Tags
Cathy Bluteau, childhood, Church, exode, fanciful art, my father, Quebec, self-taught
Living in Colour, Cathy Bluteau
About my father
Childhood
My father was born to a poor family in Cookshire, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. He had a French-speaking mother and an English-speaking father. The two divorced when my grandfather decided to move to Massachusetts, where he could earn a living. He could not find work in Canada. That period in Canadian history is called l’Exode. Nearly a million French-Canadians and Acadians moved to the United States.
During that same period in the history of Quebec, the Church was very powerful. It made sure gifted children were educated, but not the son of a divorcée. So my father was entirely self-taught. He started working in a restaurant as cook and factotum at an early age.
Sherbrooke
When he reached adulthood, my father left his village to find employment in Sherbrooke, the nearest city. He was hired by the radio stations: the French radio station and its English-language counterpart. My mother, a singer, had her own radio programme. She presented the music of famous composers. At first, my father was her assistant. He chose records for her and returned them to the proper shelf.
The Lake & Opening Soon, Cathy Bluteau
World War II
However, my father was soon needed elsewhere. World War II had begun and he had been studying intensively and extensively. He was named chief engineer for both radio stations. They were understaffed, so father was also a speaker and he wrote radio dramas. He loved it.
Love & Marriage
Meanwhile, my mother had fallen in love with the young man from Cookshire. Some members of her family opposed their marriage. He was the son of a divorcée and had been raised in poverty. But my maternal grandmother had liked my father from the moment she met him. She was a strong woman, a widow. After her husband’s premature death, she had run the family business, flour mills, with my grandfather’s partner. She sold her shares when she realized she and her children were financially secure.
When my father’s employers learned that he was marrying into my mother’s family, they raised his salary substantially and housed the young couple where the transmitters were located. We lived in a large brick house. It was a very old house, but it was home. It was destroyed after we left Quebec.
Comfort, Cathy Bluteau
The Children Died
My parents wanted children, but my father was diagnosed with a congenital blood disease. A few of their children were born healthy, but most died. A cure was found so my father’s life was saved, as well as my sister Thérèse’s life. She is now deceased. Every year, we were burying yet another brother or sister. These were the bad old days when one had to buy health-insurance from an insurance company. The company soon refused to pay our medical bills, but my father’s employers were very generous. So life was nevertheless good.
Home Sweet Home, Cathy Bluteau
The 1950s
We had dear friends: a Belgian couple, in particular. We shared a summer home with them near the Benedictine monastery at Saint-Benoît-du-Lac. The arrival in Quebec of a large number of Europeans, French Jews, members of the Vichy government and people who wanted to live in a peaceful country, changed Quebec for the better.
As a sound engineer, my father had built a high fidelity system and aficionados gathered at our house. He also built systems for friends, but he was not comfortable with the latest technologies. He therefore went to visit a friend in Victoria, British Columbia, loved Victoria, found employment, and the family moved.
But that’s another chapter.
Sweet, Cathy Bluteau
My father died as he wished to die, peacefully and painlessly. He had left precise instructions as to how he wanted to die and had paid his final expenses, including a fine dinner. I saw cousins I had not seen in decades.
I hope my father is in a better world. I’ll miss him.
I will conclude here.
_________________________ Cathy Bluteau http://www.artistsincanada.com/homepage/?id=14155 Berceuses françaises, Colette Magny (French Lullabies) 1 (0:00) Toutouic 2’402 (2:42) Le Grand Lustukru (Théodore Botrel) 3’13
3 (5:57) Le P’tit Quinquin (Alexandre Desrousseaux) 3’06
4 (9:05) Le Pardon de Ploërmel (Meyerbeer) 0’54

Wow, Micheline, what a story / life you and your family experienced! Such a dear tribute. And that he even paid for a nice meal … What a man! Thank you for sharing this, Micheline. God bless you all.
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TK,
My father was a story. He was very intelligent and a favourite of talk shows. I’m going to write his story.
They lived next to the railroad track and wood and goal was dropped in their backyard so they could heath the house. It had a big woodburning stove.
Thank Terri.
Love,
Micheline
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Well, I must say that I found your post a fascinating read. Good luck writing about him – and let me know how it turns out!
Teri. 🙂
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He lived a very full life; wrote dozens of articles (economics [cooperatives] & French-Canadians outside Quebec and in the USA); not to mention that he was president or vice-president of every organization he joined. He worked with Laurendeau/Dutton, etc. He also swam 100 lenghts of the swimming-pool everyday until he was 88. But what my mother loved were his Tom Cruise good looks. He was known as Roméo. Thank you for writing Teri (one ‘r’ ?). Love, Micheline
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Well, my real name is Therese, but the English have a real hard time with that, so I started using “Teri” a long time ago.
Oh, how interesting is your father, Micheline!! The more you tell me, the more I like him, and respect him. I can only imagine how that formed you as a person! Wow.
🙂 Teri
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Thérèse is a difficult name for the English. My sister had the same problem. People ended up calling her Teresa. If one can say thirteen in French (treize) one has a nearly correct Thérèse. Micheline isn’t bad. It’s two sounds: mich & lean. But I often get called Michelle. I have an easy middle name: Elisabeth, but I’ve never used it. What’s in a name? Take care, Micheline
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Funny, cause I have a friend named Elisabeth too, and she gets upset when people write it with a “z”, even after writing it down. The one I like about my name is when they pronounce it”tat-reize” …. so cute. 🙂
God bless you, Micheline, and good night!
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Funny indeed. If I have to give my middle name I always say “Elisabeth” with an “s.” It’s now a reflex. I understand your friend.
Good bless you Naomi.
Love,
Micheline
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So lovely to read this story of your father. You will miss him but he has left you many good memories. I am sorry for your loss.
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Dearest Gallivanta,
I’m so far behind. However, I wish to thank you for this touching message. He taught us unconditional love of all of God’s creatures.
Thank you and love,
Micheline
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I’m a bit late TK. My father’s funeral turned into an extraordinary “happening.” The dinner that followed the burial is an event I will always remember. All the people he had loved attended the funeral and then shared good food. He was always so very charming and accommodating.
Thank you tk.
I love you,
Micheline
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Thank you and best wishes.
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