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Fort Camp Festivities
Memories of Student Life
Rob Cantin BA'61
Rosa Cua (due to graduate in May 2006)
Leonard Graholm BASc'60
Les C. Hempsall BASc(Civil)'50
William (Bill) McGhee BA’46, BSF’47
Bronwen Curtis Souders BA'64 |
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Leonard Graholm BASc'60:
THE TIME WHEN JOGGING CAME TO CANADA
"It was well after midnight, and the lights were out. My roommate and I were lying in our dormitory beds at Fort Camp, our window facing out to the Pacific Ocean, ready to go to sleep. It was a 'dark and stormy night' in the middle of the winter of 1957, and we were talking.
My parents had emigrated from Finland and were modest people. I was too shy then to ask a girl out and too young to drink in a beer parlour. I wasn’t particularly athletic, and I had pimples. All I did in my spare time was go to a lot of movies, shoot pool and sometimes play poker.
My roommate, on the other hand, belonged to a fraternity and was regularly out to their functions, blowing beer-breath on me in my bed when he returned. His parents had come from the neighbouring country, Sweden. He had gone to a private school in Vancouver and played rugby there. He had connections. Nevertheless he often liked to join me for movies, pool or poker. He taught me to play bridge, and we played chess too.
We talked late on that ominous stormy night, as we often did. It was almost always about philosophy, youthful talk between a budding lawyer and a budding engineer. I was interested in questions like: “Do the means justify the end?” Finally he said, “You’ve got ideas, but you never really do anything”. Of course he was right.
For some reason I replied, “I could get up right now and run to the CPR docks and back”. That was in downtown Vancouver, almost 10 miles away. After thinking for a while he said he would pay me if I did it. The money wasn’t the major factor, because by then I had become determined to do it. In hindsight, I think I was trying to show him that I could be more than a nerd.
I got up and put on the heaviest clothes I had. I was no poster boy for sportswear. I remember a three-quarter-length jacket that was hardly waterproof, some sort of hat, and gloves. As for shoes, I don’t recall. People weren’t mugged for their running shoes in those days!
Once I was past the university gates, the rain and wind seemed to slacken. The gods were smiling on me, and I was energized. My route was down 4th Avenue towards the Burrard Street bridge. It was well known to me because that was the way the bus took me downtown to a movie, always a double-bill. Or, in better weather, the one I rode along on my motorcycle. I jogged along in the light rain and wind, and made good time. There was no slush on the streets or sidewalks, little traffic, and enough streetlights to see by. I remember the always-forlorn foghorns sounding from English Bay. And so I arrived at the Docks, and paused to look at the dark, silent buildings on the edge of the inlet of the ocean. I was calm, and still confident.
Returning is supposed to be easier, but it wasn’t. My coat had become waterlogged, and I was cold and fatigued. At times I had to walk rather than jog, but quitting was out of the question. Once a police car stopped me, but after some brief questions they concluded that I was not a threat to the public peace, merely insane! And so I was allowed to continue. At that time jogging, particularly at night, was extremely rare. The report about the fitness of the average 60-year old Swede hadn’t come out yet.
I dropped my clothes onto the floor and staggered into bed. It was near morning. My roommate didn’t even wake up. I knew I would sleep as students do, and that I would be missing breakfast and my morning classes.
I woke up when he came in just before noon. His smile told me that he knew I had done it. Without asking questions, he counted out the money. Our friendship was further cemented.
Awhile later, after another of our late-night talks, my roommate said he would himself run to the CPR docks. Because the weather was again bad, as it usually was, and because he was willing to do it for less money, I agreed. He did it, and I remember waking up when he came in. It was already light, and he was soaked. I yawned and turned over in bed.
After our UBC days were over we went our separate ways. But many years later, my wife and I moved to Toronto where my former roommate lived. By that time both of us had done things in the practical world. I had even changed from my profession to his. He too had a wife, and children as well. We got in touch and I invited them over. After some small talk, he said, “Do you remember the time when...?
I could tell from the tone of his voice that he too now realized that those jogs on those stormy nights so long ago had been important, more than a lark. We had found honour in ourselves."
Rosalyn Cua an about-to-be alumna, currently a student of Interdisciplinary Studies
From stress to serenity: how a Dalai Lama-inspired Circle opened my heart to peace, balance and community
A week before starting the final year of my BA program, I went into a state of mild panic. I grew apprehensive about life after graduation, and about whether I would be “smart enough” to complete my last year of university. I became hypercritical of my transcript: I secretly wished that some of the letters would magically transform into jolly-good A’s. Then I realized that I had fallen trap to the brain-based, achievement-oriented principles of modern-day academia.
I was a dedicated but disillusioned student trying to find ways to manage the stresses of student life. Many times, I asked myself if it had to be this way. We’ve all been there: It’s 3 a.m., and you’re churning out a research paper, putting together a lab report, and studying for a midterm all on the same caffeine-fueled night (or rather, morning). There’s so much pressure to perform, perform, perform to “A” perfection that most students are fiercely attached to achievement rather than learning. No wonder so many students emerge from university exhausted rather than excited.
I was lucky. I had—I can count them with one hand—two teachers in high school and two professors in university who showed me what true learning was all about. They encouraged me to carve out my own learning niche that better fit my need for growth through safe and supportive learning communities. The words “safe”, “supportive” and “communities” are key. Sadly, in my experience, the current climate in the university hardly reflects that. I was one hard-working, intelligent, but very unhappy student.
Then I heard about the Heart-Mind Community Circle. It started in the fall of 2004, and when I saw that it was a student support group inspired by the Dalai Lama’s roundtable on “Balancing Educating the Mind with Educating the Mind”, I was curious. I had already attempted to balance my university education by joining co-op, going on exchange, and getting involved in student leadership and community service, but the Circle further enriched my learning. It provided a safe and structured environment in which I could explore personal and spiritual development, as well as community-building. Each week we would always start with relaxation, a brief group meditation, and deeper self-reflection. The Circle operated on basic human values of respect, open-heartedness, authenticity and compassion. For the first time in my career as a student, I felt happy and at peace. The students who attended found that they developed better communication skills, particularly listening with loving presence and experiencing the other person fully and non-judgmentally. Not surprisingly, I connected more deeply with the students I met there than with the students in my classes. I’m not saying that genuine connection is not possible in classrooms, but it is more difficult because of the competitive energy that many students exude in class.
Experts everywhere call this period of history the “knowledge economy”. This, to me, seems unbalanced—brainy and capitalist. The Dalai Lama once said that “human knowledge without a proper balance of a good heart, a warm heart, brings more unhappiness for fellow human beings and also other sentient beings and the planet itself.” True, I may not have straight A’s. But I have had many enriching, beautiful experiences beyond what grades can capture, and they were memorable because they were experiences of the heart.
Rosalyn Cua will graduate from the Interdisciplinary Studies BA program in May 2006. “From stress to serenity” was originally published on her weblog. Rosalyn writes about student life at backspacelite.wordpress.com.
Circles for students run 5:30-7:00 pm on Tuesdays at St. John’s College and Thursdays at International House. For more information, please visit www.students.ubc.ca/international/involved.cfm?page=health&view=heartmind.
Rob Cantin BA'61
"In 1957 I enrolled at UBC and graduated 4 years later with a degree in physics/math. I taught school in Manitoba for the 4th year to pay off a UBC loan, and then emigrated to LA where I spent the next 40 years working as a scientist for such prestigious companies as Hughes Aircraft Company. The reason it took me 4 years is that I took a 2nd year off to teach school.
During my 2nd week at UBC, in 1957, I was called to the registrar's office and told I was at UBC illegally because I had failed my 1st year at UofM, but since I was there I could stay.
The reason I failed at Uof M was I was terribly cold and sick most of the winter, so decided to go to UBC after a year of substitute teaching. I was initially accepted at UBC because I sent them my high school transcripts, which were in the 80s. My plan would have been OK, except, after being accepted at UBC, I made the mistake of asking the registrar at UofM to send my Psychology grades to the UBC Psychology department. Instead they sent my entire transcript to the UBC registrar. It was a good lesson in how bureaucracies function. They have no soul."
Bronwen Curtis Souders BA'64
"Setting: Acadia Camp, Easter week, 1964: Judy Cornwall, Education major,
buoyant leader of our hut, and cafeteria worker, decided on an Easter
Egg hunt to enliven the exam study period. The 12 residents of our hut
were instructed to save hardboiled eggs from our breakfast ration all
that week, and she would get a few from the kitchen. On Saturday, we
gathered in my roommate Dianne Burns’ and my large room and dyed several
dozen eggs with dyes and water from an electric tea kettle, and, no
doubt, a few tablespoons of purloined vinegar from the kitchen. We also
spent some time making outrageous Easter hats from the scraps of things
students have about.
That evening we broke into teams and hid the eggs around the hut and the
water tower. As I recall Judy wanted no part of it so she could have the
fun of finding them, but I may be crediting her with too much youthful
enthusiasm. Easter Sunday broke bright and sunny, we donned our hats and
set forth.
But, lo! The Engineers had been there before us! Somehow learning of our
game, they had found every single egg. But there was at least one
gentleman amongst them: each egg has been scrupulously cut in half, and
half remained where we had hidden it, its dusty bright hard-cooked yolk
shining with bits of colored shell."
Les C. Hempsall BASc(Civil)'50
"I was a veteran of four and one-half years as an aircrew navigator in the Royal Canadian Air Force. After mustering out of the airforce in 1945, I began studying Civil Engineering in the spring of 1946, graduating in 1950.
Those were the years of the huge veteran population at UBC, mostly men who had put their lives and careers on hold while they went to war. We were an older group who, but for our sheer numbers, would have overwhelmed the young men and women who had just entered university from High Schools, had we wished to do so. We didn't because we had more important things on our minds; but still, out of loyalty to those who had preceded us, we tried our best to conform, quite difficult particularly since we all wore jackets, shirts and ties, carried our books in briefcases and had difficulty generating enthusiasm for traditional engineering undergraduate antics. Many were married with children as the population of the various camps would attest.
As always, the engineers were a noisy, aggressive bunch, messily dressed in their red sweaters, claiming bragging rights on the number of beers they could "demolish" (I've forgotten the number but it was preceded by "We can, we can, demolish forty ?? beers").
On one occasion, we were "commanded" by our leaders, to attend a pep rally along side of one of the old flat-roofed wooden buildings. We assembled at the appointed time, carrying our briefcases. Our leaders, with their loud hailers were on the roof. They explained what the purpose of the "meeting" was (I've forgotten) then exhorted us to show our engineering "spirit" by cheering the speaker and singing the engineer's song.
The leader yelled into the loud hailer, "Ok, lets go. We are, We are, We are the engineers...") Silence, as we looked at each other with some embarrassment. He tried again, demanding greater co-operation from us, "We are, We are, We are the...." His voice trailed off as he turned to another engineer on the roof, forgetting to turn off his loud hailer. "What the hell is the matter with these dough-heads!" except that "hell" was not "hell" but another four-letter word beginning with "F" and "dough-heads" was not " dougheads" but was another eight-letter word beginning with"ass....s".
We all drifted away, traitors to the cause, sad that we had not been more supportive, but unable ( and unwilling) to be part of an engineering tradition that was years old. War will do that to you."
William (Bill) McGhee BA’46, BSF’47
Story #1:
“I arrived at UBC in September 1937 after completing my grade 12 by correspondence in Port Alice, BC, where our school only went to Grade 11. Having played basketball in Port Alice, I turned out for the Intermediate “A” team in a league that ended in December. In January, Maury Van Vliet, Director of Sports, said: ‘Bill, how about turning out for the football team?’ (which played in a spring schedule). I replied: ‘Maury, I have never even seen a football game let along play in one, but I’ll give it a try.’
I continued with the team until football was suspended due to WWII, and I guess I played well enough because I received my Big Block.”
Story #2:
“My goal at UBC was to obtain a BA and then a BSF. After losing a year, I entered my 4th year in the fall of 1941, planning to get my BA in April 1942 and join the Navy. However the attack on Pearl Harbor and the experience of a total blackout in Vancouver on December 7, 1941, changed my mind and I joined up immediately.
I was discharged in November 1945 and returnd to UBC in January 1946 to try and obtain my BA and enter my final year for my BSF in September. The problem was how to complete the courses that I required for my BA by September, all or part of which I had already missed. One of them was a 1.5 unit fall course, and another, Organic Chemistry, was a full year’s course.
I will be forever grateful for the faculty members, primarily Dr, Hutchinson and Dr. Davidson, who made the necessary adjustments that allowed me to complete my year. Dr. Davidson provided me with a compete set of notes for his fall couse and assigned me the laboratory work as fast as I could complete it. In addition, he met me in the arboretum about once a week to answer questions and in effect give me a private lecture.
As head of the faculty, Dr. Hutchinson allowed me to substitute a course in Soils and Fertilizers for Organic Chemistry, which I thought was more appropriate for a future forester anyway. Indeed, if I had tried to pass a course in Organic Chemistry I think I would still be there. I attended spring (May-June) and summer school, and when I did not have enough units to qualify for the veteran’s allowance for fees, Dr. Hutchinson gave me a job as a laboratory assistant in Botany.
Following this fantastic support, I went on to complete my BSF, became a BC Registered Forester in 1951, became chief forester for a major forest company, and worked in the BC forest industry until I retired in 1982."
Send your UBC stories to: gradgaz@interchange.ubc.ca
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