How can I forget the first time I went to the library with my mother at age 8? I read the five books in one day. Thanks to her, my sister and I just love to read. How many times have we discussed about a book that the three of us had read? She loved to read interlinked novels like the ones of Zola, Balzac, Quebec author Michel Tremblay and Manitoba’s Gabrielle Roy and so many more. Mom, you would be proud to know that your little boy reads too since you are gone. Thanks to you, I am sure!

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Before his marriage to my mother, my father was an aircraft mechanic and had the opportunity to work in the Canadian Northwest Territories (which are now known as Nunavut) near Yellowknife during half a year. Our family 8mm color film collection contains a huge reel that only shows boring (and silent!) faded white images (snow, snow, snow) (!). My parents exchanged letters during these long months but they have destroyed all of them after their wedding. They said that those letters were meant to be read only by them and nobody else. I can understand, some things must remain private.

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Picking up the “winning” letters always meant a little competition between my mother and sister while playing a game of Scrabble. Sometimes, all excited to have found a word with her letters (thanks to her memory), my mother would triumphantly put her tiles on the game board. « Mom, what are you doing?! » My mother would respond: « This word exists, you want to challenge it? » And my sister to say: « Uh… Well, you have to attach your word to one letter already on the board, not just place it on the cell Triple Word Score! »

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Isn’t a genealogist’s dream to have such a great picture? Yes, I know, you are wondering what is so special about it. This photo was taken about 15 years before my parents’ wedding. My parents were cousins you see and this picture is the only one I have of them before they fell in love. My mother told me that my father helped her with her homework (he was more than 10 years her senior). I found this very touching knowing that my father did not have the chance to go to school after the third grade of elementary school.

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My parents, then engaged, went on vacation at Pension Langlois, on Lac Sainte-Marie, in Nominingue with of course my maternal grandmother. My mother told us that she was a very strict chaperon and if on the 8 mm film she’s frowning at one point it’s because our lovebirds were out of sight a bit too long according to my grandmother’s rules. No more than 15 minutes for sure; I cannot imagine her being distracted for that long! They had such a great time on that vacation. All their photos say so. Enough to bring their kids vacationing there in the ’60’s.

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Before her marriage, even if my mother would make all her dresses by herself from sewing patterns, the fabric, the prints and the colors that she chose made them quite unique. There are several that I found remarkable but the one I prefer is this one. Probably because she wears it in an 8mm color home movie that was filmed in Nominingue in the Hautes-Laurentides region where she was vacationing with her mother (as her chaperone!) and my father before their marriage. The dress was black and white and the collar and the bow on the back were yellow.

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My mother always had a special feeling for her son. The only boy in the family and also the youngest child, my sister and I always thought that our brother was mom’s favorite. My mother would answer: “He’s my little boy!”. Her little boy often teased her about her hair when she would come back from the hairdresser on Friday nights, just like on this picture. He thought her hair looked like an helmet. You know, that astonishing hairstyle which consisted of plumping up your hair with a comb? It took an European vacation to make her loose that style!

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How can I tell about some of my mother’s life special moments and leave music out? When we were young, the radio was always on. No doubt about it, we have inherited our love for music from her. If as a teen her idol was French-Corsican legendary Tino Rossi, the music she adored above all was the one of the great Frantz Schubert. My mother was not an adventurous woman but after my father’s death she went all by herself to Vienna and Salzburg where she attended numerous classical concerts. Vienna was one of her best memories. Until the end.

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Just imagine this. My sister and I are at a sporting goods store requesting some advice from the seller. My mother doesn’t have hiking boots. We would like her to have something that would provide more stability for the foot and ankle. My sister says: “Just so you know, she has no intention of climbing Mt. Washington!” Our first time out hiking with my mother is in New Hampshire. Here we are on a long hiking trail but we intend to walk only a mile or two. And me to say: “Look, it goes right up to Mt. Washington’s summit!”

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