Look Deep Into The PAST

Through The Looking Glass

If I can ask…
Do you have any favorite moments, friends or teachers from the high-school phase?

What was your favorite subject? What did you enjoy at that time?

For me it wasn’t the academics but rather the whole culture of the 60’s carrying over into the 70’s.
While there were the distractions of various inebriates for the times, there were also new thought formats and the small beginnings of spiritual and philosophical yearnings for me.

And of course there was the silliness of being a ‘youthful inexperienced male’, floundering about trying to figure out and come to terms with sexuality and what I was supposed to do with all that new information – and how to apply it. But while that aspect was clearly evident, it was not paramount.

In retrospect, I was like a tourist, constantly amazed by the macro/micro of what was going on beyond Chateauguay and Montreal and then in school as a melting pot. It was almost voyeuristic, in that I spent much time simply watching everyone – from the ‘glass hallway gang’, ‘orchard gang’, pines gang, Parkview gang, Colonia gang, Seigniory Park gang,Terrace gang, Heights gang-Canoe Club or Tennis Club, West End gang, Woodlands-Lery-Maple Grove and Beauharnois gangs to the Kahnawakero:no, to the teachers, -to each individual and how everyday, someone was either newly wearing make-up and looking more grown up, filling out, growing taller.

And the various behaviors displayed overtly or by default; those who were “out there” and those who chose to hang back. I had friends and acquaintances in most camps. It was all so much like Alice in Wonderland. But I just loved it. I became very much alive at that point –at least consciously aware of differences and yet sameness, in our struggle as a 'species' being.

If you have ever read Daemian by Hermann Hess, a story of a child becoming an adult- stepping over the line, out of the magic circle of family into the darker worlds- ‘on one’s own like a complete unknown’ -different and more subtle shades of gray; light melding inextricably with darkness. This was our turbulent birth via high-school into the outer older reality.

I have no blanks. I remember every “trip”physical, metaphysical or other - along with every memory of drinking too much or mixing wine with beer and ending up praying and trying to bargain with a porcelain god, "Please, I'll never do this again"... –if he/she/it would only make this retching stop or just get it the heck over with.

This is one aspect of 'the journey’ many of us passed through in youth and hopefully, came out the other side. We all know of some who, tragically, did not.

Now that I have emerged to who I am many years later, perhaps weathered by travel and life, I would love to see you and everyone – if only one last time. I want to look at you, greet, shake hands, to meet you as the higher class of being you have become. Back then, we were all so young and incomplete. These days, it matters not what you do to get by, or what you have or have not achieved - it is simply who you are that counts.

I am so curious to see us all- now and take a group picture after the dinner. I know that picture will become one of my most cherished possessions. Why? Because we all have a common past; a beginning place. On that REUNION evening we shall complete yet another part of our voyage- on this ever spinning rock. And I believe that meeting –that re-union will be most significant - a psychic metaphor of completion - within each and every one of us. Those who do not attend will always somewhere within, -wonder...what if... and only have the subjective convenient wallet sized crumpled memory of a past gone by, in the shadows fading.

I can always have days of vacation to travel, visit friends, see cities, lie out on a beach, go camping, write my book, be with my wife and/or children who I love dearly.

But we will not likely have another reunion with old friends, all in one place,- who, older or younger, in and out of school, (playing road hockey, playing tennis, going to the pool, playing guitar, thumbing rides through the USA and Canada)- experienced the 60’s and 70’s and teachers and bullies, Love gained and lost, heart break and elation and varying distractions - seemingly all together by common locale -High School .

Life goes by quickly and this REUNION EXPERIENCE will never happen again for us. Every year there are more who die off. Our demographic is entering that void where our own children are having children, causing us to become grand parents.

I want or NEED to visit my past- make the Haj, my pilgrimage -if just one last time.
Let us not let fear or simple laziness let this slip by.

You and all those who attend will cause the closest thing to TIME TRAVEL we ever will experience. I am so excited by seeing you and everyone else listed on the Alumni site. Do you realize how significant you are-(yes you!) to the rest of us? You were there –part of that dream – part of that fabric- and, yes, for some, it may have been a nightmare. It’s time to put some reality to it -exorcise it. Let us wake up for one unique moment, once more in time –older, wiser – wonderful people to behold! Come on down -one last time –then let us part with a completed circle of light -within.

Let the circle
be unbroken
by and by…

Pictured above - The Orchard Gang.

The D'Aguilar -Zizian Legends

I was bar-b-Q-ing in my ski outfit at sundown, contemplating the evening sky with a glass of ruby red wine.

Clear, crisp, frigid - a Chateuguay winter.

The banging- puck off the boards- reverberating over from the rink.
Flash back to 'pick-up' in the winter every night, - Barry Jones, Bob Jones, Graham and Brian Rennie, Frank Toth, Kit and Pierre Lacroix, Glen Finnerty, Danny Boyle and his dad and sometimes my dad too.

I envied Mr. Boyle. The puck slams into his leg, bounces off. He laughs, zooming by and scores on us. His leg was artificial. He remains a legend for those of us who witnessed this split second. He probably didn't know it, but Mr. Boyle became an example to many of us. "Just laugh and keep on going!"

I bring the burgers in to Jane, then go down to my office for a moment, a new message flashes on the computer. It is short and to the point; a complement from a very old friend. I smile and go back outside to close the grill, look up at the night sky, ah- but I'm transported once again to that special place.

...the aroma of Adidas and sweat, the tension charges the air in the gym - the bleachers- feet pounding the primal beat. The team is out and we roar.

There's Hopeton , Jimmy, Peter. Bobby, Jimmy Reid, Look at them! In their colours - Gold and Blue! They're ours ! What pride!

It's Wagar High versus HSB. We're behind by a point- "how could that be?"

The game is soon to end.

Zizian deakes out the flank - he could go all the way if he wants - but is ever the team player- he passes.The coach puts his hand to his brow.

Wagar steals the ball - looks like it's over now - but no!
Out of nowhere - Hopeton zips in front of the tall lanky centre, snapping the ball back to JimmyZ, who races up mid court -back to Hopeton. The clock is counting down the final minute of play.

Only one defender left ahead. Hopeton speeds up. What the heck is he thinking ? He'll run smack into the guy, - he slams the ball down -hard at floor between and through the defenceman's legs, springs up in flight and over the man -leap frog - total awe and hush -split second,-infinity- -roar-finishing off with a "swish" of the basket and a smile.
AAHHHH YEAHHH!

Did it happen this way? Did it happen at all? Did I dream it? Who knows- but both Jimmy Zizian and Hopeton D'Aguilar remain to this day - larger than life for many of us.

They have etched spots in our collective psyche that will remain along with the likes of Bobby Oliver, Edson Phipps, Dave Swan, Sheldon Seale, Sandy Traynor, Dave Maclean, Christine Russel, Bob Muir, J. Lahache, Trina Lamarre, Randy Phillips, Debbie Culham , Grant Wilson , Kenny Kane, Kerry Kane, Stewie Shearer, Bobbie Houston, Ference Somogyi and many others.

Looking up at the cold night, stars seem to peer back, curious, quiet, knowing -remembering.
It's all going by -so quickly.

Brass Monkey Weather

Brass Monkey Weather

If nothing else, this Reunion thought process is igniting my motivation to firm up, lose pounds and rid my chin of a few fat cells.

This morning, as I hit the snow covered wind swept streets for my ‘walk-run’, I had to ask myself –why now? I mean, I haven’t run in a few years since my knees began to ache. Perhaps when I stopped, I simply was bored and needed an excuse-‘whatever’.

So every second day, since last Saturday, I have been fast walking 4-6 telephone polls per street and soft running two, to an approximate total length of maybe 3-4 kilometers.

The thing about running and walking at ‘march-pace’, the body goes into a pleasant rhythm which causes one’s consciousness to focus upon various topics of concern. But after a certain point – perhaps 15 minutes into the pace, one’s consciousness goes time travelling.

The thudding sound of my boots on the hard snow street seems muted by the cold and I am aware of the February fragrance of frozen steel, but as my pace sets in, the warmth permeates my gloves and boots and gives rise to a memory of a similar morning- walking-walking-walking to school with Jimmy.

"This is brass monkey weather –there won’t be school today, man – there can’t be.” Jimmy’s breath hung suspended on the air. I looked out under the ridge of my frosted touque and spied the tears forming on his long eye lashes- becoming frozen and stuck.

“Maybe your right,” I muffled moist through my scarf. I could taste the wool that had become the traditional flavour of February since childhood.

A few weeks before, we had a massive amount of snow. In fact, the night it had come down, there was a knock on the door. There under the porch light, stood two Charlie Brown ragamuffins peering out of layers of winter outer clothing. Dave and Steve Poirier dressed as if prepared to climb a mountain.
“Come on out McConnell! - They’ve plowed the snow in Towers’ parking lot - the biggest snow mountains we’ve ever seen! Get your Mom’s old leather ski-boots on, bundle up and let’s go snow diving beneath the drifts!”

I’ll never forget that night.

But this day, with Jimmy was really extreme -freeze. Our steps squeaked and crunched on the brittle packed snow. If we even opened our mouths to speak, it felt like our breath was ripped out by the hand of a cruel winter .

We trooped on in our boots, gray flannel pants, ski jackets and long tassel touques, brief case school bag handles, frozen into our mitts. I was wearing my brown rubber over-boots (“galoshes”) with the slip buckle on the side, which I would ‘never be caught dead in’, but I didn’t need to fight with my mother on this occasion. It was brass monkey weather for certain “–definite witches’ tit.” said Jimmy, whose eyes could no longer be seen behind the fog of his large round glasses. The curls that emerged from beneath his hat had long since frosted.

The school was looming in the distance from our vantage point on Saint Francis Street as we were about to turn onto Maple.

It was ‘now or never’ time.
“So – ya figure there’s school today?” he ventured.
“I doubt it – I mean- maybe the busses couldn’t start” I posited.
“Let’s just go to my house – and make some corn fritters!” He said, “Besides, we can always go back to the school and slip in at lunch time.”
“Hmmm- Fair! This sounded good – fritters it is!” said I.
It was now official.
“You know how to make those things?” I asked.
“Just you wait.” He said, wiping new peering holes into the frost on his glasses. There was that Jimmy grin, suggesting all was possible in the magic of our existence.
But somehow that did not quite sound like a “yes” to me.

So instead of turning left at Maple past the small shopping centre, we turned right- heading up into the Heights. We continued on to the end of Maple and then over the tracks and up Robert Street (west).

We made our way down past St.Andrew’s United Church, Julius Richardson School and PieXII (referred to as Peedouze), and then along Salaberry North, past the train bridge and approached the ‘cement’ bridge that connected Chateauguay to the Woodlands/ Ville de Lery area.

As we passed under the ‘cement bridge’, we couldn’t help but notice the enticing hillside down from the top.



“Look at all that untouched perfect snow!”
It didn’t take any discussion. We bombed up there and made good use of our brief cases as mini toboggans. What speed! –what fun!

After a half hour of this though, our clothes were soaked and it was getting colder. So we kept on along Salaberry North to Jack Street where Jimmy lived.

Good to his word and Kitchen-wise beyond his young years, Jimmy took charge and into a sizzling vat of oil, he showed me how to drop dollops of batter mixed with corn nibblets.

What a feast, with Maple syrup– the aroma- hot coffee and corn fritters after a morning of fun in a February Quebec winter.

And no- we didn’t make it to school that day and I don’t remember being caught. Perhaps school was let out early due to cold? It had happened before and still does today. I know – my wife is a teacher. And teachers like those days too.

All of this, from a little exercise out in the cold this morning.
There was indeed a new found magic and purity of ‘fun’ in our youth during those high-school years in old Chateauguay- ‘there’s no place like home’.

Steve Roper and Yim

I asked Steve Roper to give me an update and a picture.
He was very kind in doing so.

..."Yim and I are in Victoria where I am Director of Marketing for Aviawest Resorts, a resort development company specializing in quarter-ownership properties on Vancouver Island. We have five locations with a sixth slated for development next year in Tofino and our first out of country resort potentially slated for Cabos.

I oversee all their web site, advertising and event planning as well as writing much of their communications materials and planning development.

I also own and operate www.oceansedge.com and www.stephenroper.com.

Ocean's Edge is a hobby that sprung out of the resort Yim and I built off the Caribbean coast of Belize some years back and I have plans of developing it into an adventure travel site for my retirement.

----------------------
I like visiting his Web Sites - a very unique and relaxing point of view. I encourage everyone to check this out .

Les

Your Point of View

Your Point of view
(by Terry MacHardy)

As a frequent visitor to this blog I would like to share the following story.
I recently attended a pleasant dinner on a rainy evening with some friends from Europe.
Provoked by an anecdote, two of them start to argue about the nature of human existence: is life a tragedy or a comedy? They end up with two contrasting versions of the same story: a comic tale and a more tragic version, both based on the same character. Although the two stories involve similar situations, characters and problems, they both have very different endings. Having heard both stories- which are taken from the film Melinda and Melinda-one of the diner’s Colter sums up what seems to be the main idea: everything is colored by our chosen point of view.

Happiness or failure depends on the attitude we adopt toward life. However, what is it that makes us see a glass as half full or half empty? Often we place too much value on reality and discard the illusions that would have helped us to see the glass as half full. At the end of the day what counts is our ability to interpret and remember our experiences with a positive slant. If we manage to do that regularly, trusting in our ability to control our own moods, we will enjoy all of the advantages that stem from a positive view of life. Being positive is a process, not a state, and that is within anyone’s reach-we just need to have a better command of our inner selves, and consequently take a more optimistic view of the world around us. We would do ourselves a great favor if we could always see the glass as half- full-yet we so easily regard it as half empty!

Some insist on emphasizing that negative side of our being, the negative side of our existence. Life is very short and it must not be wasted with pointless regrets. ( How curious: the saying and thinking that life is to short in itself, a manifestation of the dark side that keeps insisting on seeing the glass as half empty)Frequently we do not realize how many positive things happen to us purely because we are incapable of seeing them. The good, the positive, the nice, and the simply wonderful things-sometimes we just don’t even notice them.

Some people will say that, in this life, there is no such thing as a half-full or a half empty glass, but simply half a glass. Most of the time, the facts that we see are based on interpretation rather than reality-so we would be well advised to learn to distinguish our opinions from our observations.
How do you see it?

From my Family to all of yours,
Have a Merry Christmas and a Safe, Happy, Healthful New Year.

T. Mac

Stranger in a Cool L

Stranger in a Cool Land

Two weeks after the dance, my parents knew who Jimmy was.

For some reason they didn’t seem as thrilled. I mean, all I was asking for was $25.00 to see a show at the forum. So- I had never been to the Forum except as a child to see the circus!


OK, so what if it was James Brown? Big deal! They didn’t know who James Brown was anyway. So what if I was wearing a pair of Jimmy’s old pants. So what if I was only one of 20 white people in the audience- this was 1967-68 after all

Thank god my mom could handle a sewing machine. We had to get the pants just right. Tight- from the waist down –gone were the days of ‘Stovepipes’ - and then flair –big flair at the calf - with an insert of different coloured material.

I couldn’t be seen wearing sneakers. I needed something like Jimmy’s white shoes with the Italian weave on top of the foot.
“No – Beatle boots are gone Mom!”
“Out!”
“No T shirts or sweaters either!”
“ Button-down – bright red!”

Normally I would get up in the morning, wash, come back into my room, put the Beatles or Garry Lewis and The Playboys or The Animals on my portable record player and make my bed singing at the top of my lungs. I loved that record player. I had bought it with my own money from delivering The Montreal Star up in the new area of Seigniory Park near the Pines.

For the first time, my sisters heard something foreign coming from my bedroom.
“I Feel Good” – na-da-na-da dat (horns) “Like I knew that I would now!” …
Or “When a Man Loves a Woman..” and I was not singing. I was listening – getting my Soul lessons for the day.

After school I stopped coming right home and called more often to stay over at Jimmy’s place. Jimmy said his mom's name was Fran. I envisioned someone tall, dark and lanky like him. She was a teacher in Ormstown would be arriving at the house an hour after us.

They lived on Jack Street. (Who the heck was Jack? Dave Mclean would eventually tell me.) Seleda, Jimmy's older sister would retire to her room off the living room and diligently get her homework done. (She is now a Doctor in California and still looks good.)

I had never been further along the river road -Salaberry North, than Dupont Street to go up to St. Andrews for church. They lived way down in a small summer cottage near the water. It was cozy, warm and had a great big bay window. The beauty of that window was not what could be seen out of it,- but rather what was inwardly reflected when darkness fell outside; a Soulful Magic Mirror –reflecting in our minds- a stage, when Sly Stone, Percy Sledge, James Brown, Otis Redding, Sam and Dave, Wilson Picket and Aretha weaved their Soulful Spell into the household. Jimmy would get the records going- Boom Shakalaka! Boom Shakalaka! I Wanna Take You Higher ! When a Man Loves a Woman! Midnight Hour! Soul Man! Funky Broadway! Skinny Legs And All!

Seleda would throw down her pen in mock disgust –interrupted rudely from her studies- and stomp out of her room, hands on hips and yell “Jimmy!” –and on cue, he would grab her hand, pulling her into the magic circle reflected in the land of cool beyond the window …to The Midnight Hour and then Aretha's R>E>S>P-E-C-T… –his head moving back and forward, eyes slightly closed, teeth glittering through smiling lips, knees like pistons up and down –feet landing soft on a springy cloud – and she would be swept up into the dream –all to the beat, like Watusi Cool! Wow! They could move! Saleda was so beautiful when she danced and Jim – Jim was “THE MAN” –cooler than cool. Music loud, the beat, -the beat- oh my, I can still feel it,- the beat -was everything.

Cold winter air sliced through as the door swooshed open. "OH-OH".
I thought Mrs.Williams would be so upset with all her furniture shifted to the side and all hell breaking loose – All I saw at first was a coat flying into a chair, then this small wiry white woman prancing, hips swaying into the magic circle “Mom’s Home!”- as if she had never left it! For a single white lady, she sure could move black!

My mom and I danced when washing dishes to CFOX radio, but this was different –this was new! Where the hell had I been all my life. I had to absorb some of this culture of “cool”!

Reunion '72 and Friends Cost:
Basic information

May 18 is "Free day" of arrival - that is, Free to visit old friends, parents, family, Chateauguay, the Ville de Montreal. - 'The Alibi' is a great place across from McDonalds, or come see me and friends at the hotel reception suite at Dorval (Hilton) near the Airport and train station Diagram to follow. I will have wine, beer tea and coffee -perhaps some snacks etc. for those who come to the hotel .

Saturday May 19 School will be open at 10:00AM through 4:00PM .
1:00 PM meet up at the Auditorium for official kick off.
We can go in visit, check it all out.
Roam the halls, perhaps bump into some teachers we used to have, smell the polish on the floors etc. contact the ghosts that still roam about. But then by 4:00 PM, let us get the heck out and over to the Hilton Dorval!

Hilton Dorval May 19 Reception led off by John Saunders (Mr.ABC) and perhaps aided and abetted by Richard Rankin, Lynda Young Chapleau and myself and others/ Sit-Down dinner and evening activities.
$100 per single attendee Paid in advance.
If you bring your husband /wife/spousal partner $175 together.
PAID IN ADVANCE NOT AT THE DOOR -NO EXCEPTIONS.

An advance non refundable deposit of $50 Cdn per single ticket or $100 Cdn for a spousal double to confirm your place is required not later than Feb 28.

You may pay outright if you so choose. Final payment of the ticket balance is due no later than Monday April 15. received by me or the system for payment by credit/debit card on the Alumni site. Again, there is no refund for the down payment.
This payment does not include cost Hotel accomodations.

This week (Jan 8-12) we shall enable payment by credit card or debit card on the Alumni registry site. Keep watch for it.

Cheques may also be sent. Ensure the following information is on your checque along with your name -not just a signature. We'll need your phone number also.

(On the cheque:
H.S.Billings High School.
Then in the line at bottom of chq indicate Reunion '72 and Friends.
It is very important to write 'Reunion '72 and Friends' since there may be more than one reunion visiting the school at same time. We are " Reunion '72 And Friends".

Mail the chque to:
HSB Reunion and Friends
c/o L. McConnell
103 Ashmore,
Chateauguay,Qc.
J6J 4B7

I will check your name on the list and confirm reciept to you by e-mail.
I will then deliver the cheque to the school for our account there.

If you need a hotel room, link up with the Dorval Hilton and indicate you are with the H.S.Billings Reunion '72 and Friends (Les McConnell) and your room cost is $99 per night for Friday, Saturday and Sundy each night including parking for the three days at the hotel. So book it soon. More info to follow.

Happy New Year!

Here we have Joanne Hannon (Billings Grad) while below, her husband Greg Holden gets into the groove with friends and cousins who are also graduates of HSB.
To the left of Greg is Glenna McConnell. To right is Val McConnel and in black across from him is Gaye McConnell. And of course I took the picture, so I am right there -creating the window into this New Year's party. We McConnells can party!

I'm amazed... I was up til 3:00 a.m.! Well, not again until next year or the long weekend in May.

I thought we were going to Angelo Mancuso's? That's it Angelo! Next year it's your place -no excuses!

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

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

Tick, tick, tick. There is goes!

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

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

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



(Gary Wilkins Class '71)



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



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

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

Happy New Year All.
Les McConnell

Christmas

So here we are.

Me writing and you reading.

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

Christmas is many things to many people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Les McConnell.

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

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

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

These are two good people.

Old Friends

Can there be anything in this life of greater value?


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eileen Now and then.

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

Left: Eileen in Gold and Allan in centre.


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

1970


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This team had the magic.

Part of the Danger and the Magic
of Chateauguay.

Stephan Fuchs

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

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

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

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

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

The Man With The Heart of Gold

Mr. Roddy McManus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Journey Begins

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

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

How fragile and tentative the kaleidescopic fabric of reality!

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

I watched the beguiling Motown moves, determined to learn.

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

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

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

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

Some very special people from our collective past :

Catherine (Wylie) and Ernie Laporte

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

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

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