Newsletter for alumni of The Abbey School, Mt. St. Benedict, Trinidad and Tobago, W.I.Caracas, 1 September 2022. No. 1067
----------------------------------------------------
Dear Friends,
A new month and new challenges.
Those who complain that it is great to
be an EDITOR, and who only asks for funds but does not write.
In the past past, I used to ask for 50
words or the equivalent of $50.00.
And today I get zero words and no
challenge.
This is my issue, haha.
---------------------------------------------------------
PART I
of various to be published by Ladislao Kertesz. (my 50 words instead of a
check)
Effectively today the school does not look the same as
when I was there.
I am going to write a short resume leading to my stay
that started in 1955.
I went to the Abbey School because of concerns by my
parents of the need to learn English.
My father was a friend of Matias Fedak´s father who
recommended the school.
My father got my uncle interested and I was enrolled
in their idea.
I was told of the impending trip in July 1955 after I
finished primary school here in Caracas.
I remember starting to make a list of English words
that I knew; they did not number more than 25 if my memory is right.
No problem, I did not know that in TT people spoke
only English with a few exceptions.
I was with the expectations of a treat, an airplane
flight of over an hour, since I had never been on an airplane before.
The airplane was a Viking, if I find a photo in the
future I shall include it, specially for you pilots.
The day of the flight approached without a sweat,
I had no way of knowing what the future had for me.
I have tried to think of my bravery but I believe that
the opportunity for a flight overwhelmed reason.
The trip was long enough to enjoy, at about 10000
feet, and I could see people walking in the streets and vehicles on the road.
Then suddenly the announcement that we were about to
land.
Here suddenly I got nervous, as my parents were not
close, etc.
I disembarked the airplane and walked apprehensively
towards the terminal building together with the rest of the passengers.
I had in my hand a slip of paper with my future
address, The Abbey School and the contact. Fr. Bernard,
Suddenly I saw a white robed person and three kids,
I only remember that it was Bro. Vincent, Manuel Prada
and two other kids.
The emigration part was fast and off we went to the
school, which was clearly seen at the distance, just as today, a monument.
I had arrived a week early, which was good as I met
all the priest and the Venezuelan boys with whom friendship was obvious, only
then I realized that there was a language problem.
The rest of the story shall be posted in a new
circular. I believe in equal time.
(Can anyone write their experiences as to the first
day? Ed.)
--------------------------------------------
PART
II, The Refectory, dinner time, by yours truly, the editor.
Now back to my story: Part I was sent out in Circular
No. 189.
In those days (from 1955? to 1957 when it was moved
next to the bakery) the refectory was in an old wooden building near the main
church.
This two-storey building had the kitchen below our
eating hall, its level was the same as the church’s parking lot.
We ate in the second floor, which was on the same
level as the old church bells and the meteorological station.
Inside the Refectory there was a centre corridor with
tables on each side, its floor was wooden planks.
The prefect sat at the wall end of the table and four
kids sat on either side of the table.
The 13 tables were set before we arrived.
On each table there were two metal inox jars, one with
cocoa and the other with water.
Also there were two bread baskets inox, both with
monastery made bread, the bakery was located where today is the loan office of
Fr. Cuthbert, one with white square bread sliced in about 12 pieces (generously
thick), the other also had square dark bread that sometimes felt like having
saw dust.
The water glasses were of glass and we had cups for
the cocoa with an accompanying saucer.
The China ware was white and had a thin line maroon line
and the symbol of the school.
The eating instruments were inox also.
The table was covered with a plastic mantel.
We sat on a wooden bench that ran the length of the
table on either side.
The food was placed in inox bowls and usually
consisted of the following:
1st dish: Rice, Potatoes.
2nd dish: Vegetables Carrots, beans
3rd dish: Meat or fish
4th dish had fruit.
There was brown sugar, salt, and butter, sometimes
cheese, that we deemed to be inedible and taken from a sunken ship, as we said.
A small group of Brothers helped to keep the tables
with food, when these ran out.
There was an elevator in the middle that brought up
the food from the kitchen when there was additional need. Of course, the good stuff ran out quickly.
This elevator ran on manpower using a thick rope.
The prefect’s pets sat to his left and right and the
youngest or less popular kids sat next to the corridor, the furthest position
from the prefect, they were the last to get food if any was left!
This is where I sat during a couple months. First,
because I was new and second because I did not know English, the third there
was an empty place at the table.
My arrival was not welcomed as the food had to be
rationed from 8 portions until then, to a newcomer, 9 portions.
All the kids at the table tried to teach me the name
of the edibles but without luck.
So next the prefect tried the rough way, he told Wayne
Vincent Brown to get English out of me or there was no food.
I got bounced about but English was not easy.
Finally, I got upset and decided call WVB “Topo” which
is not offensive in Spanish but for those that only knew English found it
puzzling and annoying.
It worked because when WVB got rough, I called out.
The end of this episode I cannot remember but I did
not die of hunger and was not hurt except for my pride!!
They got tired I presume, or I began to assimilate
English.
While we ate in silence the Priest´s refectory was
replenished with an open cart that took the plates from the elevator to the
hall that was next to ours, we envied what we saw.
I presume that the kitchen had to serve us first and
then the Priests.
This always caused lots of comments and there were
many an effort to steal some of the edibles.
For dinner we would leave the study hall in the
evening at about 6:00 pm.
When we reached the door of the refectory we had to
wait until the priest in charge arrived and once these were opened and we had
to walk slowly down the corridor to our table.
We had to wait standing until we said prayer and sat
down.
The Prefect had first choice of each plate of food
that was passed down; and he had to make sure that everybody got part of the
dish that was passed.
There was no authorization to talk, one, because the
fight for food would have been loud and second because some kids would only
talk and not eat, third, we were next to the priest refectory and there was
always a lecture being read while the priests ate.
Wait for PART III
(Forgive my English, it never was good enough for Fr.
Bernard. Ed.)
--------------------------------------------------------------------.
After having waited for 950 issues of the Circulars, here it is Part III
My first encounter with P.G. Wilson
After a couple of months at school,
having entered the routine of going every day to the sports field, my attention
was focused on the activities at the sports field, sports, something that I
never did here in Venezuela. Very few
schools had a sports field and the slogan of a healthy mind needs a health body
was unknown to me.
On multiple occasion when I went to the
Sports field, I saw some kids of my age group running the oval circuit with
this big funny black man, all smiles and joviality.
He was running without effort, making a
continued chit chat and saying jokes while surrounded by an average of six
kids.
All seemed a fairy tale, haha. He was running without effort while the kids
were sweating and short of breath, but he knew how to squeeze and keep up the
speed without causing any dropouts in the group.
I liked what I saw.
Since sports was not taught here in
Venezuela I looked inquisitively and got close to the track.
This is when P.G. Wilson saw me and with
his big arms waved to me to join the fun.
I do not remember if I was dressed
adequately but I joined the fun.
I supposed that I did a couple of laps
and stopped when the trainer stopped and started to give instructions.
At this time, I left the group since my
English was not adequate and I did not understand the sequence of the
instructions.
Later I joined the group every time P.G.
came to the sports field, notwithstanding the language barrier, and joined in
the fun and the funny way of training, lots of laughter and really no strict
format.
P.G. was hired to train at the sports
field by Bro. Vincent, our sports master.
He was an officer and worked at the
penitentiary in Port of Spain. Some days
he used to come with the khaki coloured uniform, brass buttons and military
hat.
He changed to proper clothes at the
sports field house, and he was ready to talk and do the training.
He came regularly to the school to
train, to keep in form and train us kids.
In the long run we became good friends,
and I learned a lot about training and exercise.
The sports field was my second home, I
spent all free afternoons at the sports field, dry or rainy season.
The story was that P.G. was the prospect
of the 800 yards championship run for the Commonwealth games in 1940 I believe,
but war broke out and P.G. lost his chance and the accumulative training that
he did as a very fast runner.
For those that keep the timetable in
mind, here is as I remember.
On Monday and Tuesday; Thursday and
Friday you could go to the sports field after three in the afternoon, the
dormitories were opened after the afternoon snack consisting of a bun, sausage
inserted with curry sauce, and a bottle of Solo drink at the canteen next to
the volleyball court.
Baby Joe, Michael Azar (last known
address, living in Oregon) must remember for he was in charge during my final
years as supervisor of the canteen.
Those boys that stayed at school played,
Volleyball and Basketball. And some took up reading to keep up the one book per
month requirement.
The bathroom for shower was opened at
five o`clock, and we went direct to the study hall at six o´clock.
I made it a routine to go to the sports
field and train running and throwing discus and javelin during this time.
I bathed at the sport field and walked
up to the school, slowly so not to work up a sweat, reached the dormitories at
un quarter of hour before six and be able to change clothes,
Khaki shirt and short pants (up to FORM
III) and long pants thereafter.
-------------------------------------------------------
Now PART IV will be written in issue No. ?????
-------------------------------------------------------
In past issues I was promised by Anthony Johnson (AKA Gabby), Alan Date,
and others that the 50 words would be forthcoming, but???
-------------------------.
Re: Sad News - Peter Gorinsky
Tim & Gail Mew
18 Aug 2022
Thanks Don,
I did not seem to have a data base, probably my fault, so I will keep
yours.
I checked the one you sent and at # 59 and 60 are in fact the two
Gorinsky brothers, so my memory did not fail.
I don’t know the exact date that Peter died but it would be August 2022.
Tim.
------------------------------------------------------------------.
On 19 Aug 2022
<idmitch@anguillanet.com> wrote:
Hi, Tim,
I have not bothered to look him up as he
was unknown to me.
However, there is no speculation or
doubt about who attended Mount. All
attendees are included with brief biographies in Nigel’s database now
maintained by George.
My edition is probably not the most
recent. If you don’t have a copy, I
attach mine.
Best,
Don
------------------------------------------------------------.
From: TM MHC <mewhealthcare@bigpond.com>
Sent: Thursday, 18 August 2022
Hola & Hi to you both,
Just got this news from a friend in
Canada.
The Gorinsky family emigrated to then
British Guiana from Poland and started a huge cattle ranch in the Rupununi Savannah.
It all fell apart after a failed
uprising in the 70’s against the then Guyana Government, including other emigrated
ranching families - the Harts.
The remaining families all fled to
Brazil and I don’t know any more of them in general.
Peter somehow went to Costa Rica and set
up a tourist fishing and touring business, not sure about Peter.
I feel sure that both Peter and Luke
Gorinsky went to MSB.
So just in case they did I wanted you
both to know.
Cheers
Tim.
---------------------------------------------------------------------.
Date: 19
August 2022
I just heard that Peter Gorinsky passed away this morning in Costa Rica.
His brother Luke spoke with Peter last
night and he was in good spirits and was planning a fishing trip.
Peter has had an assortment of medical
concerns over the past few years.
R.I.P.
Pedro
----------------------------------------------------------------.
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.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Photo:
60LK0001LKEMAR, Ladislao Kertesz with
Kitty Marcus
60LK0001LKETC, Ladislao Kertesz at the
Tennis courts
60LK0001LKE, taking shower before entering
the pool
09LK2933LKEGRP, Fr, Augustine, Ladislao
Kertesz and Fr. Cuthbert