing a given trade beforehand? My guidance councellor -Mr. O'Connor? - recommended my becoming a mechanic. I was insulted at the time given my IQ, but in university after having read Zen and the Art Of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig, I thought ...hmmmm.

Yet, I look back at such people as Tom McKee and think, "Now there is someone who knew what he wanted, -went out and did it."

He said he wanted to be a lawyer, trained to become a lawyer and yes, became a Lawyer.
I believe, given the discipline shown in high school and the fact that he actually seems to have gone in such a straight line, that he is probably successful too. But who really knows? I have not seen him since high school.

Then there's the lovely Anja Mechielsen, whose first word in her year book ('69), was 'Travel'.
Her stated ambition -'Airline Stewardess'. Can you guess what she is today? Right- a Stewardess.

Perhaps it's about following a dream or at least a consistent direction?

Norman Perry comes to mind.
Do you recall his story?

I'll tell the myth version of it.
Why myth version ?- Simply because I'm not sure how much is fact, versus fiction added by the retelling of the story by all our old friends over the past 35 years.

When I was 8 years old, my parents moved us from our modest apartment in Ville-La-Salle to a house in Chateauguay, away from the long Hockey season of the city arena to short season and hose sprayed rinks where pins and needles became a dear feeling, ever-so close to my toes.

Our Seigniory Park team had one real claim to fame - besides the twins who played defence and stood still as Bob Oliver skated crazy eights around and between them to finally score and put us out of our misery.

That claim to "local fame" was our goalie, - Norman Perry. And not for his prowess in the net.

Norman could always be depended upon for having the very best of equipment from colour coordinated Montreal Canadian uniform, through to the best pads of red white and blue.

Norman, more locally known as 'Door Mouse' -since we all took on nick names when we turned 12, was and probably still is, a natural organizer, not patient with those not having something of value in the way of effort, to contribute to the latest project.

The summer of the Beatle music emerged out of nowhere and Norman acquired a set of Ludwig drums. I suspect drums presented the easiest way of not having to spend five years acquiring musical talent. Of course it was also very tempting for us in the peanut gallery to quip that his parents had money. But this was not accurate. I'm sure his parents were 'of means' to whatever extent, but this should not be seen as the source of Norman's ability to acquire 'only the best'.

Norman had a paper route - at minimum one- which allowed him disposable income. He was, in short, money wise and highly capable of cutting through the circle to get to his goal.

It could also be that our gang got into a scrum and exercized the arcane process of decision making,- throwing 'evens and odds' and then to make doubly sure, perform the ritual 'one potato, two potato, three potato four', to determine who would play guitar-bass, lead, rhythm and then who ended up with the short straw, to play drums.

Norman, in all summers, could be counted upon to lead us into some form of unique if not exciting organized activity. From having us all write and sell a weekly newspaper for two weeks as a method to acquire funding, to equipping ourselves with MAN FROM UNCLE secret agent cases that could shoot real plastic bullets, - or to organizing a boxing match out back of Poirier's featuring a "Fight to The Finish" between the ... "5 ft. 7in. muscular Kaj Larsen in this corner representing Northern Circle and his opponant, weighing in at a full 92 pounds, almost a full five foot 2 and 1/2 inches, the lightening quick, Leslie "Torn-Knees" McConnell, representing Seigniory Park." ( I believe this a was supposed to be, in actual fact -and unbeknownst to me, a comedy in action. Who would have thought my dad's lessons to me in boxing would one day pay off? My Dad was a 'Golden Gloves' one year in St.Henri Montreal. -Sorry I digress, this is supposed to be about Norman.) And yes even this digression, is, to some extent an element of Norman's method. But I think the outcome of it surprised him -everybody else, not the least of which - was me. I won.

The summers and winters eventually gave way to changes in our lives. And sadly, Norman's dad, Ken Perry, passed away when we were all teenagers in grade 9/10. He was a good man. My Dad and Mr. Ken Perry and Mr. Harry Gulkin, used to water the Seigniory Park rink on freezing February nights all by themselves. And just as sad for all of us kids, Norman, Stevie, Linda (their older sister) and Mrs.Perry soon after, moved back to the city.

But this is where the mythical adventure to his greatness begins.

I am told that Norman had a number of paper routes (The Star and The Gazette) delivered by him, brother Stevie and others. It is also thought he was able to sell these as little franchises before leaving, although I doubt this, I think he simply understood at a very early age, the secret of saving money and having it create self perpetuating income streams. (I show people how to do this today.)

It is said, that after a season back in the city, Norman took his savings, rented a 'hole-in-the-wall' near the Montreal forum, purchased music equipment 'on spec' - drum skins, guitar string packs, electronic gear etc. from Steve's music across town and packed his new abode. Norman's sister Linda, may have been a friend of band promoter Donald K. Donald -whose office was right around the corner from the forum. From there, legend has it, he had his sister introduce him to DKD, whereupon he taking the man for a walk over to his 'space'.

I can just imagine Norm... " Mr. Tarlington" he might have said, "Just look at this! Here we are across from the forum, no other music equipment supply store around for miles - The Stones come to play and Keith Richards is running low after having already played New York, Chicago, and Toronto. One of Mick's michrapones is on the fritz again, Charlie put a hole in his bass tom-tom... Mr.Tarlington -DKD if I may, -where is the line of resistance? Where do you think they'll go for replacements, across town or here?"

I can just see the light going on above DKD's head and thinking, "This kid, not even 19 years old, has figured one of businesses greatest lessons! Damn! I should have had this angle first. It's my line business !"

In my minds eye, DKD looks at Linda, then to Norman and smiles that big Donald K. Donald smile.

The rest is history or myth.

So Norman apparently pulls out of Westmount Highschool to do business. No CEGEP no University, no degree, just vision and action. Chutzpah!

The myth goes on. Not only do DKD and Norman Perry start one store; they replicate the concept across Canada and the USA. Allegedly after being introduced to Norman, Mick Jagger, -no slouch at business opportunities himself, asks Norman what he thinks of perhaps taking control of the Stones Merchandise concession inside the Form, -if all goes well, perhaps consider setting up in venues at all stops along the tour in North America.

So then, one goood turn deserves another, all DKD promoted bands from Jethro Tull to Pink Floyd come through this North American set-up, using the Norman Perry/DKD supply chain.

If this is true, it is one hell of a story. It also reinforces one thing I know....we are responsible for making our own lucky breaks. Norman was damned good at this. I bet his mom is proud.

So I guess at the end of the day, one should do what one has a penchant for- and reinforce it with a "plan" of action, based upon a vision or dream.

And don't stop dreaming.
It is never too late.
Everyday we have a new page.
Right Fred?

Just a little kiss of the Eastern Townships
for a buddy out west from me and Jane.
When you come east again - you have friends here.
L

The most important person in your life is yourselves- first and foremost. And you must make sure the outer shell of your being is in decent enough shape to house the wisp of inner being/ego-id/essence.

If the body is in pain one can't enjoy existence. So take care of the body first. Then make sure you have enough money to pay the bills and do not spend what you don't have or are not capable of paying back in short order.

If you are unhappy create a strategy to take yourself away from the distraction that is causing this state of mind. If it is medical, then focus on all the other positives outside the distraction.

Remember to 'do' -absolutely nothing- for 5 minutes every second day, to focus on the inner wisp of being - the inner spark that drives your body shell around.

The only action in this exercise/experiment, is to simply "not do". ..not look, not plan next moves, not think about family, not think about an uncomfortable lotus position-so sit in a chair, back straight, chin up, hands on thighs,- outside or inside...just consciously "do not" DO -and just exist. Focus on the fabric of "essential present time" reality.

This is not easy, but the more often you do it the better your appreciation of life as a conscious being will become. Some other nifty things begin to occur also.

Try -in everything you do to - go slow.

Experience the 'present moment' and stretch it.

Savor your activity, job, dinner, walk in the woods, chat with your partner, your mother, father,brother or sister...listen to their voice carefully and try to associate with their inner being and not just the identifying outer traits of their persona.

Look at the face, skin, mannerisms -see the child they once were. That person contains an inner essence. Have you every really been aware of it;connected with it? This is where that candle light dinner and looking into the eyes comes into play. Try to see inside.

Go slow and do not be bullied by clients, your own "to-do"list or anything else. Just consciously take each moment as it comes and consume it like ice cream. Moments of time, like pocket change is the only real currency we have. Don't blow it. Seek the flavor of existence. We really don't need much of anything when it gets to this point and there is no such thing as boredom.

And go outside - breathe deep.

Hi Les,
Here it is closing in on the end of February so it must be time to get to that January to do list:(.

I have attached a picture of myself and family at my daughter Lindsay's wedding December 29 2006. That is the last family photo I have but I think we still look pretty much the same. From left to right, my husband of 29 years Jim Pfeiffer, a Massachusetts native I met while attending CEGEP at Champlain College ( he was attending Bishop's University).

On my other side -my daughter Lindsay Williams .
She is now residing in Fairbanks Alaska putting her BFA in visual communication, major in illustration , major in biology to use at a graphic design firm.

Her husband Joey Williams hails from Wisconsin by way of Chicago. A graduate of West Point, is with the Army Stryker brigade stationed in Fairbanks. There is quite a story in the meeting, dating and wedding, but perhaps best saved until the next reunion.

On the far right is my son James. He is a junior at Norwich University in Vermont studying Architecture on an ROTC scholarship. He is planning an career.

I ask myself all the time, "How did a peace loving soul like myself get surround by all these army types?" I will say though, that my image of "army types" has drastically changed since meeting many friends of my son and son-in-law -a compassionate, caring group with strong family values, inevitably a bit mischievous yet underpinned with humor.



I am a physical therapist since graduating McGill in 1979.

I have worked in many different areas, schools, hospital, rehab facility, my own practise, teaching at a community college, and for the last 10 years at an outpatient orthopedic facility.

The children are grown and away so we are empty- nesters now. The dog is not pleased with the transition as we don't seem to wrestle with or chase him as well as James did.

I am active in my church, and Jim with the boy scouts. Jim is self employed in the payroll processing business. I guess that brings you up to speed a bit. I am fine with you editing this letter and posting the picture and bio on the blog with a challenge to all the other class of 73 members to let me know what they are up to. :) Happy cabin fever!
Gerry

Ah - Gerry - what a handsome family!
How is it that you look just as good as you did in high-school?
You and your husband have much to be proud of.
Les