Family - by Robert

 

Top - Joel, Robert, Jack, Denis, Marcel

Alicia asked that I write about my family. She likes the stories we tell, whenever we all get together and laugh at events that took place, not only in our immediate family but also stories told by my parents, uncles, aunts and cousins. I had four brothers, Aunt Maggy lived with us for quite a few years, and Uncle Royal joined the family shortly after Richard (a border) left. Then there was Aunt Louise who would join us off and on depending on her situation. When uncle Royal got married, the upstairs of the house was converted to an apartment for him and his wife. Mind you by the time Uncle Royal got married, I had been away from home for sometime.

When Alicia’s parents first met the family, her Dad said to Alicia we were just like the Plouffe family. This was a television program about a family who lived in Montreal in the 50’s.

Both Alica’s parents were only children, so I guess we must have been quite different from them

I think I have a sense of humor passed down from my father. My father never laughed out loud, but when something was funny, he had this grin. My brother Denis has the very same look. Mom told us about going to the movies with Dad.

Aunt Louise

Apparently when there was a funny part in the movie, he would pinch her. Apparently when the movie was over, she had bruises on her arm. Dad, I would say, had a bit of a mean streak. I remember two Jehovah Witnesses, who came to our door. He invited them in. He had them sit down, then he went upstairs to Uncle Leon’s apartment and asked grandma to join them. Grandma came down with her bible in hand. After the introduction, dad turned the conversation over to grandma. The first mistake a Jehovah Witness made was quoting verses from the bible. Now grandma knew her bible almost by heart. Once a quote or partial quoted was made, grandma would finish the quote or point out other quotes that differed. Eventually, she asked to see their bible. She would look at the first few pages to find the imprimatur, which you will find on one of the front pages of a Roman Catholic bible. Not finding it, her comment was always, “No wonder, you don’t have the right bible.” It seemed to me at the time, quoting scripture back and forth for a long time. They were invited for supper, but they declined. For some reason we never saw them again.

One day a Fuller Brush man appeared at the door. Grandma was babysitting us at the time. She invited him in. He had this huge briefcase which he opened and began to talk about the brushes and other small articles for sale. At first he would point at one of the articles and tell her what the article in question was used for. By about the third article, he no longer bothered to point, but picked the article to show what you could use it for. A few times she would take the article from him and try it out herself. Perhaps due to frustration, he bypassed one brush going to the next. You couldn’t fool grandma, as she demanded to see what the brush he had bypassed did. He must have been showing the wares for at least an hour. Once had finished, perhaps she felt sorry for him, she did purchase one the smaller brush. Like the Jehovah Witness, I can’t recall ever seeing a Fuller Brush man again.

While I’m at it, Grandma Beaudin was a little eccentric. I remember suddenly hearing a loud clap of thunder, it was so loud, I was sure lightning had hit the house. Grandma shouted. “Come on Robert!” As she walked towards the door. “Come on!” She repeated as she opened the door. I thought we had to evacuate the house, as I ran to follow her. She stopped at the door, as I caught up to her. “Come and see God’s fireworks.” We stood there a few minutes as lightning flashed a couple times, but from the delayed sound the storm was passing on.

This next story is about when someone tried to snatch her purse. I didn’t witness it, but someone told me about it.   Apparently she was walking up the street, holding onto her handbag, when some dummy tried to steal her purse. She fell forwards and so did he. He tried to kick her, but she averted the kick somehow and bit on his achilles tendon. Neighbours were quick to come to her rescue and so was the patrol cop who was walking his beat. The policeman said to her. “You should have let him take your purse, it’s not worth getting hurt or even worse, for a few dollars in your purse.” She reached inside her dress and bra pulling out her change purse saying. “I don’t keep money in my purse, I keep it here.” Then added as looked down at pulling up the hem of her dress a little to bare her knees. “Who’s going to pay for the run in my nylons?”

Grandma always wore her hair braided and rolled up on her head. I only saw her hair down once. It was so long that it came down below her rear end. So white that it seemed to glow, as the sun was glowing through the window.

She played the harmonica, I don’t recall the tune, but it sounded great to me. One

time she slapped the harmonica against her hand to get rid of spit and passed it onto me. “Want to try it?” I blew on it, running it from side to side over my mouth. It sounded neat, but not much of a tune. I passed it back to her, after I had slapped a few times. Apparently she kept on playing it even when she was in the retirement home. Her choice of times when she would play caused a few complaints from other residents.

There was a song she sang often. I learned the refrain but it would be years before I learnt the full song. It’s a French song about an older woman with white hair asking the children around for a hug and kiss on the cheek, to help her forget her white hair. It goes on telling the children how fast life goes on. How she has experienced love, joy and sadness as those who have passed on. How children must respect their mother throughout her lifetime. To this day it always brings a lump in my throat when I hear it.  Souvenir d'un Viellard  (YouTube link if you wish to hear the song)

My brother Jacques for some reason was always afraid of her.

Marcel, Uncle Roy, Jack, Dad, Robert, Denis