Circular No 1012

 

Newsletter for alumni of The Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict, Trinidad and Tobago, W.I.

Caracas, 21 of April 2021 No.1012 Apr C

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Dear Friends,

It is nice to be able to publish this Circular, hope that you continue to support the Newsletter.

HAPPY BIRTH Ladislao Kertesz, getting into the 78th birthday.

Today I have included a video: the Holy Mass at the Monastery.

At the end of this issue, you will find the instructions to send funds, I know your limitations.

https://www.facebook.com/Johnaebp/videos/10219820372960758/,

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idmitch@anguillanet.com

29 Mar 2021, 20:45 (12 hours ago)

Bruce,

What an amazing memory you have!

I doubt any of us could top your reminiscences for detail.

All I remember of those days is daydreaming, wasting time, and getting lix from Bobo and later Fr Eugene. 

I remember in the late 1950s, MJ De Verteuil sitting next to me in Prep in the big classroom on the first floor each evening before bedtime writing essays and answering questions that always got him a first in class.

Meanwhile I played a board game I invented until it was time to go to bed.

I never got into the top half of class in my reports.

I remember also in the late 1950s running wild in the bush and roasting breadfruit we picked on the slopes of the stream that ran down the valley behind the school.

I remember standing on the hill above the cricket field at weekends shooting reed arrows onto the fielders below, resulting in more lix from Bobo on Mondays.

I remember being madly in love aged 14 with the cutest girl from a neighbouring village who made me so tongue-tied from sitting next to her in the cinema that I froze up each time she touched me by accident.

I was never able to tell her how much she meant to me and lost her eventually to a ruffian I hope later died a long and painful death.

It was only when I was in my 50s that I learned that I had such an obsessive personality that when the adrenalin struck, I became totally paralyzed in the presence of the female sex.

I then understood why it was not possible for me to talk sensibly to any woman who captured my heart.

Fortunately, being a bit of a sociopath as well was to prove a great boost to my later legal career.

There are advantages to being quite advanced on the Asperger’s syndrome as I am.

When I practiced law, it was no problem to tell a client that he faced 20 years imprisonment if convicted on the charge I was defending him on.

Now, in retirement, I can quite coolly contemplate drowning trespassing chickens that dare to eat my peafowl food or shooting goats that wander into my yard to nibble at the fruit trees.

I get up in the middle of the night and grab my Afghan scimitar from where it is leaning on the bedside table to practice arming myself when the pandemic-inspired home invasion begins.

Onward ever!

Best,

Don

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From: B L <brucelocke@live.ca>

Sent: Monday, 29 March 2021 19:52

Hi Norman and Don,

Norman, apologies, but if I ever tell you I will write within a certain time, don’t believe me!

If I’ve repeated some of what follows, please forgive me.

This turned out to be a long email so perhaps a cup of tea first.

I’ve dug out my letters home from MSB, all dated the first few months of 1961 and was happy to revisit some of the minutiae of my time there.

Memory and the writings home of an 11 year old might not always be accurate so please feel free to correct me if needed.

Do any of you remember a boy whose last name was Prats?

He came home with me to Apex Oilfields at Easter that year.

I remember him as a sensible fellow who would advise me on how to deal with some of the bullies at the school.

His advice was to make sure that the other fellow had something to remember, even if I lost the fight (which I always did).

I had asked Zschaeck to come to Apex that holiday, but he was going to stay with his aunt on Church St. in Port of Spain.

I spent a lot of time bemoaning lost laundry in a couple letters home but of course it was all returned to me as, like all our mothers, mine had stitched my school number, 196, into the hems, with my name in indelible ink.

I still have my bedsheet, which has followed me everywhere.

I had also kept my jacket, but it was lost with a lot of belongings when I had a sewage backup in my house in Toronto in 1978.

I regret losing that jacket as I really liked the pocket crest.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve put a lot of importance on the trappings of my childhood in Trinidad.

My mother’s side of the family is descended from El Caudillo himself, President Antonio Guzman-Blanco of Venezuela.

After one of their many coups some of the Guzmans fled to Trinidad.

My life has been littered with Guzmans since then and many of their descendants lived here in Burlington, Ontario, most passed on now.

My Dad’s side of the family, to keep the story short, were all born in the Punjab where Herbert Locke, my grandfather, worked for the Indian State Railways.

They returned to England in 1920 and came out to Trinidad in 1922 where he took up the position of Running Shed Foreman with the Trinidad Government Railways.

My Dad worked at the DUBBS plant in Pointe a Pierre during the war.

When he met my Mum in 1948, he was working at the Pan American Flying Boat Terminal in Cocorite.

After they were married in 1949, he returned to the refinery.

They took their honeymoon at the Pax Guest House at MSB where I was conceived.

Dad died of a heart attack in 1967 and Mum never remarried.

She’s 93 now and living in a long-term care home here in Burlington.

That’s been a rough go as she took ill with congestive heart failure at the beginning of the pandemic.

She’s in good health now but suffering from dementia.

She knows who everyone is but has the usual symptoms.

I studied film production at Ryerson Polytechnical Institute (now a university) in Toronto and have since then enjoyed an active although non profitable life as a film maker.

Like most “artists” I renovate houses to pay the bills, which I must admit has afforded me a fairly pleasant life, allowing me to make my movies and travel.

I never married. I left the carrying on of the family name to my brother.

Back to my letters.

Apparently, I spent a lot of time fighting with a boy whose nickname was “cokey Joe”.

I had to go to the nurse for some liniment once as he had put me in a “lock neck”.

I whined a lot about an ear ache I had. After I had been moved from bed 33 to bed 36 I woke up in pain and Jinx to me to Bobo who put drops in it. Speaking of Cokey, my nickname by a few boys was “Cokey Eye” as I had a crooked, blind right eye. On the subject of names, I recounted that some boys would approach me and ask me what kind of Locke I was, Yale or Master, and, genuinely proud of what I thought was wit, would reply “Well, you see boys, I’m a Bruce Locke”. Good grief.

I remember one night awaiting a flailing at the hands of Fr. Eugene.  Zschaeck was there as well, and we vowed to steal a pirogue and row to Venezuela rather than submit.  Zschaeck was very nice to me in the short time I was there.  I understand he had a very bad temper, but I never saw that. He used to protect me from my bullies at times although I suspect he thought I was a bit of a ninny. I used to “helicopter” hibiscus flowers and while doing this once he came by and said “Locke, you – like this??” and walked away, shaking his head in disbelief. I was going somewhere another time and saw him seated with someone outside the school. He was crying uncontrollably as I always thought he was a tough guy. I can still see that scene.

I hear he was murdered in Caracas. I used to have some pictures of him in my MSB photos but unfortunately, all of those were lost, either in that flood at my home or when we emigrated.  I had taken a lot of pictures at the Mount and I still have the camera my parents bought me.  Also, I gave a few rolls to one of the boys in the photo club to develop for me, but he came back to me saying they had been spoiled.  So let me ask anyone that reads this, if you have a picture of Zschaeck that you could send me I would be more than grateful.

Don. I briefly recounted in a letter home a trip up to the reservoir, mentioning Farcheg’s Den and Frankenstein’s Cave and crossing the old bridge to get to the old monastery.  I used to get teased a lot that the “Ape Man” was going to eat me, and I remember laying in my bed in the Prep dorm looking through those windows at the mountainside worrying that Bobo should close them in case the ape man got in.  Speaking of Bobo, I remember him getting locked out one night and hammering on the door “Boys, boys, let me in!”

One night I was feeling melancholy and one of the older boys was playing the piano in one of the rooms below the dorm.  I’m not sure exactly where the room was but I remember the tune was sad and did nothing to lift my spirits.

Norman, I remember once we were talking about something or the other and you swore and I got all indignant and uppity and we wound up getting into a huge fight.  Belts came off in the dorm later and we started swatting at each other.  I don’t know how it ended but maybe that had something to do with by bed number being changed lol.

I remember my Mum making up my bed when she left me there.  You were the last bed near the entrance (if memory serves) and I’m pretty sure mine was next to yours.  I was trying to be brave as I knew she would leave soon and remarked something about “a whole new life” but she could see I was hurting and held my hand and said “Don’t worry son.  I know you will be homesick, but you will grow accustomed to your life here…”.  It’s strange, the cycle of life, because those are literally the same words, I said to her when we were finally able to see her after she was moved into long term care.  She was distraught, confused and crying and those were the only words I could think to say.  Of course, just like she was, I was right too, and she is quite happy where she is.

I cried for days after she left and spent a couple days in the infirmary eating soupees and doing my best to prolong my “cold”.

I remember playing in the mud after a rainfall down at the sports field and being forbidden to go anywhere near the dormitory.

For me, the evenings were cold and for some odd reason I would wear my sweater all day in that heat as I couldn’t go back to the dorm to get it.  Do y’all remember a Carib or Arawak fellow who worked there?  Maybe there were a few but I remember one fellow being fascinated by a magnet I had and how it would stick to metal.  He kept trying to stick it to concrete though!  I also used to have a splendid torchlight, with the light at 90 degrees to the body.  I still see them around.  Olive drab.  Coveting what I thought was a piece of crystal another boy had I traded that torchlight with him for it.  I think I came out the wrong end of that deal.

I recall “the new refectory” being finished in my time there, with the stone retaining wall being “halfway up” and reported home that I had seen “I was a Shoplifter” and “Bud Abbot and Lou Costello meet something or the other”.  Bad handwriting obscured exactly what they met.  I also remember the new Seminary and wanting to be a priest when I got older so I could live in it.

One time, after swimming, I was headed back up the hill and was met by two gentlemen of colour in a big left hand drive American car from what I later realized was the 1940s stopped me.  I don’t know their relationship to each other but one of them was sending his son named Bruce to the Abbey School and wondered if I would like to take friendship with him.  I said sure and bade them so long.  God I used to hate going to that pool as I spent more time getting my head held underwater by some bully or another.  I used to practice holding my breath so I could outlast them, which I was eventually able to do.  I can still hold my breath underwater for a long time.

The worst of my bullies was Humberto Luongo.  To this day I remember first meeting him as he was coming out of the old refectory.  He didn’t know me from Adam but looked at me and said “I’m going to kill you one day.”  Of course, we were children and that was a long time ago, but I have never forgotten that.  After a few episodes I finally bought him off with cake Mum sent me and he never bothered me again.  I was sort of sad to see that he is one of the boys in Venezuela receiving help from Team George.  I’m going to contribute a little to that but have not had the time to sit down and give George a call.  I emailed Humberto but he didn’t respond.  I didn’t mention the bullying in the email and never would.

Strangely, next to Humberto, Bermudez was the next worst offender.  I was to learn later that he had a lot of trouble fitting in at the Mount and maybe was just passing his frustrations on to somebody weaker.  I experienced bullying at Catholic High School here in Canada as well.  In my late twenties I realized I had become a bully myself, although not of the physical type.  I’m happy to say I nipped that in the bud very quickly.  Bullying exists everywhere of course, and I’ve never let anyone pull that nonsense on me ever since.

Me currently:  I’ve lived in the same apartment in Burlington for 35 years and am very happy here.  I have more cats than I should have and at 71 realize that the younger ones will probably outlive me.  I’m very active and travel a lot and always have some film project on the go.  Cancer and a heart attack have caused me to cut back on working as a renovator but it’s probably time to put the tools down anyway.  Several broken bones, surgeries and lacerations are taking their toll now.  With broken hand in Rome in 2019 (still looking at one more surgery on that) I completed my ‘round the world tour, having broken a bone in every limb by then.  My mother is seriously surprised that I haven’t been killed yet.  Medication keeps the heart ailments at bay and surgery took care of the colon cancer.  I’m grateful that I didn’t need a stoma.  Rheumatoid Arthritis rounds out the package.  Being an autoimmune disease means I have to be super careful during COVID.

I’ve taken up 3D modelling and animation and devote several hours a day to learning the craft.  It’s immensely satisfying I must say.

Could you both send me a photo of yourselves at the time I was there (1961)?  Had we stayed in Trinidad I most certainly would have remained at the Abbey School and would have had the long-term experience you’ve all had but an ugly attack on our car, with my brother and I alone in the back seat as our parents shopped at the camp grocery store, prompted my father to decide to emigrate for our safety.  My Mum was educated here during the war and her sister had immigrated the year before, so Canada was a natural choice.  It’s treated us well. We didn’t achieve “The American Dream” but we’ve had a happy life here.

I know I only have a small story to tell and didn’t go through my teens with you all, but I nonetheless still feel a kinship to the school.  That one term doesn’t lessen my memories of Norman, Boxhead, Check, Jeremy, and Prats.  It was however, my first time away from home and I did some growing there as I had to learn to make my own way in a different environment.

Best to you both.

Bruce

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EDITED by Ladislao Kertesz,  kertesz11@yahoo.com,  if you would like to subscribe for a whole year and be in the circular’s mailing list or if you would like to mention any old boy that you would like to include, write to me.

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Photos:

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