It's been many years since I've been there and it's not likely I'll get back, so the next best thing is armchair reminiscing, with some black and white photos, shared here with the kind permission of Luis L. Tijerina.
We got a visit this past week from a blizzard they named "Stella". All hope is now gone that our accumulated snow will be melted anytime soon.
Am adding some new, updated photos to the ones I posted a month ago. That peaked snowdrift in the back yard--were I in its middle--would be up past my shoulders.
A friend in Los Angeles reports hundreds of Canadian geese hunkered down in a nearby soccer field, and that they are on their way north. Yay. Meanwhile, indoor seed planting starts tomorrow.
Fred Pellerin, from a town not far from here. While at university here, he developed a thirst for stories, nostalgic for a time he did not know. Lulled by the stories of his grandmother, his neighbor Eugene, and his father, Pellerin has been recounting these older generations' memories and anecdotes, gossip and rumors of his village, Saint-Élie-de-Caxton.
The stories passed down to us tickle our curiosity about the past, resurrect early memories, make us think, make us laugh--stories we can still relate to--reminding us of who we are and where we came from, of those who preceded us, and the interest in hearing their stories retold. I'd like to think that those who follow us will pass our stories on as well.
"I am the son of a thousand fathers.
I did not come into the world.
It is the world that came to me.
And I was born yesterday."
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*Quebec license plates say Je me souviens ("I remember"), the official motto of the province.
To all those writers imprisoned, kidnapped and permanently "disappeared", ordered assassinated and brutally murdered, or slain in the field, for reporting the truth, from whichever country and whichever time, thank you for your courage and commitment. Thank you for your stories and research and photos, and for your example.