WISHING YOU ALL A VERY SAFE AND MERRY CHRISTMAS SEASON
Our chamblycounty.com website is 14 years old on Dec.03 These days we get over 4,000 views each month. However most of the views are to pages that are open to the public. All the really interesting stuff is in the password protected area of the site which is for MEMBERS ONLY. Please login and check your listing on your class page to ensure accuracy. If you have not set up a Username and Password please contact me and I will set it up for you.Angus Cross
Welcome New Alumni Association Members, renewed Members, and Special Thanks to our generous Donators
New Life Member
Class of 1996
from Montreal, PQ
New Life Member
Class of 1976
from Ottawa, ON
New Life Member
Class of 1953
from Uxbridge, ON
Class of 1963
Life Member from Mississauga, ON
Betty Brown (Corner)
St. Lambert High
Class of 1940
from Mississauga, ON
Carol Wilson (Corner)
Class of 1950
from London, ON
New Regular Member
Class of 1957
from Ottawa, ON
Class of 1978
from Long Sault, ON
Carol Emert (Bradley)
Class of 1961
from WOOLOWEYAH, NSW, Australia
Class of 1967
from Spruce Grove, AB
Class of 1981
from Winnipeg, MB
Class of 1989
from Greenfield Park, QC
Memberships expiring in December
Connell (Lloyd) Barbara 1963
Feick (Ferrie) Barbara E. 1960
Have just read the Nov. newsletter, which I enjoyed, thank you Angus. The Southwest video made my day, just HYSTERICAL! 🤣Geri Cobb-Millington
Another excellent edition, Bravo!
My wife and I have been living in the same apartment since May 1st, 1968 so on that date in 2018, we will have been here for 50 years. Our rent has increased from $100 per month in 1968 to $765 in 2017.
Because we've been here so long, newcomers to the building are paying about $100 more than we are each month.Peter Payan
Using SEARCH on the website to find your classmates
One thing to watch out for is putting too many queries in the search field, which may result in too many results. For instance if I was doing a search for let’s say, my friend Joe Blow by entering his full name, that will bring up every instance of Joe Blow, Joe or Blow (or even blow) on the site. The results starts with full matches and then displays partial matches after that.
Another thing to remember is that nicknames may not be present and that occasionally names may be spelled incorrectly. Searches look for exact words, so if you search for Joe and he is only listed as Joseph, then a search for Joe may be unsuccessful for that person.
NOTE: Members need to be logged in to do searches of all content including member only content.
What do you think about when you flashback to your high school years? We'd love to hear from you. Perhaps you went through something since then that you want to share with your fellow alumni. Whatever the case, send your memories and photos to Angus Cross at email@example.com or use our contact form.
Stephen Campbell C'72
from Vaudreuil-Dorion, QC
My name is Stephen Campbell and I was a student at CCHS fro September 1968 to June 1973. Luckily I had the extended warranty on my education and was allowed to complete four years of study in five years. My older sister Patricia Campbell is from the Class of 1967. A friend of my sister, Larry Llewellyn, encouraged me to send you a copy of something that I wrote today. When I was back in CCHS I thought that I wanted to be a journalist. I took all of the required English Classes and Literature Classes and enrolled in Champlain regional College in Social Sciences and continued my alleged pursuit of my dreams. Inevitably the fact that jobs were plentiful and my blue collar family in Brossard so no valuable reason for me to study anything else as meaningless (to them) as writing meant that I ended up working instead of going to University. I try to write down whatever I can manage to remember on any given day. I have multiple shreds of notes gathering dust in files in my pc. In my forties I was diagnosed with dyslexia while going through a psych test when I was positioned to become a Team leader at the now defunct Nortel Networks. That explained my dismal report cards and lack lustre performance in any of the schools that I attended. It offered me a gift in that my brain compensated for my blurred understanding of what I was being taught and replaced that deficiency with an over active visual and audible memory. I am also fortunate enough to have been born into a family with rich oral histories which were shared with me and anyone else within earshot of the conversations that occurred on our frequent trips back to The Gaspé Coast. It was easier in the days gone by to have people recount the same stories over and over gain. Time has erased too many of those souls and most of them went to meet their Maker without registering those memories with anyone else. Very little was written down about the legendary stories of people only one or maybe two generations before me. Everyone has stories like that tucked away in their memory no matter where they grew up or who they were descended from. My heroes were ordinary people who worked hard for a living and didn't get a fair exchange on the lives that they invested in. Their trials became our trials and their successes became our successes and their loss has become our tragedy. Yesterday (November 19, 2017) I lost another relative. In my youth these losses were anticipated because we were so much younger than those who were passing on. As time has gone by the losses are hitting a lot closer to home. Now the losses are people closer to my own age and people who I have shared a lifetime with. The loss yesterday was a cousin, Gordon Duthie. His value system was so close to mine that we could have been twins. He had a rich oral history that we always intended to document. We spent so much time sharing that we never got around to the hard part of writing all of those memories down. His loss is as injurious to me as losing a body part. Two of my close personal friends are E.H. brown and Michael Harding. Each have published books and have crossed a threshold which I have never been able to cross.
Ever since I can remember I have been travelling to The Gaspé Coast. My Father was born in New Richmond, Québec and My Mother was born in Cullen’s Brook, Québec. The two towns are about 26 miles apart and we had the privilege of visiting both towns as often as possible. The beauty of visiting those places is that we were actually invited to go there. We didn’t go because that6 was where our families lived; we went there because we were welcomed there. Every time that the car pulled up to someone’s door we were greeted with big smiles, handshakes, hugs and kisses. People always were glad to see you and we were glad to see them.
We always lived in or near Montréal and in the 1950’s it took longer than a day to go “Down Home” as my parents referred to The Coast. There were only two nights during a year when I absolutely could not sleep. One of those nights was Christmas Eve and the other night inevitably was the night before we went back to visit family on The Gaspé Coast. We never tired of the trip no matter how long the drive was or what the weather might be on the way there. Once we stepped out of the car after our journey there we knew that we were standing on hallowed ground.
I loved the way that no matter how hot and humid the air got in July the evening would always bring cool and fresh air to us. The tides that rose and fell in the Bay of Chaleurs seemed to be the saving grace when you lived so close to those waters. I honestly believed that Mother Nature was actually God’s Wife when I was very young. I believed that she breathed in and out and that she worked hard during the day and relaxed when the Sun went down in the evening. I decided that her breath was warm when she worked and cool when she stopped working at the end of the day. I grew very fond of the way that the winds gently changed from offshore to onshore breezes and the smell of the warm hay filled fields were replaced by the briny waves of wind that cooled the houses and barns near the sea. The porch became the most desirable spot during those balmy weeks and that was where you would eventually find whoever you were looking for. There were no railings to get in the way and if you so desired you could step right off of the porch and onto the clover covered lawns that came right up to the back door. There were always press wood chairs lining the whitewashed and shingled walls of the house and if you were lucky you might actually get to sit in one. That was the place where stories were told and information was exchanged and that was where the most valuable part of being a member of such an incredible Family was discovered. You would be hard pressed to place a dollar value on what was exchanged during those exchanges but that would be because the currency that was being used was counted in blessings that would last a lifetime.
The houses of the era were functional and designed for the large and hard working families that lived in them. Often a second structure butted up against the main house and the first floor was cleared out so that the abutment had no walls to get in the way of the room that was used for at least three seasons a year. We affectionately called these rooms “The Summer Kitchen” and as long as the weather co-operated that kitchen was the main meeting place other than the porch just outside of it. In my Father’s case the whole Family descended for the same two week period every year. In Québec there is something called “The Construction Holiday” which occupied the last two full weeks of July every year. I cannot remember where we all slept but I do remember where we all ate meals together. Everyone pitched in to prepare meals and clean up afterward. There was always a cacophony of voices as multiple family members chimed in with their portion of whatever was being discussed at the time. I fondly remember the smells that wafted out of the kitchen and the clang and clash of mismatched dishes and cutlery were thrown together three times a day. At some point my Grandmother would call everyone to the table and one by one people would unfold themselves from their chairs or pick themselves up off of the porch and make their way inside for whatever meal was being served. The noise would stop altogether as we said Grace and thanked God for the bounty in front of us and the fellowship that surrounded us all.
My memories are all oral and visual of these precious and fleeting times. Many years later I would be diagnosed with dyslexia and I would finally understand why I remembered all of the words and the images and the textures and the smells and most importantly all of the words that I heard while in the presence of those cherished people. The stories and the history of every person connected to the earth that they were born on became the almost Biblical reference that I use top this very day. As time passed by so did the members of the Family who once dispensed their knowledge and experience as easily as we dispense coffee from a coffee maker today. A lot of those stories have gone to the grave with their authors and the loss of those memories is critical. The people who I love the most are disappearing one by one and the light that once shone brightly is beginning to go dark. I always thought of the oral history of my Family as a stained glass window. Each story and each additional anecdote was like a single mosaic piece of glass being etched into that stained glass window one piece at a time. I now fear that the window will never be finished. The lens that we used to cast the images from our past has gone dark and the pieces needed to finish this work will forever go missing.
Today is November 20, 2017. Yesterday I learned that a cousin of mine, Gordon Duthie, has joined the unbroken circle of loved ones in Eternity. Gordon was a kind, compassionate, loving and incredibly intelligent Soul. His talents eclipsed any of our talents and he will be missed for a myriad of reasons. Gordon had a wealth of history locked up in him. Multiple times we discussed putting all of that history together somehow before it got erased by time. He and I pieced together so many interlocking stories and we shared a passion for our families and their history. Too many Souls like Gordon’s have passed away before their time. They go to Eternity to join loved ones who have preceded them. They go with their stories and with the love and compassion that is so hard to find in today’s world and almost impossible to replace.
My heart is heavy today because I see souls like Gordon as pillars of Faith, Commitment and Love that support this ever darkening world that we live in. I fear that if too many of these pillars are removed and not properly replaced that the world which we were born into will collapse. I actually feel that the world is already somewhat unbalanced because Gordon is no longer here with us. I grieve his loss as much as I would grieve the loss of a body part. A small part of my heart goes with Gordon because he and I were so intensely passionate about so many of the same subjects. Gordon took so much with him when he left us yesterday and that is a true loss. Thank God we had all of this time to share with him, while he was still here. The world will just not be the same anymore for me. So many family members have passed away and leave long shadows where their light used to shine. I pray that Gordon is receiving his copious awards in Heaven and that he is reunited with all of the other Souls who he loved so much. You will be sorely missed Gordon and you cannot be replaced. Rest In Peace and may God Bless Your Soul.
Your Loving Cousin,
The day I met the future King of Norway
Back in 1961 I was working for Standard Radio og Kabelfabrik in Oslo, Norway. Our company had installed a new single side band radio transmitter in the Radio Shack of the Royal Yacht NORGE and encountered an intermittent problem when transmitting. The Service Manager and I were attempting to locate the problem.
The Royal Yacht Norge was a gift from the people of Norway to King Haakon VII in 1947, purchased in the wake a nationwide collection effort. The ship is owned by His Majesty The King, but is manned and maintained by the Royal Norwegian Navy.
My boss told me to slide under the transmitter and check that all the ground connections were tight while he went topside and checked the antenna connections. I was under the transmitter with only my feet hanging out in the Radio Room when someone came in and asked in Norwegian what in the heck I was doing. I slithered out from underneath and responded in my broken Norwegian that I did not have a great command of the language, and asked the fellow if he spoke English. He said he did and asked where I was from. I told the fellow I was from Canada. That's when my boss returned and explained very respectfully what we were doing. We all chatted for a few minutes and then the guy left us to our task. I asked my boss who was that guy and why had he been so polite.
That was Kron Prince Harald. Harald V is now the King of Norway, having ascended the throne following the death of his father on 17 January 1991. Harald was the third child and only son of Olav V of Norway and Princess Märtha of Sweden. He was second in the line of succession at the time of his birth, behind his father. In 1940, as a result of the German occupation during World War II, the royal family went into exile. Harald spent part of his childhood in Sweden and the United States.Angus Cross
In keeping with the time of year, as of this writing, 35 or so days till Christmas..
How far back can you remember? I'm on my 71st Christmas..unbelievable.... I can only remember snippets here and there, over the years.... like when I was in Grade 3, William White School, in then "Montreal South" 1957, thereabouts... each class had to put on a skit... a five minute extravaganza to include all classmates. This I have etched in my brain... our class chose "the birth of "Jesus.. the Christ child".... I got to play Joseph. How? No idea.. a non speaking part... Thank You Lord... I remember my mom, taking great pains to make the costume, a toga. It entailed, a bed sheet wrapped all around me, held by "one" oversized safety pin... remember those?... I was told, I should not wear anything except, a pair of briefs underneath... My sole function was to stand beside Mary, with a "long thick wooden staff".
I was to over look the "manger" ... and to look proud, at the new baby that was born, not long into the skit, I felt a sharp needle like prick in my side... the safety pin popped open and the pin was making it's way DEEP INTO MY THIGH! I tried as I MIGHT to take it on the chin, for the team. I remember holding onto "the toga" for dear life....( is there a lesson to be learned here); All I could do, was to hold on and preserve my dignity, till it was over... two curtain calls later, I managed to survive the ordeal, no one was the wiser... I was traumatized forever at the thought of a pageant.
So many Christmases have passed. I must admit, most are blurred. Do you have a dreaded ritual?
We had a family yearly, dreaded ritual. This was done to please or should I say, to "appease" my mom. My parents were from the old school. We spent hours decorating the living room: with streamers (you know, those ones you threw from a ships deck, wishing everyone bon voyage) these were painstakenly rolled up every year, put in "the box" to be reused year after year. All colours of crepe paper streamers that were 3 inches long and 1.5 inches wide (before metric); they were systematically attached, with scotch tape, along the ceiling crease edge, where the wall met the ceiling, about 2 feet apart. Once all four walls were done. Then each streamer, was TWISTED and gathered at the center. My job was to hold all the streamers gathered at the center until my Dad had finished twisting them. Then, they were all affixed to the center, with a minimum number of thumb tacks. You could see the holes from previous years. So, there was no doubt where the center was. Then each of streamers tails, hanging down, had to be trimmed to matching lengths with a large "V" cut at the ends. That wasn't the end. ( pardon the pun). Now we, (my brother and I) sat down, to blow balloons.. Have you ever blown "a" balloon? Not a few, but, a few dozen.. after 5 or 7 your cheeks ache. AFTER 2O you wish you'd never heard of Christmas! These were then attached to all four corners, with some singles along the ceiling edge. The center was adorned with as many as possible. So, now we had a colourful canopy to gaze up at for the balance of the holiday season. It really was a sight....
The most annoying part, which my dad had to endure, was waking up every morning without fail to witness the number of streamers which were unstuck because of the heat off the ceiling...these had to reattached; of course, the glorious, heavily balloon laden center piece invariably came down, at least once a season.. All the trouble was worth it, as we were basked at all the Christmas visitors who remarked on its festive look. That made for great conversation.. and my Dad glowed with pride over this accomplishment......
Remember I told you this all came out of "The box"..
A week after the New Years celebration, each streamer and balloon had to be taken down, rolled up and placed in the dreaded " box"... for another year...
Such was the joy of Christmas.,.. I haven't even talked about the choosing and decorating our Christmas tree!!!
The most senior member of our association..
I was reaching back in my memory remembering some of the "good old school days" and how it was 80 plus years ago!! There are certain events that will always remain in my memory.
My school days were all at the St.Lambert High School on Green and as we lived on Sanford Avenue in those days, it was a long trek to walk to school every day, and especially long when I had to go back and forth at lunch time. I could only stay at school for lunch if i had a note from my mother requesting that I be allowed to stay that day . It was a real treat but why I don't know, as we didn't have a lunch room or a cafeteria and had to eat our sandwich at our desks!!! Guess it was a break in the daily routine!!
Miss Powell was our Gym Teacher for all my years and it was really exciting when our Girls' Basketball Team took the street car and went into Montreal to play against a school in there - sometimes we went to the Montreal Girls High School or to Baron Byng School in Outremont - it was quite an adventure for us and we would be gone from school for the afternoon, which was a treat. We had our Track and Field Day every year as well and it took place on the school grounds - it was certainly not an ideal place but we were happy to participate. The relay races took place around the Cenotaph Square in front of the school!!! Of course we didn't have all the events that they have today.
Once a year the French Inspector would come from Quebec City to visit the school and he would go from class to class. He would ask some of the students a question, in French of course, and you just hoped that he didn't see you trying to stay out of his line of vision!! Oh, that was a frightening day!!!
I also remember buying my school books from a previous student who was moving to the next grade. I guess they didn't change the courses very often!! I remember that I carried eleven (11) courses in High School. I just wanted to make sure that I had everything covered!!
I realize that I am perhaps one of the last members of our 1940 class - and I often wondered what happened to some of my school friends but I guess I will never know. They were care free days until the War came along and then everything changed.Betty Brown (Corner)
Brita Housez C'61 Life Member and Bob Wrigley C'61 Life Member pictured here at their yearly get together in St.Catharines, ON
Class Contacts Needed
If you are interested in representing your class year as Class Contact. Please contact Angus Cross at firstname.lastname@example.org.
We need your help in finding the MISSING, asking non-members to join our association, and to help spread the word about reunions (Class, Local mini-reunions, and the next All Year reunion).
If you notice an obituary of a classmate in your local paper
please forward details to Angus Cross at email@example.com.
BENTON, Bruce McGregor Born in Sherbrooke, Quebec, he moved to St. Lambert, and then to Toronto, Ontario in 1969.
C'50 Student at St Lambert High School (and later after a teaching career, became a school principal in Préville and other centres (St Lambert) with the South Shore school board of the day, before re-locating to Ontario, where he apparently continued in his field in Scarborough, Ontario. Bruce passed into eternal rest on Monday, September 18, 2017 at North York General Hospital in Toronto.
CLIFFORD, (Ross) Julie C'62 Peacefully surrounded by the love of her family, at the Chapman House Hospice in Owen Sound, on Wednesday, November 22, 2017. Julie Marion Clifford (nee Ross) of Owen Sound, at the age of 72 years. Dearly loved wife of George Clifford. Loving mother of Stacey Winter of Milton, Todd Phillips and his partner Jen Cowan of Little Britain, Michael Clifford and his partner Lolly Gagnon of Vancouver and Richard Clifford and his wife Ingrid of Mississauga. Proud grandmother of Jordan, Julia, Brooke, Connor, Keaton and Harper. Dear sister of Mary Dawson of Bradenton, U.S.A. and sister-in-law of Norah Gray of Meaford. Julie will be sadly missed by her niece Kelly Atkinson and her partner Peter. Predeceased by her parents Henry and Nelly Ross and her brother Bill Ross.