Étienne placed both feet and pushed on the board Terry was indicating.
“Not too hard, now. Push just a wee bit . . . OK, now you got it. Keep dat up until I stop sawing, alright?”
Étienne nodded. Terry slipped his pencil in his mouth and went to work.
“We’s workin’ hard, eh, Dad?”
“You said it, boy!”
And once the board was cut:
“Der! Now can you raise yer arms as high as yer able over yer head. Dat’ll tell me ’round where to put the shelf.”
Étienne raised his arms and Terry put a mark on the wall.
“Alright. Now we’s gotta saw two smaller bits of wood to hold up de big board dat goes across dis way. Can you find two pieces ’bout as long as yer arm an’ wide as yer hand, and tick as. . . “
“Like dis?”
Étienne had already found a length of wood approximatley fitting Terry’s specifications.
“Dat’s perfect, boy. Can you find anudder like it?”
“I’ll try, Dad.”
The boy finally came up with a board that a single cut would bring down to the right size. With Terry’s help, he measured the desired length, drew the pencil line and sawed the board. Terry then screwed the supports into the wall, and father and son slipped the shelf into place, forcing it slightly at the end, because none of this was perfectly straight.
“Now we cleans up all around, an’ den we can push de dresser back in place.”
No sooner said than done, although at the end, Étienne struggled to lift his side of the small piece of furniture. Terry advised him how to go about it:
“Put yer foot under one of de legs, it’ll be a whole lot easier.”
Since Étienne didn’t understand what his dad meant, Terry went over and placed the boy’s foot under the leg in the right corner of the wardrobe.
“Now, when you takes a step, yer foot’ll he helpin’ lift de dresser. Won’t be so hard on yer arms.”
Terry went back to his side of the small furniture, placed his own foot under one of the legs to serve as a model for his son.
“Are ya ready, den? One . . . two . . . tree . . . go!”
The dresser moved forward a few paces in the right direction.
“Dad! It works!”
“You knows yerself, boy! Keep ’er up!”
Once the dresser was in place, Terry wanted to compliment his son:
“Lard tunderin’, I tinks we’ll make a real carpenter out o’ you, boy . . .”
“Awh, no. I don’t tink so, Dad.”
“No? On account of?”
“Dad! I never hammer any nails!”
1262.126.3
Techniques
Romanian originally cut three letters from the traditional Latin alphabet q, w, and y and added five that do not appear in any of the other main latinate languages: ă, â, î, ș, and ț. One should not mistake these signs for accented letters — they are actual, distinct letters.
1263.88.9
Freedom
“I don’t like it when you make fun of religion.”
I had a soft spot for Sylvia.
“On account of?”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t seem necessary.”
“It’s part of life, isn’t it? Why can’t it be criticized like anything else?”
“Yes, I know.”
I liked her lack of stubborness.
“I know you’re more of a believer . . .”
. . .
“Only, seems to me the Church can defend itself. It’s not as though I were attacking some defenseless person or thing.”
. . .
“An’ anyhow, I’m not really attacking the Church or religion. I only says wot’s in me head. I don’t try to prove my point.”
“I know.”
Sylvia was twisting a bent paperclip round and round in her fingers as she spoke:
“For lots of people, that’s all they’ve got. They have to hold on to something, so they hold on to that. I think, for those people, it’s sad. It’s as though you were dashing their hopes.”
. . .
“Educated folks can probably understand what you mean. I feel like I’m speaking for the others.”
“I understand.”
Beyond understanding, I was moved by Sylvia’s natural penchant for thinking spontaneously of those less fortunate.
“Just out of curiosity . . . do you consider yourself educated?”
Sylvia thought about it for a moment before replying:
“I only took a course in secretary school after highschool . . . but that’s not really all that matters.”
. . .
“To be honest, I’ve never felt that I wasn’t educated. Though I don’t really have any sort of proof of an education. I’ve no degree, no big words, nor grand ideas . . .”
I would have liked to dwell a while longer on those grand ideas that Sylvia associated with the idea of an education, but she had moved on:
“It’s odd that we’re talking about this. When the lofts opened, I really wanted one, a little one, just to be in town more often, to meet people, maybe take a class at the university. It’s as though I had this need, this desire to do exactly that, to educate myself.”
“Awh, is that right? Why didn’t you do it then?”
“I don’t really know, something else must have intervened, and it sort of passed. But recently, the idea came back to me. It still attracts me.”
“You ought to do it. I think you’d enjoy it.”
. . .
“As a matter of fact, there’s a loft for sale. Someone who’s moving to Montréal.”
“Is that right?”
1264.101.11
Duos
But, or, then, by, against, to, of, not, and, as: conjunctions? adverbs? prepositions? Go back and reread my grammar.
1265.68.12
Projects
“Étienne, do you hear de door?”
Terry couldn’t stand the tap-taping that the front door made when it wasn’t properly shut. That irregular knocking was especially unbearable when he was lying down on the sofa for a short nap.
“’Tisn’t me, ’tis de wind.”
Étienne’s tone was very convincing, despite the fact that he had a habit of not shutting the door properly.
“De wind don’t usually turn door knobs . . .”
Étienne did not budge. Terry counted ten seconds, then:
“Étienne . . . ?”
“Alright. I’ll do dat fer you, Dad.”
Terry felt there was something amiss in the boy’s reply, but gave up thinking about it when he heard the neat click that meant the door was properly shut.
“Tanks, son.”
1266.89.9
Irritants
A tactic consists generally in using a technique in a new way or with an unusual aim, which has the effect of surprising and momentarily disarming.
1267.127.5
Tactics
“Me, I knows a little fellow dat’s obsessed wid poisoning folks.”
“Poison . . . profusion, interior harm, profusion leaving me in tears in your arms.
1268.141.4
Obsessions
“How old is he?”
“I’d say four of five years old.”
“Awh, I knows ’im, too.”
For some reason, the character of Catherine has supplanted Élizabeth in the lives of Zed and Chico.
1269.96.5
Characters
“You really wrote this?”
The Cripple reread the poem on the sheet of paper that Terry had tried to hide under L’Acadie nouvelle newspaper, but which had slipped out and onto the floor the other side of t
he cash and right in front of The Cripple’s armchair so that the latter only had to bend over to pick it up.
“Dat’s impressive.”
The Cripple seemed sincere, even slightly surprised.
“Have you written a lot?”
Terry was more than a little embarassed. He’d never shown his writing to anyone.
“Not so many as all dat. I’s got a couple o’ notebooks on de go, only der not full up.”
The Cripple’s interest encouraged Terry to explain some of the finer points of the short forms, and the rules he was conscious of violating.
“Yer supposed to be always talkin’ ’bout de seasons, only not directly, an’ nature, in some way or udder. Only I don’t do dat. ’Tis all I can do just to be gettin’ de right number of syllables, an’ even den, I don’t count dose dat ends in e.”
The Cripple reread the poem again, and commented:
“’Tis sometin’ all de same! You’ve got a powerful imagination.”
Knowing The Cripple’s unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Terry thought he might steer the conversation in another direction:
“Der’s some fine books dat talks all about deez sorts o’ poems.”
The Cripple folded Terry’s poem and put it in his pocket. The gesture surprised Terry, who didn’t dare stop him. The Cripple explained himself:
“Take someone like Chico’s dad . . .”
“Shawn?”
The Cripple nodded:
“Dat fellow, to go an’ kill ’is fawder, I’d say ’is imagination deserted ’im. On account of I tink ’tis our imagination stops us goin’ mad.”
Terry, whose head had been leaning one way, now leaned it the other:
“Dat makes proper sense. . . “
“Question is, can we be havin’ too much imagination?”
1270.16.11
The Cripple
True or false: the odrer of lertets in a wrod is umnipnortat, the olny tihng ipmrontat to raed wuthoit a porlebm is taht the frist and lsat lertets are in the rhigt pacle, baucese the haumn barin deos not raed erevy leettr, but rheatr the wrod as a wolhe.
1271.116.3
True or False
“O’er ’ere, Zed?”
Zed wasn’t sure.
“Gotta be snow dat’s not been touched. We’ll go a wee bit farder to be sure.”
Chico walked ahead with a cod-salting pail in each hand, the kind of pail that’s used to transport mashed potato poutine. Zed was toting a large rectangular tub and a shovel.
“I tink nobody’s walked o’er ’ere ’cept maybe a bird. Does a bird count?”
Zed, torn between the thought of birds carrying all sorts of strange new viruses, and the weight of his tub full of snow, decided it was best not to go too far. He chose a spot next to the supposed bird tracks.
“Ought to be fine o’er ’ere.”
But Zed was still not convinced; he continued to study the spot. Chico waited for more definitive instructions, which finally came:
“The best an’ cleanest snow’s gotta be under dat small outcrop o’er der. Let’s go as far as dat.”
Chico and Zed moved over to their right, and dug a first hole.
“She’s as white as white can be. Dat’s de way we wants ’er.”
They set to work filling their containers with immaculate snow.
“Push down to pack ’er in proper.”
Chico pressed the snow down into his containers as best he could.
“Didn’t yer Granny sometimes make taffy-on-de-snow?”
“Naw. She only made mouse titties.”
It had been a while since Zed had heard that name used for crow’s foot greens. He burst out laughing, and Chico soon joined in.
1272.135.5
Zed and Chico
. . .
“Does we gotta fill de pails right to de edge?”
The opposite of a misadventure would be a success, a triumph, a satisfaction, a pleasure.
1273.64.1
Opposites
“I’ve enough stuff in me pockets, I can hardly sit meself down.”
As he spoke, Terry emptied the contents of his pockets on the low living-room coffee table: bits of paper; key chains; two large unmatched screws; a small golf pencil; a stone; a thin white, red, and blue ribbon; a bit of orange peel; a tiny battery; and half a wooden clothespin with the spring.
“Where did ya find all dat, Dad?”
Étienne had already grabbed hold of the stone.
“Awh, ’ere an’ der, where I’s been o’er de course o’ de day, I suppose.”
Étienne also took the little piece of wood with its metal ornament.
“Dat was at Granny’s. ’Twas lying on de edge of the front porch. De udder piece was on de ground. I was tinkin’ to pick it up an’ put de two bits togedder, only Granny was talkin’ to me an’ I guess I forgot.”
“Can I ’ave it?”
“You want it? She’s yers!”
Terry noticed that Étienne was also holding the stone.
“An’ you can ’ave dat stone, as well.”
Happy, Étienne put the stone straight into his mouth. Terry panicked.
“Wot’re you at, boy?!”
Étienne jumped, spit the wet stone out.
“’Tis only to see de colour. Chico was showin’ me how.”
Terry came over to look at the colour of the stone Étienne was showing him:
“Hmm, looks green like.”
Étienne was silent. The stone lacked the brilliance of Chico’s stones. He realized that Chico had not kept just any stone; rather, he’d been selective, and that was what made his stones a real collection. Étienne put the stone in his pocket, along with the more than half a clothespin, which he would examine more closely at his leisure.
1274.113.6
Collections
Strictly speaking, it’s in fact on the twelfth of February (rather than on the second — Candlemas or the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin), that one ought to observe the behaviour of the male groundhog, who pokes his head out of his den on that day in search of a female on whom to bestow his affections. According to popular belief, if the groundhog sees his shadow (because the sun happens to be shining on that day), the creature will immediately forget his desire, and draw back into his cave, thus presaging another six weeks (40 days) of bad weather (winter). However, this belief dates back to before the adoption of the modern calendar (also known as Gregorian, after Pope Gregory XIII), which shortened the year 1582 by 10 days (passing from October 5 to 15 in a single night), thus creating for ever after a 10-day lag with the date on the old calendar (named Julian, after Julius Caesar).
1275.13.12
Parenthesi(e)s
Ludmilla placed a tablemat, a knife, and a fork in front of Étienne, and then a plate of pasta shells in cheese sauce.
“Who invented plates . . .”
Ludmilla had thus repeated the essence of her godson’s question aloud in order to better grasp it, but in vain:
“Well, I have to say I have no idea. Why?”
“Dad says dat everytin’s invented ’cept fer nature.”
“Yes, I think he’s absolutely right.”
“Even a chocolate bar.”
Étienne thought the addition of this detail might astonish Ludmilla.
“Yes, I suppose someone had to think of it.”
Étienne looked at the pasta on his plate, readied his fork to spear some.
“Do you know someone who invented sometin’?
“Many things were already invented when I was born. Take plates, for example: they already existed, and I’ve never heard anyone I know mention who actually invented them. Probably they’ve been around for so long that no one worries about who�
��s idea they were.”
Étienne thought the fate of inventors was sad.
“Also, some things are invented little by little. The plate may have started out as a large shell found by the sea, or a broad rigid leaf, or a calabash. Then, with time, people got the idea to make them, in terracotta, then in porcelain, and eventually in plastic.”
Étienne chewed without speaking. Once he’d swallowed:
“Der’s tree words I didn’t understand.”
1276.114.6
Inventions
FRICTIONARY: n. — 2005. 1. Collection of signifying units resulting from the phenomenon of friction between languages. “The need for a frictionary in order to understand them confirmed their exotic nature.” (Daigle)
1277.120.2
Fictionary
“Mum, who was it invented tootpaste?”
“Really, I don’t know. A dentist, maybe.”
The follow-up question came a little later.
“Mum, when dey was inventin’ tootpaste, did dey invent de taste first, or de tube?”
Carmen found the question rather specialized.
“Well, I suppose once dey had the paste, dey had to find a good taste fer it. Because, widout a good taste, folks would not have wanted to brush der teeth, now would dey?”
Carmen herself was impressed by her reply.
“An’ de tube?”
“Fer the tube, I have no idea. Could be dat the tube already existed, fer medicines in ointments or udder sorts of creams.”
1278.114.4
Inventions
“Well, wid wot did dey invent de taste, den?”
“Dey had spices dat give a good taste, like mint, an’ cinnamon.”
“Awh.”
First, there are the typos.
1279.70.1
Errors
“Dad, will I be havin’ to play hockey as well?”
“Only if you wants to.”
. . .
“Do you?”
“Don’t know.”
It occurred to Terry that Marianne would have leapt for joy at the prospect of playing hockey.
“Chico’s gonna be startin’ to play.”
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