Késsinnimek - Roots - Racines

SATURDAYS WITH ANTOINETTE

by Louise Dubrule

For years I called from Texas to Vermont to talk with my mother. We’d spend a half hour every Saturday chatting in French to bring each other up to date. When Mama died in 1992, I was lost on Saturdays so I began to call her sole surviving sibling, Aunt Pauline in Alma, Quebec. She had lost her only daughter, so we filled a need in each other’s lives. Then last year Aunt Pauline passed away suddenly at age 91, and I was at loose ends again for a French visit on Saturdays. Enter Antoinette Lafreniere, my cousin’s mother-in-law who lives in Claremont, New Hampshire. Out of the goodness of her heart, she agreed to step in and be my phone buddy on Saturdays. Over the weeks and months, I’ve learned a great deal about her early history, and I trust that you will find her story as fascinating as I did. I’ve paraphrased a bit, but in essence, these are her words.

My father was Evangeliste Joly. He grew up on a farm near Magog, Quebec and went to school until he was 13. During the winter months, his father left the family to go work in the lumbering camps to bring in a little extra money. When Grandmother Joly was a young girl of thirteen and living in Maine, she had learned to make moccasins from local Indian women. Now she made them with cowhide and that’s what the whole family wore. Papa convinced his father to let him go to the lumber camp so he could earn enough to buy himself a pair of “real” shoes. He worked like a man all winter from October to late March, and because he was a minor, his pay was given to his father. The envelope contained $4.50 for the winter’s work. His father gave him twenty-five cents for his share, and he kept the rest. Needless to say, Papa didn’t get his shoes, and he held the disappointment in his heart.

At age 14, Papa went alone to spend the winter in a lumbering camp in Stratford, Vermont, and this time he was able to keep all the pay…and he got his store-bought shoes. At age 15 he took a job at the Veneer Mills in Newport, Vermont, and he became a self-supporting man. At the Mills, he met the woman who would become his wife.

Mama was Eva Dauphin, the 12th of 13 children. Her family was originally from Danville, Quebec. Her father worked in the mines, but he had four children still at home to raise and he wanted a better life. He packed up the family and moved to Newport. Mama was thirteen years old at the time. Grandfather Dauphin died just six months after making the move. Grandmother continued to live in a house that had been built by the Veneer Mills. Papa and Mama moved in with her after they married. Grandmother made extra money by cooking the noon meals and feeding some workers from the mills at fifteen cents per meal.

Papa worked from 7 AM to 6 PM, six days a week for the salary of $1 per day. I was born, June 23, 1914, and around this time he received a pay raise of ten cents per day, making a grand total of $6.60 per week. There had to be something better, and the opportunity came when a friend told him about a machine shop in Claremont, New Hampshire, that had openings for a hard workers. Accordingly, when I was about 18 months old, the family relocated there and found an apartment that could be their own. But grandmother Dauphin, still in Newport, was not well and was lonely with only her youngest child, Henri, so after two years, we went back to live with her again for a while.

My little sister Jeanette was born, and a year later we settled in Montreal where Papa got a job with the Montreal Light and Heat Company, working the night shift. Mama’s sister lived just four streets away. In 1918, when Jeanette was 16 months old, she fell ill with the dreaded Spanish influenza. She took sick at 2 AM, she was dead at 4 AM; and at 6 AM two men came by with an open wagon and team of horses to pick up the infected dead. My little sister was carried away and buried in a mass grave with dozens of others, all before Papa could come home to say goodbye. I remember clearly seeing Mama and her sister with Jeanette in the kitchen in the dark of night.

In 1920, we returned to Newport, and then went on to Claremont again, this time for good. We arrived in May of that year, and in November my brother was born. I turned 6 years old, but Mama felt I was too young to go to school, and I didn’t speak a word of English anyway. I was finally allowed to start the next year, and for 8 years I went to a Catholic school and was happy. I started high school on schedule in September, but in April Mama became ill. At 9 PM she was sick, and at 9:15 PM she seemed to be at death’s door. She spent 6 weeks in bed, and then 4 months in a hospital recovering from a nervous breakdown. When she returned home, she was very changed, and it would be another three years before she was herself again.

I was 15 years old when Mama took sick. Finishing high school was out of the question: I was needed at home as there were five brothers and sisters, the youngest only 2. When I was 19 I got a job at the Woolworth 5 & 10 making $10 per week. I paid a lady $3 per week to come in and watch things while I was at work, and she thought that it was a wonderful arrangement.

I turned 21 and found employment at the Dartmouth Woolen Mill, working in the department that handled yarn before the weaving process. It took nearly a year before I learned all the tricks of the trade and became proficient, and I stayed with it for 10 years.

It was during that time that I met Benoit Lafreniere, and on August 25, 1938, we were married. I had always predicted that I would marry on the 25th wedding anniversary of my parents, and that’s what we did. My parents served as Best Man and Matron of Honor. Three years later, our first child was born, and I became a stay-at-home mother for the next 10 years. We had three boys followed by a girl who was stillborn.

When the boys were all in school, I decided to go back to work. I applied at several stores before hearing that there was going to be an opening at the Woolen Mill, in my old department. They needed someone with my experience so much that they allowed me to change the hours to accommodate my family: instead of starting at 7 AM, I began at 8:30. We didn’t have a car, so every morning a taxi came to pick us up. The boys were dropped off at school with their lunches, and I went on to work. A neighbor lady arranged to be home when the boys got out of school until I got home. I worked there another 25 years before retiring.

I still live in Claremont in the house my husband built, and it is just across a wide lawn from my son Paul and his darling wife Lorraine. I lost my beloved Benoit March 1, 1996. My blessings include 5 grandchildren and 10 great-grandchildren. I keep busy with crocheting, knitting, and working on a scrapbook that tells the story of my family. Someday one of those youngsters will want to know what and who came before them.

(It seems easy to sum up a life in a few paragraphs, but one must read between the lines to see the daily living that made up the years. For example, she talks about working at the mills for 25 years after the 10-year break in service, but during this time she was also a wife and mother and raised her three boys. This is a lady who grew up in tough times. She learned the lessons of life along the way, and she still has the ability to impart the wisdom of her experience. I look forward to hearing a lot more stories as long as we share Saturday visits.)

Késsinnimek - Roots - Racines
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