During 1969-72, I was a Technical Officer on Project Beagle, the building of the new sites at Masset, Queen Charlotte Islands; Gander, and Bermuda. At least every six weeks I was at one of those sites working with the contractors, (I know, serving one's country was hell in those days!)
When at Masset, I stayed at the Singing Surf Motel, the only place in town, although I can't ever recall the surf singing. The night custodian was a wizened, little old man named Hilbert Grem. Hibby, as the locals called him, was known to imbibe a little and would often go wandering the upper island. Whenever I returned to Masset, one of my first questions was "What's Hibby been up to?"
I assume that Hibby is long gone but I have fond memories of him and his antics. One of Hibby's lesser known abilities was as a poet and I've included a sample.
The Razor Clam
In the north beach sands lives the razor clam,
A retiring little critter that doesn't give a damn
He faces the world with his posterior,
While the surging tide cools his interior
He's like a ship without a rudder,
Where his head should be, he wears and udder
This brings to me a thoughtful frown,
He's like most of the guys in Masset town
Submitted by Bill Dyke
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