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