Susan LaVerdiere Bannister, Auburn, Maine

  Recently I attended a convocation at the Lewiston-Auburn campus of the University of Southern Maine. The convocation, Reves et Realites de la Franco-Amerique (Dreams and Realities of Franco-America) was a well-planned gathering of notable Franco-American authors, musicians, and speakers from the U. S. and Canada who were advocating the promotion and preservation of the Franco-American heritage and culture.
  I should have enjoyed it, however I did not. I left early on the second day feeling frustrated -- frustrated because the convocation was predominately in French. The frustration was not aimed at the organizers of the convocation, or its participants, but at myself for not being able to understand French, and for not speaking of my frustration when given the opportunity to do so.
  I wanted very much to understand what the speakers and songwriters were saying; to be able to share in their visions of tomorrow, and their experiences of yesterday. The language barrier, however, didn't allow that to happen -- a language barrier that should never have existed.
  I am second generation Franco-American. My grandfather came down from Levis, Quebec with his family, most of the way on foot, when he was 8 years old. They came down to find work in the mills during the late 1800's at a time when mill agents were recruiting immigrants from Canada. They settled in the Franco-American section of Waterville known as "The Plains." My grandfather started working in the cotton mill at 11 years old, grew up, married, became a barber, raised his three children and died "Down The Plains."
  The Canadian immigrants of my grandfather's time tried so hard to assimilate themselves into the American way of life that something was lost. They learned to speak English -- needed to do so in order to survive in an English speaking country. They were admired for their good work ethic, their strong sense of family, and their fastidiously clean homes. They were also discriminated against and ridiculed because of their accent. Being peace loving people, they kept to themselves, congregating in their multi-generation homes, trying to make a life for their families in such a way as to not bring much attention to themselves. They wanted their children to speak English, to be accepted, to fit in.
  My father, the youngest of my grandparents' children, became well known in Waterville as a newspaper columnist and editor. He is bilingual, and proud of it. He married an Irishwoman, "une Irelandais" as they were known amongst the French. Because of that, French was very rarely spoken when I was growing up. I cannot, nor can any of my seven siblings, speak French. What a shame! How I wish I could!
  The language barrier that existed between me and the speakers at the convocation was a clear indication to me of just how much of my heritage I have lost. If such an integral part of my heritage as its language is not something I was taught, how much more have I missed? Even though my family retained a few of the traditions like tourtiere pies at Christmas, many of the traditions, customs, music and recipes were not part of my life. If I had been brought up in other than a half-Irish household would things have been different? Perhaps. Perhaps not.
  In trying to assimilate themselves into the American way of life, Franco-Americans of my grandparents' and my parents' generations unknowingly shortchanged those of my generation and we in turn are shortchanging our children and grandchildren. We must not let this go on. As a genealogist, tracing my roots is not enough. I need to know about their life experiences. The Franco-Americans of my parents' generation are the last of those who remember. We must learn from them and document their memories before it's too late. Then we must do all that we can to honor their memories and all they worked for by preserving their traditions, thus keeping the Franco-American culture alive.
   My father is 80 years old now and has the dementia of Parkinson's disease. Sometimes he sings to himself ....lullabies from his childhood...in French...and I can't understand him. 
 

March, 2002