ACADIAN FESTIVAL

I left La Région Évangéline in 1990 but it never really left me.  I’m reminded of that fact every year when the Festival Acadien comes around on Labour Day weekend.  Time stops for a few days and I’m transported back to the time I first realized what I was: un Acadien pure laine.  The pride rises to the surface and is so powerful that I’m almost overcome.

Elva and I linked up with Sylvie, Ghislain, Samuel, and Natalie at the wharf in Abram-Village early last Sunday morning.  We boarded Jean Arsenault’s seventeen-year-old Cape Islander, decked out for the occasion in the vibrant colours of the Acadian flag.  Sailing on calm waters, we left the small harbour and steamed toward the wharf at nearby Cap-Egmont, arriving there just as the local lobster boats paraded out to meet us.

A line of a dozen or so boats formed and sailed through the narrow entrance to the tiny harbour, The Abigail last in, carrying the priest, Father Michel Painchaud, co-celebrants, Father Eddie Cormier and Father Éloi Arsenault, and the Mont-Carmel choir.  A large crowd had gathered, lining the wharf to watch the stately procession.  It was the first time we’d taken part in the Mass from one of the boats.  More than just a religious celebration, the gathering was an occasion to greet people I hadn’t seen for a while.

As we sailed back toward Abram-Village, past Dutchman’s Rock and the former Red Rock Beach, site of many enjoyable Sunday afternoons in my coming-of-age years, I couldn’t help but think about the timelessness of the lobster fishery and the men who answer the call.  It’s a vocation that has passed from father to son for many generations.  From Albert to Jean; from Fidèle to Terry; from Adelard to Robert; from Tilmon to Gérald; from Jean-Paul to Clinton; from Amand to Norman and George, and so on.  Two fishermen from Cap-Egmont, Alphonse à Josephat and Alcide à Albin, are in their 80s and still going strong. Hopefully, their sons will take up the fathers' way of life.

We passed through the narrow channel at the mouth of the Haldimand River and I watched as father and son stood together in the cab of the boat, the younger at the wheel, the elder watching.  I wondered what Albert was thinking as Jean deftly steered the boat between the red and green buoys.  Was he thinking of the first time Jean took the helm and sailed her into the harbour by himself?  What a proud day that must have been.

I went out with Capitaine Albert early one morning in 1976 and took this picture, a little faded but one of my favourites.  Hard to believe that was 40 years ago!

The Festival parade has always been a highlight for us.  A resident historian told us that it’s never rained on the parade, not once in its 46-year history!  Of course, we all know why…  Each year, Le Festival Acadien has a Mass said to the weather gods.  It is a tradition started by the late Jeanne-Mance Arsenault, a tireless promoter of the Festival and organizer of the parade.  We feel her presence as the sun shines down on another entertaining défilé.

It’s an impromptu parade, since organizers don’t know until the last minute what entries will show up or how many.  But we’re never disappointed.  Sylvie and Clément rode in the 1983 edition dressed as Raggedy Ann and Andy in a wagon towed by Tante Alice.

Elva and I do our bit to help out La Grub à Félix by looking after the canteen on Sunday afternoon.  It’s another opportunity to renew acquaintances with people we don’t see very often.

Over the din of the popcorn machine, I listen to the acts on stage and sneak a peek when things aren’t too busy at the canteen.  I’m reminded of the early years of the Festival when the entertainment took place on an outdoor stage.  Nowadays, the sound and light are top-notch and the venue is perfect.  I wait for Eddie and Amand à Arcade to sit and play us a few tunes.  Sadly, those days are gone.  Instead, Hélène à Eddie à Arcade and Louise à Alyre à Jos Narcisse fill the air with tunes I never get tired of hearing: Saint Anne’s Reel, Big John McNeil, La marmotteuse, The Moneymusk, Pigeon on the Gatepost …

While this is going on inside, a unique form of entertainment, courtesy of Gérard à Léo à Jos Tanisse, his brother, Marcel, son Jeremy and others, takes place on the exhibition grounds.  Les grimpeurs de poteaux are putting on a show to remember.  This year, it has a special twist.  Gérard’s son, Joey, wheelchair-bound by cerebral palsy, is hoisted up a 100-foot pole in his chair and hooked onto a zip-line.  Clearly enjoying the experience, he flies freely along the steel cable.  Many, including my daughter, Sylvie, are overcome with emotion.  Joy at seeing Joey’s pure joy!  (Photos courtesy Urbain Poirier) 

Next, it's Gerry's turn to dance on the top of the 100-foot pole to the sounds of Cotton-Eye Joe.  Then, as the audience gasps, he somersaults off the pole, and the zip-line whizzes him across the full width of the exhibition grounds. (Photo courtesy Urbain Poirier)

That evening, we watch the closing concert, featuring young talent: la relève.  Judging by the quality on display, we’ll be well served in years to come.  Les palourdes, shown below, along with 112 Accords and entertainers as young as 5 will see that. (Photo courtesy Urbain Poirier)

The music and the dance were there long before I came to be.  And they’ll be there long after I’m gone from this world.

On Monday morning, I change gears and take a quiet walk along Reid’s Shore in Union Corner with my granddaughter, Natalie.  She looks for snail shells, just as I would have 55 years before.  It brings back some of my most vivid and pleasant childhood memories.

Sylvie and Ghislain have never missed a Festival Acadien.  It’s very important to them that they be there to expose their children to an important component of their being: la culture acadienne.  The Festival is l’endroit par excellence to experience its many facets and to reconnect with one’s roots.