Késsinnimek - Roots - RacinesMon Petit Coin by Norm Léveillée
Joyeux Noël & Bonne et Heureuse Année à tous
This village was founded towards the end of the 19th century by the English owners of Interlaken Mills to receive the French-Canadian immigrants from the province of Québec who came to work in the textile mills along the Pawtucket River. Many of the men of these families came here first to secure work in the mills, either in the various machinery rooms or as a yardman. These men stayed here for several months even a year to establish a home for their family. Then, with a house and a secure job, they brought their family to this village. Eventually, a priest from Québec immigrated and the families built a church for their pastor and for themselves.
Such was the case with my family and my relatives. The families of Léveillée, Bélanger, Massé, Théroux, Morin, Chatelle, Chaput, Martin, Collard, Blanchette, Gervais were those with whom we associated. They came from Québecois villages such as St-Aimé, St-David, St-Michel, St-Robert, St-Nazaire ... Most of the 25 families in this village were all related. If I did something wrong on the western side of the village, by the time I got home on the eastern side, my mother already knew what I had done. There were no secrets here. It was really one big family - happy, most of the time. The days and nights surrounding the Holy Days of Christmas and New Year were the most joyous for all of us, children as well as adults.
Let me reminisce a bit about Christmas. Like everyone else, each of us prepared for this Holy Day - the birthday of our Redeeming Savior - both spiritually and materially. On the material side, we planned what gift or gifts we would make or buy for each of our family members. My mother always liked kitchen utensils most of all. So, I looked through the utensils to see which one appeared to be the most worn out. Upon finding it or them, I had my plan for her gift already in mind. Then it was my father's turn. He liked just about any gift. I inherited this trait from him. For him and for me, we enjoyed, and I continue to enjoy, any type of gifts, as along as it was a gift. You've heard of the saying, "It is better to give than to receive!". Well, I think that my dad and I, not seriously though, had that saying in reverse! I remember one gift that made him extremely happy. That was a brand-new hoe; the old one had bent and was no longer pointy. For you see, my father always had a huge garden with all sorts of vegetables, which my mother would put in "canning" jars for the winter. My father and his older brother Joseph also supplied most of the relatives and others in Harris village with fresh vegetables during harvesting season. These villagers also "canned" the produce for winter use. Thus, during the festive meals of the holidays we enjoyed sweet corn, tomatoes, peas, string beans ... A gift for my sister was the easiest to plan. She loved dolls, so each year, she got a new doll from me - nothing elaborate but a doll just the same. And my gift from my family usually had to do with the subject of baseball - a glove, a bat, a ball. Our parents made sure that we did not forget to get a gift for baby Jesus, for after all, Christmas was His birthday. I recently came across a story entitled "Le rêve de Marie - Mary's Dream". My granddaughter read this story at our family reunion this past Christmas. Here it is:
All the women in the village planned their menu carefully. There would be turkey, ham, chicken, pork, mashed potato, corn, squash, carrots, beets, some fresh, some canned, desserts of all kinds,pies, cakes, cookies, and of course the tourtière - the traditional pork pie. My maternal grandfather, Gédéon Bélanger, raised a pig each year and it was meat from that animal that filled our "toutières". The vegetables, of course those which were "canned" by my mother, came from my father's and my uncle Joseph's garden, which I weeded, not so cheerfully as I recall, for much of my youth.
And there was the "arbre de Noël", the Christmas tree gotten from the local farmer, Mr. Cleaf, or from the chicken farm of Mr. Gee where my dad, and I, later on as a teenager, worked part-time. Lights, tinsels, ornaments, both bought and made, filled our tree, ready for the gifts to be placed underneath by Père Noël - Father Christmas - or by others.
Happening side by side with the material, there was the spiritual preparation. All the villagers were members of the Notre-Dame-du-Bon-Conseil parish, a ten minute walk from Harris Village. All the children went to the parish school, run by the Sisters of the Presentation of -Mary. Sisters St-Aimé, St-Anthony, St-Oscar, Ste-Marie and Ste-Bernadette prepared us well by our reading the Bible and other stories about the Nativity. We heard stories from our teachers and our parents about the festivities of the "bon vieux temps" - the good old days. I remember kneeling after supper at my "Mémère Bélanger" to recite the rosary during the season of Advent. She had created a simple Advent wreath with four candles. When I was older, I was permitted to light the candles, one at the beginning of each of the four weeks of Advent. Our priests prepared us with homilies dealing with the gospel of the day - the preparation for the coming of our Savior. The church was decorated along that theme. A special emphasis was placed on the music, decoration and prayers for the traditional Messe de Minuit - Midnight Mass, at which almost all of the parishioners attended, even the little ones.
Throughout the Advent or preparation season, all of us children speculated on what gifts we would receive, who would get which part of the Altar Boy services, which adult would be asked to sing the "Minuit chrétien" - O Holy Night - solo, who would be invited to whose home for the Réveillon - the feast after midnight mass, and how much snow would there be for these holy days.
Christmas Eve - la veille de Noël - was, and is for me, a very special day of all the holy and festive days. My family would leave our home around 11h00pm to head for church. I remember walking to this midnight service, and also as we moved further away from the church in my father's 1938 Chevrolet. We left that early for the midnight mass to make sure that we had a seat up front so we could see and hear everything. We were not the only family to leave that early for many of us arrived in plenty of time to hear the choir sing traditional carols. The moment most remembered by me was when the organ intoned "Minuit chrétien - O Holy Night" and the soloist, a male one year and a female another year, began to sing the carol that brought tears to my father's eyes. As I look back in my mind's eye, I gulp when I hear that song because it reminds me so vividly of my father and his joy at hearing this song. The priests preceded by altar boys brought the Infant Jesus and placed the statue in the crêche during this song. I fondly remember my serving as an altar boy on several Christmas Eve services. As I walked out of the sacristy, I would always look at my parents, especially my father and his joyful tears running down his cheeks during the singing of the "Minuit chrétien" song.
When I was real young, it seemed to me that the Christmas Eve mass lasted an eternity. It might have been because I was wondering what presents would be there, under our tree, for me, for the others. I remember later on reading a story in French about a priest of olden times having to say the three masses of Christmas one right after another. All he was thinking of was the "Dinde - turkey" that was cooking in the rectory. I felt at times like that priest, except that this was only one High Mass to get through. Eventually, we did arrive home.
The Réveillon, which means "Let's stay awake", was a family tradition that was no longer observed in our family after my father died in 1965. However, up until that year, our family always invited one or two other families to come to our home to celebrate the birth of Jesus with a festive "Réveillon". The adults drank coffee, tea or wine, the children milk or juice. We ate pork pies - tourtières - made by my mother. We had a Bûche de Noël - a Christmas Yule Log - that my mother had made the day before. It was a beautiful white cake shaped like a log with scrumptious chocolate icing and mint icing for the small leaves that still were left on this log. It represented the huge log placed in the fireplace to last through the three Christmas Masses and into early morning. The Réveillon for us children was the time when we opened the gifts that Père Noël - Father Christmas - had left for us while we were at midnight mass. And while we ate and drank, we kept thinking of what the gifts were. Finally, we finished our feast in time to open the gifts. There were never many gifts, but the ones that we did receive were what we had prayed for, and had sent a note to Santa Claus. This was an exciting time for the children. Now, when I see our grandchildren open their gifts on either Christmas Eve or on Christmas morning, I remember the thrill of opening my Christmas presents when I was a child. I relive my past in the present through my grandchildren. After going to bed in the early morning hours and awakening bright and early, we spent the rest of Christmas day at home within the family, for us children, playing with our gifts, and for the adults, a quiet time.
The next big holy day for us was "Le jour de l'an - New Year's Day". After attending Mass, our family visited our grandparents, both maternal and paternal. I remember especially my Pépère Joseph Léveillée welcoming us into his home, all of us, sons, daughters, grandchildren, aunts, uncles, cousins. Each one of his children would kneel before him to receive the paternal blessing. My father carried out this tradition right up to his death. Unfortunately, I let it die with him. The one thing that I disliked about this day's activities was the wishing of "Bonne et Heureuse Année - Happy New Year" to my "cousines - female cousins", because it meant that I had to kiss each one three times on the cheeks. For a male youngster, this was not the most pleasant of duties. However, that was just a small price to pay for a wonderful day of meeting everyone, eating the best of foods prepared by our "Mémère" - pork pies galore, turkey, ham, vegetables of all kinds, and best of all, desserts of all kinds - pies, cakes, cookies, my Tante Ida's fudge. Whew! We could hardly move after this festive meal - actually, the meal lasted all day, as long as we stayed there, as many of our relatives came and went.
I have combined both of these wonderful holy days or holidays into one annual Family Reunion of my family and my sister's family, much like we used to do on Christmas Eve after my father died and my mother was still living. We let this lapse for several years. But now, we meet on the Sunday before Christmas. We share stories of old. We prepare a meal along the lines of our family traditions. I usually prepare a presentation along with the four grandchildren on some aspect of our family ancestry, for the original four children: my own two and my sister's two. One year, it was about the Léveillée-Bélanger ancestry; another year, it was about our Algonquin ancestor; another, about our cousin Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha; and still another about our other cousin Blessed Dina Bélanger. There is always a packet with a document on that aspect of our genealogy. At times, there is also a videotape, or like this year a DVD voiced-over by me about Dina, Jardin de l'amour - Garden of Love. It is a wonderful time to relive and feel the family traditions, the ties of love and feasting binding us once again, like of the "vieux temps - the olden times" as one big, happy family. However, now it is not in Harris Village, but in our land in West Greenwich, Rhode Island, where my sister and I are surrounded by our children and grandchildren in our homes, like a smaller version of Harris Village.
To all, a bit belated, but still genuine and family oriented,
Joyeux Noël & Bonne et Heureuse Année
Merry Christmas & Happy and Prosperous New Year!
Amitiés & Zôbi Widôbaid & Métañdossañtz8añgan & Nidi-nwendaginag,
Norm
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La Bénédiction Paternelle (The Paternal Blessing)
