Life Has It's Moments

I was recently contacted by one of the readers of this blog. He was in grade nine when I was in grade seven thanking me for keeping this blog and putting it together.

He said, " Your efforts have brought back to life many memories of those long-ago days as we, from those days, are now in the autumn of our lifetimes!"

Curiosity got the best of me, so  looked him up in the yearbooks. It turned out I was familiar with a fair number of people who were in his class - Bob Houston, Gretchen Bickerstaff, Darrel Duchene and Libby Stark to name just a few.

I responded back, to tell him I had located his home room class, recognizing some classmates I had known. I mentioned that these days, Bob has definitely come out 'on top' and is a good friend and client of mine and that I remembered the others too.

He expressed a similar fascination that I have, - the interest in seeing how others lives have unfolded since back then. It was clear that he, like many, wish to protect his privacy in this age of hackers etc. but at the same time, enjoy the occasional 'bumping into people (jn person) out of the blue' and discovering who they might be now.

The unique thing that got me to write this entry though, was thinking of Gretchen Bickerstaff.

For the next day or two, the image of her kept coming back, when I had not thought of her in so many years. I was haunted in a most favorable way by a  memory.

She lived down the street from me in Seigniory Park for a little while, having moved over from 'the heights'. If I recall correctly, high school had been a thing of the past for a few years at that time and I was in University.

I remember having my morning coffee and preparing my books to leave, when looking out the front window seeing this vision. You never knew who you were going see, since we lived by an access path to Saint Francis and the bus stops.

Coming down Montcalm, headed my way was a slim young woman, walking - no swaying - she just had this way!

I found myself accelerating my pace, shifting gears, throwing my stuff together in a panic.

And there she was- her! The girl who had always been two grades ahead of me, she, who would pass in the halls seeing me stare, moth to flame, (like so many others) and give, no - bestow- a slight smile, couched in a blush and cast her eyes downward so as not to have me construe the visual acknowledgement, as a greeting where one would actually have to say something. Alas...

I thought, "What the hell! High-school is over now, so why can't I strike up a conversation? opportunities knock,"

I tore out so fast and caught up with her - fear be damned! We walked together to the stop. She was polite, calm and not off-putting. In fact, it seemed that she did not mind a little company, so we sat together on the bus going into the city. Every morning I would wait until I could see her and then bomb out of the house. I would even go to McGill three hours earlier than I had to, just for this morning ritual. There was nothing more than the conversation and morning transit through space and time, over the Pont-Mercier, but then again, there was - for a young man, it was sheer magic.

Of course I have no idea what happened to her, what her life must be like now. According to the gentleman who sent me the email, he had been in touch with her a few years back and thought she was in New York these days.

But why am I writing this? I think, it is because I am fascinated. Literally fascinated, by the power of this memory itself, of someone I deemed to be special. Not someone I was in love with, or anything like that - but someone who seemed magical in her own right.

I'm sure we all have memories similar to this.

I am willing to bet there are some, like Gretchen, who had many admirers. And, for those admirers today, also have special images that occasionally haunt softly, their past, like the caress of a warm breeze, somewhere between moments passing.

For me there are a host of other recollections, not specifically pursuing the romantic, yet, for a young man back then I am sure I had vain hopes, as we all do. But now, in my 'day to day' existence, be it in the financial / investment world, driving in the car, or just doing the dishes, occasionally a vivid memory - triggered by a song or fleeting glance of a stranger on Saint Catherine Street, a memory of someone like this one today is triggered and gives my life in the mundane, a sparkle.

The Next Phase

This blog began as a place to collect stories and jog memories about the old school and Chateauguay, to gently tug heartstrings in order to promote chat on any forum or media from email, FB to Twitter.

The idea of course, was to stimulate some nostalgia which would get people moving to a Reunion. The blog served that purpose twice in fact and was quite successful.

Well those occasions were fun and quite memorable experiences. Having accomplished those goals with the blog, I thought I would then pull the plug on it. I have not written anything since February this year. So I went in to look at the analytics, the counter that tells me how many of you still drop by to peruse the pictures and perhaps read some of my writing or writings of others who made submissions. I was quite surprised.

The place is still alive and kicking. People are still going in - regularly! So I thought - instead of shutting the thing down, let us keep it going but not for the sake of promoting a specific Reunion, rather for those still curious - not just about the past, but the present.

Yes I know FaceBook already does this. But I was thinking that perhaps in addition to what is already in the blog, I might highlight a bio on someone every now and again,  a "where are they now and what have they been up to".. - with or without a picture and answers to a few nosey questions.

If you would like me to enter your picture and my interview with you, let me know.
Also if you are going to visit Chateauguay soon, I might put in a couple of things to check out - like restaurants etc.

Let me know.
 

The Winter carnival

It's snowing upon the darkness...
Big flakes for Christ's sakes and I didn't bring a towel!
I just washed and dried my hair!
Shit... well tough. My jeans are tight and my ...
Into the school..
The darkness of the gym.
The light show is on ,
emulate an acid trip...
fat chance!

boom boom booom

"In the white room with black curtains near the station
( The bass is throbbing.... drums are my heart, feet want to move!)

"Blackroof country, no gold pavements, tired starlings.."
(The girls look marvelous magic fairies! - not like in class and like nothing I've seen before!)

"Silver horses ran down moonbeams in your dark eyes."
(Oh God... there she is!)

Dawnlight smiles on you leaving, my contentment."
(And I,   just look on... captured by her grace her smile her eyes)

"I'll wait in this place where the sun never shines;
Wait in this place where the shadows run from themselves."

(Oh Lord this is the peak of our high-school existence - the magic, the beat ...her spell)

Where the shadows run from themselves....




(Lyrics from White Room / Eric Clapton)

Back in 1963...

Can you identify all participants -Oromocto Trip!

Where are they NOW???

Would be nice to see them again!

Well Alright! Rick Rice is in!

Royalty 1967 Expo Year

Super Couples of Character 1972

Conversation on Teachers Joanne Grimes Wright & Les

A conversation on Teachers and Reunion

(Jaoanne Grimes Wright)

I know Bill Howes is aware of the reunion because he's on FB, but no one has said much about other teachers who have been contacted. 

I thought I had a lead on Ken Kincaid, but he has disappeared from this area, and although I have tried, I have been unable to find him. 

I sent an email to Keira Morgan asking her to forward the link on to her Mother, Jan Morgan, who lives in the Ottawa area, I believe.  In an exchange of info with Richard Rankin, he said that he thought Charlie(?) was looking after the teachers.  Is that correct? 

 Is someone leading the charge to contact them?  I know from the 60's crowd, the Duffs and Gerry Ingram would be teachers that they would like to see, as well as Bob Mearns, who I believe lives in the Dorval area.  I know Mr. Mahabir and Mr. Steeves are still in the area. 

Deborah Mizener has contacted Jan Perry.  If we reach Emily, then we have a lead to Bob Eaman.

Ron Waddell lives up in the Howick area, I believe, and Joanne Rowe Goodfellow knows how to reach him, as she and I dropped by his farm this summer.  Unfortunately, he was not at home.  

It would be so special to have a few of the old teachers there!

(Les McConnell)

Thank you for the encouragement.

Yes – Charlie is known to sometimes play Bridge with Mr. Falcon and others.

He is also to be in touch with many of the old athletes.

He is currently doing what he can.

If we are Lucky, Rick and I will be meeting with him on Tuesday and reviewing all.

Good job! On the contacts you and intel you have. You and I should keep pooling.

I am a ‘friend’ on fb with B. Howes.

My gosh, I have not seen him since Gaspe, where he and his mom lived on the tip of the peninsula – called Ship’s Head.

The year after I was startled to hear that the government (not sure which one) had all the people from that area displaced in favour of a national or provincial park.

I was out there with him, Janice Turner (Art Teacher), Eric Wesslow, (Whose wife Tia , just died two weeks ago. I was chatting with her three weeks ago.) and many others at a “happening” – an arts, literature, music week. This was wonderful... definitely a positive 60/70’s experience. I loved to watch bill sitting on a boulder just above the frothy waves. He would be sketching and writing. I would be back on the shore either sketching or playing guitar.

...oh my. This brings back so much. The times then... the overall ethos of times and youth... nice to touch that memory again.

...The dawning of the age of...

I will be sure to stay in touch with you  any teacher-related news.

Les

(Joanne Grimes Wright)

I remember Eric Wesslow. 

I took his art class in Grade 8 and we both quickly realized that my "talents" needed

to be focused elsewhere!  I guess that's why Emily and I clicked!  I remember the Wesslows moving into a small home in the Heights, on Pine Ave., between Gordon and Dupont. 

 The home was significant to me, growing up, because at the ripe old age of 5 I attended Kindergarten in that home, when it belonged to the Meikles. Mrs. Meikle held the first ever

kindergarten class in Chateauguay, and I went along with Jane Beauchamp, Janice Rowe, Bill L'Ecuyer, Doug Currie and several other kids who were from some of the original Chateauguay families. 

Your mention of Eric Wesslow brought that fond memory, that had been tucked away for many years, out of hiding!

Oh yes...since I moved to Chateauguay in 1950 I have many, many memories.  After spending a few days there this summer, I thinkI liked it better as it was in the 50s and 60s....so rural and beautiful. 

J.

Where are they now?

Where are they now?

Len Van Marck as he is today. 

Aha! I know some of those faces too! from 1968

1966 Student Counsil

Home-Room Grade 8-6 and 8-7 from 1966

Some Grads from 66/67 Year of Expo!

Grade 10-1 and 10-2 1966 and Mr. Howes

H. Gordon Green 1965/66 Year Book

Some Classic shots from 1966 -Enjoy !

OK Now for 1963 - a few anyway!

Some special people from '71 'Luv.'

A few more from 1973 - Hey Fred & Karen!

And some from 1973

A few 1971 grads

A sampling of grade 10's 1968

Make sure to click on pictures to increase size.

How about some grade 11's from 1968?

Grade 12 1968

What is it about Reunions?

So as I wash the dishes, my synapses spark as I the rythyms of the Beatles belt out from the iphone , ipod future.

.....For I have got....another girl ...another girl who will love me to the end, through thick and thin she will always be my friend...

Flashes of high school romance, November nights, cold and no money and no car, but oh such passion.

.....HELP! I Need somebody, not just anybody. Help You know I need someone...HEEELP!....

Ah the movie - a year or so after "Hard day's Night". 

Back at that time I was in grade six or seven. 

Hard Days Night was in black and white.

And I luv her,,,,

A love like ours...

Could never die, as long as I ,

Have you near me....

Oh my God, I still get goose bumps even humming this song to myself.

It is not just the Beatles, or their ballad love songs.

It was my emerging young male self.

The young romantic.

The willingness to fall in love at what ever the cost.

That was the time of girls and guys roaming in the hallways of high-school.

The girls in the upper grades looking so untouchable and so goddess-like.

The guys up there, my heroes on the Chateauguay High-School basketball team.

Or the bad guys with duck tailed hair style just as the Beatle cuts began to take off. They had taps on their shoes and cigarette packs in their rolled up sleeves.

High-School Reunion while a nostalgic touch-stone is much more to me than going back to the good old days before being a grown up.

High-school Reunion is a step back in time...one last ...time.

Magic.

A "Head" of his time or Not?

Some of you may remember one of the finest people from the 1972 Graduating Class at Billings - Mr.Len Van Marck. Len has quite a life these days - I would say extraordinary. Like others who send their stories to me, he has allowed me to enter this one to this blog. (Non Fiction). Len has been out west for years now but only in the last ten years or so has he changed careers -into the RCMP.

...............................

On Friday night I was responding to a 911 call of a complaint of an unknown male causing a disturbance. When I got there, I arrested this guy who had three outstanding warrants. He was messed up on alcohol and drugs (probably crack). Back in the police car I was reading him his rights. Whenever I asked him a question he would respond with “You’re a ‘head’, you’re nothing but a ‘head.’” He was frothing at the mouth as he yelled at me, and all he would say was that I was a “head.”

I thought of saying something clever like “Well, it’s better to be ahead than behind,” but I thought better of it since it would probably just aggravate him. Instead, I thought back on the last time someone asked me if I was a “head.”

It was the late 1960s in grade eight or nine. I was in class at Billings High School. John Saunders was sitting behind me. He was sporting an afro and was wearing a head band.

John and I did not have much in common back then except for football. He was an offensive running back and I was a defensive back with the high school team and with the Chateauguay Browns. John’s father was the coach. I had a lot of respect for his dad. He was probably the best coach I ever had.

Anyway, we were talking football when John asked, “Are you cool?” 

Well, what I’m I going to say to that?

“Sure.” I said.

I guess he wasn’t convinced because he then asked: “Are you a ‘head’ or a ‘greaser’?

Well, back then, I had a pretty good idea what a “head” was… that is, someone who smoked dope. But a “greaser?” That sounded like something out of the 50s. Not wanting to show my ignorance, I responded: “What do you think?”

John took a quick look around the room and then asked: “You smoke weed?”

“I’ve tried it.” I said.

“Have you ever bought any?”

“No.”

“Then you’re a “greaser.”

Just then, the teacher walked in and that was the end of the conversation.

Okay...so, back in the police car this guy was still yelling a t me, calling me a “head,” periodically hitting his own head against the Plexiglas whenever he wanted to emphasize a point. Every time he called me a “head,” he would strike his head against the Plexiglas.

I looked at him through the rear view and waited until we had eye contact. Then I said, “Actually, I have it on good authority that I’m not a “head”…I’m a “greaser.”

He suddenly stopped banging his head and stared at me through to rear-view mirror, his mouth slightly open, still frothing. For the rest of the trip to jail he did not utter a word. Whenever I glanced back into the rear view, he was still staring at me.

The Haunted (Place)

The winds were up sending their chorus through the back hedges and surrounding trees on the back park where the Terrace Pool had once been. The florescent orange yellow Day Lillies nodded two and fro in agreement upon a wind change in Chateauguay. 

Out front of the modest Bay bungalow, sideways to the road, the pulse thumping blaster in a car passed on down Ashmore from Saint Francis to the Chateauguay River and Salaberry Street. Ashmore,-where once names like Black, Brown or Michielsson had been, now a throughway to the river.  If one stopped deadstill, one could feel the history of the place, alive and between the time shadows. Upon the breeze one might capture the echoes of girl's squeals -laughter, young men grunting touch football, or one might sense activities to be had if heading toward the canoe club, the dam or to the tennis courts in the Heights. 

If one closed the eyes, the ghosts would appear, images and the songs- you know the ones. And above all, the secret yearning of youth to fly, far far away from this nowhere place, of slow pace endless hot summer. One would feel the yearning for more than the Alamo, the rail bridge, the high-school. One could feel the want to be free from under parental guardianship, gone already to one's life and adventure.

This place is a space of 'the haunted' with names 'neath the memory's surface- Mumford, Oliver, Heatherington, Peters, Bossart, Hart, Behrens, Davis, Saunders, Jackson, Poirier, McManus, Houston, Kavenagh, Glen, Hillock, and Reid. So many names, so many children passing on to the generations. Yet Chateauguay remaines in the stillness of time. The High School - would always be 'Chateauguay High', despite the re-naming, to HS Billings. 

The sun painted varying hues of green upon the overgrown vines smothering the hedge between the Meanies and McConnells. A huge recycling truck could be heard roaring it's way along Newton from Maple, past Treavor Crawford's to Ashmore. The rumble of Jurgen Kalashnik's Triumph coughed to sudden life across the street, as Joanne (O'Hanley)gazed on; this evoking more memories - Bob St.Onge, Lilly, the Sundowners, 'The Beach', West-End Bowlarama and past heroic legends and tragedy.  

Ashmore and Parc-Ricard had been ideal for bringing up children. But in his heart he knew that a 'time' here was once again slowly setting.

Like all the rest from High School he too  had struggled in the hot summer quagmire of lethergic Chateauguay, - perhaps hanging out at the shopping center, the pines, the orchard, the Raja  Mood, Seigneury Park, desperately seeking girlfriends, for a whiff of summer wind in their hair and maybe venturing with her down the path in the woods to the old farm house where the water still ran through an upright pipe where the pump had once been. 

A patchwork of old memories surged. 
The night times, ah yes- the night times... 'doing things we used to do- thinking of you, I sit and watch as tears go by'... The Beatles, the Stones, CFOX radio, Dean Hagoppian, 'The girls walk by dressed up for each other, And the boys do the boogie-woogie on the corner of the  street, And the people passin by just stare in wonder and the inside juke-box roars out like thunder. And everything looks so complete... The Wild Night is Calling! 
(Van Morrison)

Twitter Posting of latest on Reunion & Friends 2013 You can now follow latest on Reunion Activity by following my Twitter Feeds at @lesmcconnell on Twitter. Hey... it was only a matter of "time" ...literally and of course time passing. Follow Me on discussion trends. Short notes to the point and latest news. FAST. Avoid Facebook confused messages. (no one's fault... Communication circles have always begun with one message, but as the the message is passed around the circle of friends, and circulated by others, the essence sometimes is changed and becomes something else and loses the impact of what the message started out as.) The Twitter short note system will ensure you get the accurate latest. Become a follower of the reunion by following me at on Twitter. @lesmcconnell.

Any of these look familiar?

So, what is Reunion to us now?

Gone are the times I would have tried to impress with success, cars, or house.

I am just happy if I can lose a roll from my hips and still fit into my favorite jeans.

But what has that got to do with re-uniting with others from the shadows of my past?
I suppose EGO.

Do I want to be seen as I am now when I envisage the girls and guys from grade 10 and 11 as they or we were?

How silly.
I see the students emerging from HSB every day as I drive past.
They are just kids.
But then I deal with people in the work force who are 28 ...my kids are that age!

And so were we ...kids at 16, 17 , 18 and even 19. I know it didn't feel like it, but we were... even when experimenting with some pretty serious things.

We are not kids any more - and have not been for years. But then, in my mind I don't seem to feel any change from back then. But when I look in the mirror...hmmm...is that really me?

Reunion... I would love to just get together just to see who we have become.
Last time I had a little time to just look around at people - gaze at them -see them smile, laugh and even cry.
To hear them - old best friends stand up and tell stories of the past - there was a magic in this I never expected.

I think, now that I am 58 and so many have already gone to the "other side" - (and I don't mean Toronto), it is all about (perhaps) one last blast and congratulating those who still know how to smile and live... perhaps people like Jack Kennedy below. Talk about a sense of humor. He is one person I would love to see again, or Kevin Carlin, Ricky Rice, Steve and David Poirier. These people made me laugh. And through the laughter I realized that moments go by as if through a sifter. The pearls that stay in memory with a luster rather than a tarnish are those given freely through smiling and community. Some people carried more than their weight- maybe- without even realizing it. But then again, maybe they did.

Back in The Day before HSB

Inside, within the empty glare of her class room, her private domain, her pudgy digits weighed the elegance of the polished pointer. It was a balanced weapon, about two and a half feet long, slender, smooth, like a long straight slimmed-down pool cue with a yellow plastic bullet screwed into the tip.

Her preference though, was for the long thick yardstick, it's 'whoosh' cut through the chalk dust air landing a wonderful slam, as it's flat side smacked down onto the hollow of a desk. The effect was exquisite, highlighting the glint of her eye. It almost took her own breath away.

She had a small lumpy compact physique, even in her pumps and curly short permed hair, tinted to match her gold rimmed glasses; face, puffed with swollen cheeks, rouged with veins beneath the powder, which caused her eyes to be squeezed behind the glass held in place within the frames. Her strut, deliberate, tight and restricted was kept in tidy check, her tweed skirt matching the restricting top jacket. Her attire chosen by design to keep her awake and upright through her long and dreary day.

Time was so slow. It seemed her life and girlish hey-day had long since passed her by. "It just was not fair!"

There was only one thing that kept things interesting, -the realm of her power amongst the heathen, these little brats sent to be kept in line by parents who chose not to do it themselves.

Outside, the bell sounded in the grey school yard of slush, in February dawn. The minions of little ski jacketed monsters with their overstuffed bags of baloney or egg sandwiches all formed into their lines in front of the flag pole and the furrowed brow of Mr.-, his wisps of remaining hair on the sides of his shiny top catching the breeze, his adams apple squeezed above the tartan tie of his clan, his lips in perma-pout accentuated by his morning five o'clock shadow, his bulging eagle eye zeroed in on his arch nemesis, at the end of line 3, sporting the black biker boots with taps, shiny leather jacket with studs, and slick greased back hair.

Broiling rage welled within Mr.-, as his neck angled outward over his collar, his polished shoes splashed their way down one line and up that of the other almost daring a giggle to affront his authority -anything would do, he was ready.







- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

From my ipad

Well I can now gain access via my iPad but the entry software google
Provides for this purpose is geared really to iPod or one's iPhone and not the iPad itself.

Of course google is a competitor in this case and
Would prefer if I was using their technology- android?

Hmmmm since this is not very pleasant, I still
Might have to shift to a new blog space that is "friendlier" on the entry.

Let us test importing a picture to see what happens.

So I tried to import a photo of the I glass hallway at Billings and then I opened my front door on Ashmore to take a
Shot of what I am seeing this morning.

So let us try to publish now and check for result.

Alright...
Not bad, but I cannot size the photographs like I could before and the pictures slide in at the bottom of the page. I cannot seem to position the photos upward and have the text wrap around. Entry of text is difficult since the programming is geared
Not for iPad but iPod or iPhone. You can see where there are capitalized letters in inappropriate places too.

I shall explore other spaces and then get back .

Perhaps it is time, since we are gearing down to the next reunion and I could start anew... We shall see.

Ok , time to start getting my thoughts back to the market and financial
planning for my clients.

Thank goodness theTSX dropped yesterday, as I was entering so many deposits for client RRSPs... Best to buy low...or lower.

It is really cool since I started Skyping, my client base is expanding. I now
Help Clients in their investment management, decision-making and
Financial planning outside Quebec, in Ontario and Alberta too!

With the use of DropBox I am able to have clients sign Documents and pass back to me in seconds and the account is opened. My how technology has evolved.

Oh For those of you who recall the teacher Mr. Mullahoo, who taught us in grade 7 just as the Chateauguay High was becoming HSB, I must regretfully report to you that this very kind
community oriented gentleman passed away two weeks ago.

I will record some recollections of this man in the future and post a picture as well.

Apple or Bust

Test Entry
I am trying out writing here from a new entry point, my iPad 2, which of course will probably become extinct this month when the iPad 3 is born.

I have become a big fan of apple.
About a year before Steve Jobs passed away, I purchase some stock at $315 per share . It now sits at $535 per share. not bad.

HMMM I cannot use elements of this site when using Apple. Not only that, I Connot import pictures either.

Wonderful.
I may have to relocate to another address and blog site or at least explore the Apple on line store for an entry method.

back soon !

Halloween at Charlie's Capiche

Reunion May 2013 Prep

Pass this on to all who might be interested!

In preparation for the upcoming May 2013 Long Week-end (Victoria Day)( Reunion produced by '1972 and Friends' ( Friends on either side of 1972), please send me an e-mail of interest, indicating if you would have the intention of attending . This will give me negotiating power with Hotels and other service providers as well as being able to assess how much room we would need if in the best of all scenarios we could be able to accommodate all those who wish to come. BY the way - even if you did not graduate ...come on down!

I need:
- your name,
- graduating year,
- current e-mail address,
- if you would be coming alone or with someone else -who?,
-would you be staying over at the hotel (prevent drinking and driving) where we hold the big Saturday night bash.
- who you would be arranging to meet with before and during the reunion,
- and then, if you figure you will never have another chance in this life....who would you just love to see, one more time ...at this reunion.


This information shall remain confidential.
Send to my email      >     L.mcconnell7@sympatico.ca.

I look forward to seeing you.

Les McConnell
Class of 1972

...It would really be neat to see what Miss.Westgate looks like now or Bill Howes ...in person!
Now that would be cool! Peter Royal? Mr.Burke? Emily Reid?...she's now a Financial Planner..

Jack, Mom and friends

Here is a shot of my Mom Jan McConnell with one of her favorite friends- Jack Layton.
It was fun taking these a while back...who knew at the time...

Canada's new National Film Board Executive Producer English Animation

 Roddy McManus has been chosen to become Canada's next National Film Board Executive Producer of Animation, following in the footsteps of David Verrall, winner of 3 Oscars for 3 short films / producer of 240 films for the NFB . 

Roddy..."spent the past 11 years as executive producer at the indie production outfit Pop6, producing such films as the Spanish-Italian-Canadian thriller Transgression , which plays the World Film Festival and the animated feature Ultramarines : A Warhammer 40,000 Movie... " (Montreal Gazette Aug 15 2011)

Roddy also produced  (via Pop6) last year's documentary - The Montreal Canadians:100 Years-100 Stars.

See bkelly@montrealgazette.com for the full story.

It all had to start somewhere and that somewhere was H.S.B. with other recognized media people we remember ...see below .

Congratulations Roddy - you make us all proud! I know you will add to those Oscars. 

Of the group above, Mark Stafford went on in the world of radio. The last time we met for the last '72 &Friends Reunion' he was at CHOM FM steering behind the scenes in Production, while Richard is an established poet in California. I believe Romy Royko is still involved in the production of music and probably just as good now as was then - if not better. 

And now Roddy has filled some very big shoes and justly so!

Hot Town Summer in the City

I emerged from the cool refrigerated mall which used to be referred to as 'the Shopping Centre', my shiny black tasseled brogues gleaming in the afternoon haze, a wall of heat shimmering off the asphalt. Mr. Business person, i-phone4 tucked neatly into the breast pocket of my peacock blue striped Hilfiger button down, tie left at home for this local excursion to pick up a package left by Purolator at the Hallmark/Bookstore/Librarie Boyer positioned right before the last store - Hart nearest to St.Joseph. That position used to be occupied by Greenburg's back when there was still a Woolworth's, United Cigar Store, and Grover's.

I squinted peering across the parking lot to D'Anjou where an A&W had once been just a few doors down from a once happy Dairy Queen, a pit stop on the way to Papa Spiros owned by the Alvisatos Family. Remember 'Junior'? Or Helen, Chris, Mike - little Marina? Great place and good people.

The afternoon  had begun it's descent, sun beginning to sink behind 'the Orchard', or where it had once been across St. Joseph Street, now replaced by a Yellow Shoe, Bureau-En-Gross (Staples), further down Canadian Tire and then the IGA.

I was about to step off the curb to seek out my 2005 Hybrid V6 when out of the corner of my eye there was a movement of something very familiar - old home and smiling familiar; the movement, the way he walked with her beside him; sashaying, widely toeing out as if about to launch into Barishnikov dance mode. Only one person moved that way- Danny Swafield - the coolest of cool from 1969. The figures of this man and his wife  approached from mid parking lot through the heat as I stared intently the scene changing as my memory came alive. The A& W and Dairy Queen back in place, the Mall disappeared as the outside shopping Centre re-emerged. The United Cigar Store was back with the Alley way between it and the Woolworth's down where the shoe repair shop had been.

I could hear the strains of a passing transistor radio "Hot town...summer in the city.." as the Lovin' Spoonful was palying on CFOX radio, posters dispayed on a window of The Haunted to play this Friday. I looked down, my tanned feet dirty dusty to perfection in their leather Hindu Sandals emerging from my patchwork jeans.

"Ernest ! Ernest!", called out Mrs. Oswald from the shoe repair.
Ossie paid no attention , deep in discussion about the various aspects of Sephiroth involved in the Tree of Life with Stephen Vella and Freddie Saylor, Stephen's ultra straight hair bouncing off his shoulders as he executed his trademark 'bob' of a walk as Freddie did his usual duck and weave motion led by a nose and a smile. "Like, greatest Man!"

The prowling purr of a Triumph caught my attention - Dave Vokey pulled up followed by Bob Saint-Onge on his 'Hog' with the extended forks. Was that Marlene Kelley on the back? And there he was, thick blond halo, sashaying with wide knowing grin -Dan Swaffield! He waved to an approaching John Lennon figure that only Bob Marsh could encompass peering out with meek smile behind his granny glasses, Louise Ranger in toe with Terry Hill and Brenda Boudreau following behind. Coming up from the direction of Steinburg's was Mark Kelly, Karen Degan and Lorraine Marwick, all walking with that up and down 'gait'.

"Hey Les! You going to the party in 'the Orchard' or 'The Beach' or 'The Pines,"  shouted Steve Williams who was aproaching with the afro'd Vaughn.

"Not sure, but Romy Royko is playing at the Raja Mood and I thought I'd catch up with Jimmy Williams and Brian Lawrence over there first."

The man and his wife were getting closer. He spoke perfect joual French, if there is such a thing, without any inflection of English whatsoever.

The spell was broken. It was not Danny after so many years.

The past left me far behind in the shimmering heat of the present, thinking of the markets and the US standoff between Obama and the Republican Tea Party.

I hummed to myself ..

'Hot time summer in the city
Back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty,
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city...

Ball and Chain Show a blast!

Ball and Chain

Wow! What a show on Thursday night.

At first people are not expecting a lot because of rain.

The band troops in, sets up while people are on another floor eating.

The focus is on a great setting of fine dining and wine.

The Bass connects on a primal level and heads lift from dessert plates, feet tap in time; drums set the beat as the colored lights go up on stage and bang !

Food is left far behind as lift off sets in.

Sonja - looking like a sleek million bucks as her velvet tones grab hold and she gyrates to the vibe. We're all under her spell. Roger weaves the lead riff in and out. Two magical musicians who with the support of a great band have us all at their mercy. Sorry I was too busy having a good time dancing to do a video this time.

During the evening Sonja had Ricky Rice surprise us all with some great blues numbers. There were also a few others thrown in to keep things interesting with their own brand of entertainment. You would have been suitably amused.

But here are a couple of shots of some old friends you might know. These shots are from before the music had me nailed to the dance floor.

Rick Rice & Hopeton D'Aguilar

Charile Ghoarayeb's daughter sits with Karen Deegan Capelli and Sonja (not Ball) looked over by Bob Houston.

Cindy Houston and Barb Zimmerman 

Lorraine Robichaude -D'Aguilar and Leslie Rice

Bob Houston, Karen and Sonja Martell

Charlie, Tom and Danny

Danny Houston and Gino Martell