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There is a group of guys – proud alumni of JCI from the 1960s – who hold a Golf Tournament & Reunion/Revival each year. We.ve been asked about  the people involved. What are they like? What keeps them interested in getting together? And, what have they done for the last 50 years or so?”

This short piece is  is not about any specific alumnus, but about us all. By all, I mean a group of about 50; a number that grows a little each year. We share a fascinating Jarvis experience, and are all about the same age. To a person there is a respect for Jarvis, for many of the teachers, coaches and each other. We enjoy golf and love to tell stories. We like to play and participate in the broadest sense of both words. Most importantly we are good friends. How we got to be is not a simple story. We came from very different places and backgrounds, but I’ll try to explain.



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We had different academic and social abilities too.  Some got dates whenever they wanted, others didn’t and a few actually “went steady.”  A couple in our group actually ended up dating the same girls at different times! There were some great students and some who liked Jarvis so much they stayed an extra year or more! Some were really good athletes and others not so much, but Jarvis teams and clubs gave us a sense of identity and created special bonds, not just with peers but with some special teachers and coaches as well.

Socially, we quickly realized that differences in outlook, food, religion, custom and personal approach didn’t matter. They were celebrated in a “matter-of-fact way” and even joked about from time to time. One thing each guy in our group had then and still has today is a good sense of humour. The term politically correct didn’t have the breadth of meaning that it does today; nicknames and the like were commonplace. There was no shortage of name-calling. We pulled stunts, told jokes and sometimes laughed at each other, which made it easy to laugh at ourselves. Does the fact that we became and remained friends imply thick skin or conscious tolerance? Not really, I think it reflects a good sense of humour and good natureness. These are traits and instincts that Jarvis allowed us to develop and which characterize our interactions today.

Your friend was your friend; your colleague on the field or in the club or your partner in Chem class was just that; it didn’t matter where the guy came from or what his folks did. We just – somehow naturally – became (lifetime!) friends. That’s why we still like to get together.

Despite being friends with common memories we are as diverse a group today as we were starting out. We have guys with kids, others with none. Some have been married for 30 or 40 years, others have been serial husbands! We grew up to become dentists, teachers, lawyers, company owners, food and beverage executives, club managers, accountants, civil servants and entrepreneurs who came to know a variety of sectors: electronics, telephone, automotive, plumbing, international banking, life insurance, government, travel, music and printing to name a few!

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Think of Jarvis like a boat full of teenagers… kind of a Minerva’s Ark if you will. The student body (and our group today) was made up of an incredible mix of people, personal histories, experiences, backgrounds and cultures. It mixed a few people like “this”, and a few like “that” and sent them on a voyage together. We were challenged immediately by some great teachers, many of whom were just starting out too. We faced greater competition academically, socially and athletically, and soon learned about the importance of getting along with new people. Jarvis was a forerunner of the society that all Canadians are still trying to perfect. A multi-cultural society where differences are understood, appreciated and enjoyed, but whose members share common bonds and objectives. I think we had this flexible society stuff nailed way back then.

There were groups of kids who already knew each other from their various public schools and there were other students who didn’t know anyone. There were the Toronto Island folk, National Ballet School kids, transferees from private schools and kids from every part of the downtown core – Regent Park, Rosedale, Danforth/Broadview, Cabbagetown and more. Some kids were from multi-generational Canadian families and many came from other countries.   Some lived two in two cultures: a “Canadian” life at school and an ethnic one at home; reciprocal visits to our new friends’ homes were always enlightening.

Many Jarvisites had been severely impacted by World War II.  Some were born in refugee camps.  Some families had been forced to live in Canadian internment camps for the duration of the war.  A few never knew their fathers who had died while serving the military.
There were also differences in family economic and social circumstances. There were kids who had divorced parents, some with single parents, and others with parents in long marriages.

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So, why do we like to reunite? First, there is the young kid in us. This side  remembers – and loves recalling – the problems, coups, fumbled balls and missed dismounts, a terrible math mark, a great teacher jumping  out of the closet to start a class, great coaches who inspired us,  wins and losses, girls and sock-hops,  playing sax with the desk vents  in Chemistry  class,  raiding the drink fridge in the gym, bus rides to games while singing “On Top of Old Smokey”, the JCI Fight Song, and “The Wild West Show”,  Cadets and marching in the halls when it was too rainy to have the annual Parade and Review outside, the eclectic coffee shop “La Voltaire” across the street (a communist hangout some thought), a small peep hole to the girls’  dressing room, having a Vice Principal confront some truant golfers at Don Valley, lobbing imaginary grenades in class, shooting some pool at Kerry’s,  hustling to Woodbine for the last two horse races, pick-up hockey and skating dates at Ramsden, Riverdale and Rosedale Parks, getting a Driver’s License, buying Suzukis,  the milk cart, the formal each year, trips to get patched up at Wellesley Hospital,  a French teacher  coaching a couple of hockey games, the strap , the odd fight in the school yard, the Beatle’s Contest, cokes at Paul’s Ranch House or the Columbus Grill, hair cuts at Cas & Joe’s, standing room and scoring cups at Leaf Games, Pecunia the Pig, the Magnet and so on. Re-sharing stories is great. What one guy forgets, another will remember, so getting together is not only a way of exercising our memory, but it imbues us with a renewed sense of humility.  The young kid survives with love and enthusiasm and just needs to keep getting out!

Second there’s a side of us that’s a little more mature. This side enjoys learning about what the others have done and how they made things work in their chosen lives. It’s great to share the post-Jarvis parts of life with people built on the same foundation. Ours is not a group of strangers, even though many years may have passed since the first seeds of friendship were sown. During our post-golf game “meetings” (which generally involves an extended period of adult beverages) some exaggerated stories and wild claims are tabled. Long ago it would have been easy to feel a little envious. But now we enjoy one another’s successes. We know our Jarvis friends did – and still do – make a difference in our lives; it’s okay to subconsciously take a little credit and feel good doing it.