L’ Histoire de Ma Famille
Actually, I’ve been trying to think of something deep and meaningful to say in today’s entry because all I’ve done to day is sleep, eat, read comics and forums, sleep and then eat again. There’s not much scintilating activity there.
So what would be deep and meaningful? What profundity does the depths of my mind contain?
I could choose to talk about how I feel about the cowards who, for their own sick pleasure and pure selfishness, sexually exploit children. Then again, I think I’ve gone on about them once or twice before. I could talk about a related theme of personal responsibility. Then again, I’ve also gone on about that too. I could talk about cake, but that’s not deep and meaningful. Well, it might be deep and meaningful, but unless it’s chocolate, it’s not profound.
I could talk about poop. Naw. Spaying or neutering your pet? That’s Bob Barker’s spiel. While I was typing I was overwhelmed by a desperate need to poop. As we all know, the best thinking happens upon the great porcelain throne. That’s where I came up with the idea of my ancestry.
For those that don’t know me, I’m 10-12th generation Canadian
My paternal ancestor, Damien, came over from France in the 1679. He was an artisan, a stone mason. He married a woman (I think her name was Genevieve, but it’s only an “I think”). She was “une fille de roi,” a daughter of the King. The king at the time was Louis XIV, the Sun King of France. She was one of many women sent over from France to marry the men who were there building up France’s new colony called, handily enough, New France. She was already a widow when she married Damien and had a few children. Before he died, she had a passel more kids. Damien and several of their children died around the same time, probably of some illness that tended to lay waste populations in that era. From those two people springs the line that leads to me.
The following photo is of my Grandfather, my Dad’s Dad. It was taken in 1907 when he was 22 years old. Rather rakish looking for a prim and devout Catholic man.
This next photo is of my Dad’s parents on their wedding day in 1917. Don’t you just love her dress? Though I have to say the corset thing would’ve been a bit of a turn off.
This is a photo of Dad and his brothers. From left to right, Uncle Louis, Uncle Joe (his real first name was “Flavius” but he hated it) and my Dad. See Uncle Joe’s curls? Dad had some too. Dad’s curls only show up when he lets his hair grow a bit. He generally keeps it short though. This photo was taken in 1923 sometime, probably before Dad was 1 year old.
This next picture is Dad when he was 2 years old in 1924. See the curls behind his ears?
Now it’s time to show Grandpa and Granny later in life. This photo was taken in 1939 not long before Grandpa was admitted to Fort San, the sanitorium for people who have tuberculosis. By that time Uncle Louis was in a Jesuit seminary, Uncle Joe was married and off beginning his family. So it was fell to my Dad to help take care of Granny and his two younger siblings. His dreams of becoming a doctor evaporated and he did what his father did. He became a station agent for a railway company. Dad wasn’t yet 20.
This is the last picture of Dad as a single man that I’m going to put up here. This was taken at the time when he got his commission during World War II. He was a navigator. Notice the one wing over his left chest pocket? That denotes his status as a navigator. He surely was handsome back then.
My maternal ancestors in the pictures I have, hail from the Odessa region of Ukraine. They were descended from the Germans that Catherine the Great of Russia brought from Germany to teach the Russian peasants how to be civilized. What ended up happening was the Germans and their descendents became a sort of “middle and upper class” in Russia and the peasants remained poor and downtrodden. Before the Russian revolution my great-grandfather decided to leave before things got really bad. The event that made him realize it was when some Cossacks came riding through town and rode right over, killing, a Russian peasant child of about 2 or 3 years old. Grandpa heard the stirrings and got his family out. Other relatives didn’t and were persecuted by the Bolshevics (you should have heard Gramma say that word – she spat it out like it was some horrible tasting piece of nasty – she didn’t like them much). The picture below is of my Great-Grandfather, Great- Grandmother, Great-Aunt Anna Marie (on g-gmother’s lap), my Grandmother (Mom’s Mom), and Great-Aunt Odenia (called Tillie for some reason).
They moved to Canada sometime in the early part of the 1900s. Grandma wasn’t sure of the year but it was the year of a coronation, so it was either of Victoria’s son, or shortly after that, his son. Victoria’s son didn’t reign for long because he was actually quite old when she finally kacked.
This next picture is at my Great-Grandparent’s 50th wedding anniversary. With my Great-Grands are the oldest and youngest of their grandchildren. That’s quite a span of years. Mom described Great-Gran as quite an upright and intimidating woman. I never got to meet her. She didn’t die until she was just under 100.
Then comes Mom. This picture was taken on the back steps of the house that they lived in 1929. She was under 1 year old. You can see the curls in her hair quite clearly. So I come by my curly locks quite honestly.
Mom became a nurse and graduated in 1949, the year before she married Dad.
This is the formal posing on Mom and Dad’s wedding day. The dress she was wearing is the most beautiful shade of ivory now. It has hand tatted lace, cloth covered buttons and has a long train. No girl in our family can wear it. Mom was only 4’11″ and weighed only 98 pounds when she married Dad. Both my sister and I are taller and larger (though my sister could give Mom a run for her skinny money) and my three nieces are amazons in comparison. Dad still fits in his wedding suite, except that the thighs of the pants are a bit tight. Dad has more muscle now at 83 than he did back then.
Photo Will Be Replaced When I Can Find My Backup Disc
When I was around 6 or 7 years old my Grandparents had their 50th wedding anniversary. I don’t remember much about it. I think this was taken at the time of their 50th but I’m not sure. Grandpa doesn’t look very lively. I know that he had glaucoma and was blind before he died. To be honest, it looks like it was taken sometime after they moved to British Columbia. anyway, this is the last photo I have of Grandpa.
I know, you’re all waiting for me to finally get to the good stuff…me. So without further ado, here’s me. This one was taken sometime in early to mid 1961. I don’t think I’m crawling yet.
Then there’s me doing what I loved to do. From the time I was able to crawl and get places there was one cupboard that I would empty out and crawl into. I did that for a long time. This photo was taken in early 1962, judging from the number of teeth I have I’m not yet 2 years old.
There you have it. That’s my ancestry and me.
What was your family like?