For Sure (62 page)

The children were dismayed.

“An' dat's where folks got de idea not to put all yer eggs in de same basket. On account of if sometin' goes wrong, an' you falls o'er or some such horrible ting, well der go all yer eggs, broken. Now if dat wee boy an' girl 'ad each brung along der own basket, chances are only half der eggs would've broken, which wouldn't be near so bad.”

A conclusion that made Marianne laugh.

Send a copy of this book with my fond remembrance to Thomas Krampf, inventor of shadow poetry
.

“Anudder example?”

Terry wanted to satisfy Chico.

“Alright den, let's say a fellow's gotta whole lot o' money. You might tell dis fellow he'd best be puttin' a parcel of dat money in de bank, an' anudder parcel in de co-operative, an' a chunk of it under 'is mattress, all like dat, only just to be certain dat if sometin' happens to one parcel in one place, ee'll still have some of 'is money in de udder places. Dat way, ee doesn't lose his shirt.”

Chico seemed to be greatly interested in these financial matters.

“Losin' yer shirt, dat means you's gone bankrupt.”

Chico nodded quickly, more interested in what was to follow. Terry was trying to think of financial examples that might also interest Étienne and Marianne, who were on the verge of fighting over the basket.

Many more graphic signs could be used to identify words as properly Acadian or imported from English; the new letters
ã
,
ẽ
,
Ä©
,
õ
,
Å©
, and
ỹ
are the fruit of an initial and tentative reflex. Why not use the ˘ as in
Ăă
or the ˚ as in
Åå
or the ˛ as in
Ąą,
or even
Ạạ
or
Ảả Ầầ Ậậ Ắắ Ẵẵ Ặặ
. . .The possibilities are endless; the world is filled to overflowing with signs and accents. And nothing prevents us from inventing a few more. Which might be fun. Who didn't experience the thrill of discovering the cedilla and the dieresis in school? And who knows, perhaps by complicating French, by “signing” it ourselves, we might make it more “significant.” Heresy?

“Nowadays folks doesn't only say dat fer eggs an money. Say a fawder an' mudder dat's got children are goin' on a trip, dey might not take de same plane. Dat way, if one o' de parents dies — say one o' de planes crashes or explodes or some such ting — de udder parent dat's not dead can keep on takin' care of de kids 'till der grown up.”

Faced with the frozen faces of the three children, Terry added:

“Only dat don't happen all dat often . . .”

Planned or spontaneous, tactics consist in taking advantage of a momentary distraction by the Other to escape a bad situation. A tactic is generally more difficult to execute than a feint. Its objective: in French
noyer le poisson,
to confuse the issue and confound the Other.

. . .

. . .

. . .

“All I can tell you is dat we're not dat far along in our understanding of music. 'Tis sometin' bigger dan our intelligence.”

“You don't tink dey've already studied up on all dat?”

“Dey can't but scratch de surface. Pretty quick dey come up against de black hole.”

“De black hole . . .”

“Jumpin' dyin', dat's aggravatin' when you's repeatin' everyting I says.”

Terry inherited the Bourgque secret from his mother née Bourque.

“'Ow 'bout us, Mum, have we got one?”

“One wot?”

“You know, Mum, a car squawker!”

“Awh! No, we don't.”

“How come?”

“On account of our car's too old.”

. . .

“Anyway, 'tisn't sometin' we really need.”

“Awh.”

On your tongue catch it!

A single snowflake alights

moisten, melt, vanish.

To your lips thirst has risen

from the skies snow has fallen.

Granny Després has so little talent for sewing that the darning kit she'd inherited from her own mother had barely served. The basket attracted Étienne's curiosity.

“Wot's dis 'ere, Granny?”

Étienne was already removing a spool of thread, and another.

“Dose der are old spools o' thread me mudder had.”

His grandmother watched Étienne remove all the spools from the basket. They made lovely little noises knocking against each other. And, since the photographs earlier had set the theme of a bygone era, she added:

“You can tell der old, on account of der made of wood. Dese days dey makes dem out o' plastic.”

He aligned the spools, some according to size, and some according to colour.

“Luh, Granny, der's no yellow.”

The grandmother looked up and saw the arrangement of spools on the carpet.

“Still, 'tis not a bad bit nice, eh? Makes a kind o' rainbow . . .”

In her heart, she was glad to see her grandson taking pleasure in playing with such simple things as spools of thread.

Certain words fail, or barely succeed, or manage with difficulty to complement and transmit their meanings. The word
grièvement
, for example. Because it means “grievous,” it ought to impose a degree of severity. But it's similarity to the word
brièvement
or “briefly” meaning of short duration, and hence implying lesser significance, makes
grièvement
a deceptive word. A similar argument might be made regarding the homophonic similarity between
grief
and
brief
in English. The same is true for the introductory phrase “
à l'instar de
.” The distinguished formula of the phrase, which so resembles the titles of nobility —
le duc d'Anville
— might lead us to expect what follows to be an equally distinguished subject, someone unique and set apart from the crowd. But the opposite is true. “
À l'instar de
” means very simply “like,” “just as,” “following suit.” For example, in a sentence beginning “
à l'instar des autres institutions financières, la Banque Cennes Noirs choisit de…
” we might expect that the bank in question is breaking ranks, adopting some new and different, perhaps even decent or generous policy. However, contrary to the distinct tone of the phrase, the sentence is actually stating: “Like the other financial institutions, the Brown Penny Bank has chosen to . . .” The Brown Penny Bank is simply following suit. What a waste! With the subtlety of a decoy, “
à l'instar de
” embellishes those who actually lack originality, who fail to distinguish themselves. In fact, one might conclude that such deceptive terms are employed precisely with the intention of benefiting from their ambiguous coefficient.

Terry also made a mean potato pancake, although not necessarily the best in the lofts, because the competition around this particular dish was fierce. Zed was no slouch, and neither was Pomme, but Antoinette outdid them all. Everyone added his or her personal touch, or special ingredient, in hopes of winning the Mardi Gras prize.

“De salty onions is wot makes all de difference.”

Étienne inhaled the dark herbs swimming in brine that Antoinette had placed before him before closing the jar.

“You has to add just de right amount, not too much.”

. . .

“Not too much onion, neidder. Can't be too big. An' you has to cut 'er into wee, wee, tin pieces. You can't be seein' bits of onion in de pancake.”

. . .

“Now den, we needs an egg. Will you go an fetch me an egg?”

Étienne rose quickly. The idea of fetching something from a stranger's refrigerator gave him an odd feeling.

Collectors are really treasure hunters, and each object in a collection is worth its weight in gold.

“Is it me yer askin' den? On account of I couldn't tell who you was lookin' at . . .”

(
Suppressed laughter
)

“Well, to be honest, I's afraid of opening me veins, slicing me wrists.”

(
Holy shite!
)

“Interesting. Could be a fear of knives.”

“Tell de troot, 'twas more of a problem afore dan 'tis now.”

“Well, I suppose 'twould be harder to slit yer wrists wid a Bic razor. . . “

(
Laughter
)

“Class, class . . . Please.”

Balls are all you need plus a
b
. In one of Terry's notebooks.

Étienne placed the shoebox in front of Chico, and lifted the top off. Chico's eyes opened wide.

“Holy Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Wer djya get dat?”

Étienne was bursting with pride.

“Granny Després gave dem to me.”

Slowly Chico handled the wooden spools, removing a few from the box to better appreciate the whole. Étienne informed him:

“Only der's no yellow.”

big bear eats cod fish

little bear eats tongue and cheek

seal swims nonchalant

charts studies and statistics

“You means to say dat radder dan writin' “
õverpayér
,” we'd be writin' “
verpayer
” an' puttin' a star over de
o
?”

“De star'd be our accent, like? Now der's a proper smart idea!”

“Well, one of our accents, anyhow . . .”

“Only 'tisn't easy drawin' a star, is it? Ask me, 'twould take too terrible long to be writin'.”

“An' wot would de udder accents be? Dey'd have to be matchin' up somehow, der's gotta be a logic to it . . .”

“Well, how many're we gonna need, den?”

“Are dey fer real?”

“Raise anudder sail, girl, we're flyin' high!”

Herman Melville's
Moby Dick
.

In a room that had become a holdall over the years, Chico's grandmother had been obliged to shuffle and rummage through a number of old boxes before finding what she was looking for.

“Might be in 'ere . . .”

Chico approached, unfolded the cardboard flaps, and discovered several wooden spools just like Étienne's. They were scattered among bits of cloth, zippers still in their wrappings and ultra-thin paper dress patterns spilling out of their envelopes.

“Hoorray! De yellow!”

“Yellow's wot you was after? Go on an' take it. I won't be missin' it. Can't recall de last time I opened dis 'ere box.”

“All o' dem?”

“You wants dem all, does ya? Go on den. I's glad to be rid of dem.”

Granny was happy to please Chico. She watched him searching down to the bottom of the box.

“Wot're ya tinkin' to do wid all dat, I wonder?”

Chico shrugged.

“I's showin' dem to Étienne. Ee's got some as well.”

The grandmother thought that was as good a reason as any.

“Can you see anyting else in der ya might be wantin'?”

Chico examined the contents of the box, picked up a zipper, dropped it.

“Only de tread? 'Ere den, does ya want a bag to put 'em in?”

Chico accepted the old brown paper bag his granny was offering. The spools went
ploc ploc ploc
as they fell in and knocked against each other.

Spoiled rotten, really? In his novel
Grey Souls
, Philippe Claudel writes “rotten spoiled.” A kind of opposites.

Terry found the list Myriam had sent him extremely interesting.

“Title is ‘Critical Experiences of Preschool-Age-Children,' wot pretty well says it all right der.”

Carmen agreed.

“Like, dey like it when you give dem a signal when to start an' when to stop doin' sometin'. Like one-two-tree-go! or sometin' like dat.”