This past month (May) has been the best so far this year with over 3,600 views. Membership in the association however remains somewhat stagnant. Again this month we are sending the Alumni Connection Newsletter out to members and non-members in hopes that we can entice more alumni to join the association. Members are encouraged to check the MISSING ALUMNI We need names, grad year, city/town where they reside, and email address.

Angus Cross

C'60 - Editor, Alumni Connection

Alumni Association Bursaries to be awarded to selected members of graduating Class of 2018

The Bursary Program initiated back in 1995 by the 1995 All Year Reunion Committee will once again be awarded at this month's Graduation Ceremonies. We will announce this year's recipients in the July newsletter. Donations to the Bursary Fund are welcome.

Welcome New Alumni Association Members and renewed Members

Renewed Membership
Judy Gasse (Wood)
Class of 1976
from Greenfield Park, QC

Renewed Membership
Bob Charlton
Class of 1963
from Stayner, ON

New Life Member
Pam Blackstock
Class of 1969
from Merrickville, ON

Renewed Membership
Heather Nesbitt (McCallum)
Class of 1961
from Kemptville, ON

Renewed Membership
Maureen Lyon (Knight)
Class of 1953
from Oshawa, ON

Memberships expiring in June & July
Miller Donald 1973
Sanson Natacha 1987
Keelty Glenna 1974
Settels Philippa 1988
Evans Winston 1960
Parsons (Hodge) Anne 1949
Phillips Kathryne 1963
Elliott Don 1969
Holmes Rob 1967

Renewed Membership
Lorna Moon
Class of 1971
from Beaumont AB

Renewed Membership
Frances Hampson (Roach)
Class of 1943
from Nepean, ON


Grads of 1987 are hard to “find” but here I am in Greenfield Park, near the library. I went to Chambly just for one year, Secondary 5 before continuing on to Champlain for CEGEP.
I was automatically cool because I came from nowhere at the right time, the end. Now that I’ve been an elementary school teacher for 15 years, I realize that I don’t care to be cool so you can contact me if you have any queries about getting in touch with people from my time, hiding in the shadows. In my opinion, the best person to contact is Will Murray - he knows where to find folks.
You can thank Sharon Wallace from St. Lambert United Church for encouraging me to get in touch.

Natacha Sanson

Regular Member C'87 , from GreenField Park, QC

Peter Payan Re: May 2018 Alumni Connection.

Once again, I have read the newsletter.
It is another excellent compilation of stories facts, and other things.

Thanks for all of your hours of producing yet another monthly edition.

Peter Payan

C'59 Life Member, from Montreal, QC


Festival Classica
Festival Classica returns this year under the theme of From Schubert to the Stones. From June 1 to 3, downtown Saint-Lambert will once again reverberate with rhythmic melodies, and visitors will be treated to a jam-packed program of entertainment, free outdoor concerts and affordable indoor concerts.

This year, the Festival is also offering a full slate of activities and new events! These include Come waltz with me!, Cirque Éloize in the streets and Yoga and Gregorian chant. Festivalgoers will enjoy the return of the Notes gourmandes, Live Painting and Classica Rock, which this year presents the symphonic Tribute to the Rolling Stones!

Have a memory

Do you have a memory of school or classmates you wish to share. Contact Angus Cross email:

Malvets' Farm

By Lilian Puust (Soomet)
C’57 Life Member
From Toronto, ON

The continuing saga of Lilian's move from Estonia to Sweden to Canada.

“I don’t want to leave again,” I say to my father, but he promises that I will like his new plan. I am eight years old. We are far into September and everyone in Snowdon is in school except me. I have to wait until after we have moved. Then I will start in my third new school.
We move to a farm about ten miles south of Montreal. To get there, we cross the St. Lawrence River on narrow clattery Victoria Bridge while looking down through the iron grating at the gurgling river and rapids below.

Then we drive down Victoria Street through St. Lambert and Greenfield Park and keep going when Victoria crosses busy Taschereau Blvd and becomes rue Lapinière. We drive past Brossard and for seven more miles, as it becomes a country road, past all the farms, some with barking dogs, until we get to a tall white prayer cross beside the road. This is where Lapinière joins rue Brosseau in a V and continues for three more farms. The last farm on the right is Malvet’s farm. You cannot go any further unless you follow a footpath into the woods.

My father has known Mr. Malvet for a long time, ever since they were both part of the government of Estonia. Mr. Malvet was a diplomat and a lawyer. During WWII, the Malvets also escaped from Estonia to Sweden. They decide to come to Canada when the Canadian government offers an opportunity to those willing to farm for five years. Mr. and Mrs. Malvet are city people. They have never farmed, but they sell the leathercraft business they started in Sweden, and a buy a farm, which includes an old two-story farmhouse, together with its furniture. They plan to continue with leathercraft, while running a farm on the side. My father joins them as a partner. He will learn leathercraft. Meanwhile, the Malvets have to learn how to farm.

Mrs. Malvet is a graduate of Estonia’s fine and applied arts school and is Estonia’s tennis champion in both singles and doubles. Her talent as an artist helped them establish the leathercraft business in Sweden. They made jewelry cases, photo frames, photo albums, desk accessories, etc., My father has never done anything similar, but he is always ready to learn something new. No matter what he does, he likes to be precise.
My father is right. I love being on the farm. There is room to run. I feel free. Fields stretch out as far as I can see. The only cars that come this far are either lost or bring us visitors. I am happy when I breathe the flavours of the air. I can smell the green grass, the piles of hay, the mud in the ditches beside the road and the rain which makes everything shiny.

The farmhouse hums with everyone doing something. Everyone talks about any news on the radio and politics. Grandmother cooks for the Malvets. My mother sews our clothes and cooks for us. She also loves to clean the stairs. The best part for me is that I play with the Malvets two daughters, Helene and Reet. We know how to play with anything and play games which never end. Baby Mariann is born on Christmas day.

Mr. Malvet teases me about calling my father Papi because he thinks that the word means cardboard and calls him “Papi-tükk” or a piece of cardboard. Mr. Malvet knows how to make us laugh. He says that he learns languages very quickly. If we want to know French we can just say „Silgupealt“ or „herring’s head“ in Estonian which sounds just like „please“ in French.

The farm comes with animals. They had French names but have been given new Estonian sounding names instead. The two black and white cows become “Vaike” and “Kirjak”. The brown horse becomes “Suksu.” A pair of geese become “Napoleon” and “Josephine.” The pig is now Oskar. The previous owners told them that the big-bellied white cat is Rita, but that will not do because Mrs. Malvet’s sister’s name is “Rita.” The cat becomes “Madame Chat.” However, it is easier to call her “kiis, kiis, kiis,” because that is how you get a cat to come to you. When a Canadian businessman arrives to talk about some business venture, the Malvet’s sweet grandmother stands on the kitchen steps calling “kiis, kiis, kiis,” and the man thinks that sweet grandmother stands on the kitchen steps calling “kiis, kiis, kiis,” and the man thinks that the older woman is very eager for a “kiss, kiss, kiss.”

Mr. and Mrs. Malvet listen to the Canadian Farm Broadcast every day thereby improving their English and learning about the secrets of farming. Soon they have more cows, a big scary visiting bull, clucking chickens, flocks of turkeys, and grow tomatoes, cucumbers, peas, beans, potatoes, strawberries and other crops on the fields. Grandmother also hears the radio and finally asks why they talk so often about bread boxes for “broadcast” means “breadbox” in German. Her knowledge of English grows and one day she looks out the window and tells someone that there is a “blister” outside…. and yes, it is pretty close to a “blizzard.” In December, she tells a Canadian very sincerely that she had been “bruising through the stores.”

At first, the old farmhouse does not have the modern comforts which we are used to. It does not have a good heating system for a two-story house. On the first floor, in the middle of the house is on old oil furnace which seems to mainly heat the downstairs three bedrooms. A duct connects directly to the second floor landing next to the stairs, but it has little effect on the cold bedroom where my parents and I sleep. Every morning we get out from under our pile of blankets, put on our winter coats and take turns running to the hallway to put on our clothes. It has no indoor plumbing, just an outhouse outside. We pump water from the well and wash in little basins. In the summer we take an aluminum tub behind the bushes, fill it with hot water which is heated on the wood stove and have a nice bath outdoors.

All the farms along both rue Brosseau and Lapinière are French-Canadian. Not only do the Malvets have to learn English, but they also have to learn French in order to communicate with their neighbours. Even though French-Canadians have very large families, there are no children our age nearby. Across the road at the Gobeils is Marc-Andre, only four years old. Their neighbours near the white cross live in a nice stone farmhouse with their youngest, Celine. She is eighteen and already teaches school at the one-room schoolhouse beside the Malvet’s farm. The Malvets decide to send 6-year-old Reet to this school. Reet comes home memorizing passages of catechism in French but learns little else.

There are no other schools along Lapinière or Brosseau. Mr. Malvet has already decided that Helene, who is nine years old, is going to an English school in St. Lambert. She does not speak English at first. She went to school in Sweden, so she reads Swedish books for fun. Helene has already started Grade Four when we arrive. I would like to go to the same school, but the School Board tells us that I have to go to Victoria Park School. Why is that? I am so disappointed.

Mrs. Malvet says that life has stood still for decades in this area. There are no stores, no transportation, no buses, only farms along Lapinière and Brosseau gravel roads. Brosseau train station is three miles away.
A train comes infrequently but it goes to St. Lambert. Mr. Malvet has bought an old black Ford. It has a crank in the front, which means that it will only start if you stand in front of it and crank it up first, so that it sputters and grumbles before it promises to keep the engine going, at least for a bit before it has to be cranked up again. The car usually gets us to Brosseau Station where we buy our tickets and wait for the train. Half and hour later we arrive at St. Lambert station. Helene walks one way to Green Street to her school and I walk twenty minutes in the opposite direction to Victoria Park School. Because of the train schedule we arrive 30 minutes after school starts. At the end of the school day we wait for the train to take us back to Brosseau Station. From there we usually walk the three miles back home.

We do not mind the walk since we talk about our day at school or about our homework. I learn the multiplication tables as we walk. We play and imagine that Helene is Captain Marvel and I am Captain Marvel Junior. Reet would be Mary Marvel. We get to know the names on the mailboxes of all the farms along the way. Each one has a dog and we try to figure out which one is friendly, and which one may bite us as we pass by. We like the ditches along the sides of the road. They become rivers on which we sail little boats. The land is so flat that a few blue gray mounds which pop up from the land are mountains many miles away. To the south-east we see the outline of Mount Orford. To the north we can see the silhouette of Mount Royal, upon which Montreal is built. We even think that we can see the huge lit cross at its highest point.

Next month more about Victoria Park School.

Submitted by Bruce Charron Class '68

At our age looking at the obits in our local newspaper becomes a sad habit so here’s an obit story with a smile..
In August, 23 years ago Andy Collins class of 68 passed away at the tender age of 46.

Andy Collins for Kids /Uncle Bucks Rub Duck fund

Andy Collins

Up to that point he lived life big, very big and it caught up to him and he passed away in his sleep of congestive heart failure. At his wake we realized just how big he lived and just how many people world wide he had connected with. They came from Hong Kong, Switzerland, Turks and Caicos, all parts of North America and they all and their unique Andy story. At that wake a group of us decided we could not let all these people connections fade away as they most often do. We created Andy Collins for Kids /Uncle Bucks Rub Duck fund and organized a Fun Day loosely structured around a Golf Tournament . It had to be about kids, he was crazy about that next generation. To many he was like John Candy from Uncle Bucks.

22 years later we are still going strong . We hold a severely unorthodox Funday every summer . We fill a golf course and then fill a banquet hall with 250 partyers of 3 or 4 generations and we dance and party into the wee hours. For many of us it’s” THE” summer event that lots of us look forward to.In 21 years we have raised just under $4,000,000 for the Montreal Children’s Hospital where we direct our funds to specific programs chosen by our Bucksters ( you become one when you join us) .We have become the largest non corporate fund raiser for the Hospital. Andy would be both shocked and proud.
So there you go, a premature passing that has become a legend of giving back and it all started in St Lambert.
If you have a moment click this link to learn more about us. And if any of you have some serious party in you , the same link will tell you what we are up to this summer when we climb on board the SS Uncle Buck for a Rhythm and Blues Cruise.

What was the best job you ever had?

What was the best job you ever had? Please contact Angus Cross at

Riverboat Captain in uniform

The best job I ever had was while I was serving in the Royal Canadian Navy in Churchill, Manitoba back in 1965.

The Commanding Officer at HMCS Churchill was an avid fisherman, and all round outdoors type. He had established a river camp located 18 miles up the Churchill River. The camp was only accessible by either canoe or helicopter. The river itself was very shallow in spots and the outboard motors, used to power the 18-foot voyager canoes, were consistently bending props and breaking shear pins. The CO wanted someone to be “the River Boat Captain” and take people on fishing excursions up to the camp on their 72-hour off watch periods. He decided to have a contest for the job. Whoever came up with an idea to prevent the prop damage would get this coveted job.

I came up with the idea to utilize 3 tine pitchforks that were welded to a frame and clamped to the lower shaft housing. The engines were not locked in place and when the tines hit a rock or bottom they simply bounced the engine up with no damage. This ingenious scheme won me the best job I ever had – River Boat Captain. I had 3 canoes and took parties of up to 24 up to the camp. I never wore a uniform, could requisition the best food the base had to offer, and reported any problems directly to the CO. My immediate supervisor was Petty Officer, Bruce Pirt, and we got on very well together.

Bruce Pirt and Angus on the Churchill River

Angus piloting canoe up to the River Camp

Fishing at River Camp was superb. Using a red and white lure you could catch Northern Pike up to 12 pounds and every cast caught a fish. Manitoba Master Angler Awards were easily come by.

Sometimes my CO and some of his officer friends from the USAF would fly in by chopper to fish.

On these occasions I brought up supplies by canoe, and acted as fishing guide and cook.

My wife, Joanne catching a Northern Pike

Aside from taking navy personnel up river, I was also able to organize some outings for navy families. One such trip was a visit to Fort prince of Wales, which lies at the mouth of the Churchill River on the bank opposite to the town of Churchill.

The Hickock Belt Company ran a whaling station operated by Inuit (Eskimos), which used the hides from Beluga whales to make their products. There were lots of Belugas in the harbour and it was quite exciting to chase them in the canoe. The native hunters would chase after them by boat, harpoon them, then shoot them, and tow them into the plant for processing. In summer there were huge flocks of Canada and Snow geese, swans, ducks, lemmings, and ptarmigans in the area.

At the end of August my job as the River Boat Captain came to an end. I then became the Captain’s driver and Bosun’s mate which meant driving the CO around and picking up supplies in a 4 ton stake truck. Not that exciting but it kept me working days as opposed to working shifts in Ops.

Class Contacts Needed

If you are interested in representing your class year as Class Contact. Please contact Angus Cross at


Donald Elliott - CCHS Class of 1954, on Wednesday, May 16th, 2018, at the age of 80.

Beloved husband of Louise Depocas, devoted father of Charles (Dasha Korycan) and Catherine, loving grandfather of Astrid and Sabine. He will also be deeply missed by his brothers Robert (Jean McGregor), Gilbert (Joan Anglin) and John (the late Nancy De St-Croix), the members of the Depocas family Thérèse, Charles, Renée (Don Smith) and Marie (the late Gilbert Caillat), his nieces and nephews, as well as other relatives and friends.

Elizabeth Edge (nee Richards), class of 1954 passed away in Oakville, ON on Wednesday May 2, 2018.

If you notice an obituary of a classmate in your local paper
please forward details to Angus Cross at

And Finally...

The 60th High School Reunion

He was a widower and she a widow. They had known each other for a number of years, having been high school classmates and having attended class reunions in the past, without fail.
This 60th anniversary of their class, the widower and the widow made a foursome with two other singles. They had a wonderful evening, their spirits high, with the widower throwing admiring glances across the table . . . and the widow smiling coyly back at him.
Finally during one dance, he picked up courage to ask her, "Will you marry me?
After about 6 seconds of careful consideration, she answered, "Yes.... yes I will!"
Needless to say, the evening ended on a happy note for the widower.

However, the next morning he was troubled. Did she say Yes or did she say No? He couldn't remember. Try as he would, he just could not recall. He went over-and-over the conversation of the previous evening; but his mind was blank. He remembered asking the question; but for the life of him could not recall her response

With fear and trepidation, he picked up the phone and called her. First, he explained that he couldn't remember as well as he used to. Then he reviewed the past evening. As he gained a little more courage, he then inquired of her, "When I asked if you would marry me, did you say Yes or did you say No?"
"Why you silly man, she replied, I said Yes. Yes I will! And I meant it with all my heart!"
The widower was delighted. He felt his heart skip a beat.
Then she continued. "And I'm so glad you called, because I couldn't remember who asked me."