The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

Page 5 THE VOLUNTEERS CORNER -- by M. L. Chapman What does the word "archives" conjure up in your mind's eye? -- a dull place in which to work -- shelves filled with dusty old junk from the past -- this is the nineties, v/ho cares about the past -- life was never like that -- they're a waste of money and space -- no one ever looks at it? V/ell, in some ways this is true -- until you spend a few hours, elbows deep in the boxes of dusty material that face you and the magic begins. A brochure, an old newspaper, a programme, photographs, letters, diaries, and all your own memories that have been locked away in the deepest corners of your brain suddenly come alive again and you and your fellow workers are laughing and talking about all their own memories and your digging has started. All too soon your working-day is over but somehow, as if there is a magnet hiding in the remaining boxes, you know you can't wait to return again and again, to finish the job. Slovi/ly you realize that you are nov; suffering from that dreaded affliction known as "museumarchivalitis", or to put it in more modern terms "you are hooked". But fear not -- no daily criminal offences will be necessary to maintain your addiction -- just a constant flow of West Vancouver archival material with a touch or two of museum items is all that is needed to keep that smile on your face, with a good supply of volunteers to ease the load of the faithful few v;ho are doing all the work. Are you getting the urge? Feeling guilty? Seriously though, I can vouch for the above. After 3^ years, 3 days a week, I am constantly amazed at how a picture or a name will trigger a conversation that will always add more interest to the material at hand. You drop a pebble in a quiet pool and then watch the ripples spread! A few days before the Christmas break Eleanor Hill, a new volunteer, was amused by the nick-name "Bubbles" that appeared in some of the work she was doing. As Eleanor has only been in West Vancouver for about eleven years I enlightened her with the facts that this young lady grew up and married my favourite high school teacher for whom I had cast my very first vote. She responded "Oh he was Minister of Fisheries!" and then told me that while she and her husband and family were living in Trinidad, because she was a Canadian, she was asked if she would like to take the visiting Minister's wife around Trinidad for the day while he attended to some other business. Starved for some real Canadian conversation Eleanor was only too glad to comply, and these two strangers had a wonderful day. From then on more wonderful stories emerged. It seems that Eleanor's doctor-husband, Ted, had a hobby -- a passionate love of flying, particularly the pioneering days especially in Canada, and has even had to move to a larger apartment to accommodate his collection! For several years he had been corresponding and exchanging photographs and other memorabilia with our very own and much admired former bus driver Frank Ellis and upon moving to Vancouver in the 1970s was finally able to meet Frank. Unfortunately Frank was now a resident of Altamont Private Hospital and fretting about all his papers, books, models etc. at home that were being damaged by dampness and a leaking roof. After storing some of the material with Bas Collins for safe-keeping Ted was able to take a couple of boxes at a time to the nursing home where he and Frank sorted them out for their respective archival destinations across Canada and Frank was able to depart this world knowing all his material was in safe hands -- THANK YOU TED. Incidently, if there are any aspiring novelists or playwrites out there, our archives have copies of pages & pages of much of Ted