Froshing: A Rite of Passage

Submitted by Aaron Jeans

Through living in residence this semester, many traditions arise, especially those relating to rites of passage. The rite of passage for residence is a complicated one. A “frosh” must simply be at the beck and call of the seniors for when they may ask them to do something daring or chore-like. A senior will simply say “I frosh you to…” and the freshman must do it.

This is a ritual practiced around many schools around the world, and often leads to dangerous consequences. Several fraternity deaths have been linked to water intoxication in the US, from seniors forcing freshmen to drink massive amounts of water as their initiation. My own experience was slightly less terrible but not good either.

On our first night of inhabiting Guy Court, the seniors next door whom I met earlier in the day presented me with beer with the phrase “I frosh you to drink this”. It was warm, and gross. Throughout the night, lukewarm alcoholic beverages were passed around to me and my freshmen cohorts. It was as unpleasant as it was a mild initiation and therefore bizarre.

The interesting part of these initiation routines is what happens if you do not engage in the forms of play constructed by the generations of students. You are the subject of ridicule amongst your court/house for your lack of pride, involvement, and showmanship, and seniors will routinely flip your mattress over with all of your sheets (and for bonus points, a person) on top. At the end of each semester, a gathering will be arranged to give out comedic and playful awards to each member of the court/house. The one (there is always just one) freshman who decides not to participate in anything is rewarded the dreaded title of “Worst Frosh”, and will be known by this for the rest of his time in the house, should a change in behaviour not occur.

The separational phase had me wearing a Guy Court shirt while drinking copious amounts of beer unwillingly. I outlined the transitional phase as the point in time where they actually stopped feeding us the warm alcoholic beverages (or they ran out, it is unclear). The incorporated phase was the next morning where they had officially told us we could take the shirts off (Paton College freshmen sometimes wear the shirt all semester).

Overall, Burton’s Pond contains one of the most mild initiation stories I have ever heard come out of a university. We were basically given free liquor (although in it’s disgusting room temperature form) and throughout the night the feeling of being an “outsider” was never present. Perhaps we were given the easy treatment, we don’t know. Only time will tell, as the next batch of freshmen approach Fall Semester 2012, and with them, my own little brother.

Cod Au Gratin


Submitted by Alyssa Williams-Hutchings


Cheddar cheese over fresh cod fish with a white sauce, basically.

Cod Au Gratin is a big deal in my family, my grandmother has been making it for years and it has to be one of my favorite things to eat. Every year on my birthday my grandmother makes it, it’s special to her and in my opinion no one can make it quite like her. When I was a child my mom made an attempt at making Cod Au Gratin, it  was truthfully one of the most disgusting things I had ever eaten. But, A for effort, she tried her best.

Food is a bonding experience in my family; we all learned how to cook in my grandmother’s kitchen and when we gathered there would always be food involved. Cod Au Gratin was one of the first things my grandmother tried to teach me how to make, seven year old me was not very good at it. I don’t think anyone’s Cod Au Gratin tastes quite as delicious as my grandmothers.

So, how is this home? I don’t live near my grandmother so I don’t get to see her very often so every time I eat Cod Au Gratin whether it is her’s or at a restaurant I can always think back to the time I tried to make it with her.

Baking with my Grandmother

 


Submitted by Anna Kean

“Food does not simply symbolize social bonds and division; it participates in their creation and recreation” - David E. Sutton

I’m sure many of us in class have had some experience making something in the kitchen with a grandparent or other family member.  For me, the childhood memories which stand out most are those of making desserts with my maternal grandmother.  It wasn’t often that I would get to see her: I lived in St. John’s and she was about an hour and a half away in Branch, St. Mary’s Bay.  But, whenever I did get to visit, she always had something different planned for us to make.  Not only was it something that she and I would look forward to but the rest of the family did as well because they got to enjoy the finished product.  My favourite dessert to make with my grandmother was always cupcakes because we always had inventive ways to decorate them.  We would go to the little corner store across the street and buy candies, cookies, marshmallows, etc. to don our cupcakes.  This also happened to make me somewhat popular with other kids in the town because they loved to come see what we had baked and then we, of course, would share with everyone.  Two Christmases ago, about two weeks before she suffered a fatal stroke, my grandmother came to my house for the holidays and we baked dessert for the last time, Christmas themed truffles (reindeer pictured above), so the tradition carries a particular sense of nostalgia for me today.

“The impression of the past, rather than the past itself, is what makes it a useful symbol.” – Diane Tye

Up In Flames.

Submitted by Chelsea Hillier

Rain, Shine, Snow, Hot or Cold! My family truly does not care what circumstances we must endure, if it is Saturday and the people are around a fire will surely be burning. We have actually built a shelter so that on those drizzle filled summer evenings, the wimpy ones have something to keep their heads dry! 

This is more of a ritual for my family. I recently brought a boyfriend home from St. John’s to meet the family. This event took place in March, and the true test went ahead! My family cooked BBQ and had beer and wine and then lit the fire. He was astonished at how late we stayed out. My mother told him “Don’t mind that snow, head down by the shed there and grab me a few more logs would ya? I needs to stog the fire with dry wood. Once that’s burned now, city boy, we will head in and go to bed. It ain’t two yet, don’t you mind the weather!” He passed, that’s for sure; he sat there until the cinders were all that was left!

There are many things that happen on our traditional Saturdays! I am asked to play a few family favourites on the guitar, and everyone sings along with me. Stories are shared, Jokes are made and battles are resolved! 

There is plenty of room around our cozy little fire pit, it may look crowded every Saturday with aunts and uncles, Grandparents, parents, friends, and neighbors but it is never full. The pit can still listen to a few more secrets, sit by a few more tears and a few more smiles!

Young Folk at the Hall Submitted by Morgan Seward My entire life has been about music. Everything I do relates to in in some way, shape or form. Growing up I was surrounded by it. My Mom, who has the voice of an angel, was always singing around the house and playing the guitar and my two older brother would be playing their instruments. When Mom’s brothers would visit each would pick up a guitar and my kitchen would be filled with the sweet sounds of their melodic voices and perfect harmonies that were never rehearsed. When her sisters would visit, they too would sing. Needless to say I grew up to be a musician. There’s a few events related to music each year that I enjoy. One of them is call Young Folk at the Hall. It’s two weekends of a month where kids of all playing levels get together in groups with mentors from the music community of St. John’s to practise traditional songs that they perform in a concert at the end of the second weekend. This is a fantastic event and it doesn’t matter what you play or how well you play, everyone learns something new about their playing during this event. It brings the young folk community together. I have participated and I must say, it’s amazing what two weeks of rehearsal can do for a bunch of strangers. Another event I look forward to is the Newfoundland and Labrador Folk Festival. Every year for the past 35 years, thousands of people gather in Bannerman Park to listen to music, learn to dance, but home-goods, and crafts. It’s a great representation of how “folk” just doesn’t mean music. It’s getting together with people that you only see during those three days, it’s about buying a jar of partridgeberry jam that someone made in their kitchen, it’s about dancing, and it’s about doing whatever it is you do to make the festival special. I have attended this event as a spectator, volunteer and a performer and I have to say, no matter your role, everyone is equal. I think that everyone should attend at least one event at the Folk Festival. It helped me discover that being a Newfoundlander isn’t just about Screech, Purity products or pineapple crush, it’s about community.

Young Folk at the Hall

Submitted by Morgan Seward

My entire life has been about music. Everything I do relates to in in some way, shape or form. Growing up I was surrounded by it. My Mom, who has the voice of an angel, was always singing around the house and playing the guitar and my two older brother would be playing their instruments. When Mom’s brothers would visit each would pick up a guitar and my kitchen would be filled with the sweet sounds of their melodic voices and perfect harmonies that were never rehearsed. When her sisters would visit, they too
would sing. Needless to say I grew up to be a musician.


There’s a few events related to music each year that I enjoy. One of them is call Young Folk at the Hall. It’s two weekends of a month where kids of all playing levels get together in groups with mentors from the music community of St. John’s to practise traditional songs that they perform in a concert at the end of the second weekend. This is a fantastic event and it doesn’t matter what you play or how well you play, everyone learns something new about their playing during this event. It brings the young folk community together. I have participated and I must say, it’s amazing what two weeks of rehearsal can do for a bunch of strangers.


Another event I look forward to is the Newfoundland and Labrador Folk Festival. Every year for the past 35 years, thousands of people gather in Bannerman Park to listen to music, learn to dance, but home-goods, and crafts. It’s a great representation of how “folk” just doesn’t mean music. It’s getting together with people that you only see during those three days, it’s about buying a jar of partridgeberry jam that someone made in their kitchen, it’s about dancing, and it’s about doing whatever it is you do to make the festival special. I have attended this event as a spectator, volunteer and a performer and I have to say, no matter your role, everyone is equal. I think that everyone should attend at least one event at the Folk Festival. It helped me discover that being a Newfoundlander isn’t just about Screech, Purity products or pineapple crush, it’s about community.

The Old Jail Submitted by Erika Carson When I was younger, I attended a “group sleepover” at The Old Jail in St. Andrews, New Brunswick. St. Andrews is a loyalist town located very close to the border with the United States. Two summers in a row with a group a friends we would stay a night in the basement of the old jail and be told ghost stories and given a tour. St. Andrews is about a 30-minute drive from my hometown, and is full of historical sites and haunted legends. Although these nights stays were meant for kids between ages 8-10, they were true stories and caused extreme discomfort for many people who stayed there. People weere executed at the jail in the basement where we stayed & many prisoners escaped.  When I was younger I did not believe many of the tales told, but when looking back today I realized many of them were not made and up the jail stories where real. My question is why would our parents send us to these strange one night stays with a group of friends and pay the money for us to have nightmares for the next few years? I think it’s clear now, that back when I was younger my parents used the fear tactic of “jail is a scary place, so don’t commit crimes” method so that as I grew up I always remembered the nights there and the stories that were told. The jail was built in 1832 and a strong part of Charlotte County history, where many citizens lost their lives in that basement.  I remember as child certain kids not making it through the entire night and they were looked at as “whimps”. As a child staying the entire night it gives you a sense of strength, like overcoming your fears of monsters and ghosts.

The Old Jail

Submitted by Erika Carson

When I was younger, I attended a “group sleepover” at The Old Jail in St. Andrews, New Brunswick. St. Andrews is a loyalist town located very close to the border with the United States. Two summers in a row with a group a friends we would stay a night in the basement of the old jail and be told ghost stories and given a tour. St. Andrews is about a 30-minute drive from my hometown, and is full of historical sites and haunted legends. Although these nights stays were meant for kids between ages 8-10, they were true stories and caused extreme discomfort for many people who stayed there. People weere executed at the jail in the basement where we stayed & many prisoners escaped.  When I was younger I did not believe many of the tales told, but when looking back today I realized many of them were not made and up the jail stories where real. My question is why would our parents send us to these strange one night stays with a group of friends and pay the money for us to have nightmares for the next few years? I think it’s clear now, that back when I was younger my parents used the fear tactic of “jail is a scary place, so don’t commit crimes” method so that as I grew up I always remembered the nights there and the stories that were told.

The jail was built in 1832 and a strong part of Charlotte County history, where many citizens lost their lives in that basement.  I remember as child certain kids not making it through the entire night and they were looked at as “whimps”. As a child staying the entire night it gives you a sense of strength, like overcoming your fears of monsters and ghosts.


Crochet

Submitted By Emma Hickey

My family has a long tradition of crafting. Two summers ago when I learnt that I was going to become an aunt to two little girls (one for each brother) I set about trying to find my crafting niche to make homemade gifts for them in the years to come. I thought that needlepoint was my niche, but after a very short and brief crochet lesson from my mother, I have never turned back. The women in my family have passed on the same
patterns for generations, and many are talented enough to simply look at a piece of crochet and figure out the pattern to create their own. My great-grandmother used to mail small pieces of crochet to her illiterate sister who could not read a pattern, but could read a piece of fabric.

Crochet, derived from the French crochet (“hook”) involves using one hook (versus two knitting needles) to create a piece of fabric, one stitch at a time. Crocheting can be used to create a number of different items including blankets, clothes, and toys. The women in my family have used crocheting for both decorative and practical purposes. In the home crochet could be found in the kitchen as pot holders, dish cloths, and oftentimes
decorative crocheted edges would be added to table cloths and handkerchiefs to make them prettier. Crochet was used to create lace, used as table runners, fabric for wedding gowns, or just as doilies to decorate a table or dresser. For me crochet is an aspect of play. I love to crochet and since I have learnt this craft I’ve taught myself many more stitches and patterns. I’ve made several blankets and toys, all gifts for other
friends— I’ve yet to crochet something for myself to enjoy!

Photos, clockwise from from top left:

1) Three pot holders: the two red ones were crocheted by my great grandmother, and the blue one was crocheted by my mother when she was 8 years old, following the same pattern.
2) On the left, a doily crocheted by my great-grandmother; on the right crocheted by my mother a couple of years ago using the same pattern.
3) My first ever completed piece of crochet- a “Granny Square” afghan, made for my niece Cecilia.
4) crocheted giraffe doll I made two weeks ago for my niece Trinity
5) The large blue blanket was made for my boyfriend in under 2 weeks; the light blue is still a work in progress (started last summer) and is a blanket I’m making for myself.

Petty Harbour

Submitted by Jordan Chafe

When I think of home, I think of Petty Harbour. When I think of family, I think of all the folks in my community. When I think of culture, I think of my Irish heritage. When I think of traditions, I think music. This year I was so fortunate to combine all those experiences into one memorable event.

Music has always been a big part of my life and my family folklore. Music has always been an important part of Newfoundland culture, with its style and traditions. Typically in Newfoundland, if you play traditional music, you play it in the traditional way. I was given a fiddle at the age of eight and was told to have fun with it, never being taught how to read sheet music. Playing by ear is an important part of our musical history and goes hand in hand with the oral traditions in Newfoundland. Often, music and song is shared orally, without using sheet music or writing down lyrics. It is through oral traditions that I learned music and the reason I continue to play music today.

Religion has also always played a big role in my life. Being from a small town, every event revolves around the church and it is the church that brings people together. This year we chose to put our focus on St. Patrick’s Day, a day that is meaningful for two reasons, the religious connotations of course and our rich Irish heritage. St. Patrick’s day in Petty Harbour involved going to mass and participating in a musical event of some sort, usually a community dance. This year however we decided to combine our love for music, our church and our community to put together a St. Patrick’s Day concert.

How is it home?

Everything and everyone to do with the organization and entertainment of the concert came from Petty Harbour. It was an opportunity for some to come home and reconnect and for others to dig out instruments and showcase their talents. Everyone in and from the community was invited to participate in our concert; the ages ranged from four years old to eighty-five.

When we put the words home and folk together we get home folk defined as folks from your hometown, the common people who determine the group character and preserve its customs from one generation to the next.

This is certainly the case for Petty Harbour. The folks and more importantly, my family of Petty Harbour influenced me not only musically but also with everyday life. I can only hope my character reflects what my community taught me and that our generation are making the older folks proud in continuing the musical culture they taught us. We shared in stories, in music, in knowledge, in laughter and working together to make this event happen, to me, that is home.

Locker Room Talk

Submitted by Andrew Wade

Locker room talk is something that comes hand in hand with sport. Being an athlete myself, I know what is said and the jokes and games that are played in a locker room. Usually, talk about the game that just occurred is first on the docket. Then usually we talk about specifics, such as a certain play or moment in the game that sticks out in our mind; then usually comes the evening’s events- what’s everyone doing and where are they going. The opposite sex is talked about a lot in a very vulgar manner but its apart of being a male around males. You put off a macho concept just to fit in. I call it the Macho Man Effect. Locker room talk would be a great research topic and hopefully some day it will
be done.

“Little Sally Water”

Submitted by Natalie Furey

There is a song called “Little Sally Water”. My mom used to sing this song to my sister Nicole and I when we were little. We would sit in a circle and one of us would get to be Sally. Sally would stand in the center and spin around as we sung the song. The lyrics are as follows: “Little Sally Water sitting in the sun, crying and weeping for someone to come, rise up, Sally, and wipe away your tears turn to the East, and turn to the West and turn to the one that you love best!”

I’m not sure where this song originated from but my mom said she used to play this game with her friends when they were children. I remember whenever my sister or myself would be chosen by our mother to be Sally we would be so excited and feel so lucky. This song is a part of my folklore and will always be special in my memories. We didn’t have enough people to really play the gamebut we would bring all of our teddy bears and dolls and sit them in the circle as if they were people. When we had to choose “the one that you like best” we would sometimes pick a doll or stuffed animal. My mom still remembers singing the song and playing the game, even though it was over 15 years ago. I hope to pass this game on to my nieces and nephews and my own children in the future.