Day by day
As the children had more and more brothers and sisters, they became confronted by a major problem at kindergarten. The day would inevitably come when a smiling teacher would say to her class: "Take a piece of paper and draw a picture of your family."
Each child promptly got to work and then went back to playing. Our child would still be patiently at work when teacher would gently say: "What you have done is very nice. You can stop now."
Back home, the child would receive profuse congratulations from a proud mother who always backed her children's efforts. Then one or another of the older children would point at the picture and criticise it: "Why did you leave me out?" Or, "why did you leave Mireille and Richard out?"
Already feeling guilty, the young artist would begin crying and protest: "I didn't have the time to do everyone. Teacher didn't let me finish."
When it was Jean-Paul's turn to go to kindergarten, he has heard the anecdote and remembered it. He wasn't a fellow who took humiliation lightly. So when his teacher asked him to draw a picture of his family, he did it quickly and proudly showed it to her: "This is my father and this is my mother. And then this is Michel and this is me. We're not a very big family."
Of course, Jean-Paul told nothing of this at home. But his teacher had found the story amusing. She had already taught some Allaire children and readily knew that quite a few were missing from the masterpiece. So, at the parents and teacher's meeting, she told the story to Jean-Paul's mother and both women had a good laugh.
When Mom came back home, Dad also proudly laughed at his son's clever way out of a bad situation. But Jean-Paul didn't get away with it so readily. When the story was known by everyone, his brothers and sisters cried foul and accused him of treasonous activity. And with a uneasy smile, he apologised.
* * *
A colleague, at college, had a poster against toys of war: "Beware, war is not a game."
I had just explained in class the rule of logic according to which an E proposition can be converted into an E proposition. This means that in a negative proposition, a universal subject (that extends to all members of a category) can change place with a predicate. Thus with the proposition «frogs do not have wings» we can also say that «winged beings are not frogs». "It's logical," I told my students, who understood it.
I couldn't help applying the same universal logic to my colleague's postered proposition: "If it is true that «war is not a game»," I told him, "it follows logically that «a game is not a war». So, what's the problem?"
Even before the rules of logic came into play, the proposition that «a game is not a war» had been confirmed a thousand times over by experience.
When pay TV arrived at La Pocati re, we had been amongst its first clients. With my habit of waking early, I was probably the first subscriber to watch its first showing appear in early morning (or very late night). And the older boys of the family had become delivery boys for the «First Choice» bulletin to regional subscribers. Thus Michel and Claude, and then Philippe, got their first pay and learned the names of all the streets and byways of La Pocatière.
G.I. Joe was a TV favourite. And G.I. Joe toys were available in the stores. At each birthday and at each Christmas, Michel, Claude and Philippe received vehicles and soldiers of the G.I. Joe collection. Michel put the larger part of his salary in the bank. But Claude and Philippe decided to increase their military build-up. As more and more people subscribed to pay TV, the delivery-boys' salary increased and the G.I. Joes invaded the home.
Playing with these toys became a time-consuming enterprise, because their owners had to take them all out before starting to play and then had to put them all tidily away, because Mom would never have allowed the toys to mess up the floor till the following day. But their owners were enthusiastic about their possessions and cared for their hard-earned treasures, while the younger children were jealous of them.
As Michel, and then Claude, and Philippe grew older, they plunged into the fantasy world collection of books in which "You are the heroes", and then into the role-game Dark Eye. And they began giving away their G.I. Joes as gifts to their younger brothers for Christmas and birthdays. Yet, though these toys had an aura of greatness as toys for older children, François, Jean-Paul and Richard had less enthusiasm playing with their G.I. Joes than their brothers had had, for to the latter they had been hard-won trophies.
Michel found so much fun in the Dark Eye role-game that he offered to organise a mid-day activity with it at his secondary school. His sister Johanne joined in as a co-animator. Then Claude, then Philippe would become Game Masters.
Silliness hovered around role-games as it did around war-games. Our kids and their friends got a lot of fun out of the imaginary world of Magicians, Dragons, Elves, Dwarves, curses and supernatural powers. But this was fiction. Then a lady speaker came to their school and explained that the Devil is not a game. In some places, she said, people mix role-games with black magic and devilry. She then named the role-games of the Dark Eye and Dungeon and Dragons. Of course, this was plausible. The stories of Zeus, Athena, Bacchus, Aphrodite and the whole bunch of Greek gods and goddesses had, in their days, allowed many mad passions to take hold of people. The Devil does take many faces. In time where materialism empties the heart, a slanted supernaturalism can fill the void.
The speaker was impressive. But it was the same as for war-games. If «The Devil is not a game», «A game is not a devil». There had never been any devilry in our kids' game. Diplomatically, the school authorities kept the game but changed its name into Adventureland. And the devil ignored it.
I had just explained in class the rule of logic according to which an E proposition can be converted into an E proposition. This means that in a negative proposition, a universal subject (that extends to all members of a category) can change place with a predicate. Thus with the proposition «frogs do not have wings» we can also say that «winged beings are not frogs». "It's logical," I told my students, who understood it.
I couldn't help applying the same universal logic to my colleague's postered proposition: "If it is true that «war is not a game»," I told him, "it follows logically that «a game is not a war». So, what's the problem?"
Even before the rules of logic came into play, the proposition that «a game is not a war» had been confirmed a thousand times over by experience.
When pay TV arrived at La Pocati re, we had been amongst its first clients. With my habit of waking early, I was probably the first subscriber to watch its first showing appear in early morning (or very late night). And the older boys of the family had become delivery boys for the «First Choice» bulletin to regional subscribers. Thus Michel and Claude, and then Philippe, got their first pay and learned the names of all the streets and byways of La Pocatière.
G.I. Joe was a TV favourite. And G.I. Joe toys were available in the stores. At each birthday and at each Christmas, Michel, Claude and Philippe received vehicles and soldiers of the G.I. Joe collection. Michel put the larger part of his salary in the bank. But Claude and Philippe decided to increase their military build-up. As more and more people subscribed to pay TV, the delivery-boys' salary increased and the G.I. Joes invaded the home.
Playing with these toys became a time-consuming enterprise, because their owners had to take them all out before starting to play and then had to put them all tidily away, because Mom would never have allowed the toys to mess up the floor till the following day. But their owners were enthusiastic about their possessions and cared for their hard-earned treasures, while the younger children were jealous of them.
As Michel, and then Claude, and Philippe grew older, they plunged into the fantasy world collection of books in which "You are the heroes", and then into the role-game Dark Eye. And they began giving away their G.I. Joes as gifts to their younger brothers for Christmas and birthdays. Yet, though these toys had an aura of greatness as toys for older children, François, Jean-Paul and Richard had less enthusiasm playing with their G.I. Joes than their brothers had had, for to the latter they had been hard-won trophies.
Michel found so much fun in the Dark Eye role-game that he offered to organise a mid-day activity with it at his secondary school. His sister Johanne joined in as a co-animator. Then Claude, then Philippe would become Game Masters.
Silliness hovered around role-games as it did around war-games. Our kids and their friends got a lot of fun out of the imaginary world of Magicians, Dragons, Elves, Dwarves, curses and supernatural powers. But this was fiction. Then a lady speaker came to their school and explained that the Devil is not a game. In some places, she said, people mix role-games with black magic and devilry. She then named the role-games of the Dark Eye and Dungeon and Dragons. Of course, this was plausible. The stories of Zeus, Athena, Bacchus, Aphrodite and the whole bunch of Greek gods and goddesses had, in their days, allowed many mad passions to take hold of people. The Devil does take many faces. In time where materialism empties the heart, a slanted supernaturalism can fill the void.
The speaker was impressive. But it was the same as for war-games. If «The Devil is not a game», «A game is not a devil». There had never been any devilry in our kids' game. Diplomatically, the school authorities kept the game but changed its name into Adventureland. And the devil ignored it.
* * *
Little Mireille began by speaking a language intelligible only to her mother's loving attention. The other members of the family grasped straws and the strangers didn't understand a word of what she said.
Then her father brought home a helium-filled balloon during Mireille's afternoon nap. When she came out of her room and saw the miraculous balloon floating up against the ceiling, she lost all of her self-consciousness and clearly enunciated:
"Mother. Look! The balloon!"
* * *
The Summer after the twin's tenth birthday, we were surprised when Marie and Isabelle said they no longer wanted to go to the municipally organised playground.
"But, we said, what about the games every day and the weekly outing and the Friday movie? Do you want to miss all that?"
"All that is fun," they admitted. "But these things take time away from playing with everyone at home. We would miss the greater fun."
As we firgured it, the municipal playground was made for the children to have fun and not as an imposed burden. So we dropped it. The twins didn't go. And François and Jean-Paul didn't want to miss out on their fun, so they also stayed home. The demographic attraction had shifted. There were now more interesting people at home than elsewhere. And nobody regretted the change.
Also, that summer, the five older children enchanted us with their cooking. Since the birth of the twins, their mother had stopped making her own desserts, to the advantage of the local food store and bakery. Danielle's culinary talent is legendary, as attested by my ever-expanding waist-line. But her cooking became restricted to the main dish, allowing dessert-land to be occasionally used for the growing expertise of the older children. This also favoured contacts between them and their mother, who would chat with them, give them cooking lessons and personal advice while they baked cakes, cookies and pies. The equality of the sexes filled our stomachs during the summer and allowed for tasty recipes by the time the birthdays rolled in where promissory notes for cookies and such were offered as gifts.
* * *
François used up a new pair of shoes by braking his bicycle with his feet. He seemed sufficiently repentant to get a new pair without too much scolding. Kids will be kids. — Leaving the shoe store, he suddenly beamed proudly: "At last, I have boy's shoes." His older brother, Philippe, who shared his room, had convinced François that the one-sex shoes that had previously been Marie's were in fact girl shoes. Philippe explained sheepishly: "It was just a joke."
* * *
It took perseverance to persuade Mireille to leave off diapers in favour of toilets. One day, she ran into the house crying: "Mother! Jean-Paul says I am a girl."
"But you are a girl," Danielle told her gently. "And it's wonderful to be a girl. You are a girl like myself and Christine and Johanne and Marie and Isabelle."
"No," she said tearfully. "I do not want to be a girl."
We had never shown any preference for one or the other sex. We had never forced the girls to serve the boys, at it was presumed to be the custom when house and farm work were both hard labour. And the harmony between father and mother kept the household united instead of divided into two competing camps. Danielle accepted me as master of her heart and her life. In return, I daily crowned her queen of the household.
Chance had placed Mireille in between three older brothers and a younger one. But the importance of the feminine presence had always been noticeable in our home. So we simply comforted our daughter as we did for the others in their moments of crisis, and we upheld the importance of her gender.
The day came when she finally came to respect herself, sat down on the toilet, and grew up to be what she had always been: a little girl.
"But you are a girl," Danielle told her gently. "And it's wonderful to be a girl. You are a girl like myself and Christine and Johanne and Marie and Isabelle."
"No," she said tearfully. "I do not want to be a girl."
We had never shown any preference for one or the other sex. We had never forced the girls to serve the boys, at it was presumed to be the custom when house and farm work were both hard labour. And the harmony between father and mother kept the household united instead of divided into two competing camps. Danielle accepted me as master of her heart and her life. In return, I daily crowned her queen of the household.
Chance had placed Mireille in between three older brothers and a younger one. But the importance of the feminine presence had always been noticeable in our home. So we simply comforted our daughter as we did for the others in their moments of crisis, and we upheld the importance of her gender.
The day came when she finally came to respect herself, sat down on the toilet, and grew up to be what she had always been: a little girl.
* * *
"Mother, it's for you."
Danielle stopped one of her innumerable daily distractions and picked up the phone.
A woman friend with children and a baby didn't have the time to wait some hours at the hospital clinic. She tried Danielle.
"My baby has diarrhoea. What should I do?"
"Is it abundant and frequent?", Danielle asked.
"It happened four times today and there was a large quantity."
"Take him off milk. Give him apple juice diluted with spring water till his motions become less frequent. Then try coming back gradually to milk. But try starting the milk in the morning to be able to monitor the change."
Danielle stopped one of her innumerable daily distractions and picked up the phone.
A woman friend with children and a baby didn't have the time to wait some hours at the hospital clinic. She tried Danielle.
"My baby has diarrhoea. What should I do?"
"Is it abundant and frequent?", Danielle asked.
"It happened four times today and there was a large quantity."
"Take him off milk. Give him apple juice diluted with spring water till his motions become less frequent. Then try coming back gradually to milk. But try starting the milk in the morning to be able to monitor the change."
* * *
"Mother, it's for you."
Another lady friend. Her eldest daughter had a bad tonsillitis. In Quebec City, a doctor said it might be mononucleosis but hadn't run a blood test. Back in La Pocati re, another doctor wondered if it might not be mononucleosis but also didn't do a blood test. Instead, he prescribed antibiotics. The illness lingered. What should she do?
"Does your daughter have fever? And what is her general condition?" Danielle asked.
"She doesn't have any fever and her general condition is good."
"Mononucleosis brings fever. Give the antibiotics a chance for three more days. But if fever appears, go right away to the medical clinic and have your daughter tested for mononucleosis. If it's that, the illness is viral and antibiotics can't do anything against it."
Two days later, the fever was there. The blood test for mononucleosis was positive.
* * *
But the most impressive medical consultation had taken place a few years before. One of Danielle's girl friends had studied medicine for five years before having a first baby.
Suddenly she was anxiously calling from Quebec City: "What must I do? Baby's navel is still wet. It's not drying up."
"Clean it with alcohol and wipe it dry. It will gradually dry and fall off," Danielle M.D. (Motherhood Diploma) answered with pride.
Suddenly she was anxiously calling from Quebec City: "What must I do? Baby's navel is still wet. It's not drying up."
"Clean it with alcohol and wipe it dry. It will gradually dry and fall off," Danielle M.D. (Motherhood Diploma) answered with pride.
* * *
A child's wild spree into a world organised by adults doesn't give her parents much trust towards that world. So we distrusted the Air Cadets of La Pocati re. Now, people aren't apt to over-compliment each other. This is a common human failing. If all the municipal, inter-city and school busses in Quebec, on a given day, made it neatly to their destinations, you can expect the professional world gossips, on the news, to find a bus in Pakistan or Honduras that fell into some sort of ravine. The same goes for professions, who generally make the news only when one of their own has goofed. So, weren't the Air Cadets just a bunch of hoodlums charging off to the local bars after their meeting? A fellow we knew who had been a Cadet in Montréal had a lot to say about the tom-fooleries he did with his Cadet chums some years back.
Michel had achieved the rank of first group leader as a Cub Scout. Then he went on to the Boy Scouts, which he didn't like. Our sole requirement for our children's non-scholarly activities is perseverance. They can try something out once or twice. But once they decide to take part in an activity, they had to finish out the year. All activities hit a low point at one time or another, proving not that the activity isn't good but that it takes guts to succeed. We felt that being on the child's side means encouraging him and occasionally forcing him to succeed through hardship. After a year's trial and dissatisfaction, Michel was allowed to leave the Boy Scout movement. Which he did.
By the same count, he discouraged his brother Claude from entering the Boy Scouts. Both thought of trying the Cadets. It was unknown territory. But, heck, they were two together. Why not give it a chance?
And indeed, a movement capable of teaching one hundred youth to march with discipline on the parade ground during a whole year had to have guts. The distrustful parents became enthusiasts in favour of the movement. They had to endure being treated as "civilians" by their young "men in uniform". However, Claude, who dished out the "civilian" epithet as much as Michel, didn't want to be called a "soldier". "We are not soldiers," he insisted. "We are cadets." But that didn't stop his father's teasing.
In the first meeting at which parents were invited, we were astonished to see our boys stand straight, without moving, then walk in step. There was none of the usual nonchalance so common amongst teenagers.
Also, the Cadets went somewhere. There wasn't any asking, "What do you feel like doing, tonight?" If the fellows (and gals) didn't like the stuff, their only other option was to quit. And if a Cadet wasn't at a meeting, the phone rang at home asking the reason for his absence. This way, meetings couldn't be used as an excuse to leave home and fool around elsewhere. Besides drilling, the meetings had courses about planes, meteorology, etc. No loafing around. Finally, Cadets were promoted after having met requirements. There were objectives that allow for objectivity.
During that time, we saw on television an adventure movie about a military school. It was the usual Made in America mush: hardships overcome through comradeship and a tough commander turning out to be an understanding good guy.
Back from a two week camp of initiation, Claude told me:"Dad, you were right. We are soldiers."
Michel and Claude were proud to tell us how they had been jostled at their camp. This wasn't the Made in America sappy scenario. They were barked at, pulled out of bed in the morning, rushed to wash, forced to correctly make one's bed (which was otherwise overturned to be redone). On the second day of camp, everybody wanted to go back home to mama. And at the end of the two weeks, the battle-seasoned kids nearly cried because it was time to leave.
Things had started moving straight away with the distribution of uniforms. The quarter-master asked: "Large, medium or small?" If a Cadet said: "I don't know", he was dealt a uniform from the "I don't know" pile. And the quarter-master was saying: "Next!"
One evening, a corporal came into the dormitory and asked: "Who wants to fly in a helicopter? I'm taking the ten first people to come forward." Instantly, Cadets flocked. He chose the elect and ordered them: "Go clean up the toilets."
My generation had objected against burdens and compulsion in favour of easy street. In the same line, I had always been appalled by the apparent sadism of the training sergeants as portrayed in many movies. Why did they have to be so inhuman? Wasn't there a civil way to treat people while still giving them basic training?"
Then Michel explained how he had learned to endure a call down without flinching. He simply thought in is mind: "Go ahead, bawl me out if you like it. I couldn't give a damn. You'll finally tire yourself out." I realised then that people had to go through hell in order to be able to stand up to pressure. If a young man can't learn to be bawled at without breaking down, how could he be expected to face up to bullets flying around him? Panic and self-indulgence do not a man make. They break him. That was the reason behind the apparent sadism of the trainers. That was the meaning of "making men out of boys".
My generation wasn't imposed an education to hardship. They didn't run from bullets, because none were shot at them. But didn't they run from the hardships of love? Cadet training would not be enough to give the trainees a strong and generous heart, but it helped straighten their back-bone.
* * *
"What do you think of my painting?" Johanne asked me.
She was a Garfield fan and had drawn Garfield on a large cardboard poster which she then coloured. It was truly fascinating. Both proportions and colours were great. Big, sated and languid, Garfield boasted: "I am fat and lazy and proud of it."
"Superb," I said.
"Gee, thanks," Johanne said. "I asked mom what she thought of it. She said it was wonderful, but she always finds what we do wonderful. I figured if you liked it, then it must really be good."
I gave her ten bucks. "He's saying my motto. I'm buying." And I put it up on the wall of the play den in the basement.
She was a Garfield fan and had drawn Garfield on a large cardboard poster which she then coloured. It was truly fascinating. Both proportions and colours were great. Big, sated and languid, Garfield boasted: "I am fat and lazy and proud of it."
"Superb," I said.
"Gee, thanks," Johanne said. "I asked mom what she thought of it. She said it was wonderful, but she always finds what we do wonderful. I figured if you liked it, then it must really be good."
I gave her ten bucks. "He's saying my motto. I'm buying." And I put it up on the wall of the play den in the basement.
* * *
Divine Providence has seen to it that we have never gone needy in doing what everybody says is financially impossible: raise a large family.
But I was annoyed in the way Danielle enjoyed God's generosity towards us. Whenever we received a generous lump of money, we were hit by various expenses and the money simply vanished. And Danielle gratefully remarked: "Isn't it wonderful that we always have the money to face up to our expenses? God is so generous."
I grumbled back: "Yeah. As soon as we have a dollar put away, God comes and takes it."
This dual reaction lasted till the day we bought a small four by three foot table to add to our larger four by six table so that the younger children could eat at the four by nine family table. I expected to pay for the table with our tax return, as the salesman said the table wouldn't be delivered before some weeks. And suddenly, the table arrived much sooner than expected. Our budget allowed us to pay for it right away, but it made holes for coming items. For a week, juggling the budget was an uneasy experience. That's when I got to understand.
My choice was not between a lot of money or the just necessity. It was between having the money before or after the bills. Some friends in the U.S. also had Divine Providence on their side, as does anyone who puts his trust into God. But they were constantly in debt. Their income came after their bills. For us, this was the first time we experienced their daily condition. I decidedly preferred God's usual modus operandi in our case. Danielle was right as usual.
* * *
Danielle's mother had taught her daughter Pollyanna's "contentment game". Why be unhappy because of what one doesn't have rather than appreciate what one has?
The only time I saw covetousness in Danielle's eyes was when we had to replace four kitchen chairs. At the furniture store, I found four wooden chairs with cushioned seats that went admirably well with our immense family table. And the salesman said he could get as many chairs as we wanted. It was a time of the year when our money reserves were bulging. But we had learned that this money would be gobbled up in the following months. So we are reasonable and sorrowfully bought only the four chairs we needed, accepting a motley collection of chairs around our table. Food and clothing had priority. Yet those chairs were so beautiful…
The following year, the furniture store still had the same kind of chair available, and we bought four more. And the year after we managed another four to make our dozen.
* * *
Experience de-dramatises many aspects of life. Jean-Paul and Richard were fighting with their plastic swords. Their mother yelled at them: "Take your shields and use them!"
* * *
A lady friend on the Parish Pastoral Committee (PPC) wanted me to do another series of talks about the faith on community television. Well, Garfield had said it all: "I am fat(tening) and lazy and proud of it." But there was also this thing called conscience. So my conscience and my laziness made a compromise: I would put conditions that fitted in with my character so they would be refused.
"O.K.," I told her. "I will make a series of talks about John Paul II's ideas. The title will be: John Paul II's Silly Ideas?. Take it or leave it."
They took it! Even the parish bulletin announced it. The printer who published the bulletin called the parish: "I'm sorry ro bother you, pastor," he said, "but there seems to be an error here. There's a notice about John Paul II's Silly Ideas"
The pastor said it was all right. The printer published it, but forgot the interrogation point.
The idea behind the talks was very simple. John Paul II had been widely applauded when he visited our land. But did people really listen to what he said? His teaching sounded foolish by contemporary standards. So I presented some of his "silly ideas".
In short: Here is the public prosecutor's accusation. And on each point the accused recognised his guilt.
John Paul II, do you recognise before Our Time's tribunal…
— that you claim to be the sole person in this world upon whom God has founded his Church?
— that you claim to be the sole person in the world by whom everybody, in some way, has to go to reach God?
— that you claim, in some way, to exercise Jesus Christ's own power?
— that you claim that God wants the Mass to be compulsory for everyone?
— that you claim that God forbids remarried divorcees to receive Holy Communion?
— that you claim that everybody in the world must go to Confession?
— that you claim that it is possible for people to completely break away from God through mortal sin?
— that you claim that through contraception a person completely breaks away from the life of God?
— that you claim that a woman will never be allowed to become a priest of Jesus Christ and exercise power within His Church?
— that you claim that we are worthless outside of God and His religion?
He has made each one of these claims. According to you, the people, is he guilty of silliness, of madness, of disrespect towards people and of religious megalomania? You must recognise that in our time, there can be no hesitation: if contemporary standards are correct, then John Paul II is guilty.
I started out with the idea that Christ is as much ostracised in our time as in his own if we contrast what he taught with our way of life. It's the same with John Paul II. So, after having presented one of his positions, I showed how silly it appeared compared to today's opinions and went on to show that this foolish idea was the same as Christ's.
Some of these ideas, I first hesitated to present as they were so totally against the run of our times. So much so that some of the pastor's colleagues complained to him against my "exaggerations". He simply answered: "That's what John Paul II is teaching."
* * *
"Dad," Claude asked, "who do you love most: mother or Jesus?"
"It's simple, Claude. Jesus wants me to love your mother."
"Oh."
* * *
A colleague from my student days at the university explained: "My wife has a hereditary disease that can affect our children's eyes. One out of three children must wear special glasses. So she prefers not to have any more children."
We answered: "It's a pity that such an illness threatens your children. We can't say what is best for you. But aren't we all handicapped in some way or other, in the mind, the heart or the body? And love does not consider this as an obstacle to love a person even more. We can readily imagine that God prefers to hold in his arms a child with a difference rather than a sterile caution."
* * *
One of my molars was sore. Danielle sensibly suggested: "Go see the dentist before the weekend." He received me, X-rayed the tooth, found it healthy, and cleaned it of unwanted deposits.
His craft being part communication. he chatted and joked with the usual: "A college teacher must have a good salary compared to a poor dentist."
I joked accordingly: "Maybe, but when he has to divide his salary amongst thirteen persons…"
The rebuttal did his inspiration in. So I triumphantly continued, asking how much the "rich father" had to pay to the "poor dentist".
He said: "Twenty dollars." And added that it would have cost me seventy-five in the big city. I believed him, especially when I say how astonished his secretary was when her boss told her how much I was being billed. It was a wonderful ending to a jesting bout.
* * *
We decided to get a central vacuum cleaner. Our portable vacuum cleaner had gallantly succumbed to its numerous daily wars against the kids. And we sent it off to the vacuum cleaners' heaven.
The children were happy not to have to carry around their work piece's motor. Our eldest daughter had lesser joy. The old vacuum cleaner shot some air behind it and lifted dust around. Her asthma forced us to give that task to others. But a central vacuum cleaner shot its air outside the house. So she became one of the conscripts for the job.
* * *
When the Transformers began invading toyland with the backing of their cartoon television show, the boys asked if they could start collecting them also. Of course, coming after the G.I. Joes, their price tag was higher than them. "No deal," the parents answered. "Being suckers once is enough. Otherwise there'll be no end to it all." The boys said "O.K.", and they continued building their G.I. Joe collection.
* * *
The movie Ghandi was shown on television. An impressive man. But, according to him, all religions were alike. They all wanted to unite man to God. Our eldest daughter wondered if this was true. After all, wasn't it common opinion?
"No," I told her, "it isn't true. Only Christ teaches to us the requirements of love and gives the needed strength to respect them. Protestantism accepts divorce and contraception. Islam accepts polygamy. Orientalism accepts that we do a lesser evil in order to attain a greater good. Also, the difference between Christianity and all other religions is that these religions are man-made attempts to reach God whereas Christ is God reaching out to men. But mainly, the usefulness or not of a religion or another is not whether we perceive it to better respect the human person. The point is whether it is true. Did Christ really enter history to live, die and resurrect? If this is the case, then we must follow his truth. Not because it pleases us but because it is true. — The night C.S. Lewis knelt before God, he felt miserable and recalcitrant, but his honesty forced him to recognise the truth of God. Peace came only afterwards. — Of course, every god can, in an abstract way, make its claim to truth. But God is a fact, a positive reality. In the same way, you could, abstractly speaking, be any man's daughter, at least of any man at the time of your conception. But, in fact, you are my daughter. And you are also the Father's daughter. Any other hypothetical Father is as ludicrous as any man who would pretend to have been in my place at the time of your conception."
My former student, Stéphane, asked whether all religions had to be respected. Answer: "All persons must be respected. But respecting their freedom to search for religious truth does not make any incomplete or erroneous answer true.
* * *
That Summer, the college organised a week of scientific technology for secondary school students. Michel, who was all brains, had a lot of fun there. And he met all kinds of students from elsewhere, amongst them the first Protestant and the first Muslim he ever encountered. Both told him he would certainly go to Hell if he did not convert.
Back home he summarised that experience: "Of all the bad luck. For once that I meet people outside our home that believe in the existence of the Devil, and they send me to him."
* * *
Parents always happen upon times when they must warn their children against the temptations of the times. Instead of offering recipes for happiness, we drew a list of commandments for unhappiness. This allowed for some
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Look at myself once and for all.
Ten commandments to be unhappy.
1- Always consider restrictions in life as walls surrounding a prison rather than a playground. — Then, you will be sure never to take occasion of the innumerable possibilities you can do and to continually lament against the innumerable impossibilities your imagination can concoct.
2- Put your happiness in acquiring something new and consider what you have as something old and boring. — Then you will be assured never to be satisfied by whatever you have dreamed of, except for a passing moment, and to always be dissatisfied.
3- Consider money as a way to buy happiness by buying all the things you do not have. — In this way, you can be sure to be unhappy, because money is always limited and things to buy are always unlimited.
4- Bask in the joy of planning and promising to give a helping hand and avoid the burden of keeping your promises. — In this way, you are sure that you will find others perpetually demanding towards you and unjust in their appreciation of your good will.
5- Consider your desires' satisfaction as a way to happiness and truth as baseless opinions. — Thus, you are sure to be a prisoner of changing times, moods and circumstances and to find that life is unjust, a hellish and depressing place where your only hope is to try to forget reality.
6- Never pray to God if you do not feel like it. — This way, you will discover that there is no God in your life and therefore no God at all. You will always be dissatisfied in finding that nothing fills you up and that people are never what they should be to be worthy of your love.
7- Love someone inasmuch as he gives you some satisfaction and find him unworthy of your love inasmuch as you discover real imperfections in him. — This way, you are sure never to achieve the happiness of loving and never to meet someone worthy of your unfailing affection.
8- Love someone for the pleasures you find in him rather than for the pleasures you give to him. — This way, you are sure that your love will become a thing and you will be surprised to find that people around you are as cold-hearted as you.
9- Study to get rid of your schooling and appraise your teachers according to the facility with which they allow you to get rid of school. — Thus, you will be sure to be misunderstood by your employers who will expect you to be a good worker, and to be bored stiff in the meantime.
10- Consider your efforts to be good and generous as worthless, because they do not regularly meet with success and put off to tomorrow the need to make a good start. — Then you are sure never to be happy now nor tomorrow, because tomorrow is never now.
* * *
A friend and I were taking a walk. He felt his wife was distant from him. I ask him:
"Do you sometimes offer her flowers?"
"Well, I don't like flowers."
"That has nothing to do with it as long as she likes them. It's like lighting up a room. When you want light, you press the switch. It has nothing to do with your liking to press switches. And light flows in. You don't like flowers, but if you give some to your wife, she brightens up. Isn't that what you like?"
"Maybe, but I don't like flowers."
* * *
A lady friend was telling Danielle that her husband was inaccessible and that she suffered from this.
"I can imagine the scene," Danielle answered. "You come to him. You put your arms around him and you gave him a tender kiss. He doesn't react. He lets you do this, then goes away to do something else. Isn't that the way things happen?"
"Yes. That's exactly the way it is."
"That's normal. That is not the way to kiss your man. That is not where you put your hand."
"No? Where should I put it? … Oh!"
"Now you understand. You have to take care of a man the way he likes it."
* * *
Another day, my friend and I passed near the flower shop. I went in and bought a flower for my sweet-heart (my wife!). I figured it might be a good idea to give my friend a chance to be a lover-boy. After placing my order, I looked at him: "Won't you be buying something for your wife?"
"No. We're broke these days."
After the florist, we popped into a general store. He goggled at some giant framed posters priced far above the cost of a rose.
"I really like these. I think I'll buy one for my wife."
* * *
When drought and communist economic bungling brought famine to Ethiopia, the Quebeckers proved their great generosity. The Caisses Populaires (Credit Unions) accepted donations from the general public and amassed two millions dollars in a short time. We were proud to feed the world's famished people.
Then the weekly 6/49 lottery went wild. The jackpot grew to previously unknown heights. And within a week the Quebeckers spent ten million dollars to feed their dreams.
* * *
Part of a weekly letter to the paternal grand-mother: "At noon Monday, we had stuffed turkey."
Extraordinary menu for a week day! But there was a reason. The stuffing was made Friday and put into the turkey on Saturday evening. Then, before going to bed, Danielle asked me: "Could you please put the heat on for the turkey at 325 F at 9:30?"
Which I did.
At six on Sunday morning, Danielle commented: "I don't smell the turkey."
I checked in the kitchen: "The oven is hot."
Then, at seven, I noticed a large container on the kitchen counter. I lift of the cover: behold! A turkey! — The oven had been empty all night.
Danielle said I was a fool to put the oven on without putting the turkey in the oven. And I protested that I never had to put the clothing in the wash when she asked me to start the machine after she had let the clothing soak for a while. The same went for the turkey when I was asked to put the oven on at 325 F.
So our Sunday visitors had some of Danielle's excellent pork chops.
* * *
Johanne was a member of the older branch of the Girl Guides, the Kamsoks. It was 5:45 when a girl from the Kamsoks called.
"Did you have your supper?"
"Not yet."
"Well hurry up and come to the clubhouse in fifteen minutes. We need you."
Danielle's mother hurriedly fast-fed Johanne who made it just in time at her meeting.
It was a kind of knightly vigil before making her promise, comprising a surprise-supper…
* * *
Philippe got 99% in Math. His older brother Michel got 99.3%. Philippe wasn't the house champion because of .3%. Of course, Michel finished his secondary school with the Governor General's medal for having been the most often first of his class during the five years of his course.
Christine, for her part, took up interior decorating at a college in Quebec City.
* * *
One of my students told me: "I just love philosophy. I tell my friends: it's terrific, I have two hours of philosophy this afternoon. They think I'm crazy."
* * *
A Letter to the editor in l'Actualité, under the title "Baby-boom": "About the changing social values (see your From Baby-Boom to Baby-Flop, in December), allow me to announce to you that in April my wife gave birth to André, our twelfth child. My wife is charming, articulate, intelligent and has many qualities amongst which — of course — having chosen me for her husband. She has the great quality of having remained a woman when so many other have fallen into feminism, and a mother amidst a sea of sterility. We are happy to still be parents at an age when so many others already suffer from the boredom of premature old-age.
"(signed:) Georges Allaire, La Pocatière."
* * *
The phone rings. Danielle answers. A courteous lady enquires: "Are you the Mrs. Allaire that has twelve children l'Actualité spoke about?"
"I am."
"We would like to have you on Télé-service, a televised public interest show on Radio-Québec. You may have seen our show?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not the one in the family who looks at television. I'm the one that takes care of those who look at television."
"Could you come to our Montréal studio?"
"I'm sorry, but what the letter said is true: I am the mother of twelve children amongst whom is a new-born."
"Er, well, maybe you could come in some later month, this summer. This is my phone number […]. I guess you do not have a job outside the home."
"Your guess is accurate."
"Tell me, madam, why did you decide to have that many children?"
"I decided to be a mother and, as for any career, I figured it was best to do the best. I imagine you, yourself, are trying to do your best in your trade."
"Er, yes. I also have… er, some children. I sort of see what you mean."
Danielle didn't go to Montréal. The trip cost too much in terms of time, energy and money. Also, she didn't feel like being interviewed and she judged it best not to waste part of an intimate vacation with her husband on such trifle.
"O.K.," I told her. "I will make a series of talks about John Paul II's ideas. The title will be: John Paul II's Silly Ideas?. Take it or leave it."
They took it! Even the parish bulletin announced it. The printer who published the bulletin called the parish: "I'm sorry ro bother you, pastor," he said, "but there seems to be an error here. There's a notice about John Paul II's Silly Ideas"
The pastor said it was all right. The printer published it, but forgot the interrogation point.
The idea behind the talks was very simple. John Paul II had been widely applauded when he visited our land. But did people really listen to what he said? His teaching sounded foolish by contemporary standards. So I presented some of his "silly ideas".
In short: Here is the public prosecutor's accusation. And on each point the accused recognised his guilt.
John Paul II, do you recognise before Our Time's tribunal…
— that you claim to be the sole person in this world upon whom God has founded his Church?
— that you claim to be the sole person in the world by whom everybody, in some way, has to go to reach God?
— that you claim, in some way, to exercise Jesus Christ's own power?
— that you claim that God wants the Mass to be compulsory for everyone?
— that you claim that God forbids remarried divorcees to receive Holy Communion?
— that you claim that everybody in the world must go to Confession?
— that you claim that it is possible for people to completely break away from God through mortal sin?
— that you claim that through contraception a person completely breaks away from the life of God?
— that you claim that a woman will never be allowed to become a priest of Jesus Christ and exercise power within His Church?
— that you claim that we are worthless outside of God and His religion?
He has made each one of these claims. According to you, the people, is he guilty of silliness, of madness, of disrespect towards people and of religious megalomania? You must recognise that in our time, there can be no hesitation: if contemporary standards are correct, then John Paul II is guilty.
I started out with the idea that Christ is as much ostracised in our time as in his own if we contrast what he taught with our way of life. It's the same with John Paul II. So, after having presented one of his positions, I showed how silly it appeared compared to today's opinions and went on to show that this foolish idea was the same as Christ's.
Some of these ideas, I first hesitated to present as they were so totally against the run of our times. So much so that some of the pastor's colleagues complained to him against my "exaggerations". He simply answered: "That's what John Paul II is teaching."
* * *
"Dad," Claude asked, "who do you love most: mother or Jesus?"
"It's simple, Claude. Jesus wants me to love your mother."
"Oh."
* * *
A colleague from my student days at the university explained: "My wife has a hereditary disease that can affect our children's eyes. One out of three children must wear special glasses. So she prefers not to have any more children."
We answered: "It's a pity that such an illness threatens your children. We can't say what is best for you. But aren't we all handicapped in some way or other, in the mind, the heart or the body? And love does not consider this as an obstacle to love a person even more. We can readily imagine that God prefers to hold in his arms a child with a difference rather than a sterile caution."
* * *
One of my molars was sore. Danielle sensibly suggested: "Go see the dentist before the weekend." He received me, X-rayed the tooth, found it healthy, and cleaned it of unwanted deposits.
His craft being part communication. he chatted and joked with the usual: "A college teacher must have a good salary compared to a poor dentist."
I joked accordingly: "Maybe, but when he has to divide his salary amongst thirteen persons…"
The rebuttal did his inspiration in. So I triumphantly continued, asking how much the "rich father" had to pay to the "poor dentist".
He said: "Twenty dollars." And added that it would have cost me seventy-five in the big city. I believed him, especially when I say how astonished his secretary was when her boss told her how much I was being billed. It was a wonderful ending to a jesting bout.
* * *
We decided to get a central vacuum cleaner. Our portable vacuum cleaner had gallantly succumbed to its numerous daily wars against the kids. And we sent it off to the vacuum cleaners' heaven.
The children were happy not to have to carry around their work piece's motor. Our eldest daughter had lesser joy. The old vacuum cleaner shot some air behind it and lifted dust around. Her asthma forced us to give that task to others. But a central vacuum cleaner shot its air outside the house. So she became one of the conscripts for the job.
* * *
When the Transformers began invading toyland with the backing of their cartoon television show, the boys asked if they could start collecting them also. Of course, coming after the G.I. Joes, their price tag was higher than them. "No deal," the parents answered. "Being suckers once is enough. Otherwise there'll be no end to it all." The boys said "O.K.", and they continued building their G.I. Joe collection.
* * *
The movie Ghandi was shown on television. An impressive man. But, according to him, all religions were alike. They all wanted to unite man to God. Our eldest daughter wondered if this was true. After all, wasn't it common opinion?
"No," I told her, "it isn't true. Only Christ teaches to us the requirements of love and gives the needed strength to respect them. Protestantism accepts divorce and contraception. Islam accepts polygamy. Orientalism accepts that we do a lesser evil in order to attain a greater good. Also, the difference between Christianity and all other religions is that these religions are man-made attempts to reach God whereas Christ is God reaching out to men. But mainly, the usefulness or not of a religion or another is not whether we perceive it to better respect the human person. The point is whether it is true. Did Christ really enter history to live, die and resurrect? If this is the case, then we must follow his truth. Not because it pleases us but because it is true. — The night C.S. Lewis knelt before God, he felt miserable and recalcitrant, but his honesty forced him to recognise the truth of God. Peace came only afterwards. — Of course, every god can, in an abstract way, make its claim to truth. But God is a fact, a positive reality. In the same way, you could, abstractly speaking, be any man's daughter, at least of any man at the time of your conception. But, in fact, you are my daughter. And you are also the Father's daughter. Any other hypothetical Father is as ludicrous as any man who would pretend to have been in my place at the time of your conception."
My former student, Stéphane, asked whether all religions had to be respected. Answer: "All persons must be respected. But respecting their freedom to search for religious truth does not make any incomplete or erroneous answer true.
* * *
That Summer, the college organised a week of scientific technology for secondary school students. Michel, who was all brains, had a lot of fun there. And he met all kinds of students from elsewhere, amongst them the first Protestant and the first Muslim he ever encountered. Both told him he would certainly go to Hell if he did not convert.
Back home he summarised that experience: "Of all the bad luck. For once that I meet people outside our home that believe in the existence of the Devil, and they send me to him."
* * *
Parents always happen upon times when they must warn their children against the temptations of the times. Instead of offering recipes for happiness, we drew a list of commandments for unhappiness. This allowed for some
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Look at myself once and for all.
Ten commandments to be unhappy.
1- Always consider restrictions in life as walls surrounding a prison rather than a playground. — Then, you will be sure never to take occasion of the innumerable possibilities you can do and to continually lament against the innumerable impossibilities your imagination can concoct.
2- Put your happiness in acquiring something new and consider what you have as something old and boring. — Then you will be assured never to be satisfied by whatever you have dreamed of, except for a passing moment, and to always be dissatisfied.
3- Consider money as a way to buy happiness by buying all the things you do not have. — In this way, you can be sure to be unhappy, because money is always limited and things to buy are always unlimited.
4- Bask in the joy of planning and promising to give a helping hand and avoid the burden of keeping your promises. — In this way, you are sure that you will find others perpetually demanding towards you and unjust in their appreciation of your good will.
5- Consider your desires' satisfaction as a way to happiness and truth as baseless opinions. — Thus, you are sure to be a prisoner of changing times, moods and circumstances and to find that life is unjust, a hellish and depressing place where your only hope is to try to forget reality.
6- Never pray to God if you do not feel like it. — This way, you will discover that there is no God in your life and therefore no God at all. You will always be dissatisfied in finding that nothing fills you up and that people are never what they should be to be worthy of your love.
7- Love someone inasmuch as he gives you some satisfaction and find him unworthy of your love inasmuch as you discover real imperfections in him. — This way, you are sure never to achieve the happiness of loving and never to meet someone worthy of your unfailing affection.
8- Love someone for the pleasures you find in him rather than for the pleasures you give to him. — This way, you are sure that your love will become a thing and you will be surprised to find that people around you are as cold-hearted as you.
9- Study to get rid of your schooling and appraise your teachers according to the facility with which they allow you to get rid of school. — Thus, you will be sure to be misunderstood by your employers who will expect you to be a good worker, and to be bored stiff in the meantime.
10- Consider your efforts to be good and generous as worthless, because they do not regularly meet with success and put off to tomorrow the need to make a good start. — Then you are sure never to be happy now nor tomorrow, because tomorrow is never now.
* * *
A friend and I were taking a walk. He felt his wife was distant from him. I ask him:
"Do you sometimes offer her flowers?"
"Well, I don't like flowers."
"That has nothing to do with it as long as she likes them. It's like lighting up a room. When you want light, you press the switch. It has nothing to do with your liking to press switches. And light flows in. You don't like flowers, but if you give some to your wife, she brightens up. Isn't that what you like?"
"Maybe, but I don't like flowers."
* * *
A lady friend was telling Danielle that her husband was inaccessible and that she suffered from this.
"I can imagine the scene," Danielle answered. "You come to him. You put your arms around him and you gave him a tender kiss. He doesn't react. He lets you do this, then goes away to do something else. Isn't that the way things happen?"
"Yes. That's exactly the way it is."
"That's normal. That is not the way to kiss your man. That is not where you put your hand."
"No? Where should I put it? … Oh!"
"Now you understand. You have to take care of a man the way he likes it."
* * *
Another day, my friend and I passed near the flower shop. I went in and bought a flower for my sweet-heart (my wife!). I figured it might be a good idea to give my friend a chance to be a lover-boy. After placing my order, I looked at him: "Won't you be buying something for your wife?"
"No. We're broke these days."
After the florist, we popped into a general store. He goggled at some giant framed posters priced far above the cost of a rose.
"I really like these. I think I'll buy one for my wife."
* * *
When drought and communist economic bungling brought famine to Ethiopia, the Quebeckers proved their great generosity. The Caisses Populaires (Credit Unions) accepted donations from the general public and amassed two millions dollars in a short time. We were proud to feed the world's famished people.
Then the weekly 6/49 lottery went wild. The jackpot grew to previously unknown heights. And within a week the Quebeckers spent ten million dollars to feed their dreams.
* * *
Part of a weekly letter to the paternal grand-mother: "At noon Monday, we had stuffed turkey."
Extraordinary menu for a week day! But there was a reason. The stuffing was made Friday and put into the turkey on Saturday evening. Then, before going to bed, Danielle asked me: "Could you please put the heat on for the turkey at 325 F at 9:30?"
Which I did.
At six on Sunday morning, Danielle commented: "I don't smell the turkey."
I checked in the kitchen: "The oven is hot."
Then, at seven, I noticed a large container on the kitchen counter. I lift of the cover: behold! A turkey! — The oven had been empty all night.
Danielle said I was a fool to put the oven on without putting the turkey in the oven. And I protested that I never had to put the clothing in the wash when she asked me to start the machine after she had let the clothing soak for a while. The same went for the turkey when I was asked to put the oven on at 325 F.
So our Sunday visitors had some of Danielle's excellent pork chops.
* * *
Johanne was a member of the older branch of the Girl Guides, the Kamsoks. It was 5:45 when a girl from the Kamsoks called.
"Did you have your supper?"
"Not yet."
"Well hurry up and come to the clubhouse in fifteen minutes. We need you."
Danielle's mother hurriedly fast-fed Johanne who made it just in time at her meeting.
It was a kind of knightly vigil before making her promise, comprising a surprise-supper…
* * *
Philippe got 99% in Math. His older brother Michel got 99.3%. Philippe wasn't the house champion because of .3%. Of course, Michel finished his secondary school with the Governor General's medal for having been the most often first of his class during the five years of his course.
Christine, for her part, took up interior decorating at a college in Quebec City.
* * *
One of my students told me: "I just love philosophy. I tell my friends: it's terrific, I have two hours of philosophy this afternoon. They think I'm crazy."
* * *
A Letter to the editor in l'Actualité, under the title "Baby-boom": "About the changing social values (see your From Baby-Boom to Baby-Flop, in December), allow me to announce to you that in April my wife gave birth to André, our twelfth child. My wife is charming, articulate, intelligent and has many qualities amongst which — of course — having chosen me for her husband. She has the great quality of having remained a woman when so many other have fallen into feminism, and a mother amidst a sea of sterility. We are happy to still be parents at an age when so many others already suffer from the boredom of premature old-age.
"(signed:) Georges Allaire, La Pocatière."
* * *
The phone rings. Danielle answers. A courteous lady enquires: "Are you the Mrs. Allaire that has twelve children l'Actualité spoke about?"
"I am."
"We would like to have you on Télé-service, a televised public interest show on Radio-Québec. You may have seen our show?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm not the one in the family who looks at television. I'm the one that takes care of those who look at television."
"Could you come to our Montréal studio?"
"I'm sorry, but what the letter said is true: I am the mother of twelve children amongst whom is a new-born."
"Er, well, maybe you could come in some later month, this summer. This is my phone number […]. I guess you do not have a job outside the home."
"Your guess is accurate."
"Tell me, madam, why did you decide to have that many children?"
"I decided to be a mother and, as for any career, I figured it was best to do the best. I imagine you, yourself, are trying to do your best in your trade."
"Er, yes. I also have… er, some children. I sort of see what you mean."
Danielle didn't go to Montréal. The trip cost too much in terms of time, energy and money. Also, she didn't feel like being interviewed and she judged it best not to waste part of an intimate vacation with her husband on such trifle.
