My brother Robert, a.k.a. Bobby Baby, will be landing at Montréal-Trudeau airport next sunday morning.
Since his last visit in February 2004, eight long years have gone by… and a few more postcards have been added to the pile.
Robert and I are the last remaining members of the original Lavoie clan pictured below in 1971.
On the right, proudly holding up the Commander in Chief Official Branch, is my dad — Gérard Lavoie — who died in 1974 of too much drinking and smoking… and of not following his dreams. He was 55.
On the left is my mother — Yvonne Thériault Lavoie — who passed away very suddenly in her rocking chair, in 1991. She was 70.
In the front, in the middle, is my darling younger brother André who followed his dreams but went flying to his death, in 1994, in a motorcycle -vs- car crash. He was 37.
And there we are in the back, my brother Robert on the right and me the older sister on the left, still standing after all these years.
Robert lives in Belgium, moved there in 1982 after falling in love with a beautiful Belgian girl. He’ll be around till May 31 — let the good times roll!
* * *
P.S.: Robert travels a lot and has been to many European countries. Here are just a few of the postcards he has sent me over the years. Postcards From Bobby Baby (1), (2), (3), (4).
33 years today is how long Vincent has been
eating and breathing music…
— * — HAPPY BIRTHDAY VINCENT! — * —
Actually, make that 33 years and 9 months, because all through my pregnancy, he got to listen to a darn good rock’n'roll mix.
In our more intimate moments, as I sat in the rocking chair patting my belly, I would sing Joni Mitchell’s Circle Game — it was “our song.” After he was born, I quickly noticed he remembered that song; as soon as he would hear it, he’d become very calm and usually fall asleep before the end of the last verse.
Pardon my rump, but this is the only photo I’ve got with both of us in front of the sound system we had at the time.
The scene takes place in November 1980 in the house where Vincent was born. You’ll notice the huge speaker behind me; two of these monsters blasting their 12-inch woofers really shook the place up. Little Vincent is probably handing me his list of special requests…
As a teenager, Vincent learned how to play the bass, the guitar, the drums. But even without an instrument, he would constantly be singing.
For his 33rd birthday, he gave me a gift. I had been nagging him for years to try to get him to record himself and last week, he finally did it. I know it took a lot of guts — whattago, Vinnie Baby !
So without further ado, I’m very proud to present to you my son Vincent singing his version of Hunger Strike by Temple of the Dog.
On the anniversary of my mother’s passing, I usually light a candle and place it beside the urn containing her ashes as soon as I wake up. But because of my latest move, the urn is still at my son’s place, so the morning went by without my accomplishing this yearly ritual.
After lunch, I was sitting on the couch, gazing at my small but cozy one-and-a-half-room apartment, when I got the answer to a question that had been bothering me for weeks: where can I put that cute lamp I love so much?
Of course! The brand new IKEA Billy bookcase in the corner — it definitely lacked a dash of light.
So I rushed to the closet, grabbed the lamp away from its hiding place, and proceeded to make a niche for it on the third shelf of my darling Billy.
Once the job was done, I sat back down on the couch to admire how the once gloomy corner was now beaming with a lovely green glow. That’s when I noticed, on the shelf above the lamp, Mom’s picture taken in 1987 on her trip to Belgium to visit my brother Robert (a.k.a. Bobby Baby).
A shiver went through my body… and instantly, I said out loud:
Awwww… Maman… Maman… Maman.
Well as soon as I finished pronouncing the third Maman,
the lamp went off.
The bulb chose that exact moment to burn out.
I knew it was a sign. Mom was saying Hi!
So I got back up, took her picture off the shelf, put it on my work table, and lit two candles — one on each side of the picture frame.
They burned all day for my Maman, Yvonne Thériault, a native of Paquetville, New Brunswick, who died on December 5, 1991.
That day, she had walked the mile-and-a-half walk to the village, in sub-zero weather, to buy groceries. Mom didn’t own a car. She didn’t have a driver’s permit. Mom was an enthusiastic walker.
On her way back from the village, she had stopped over at her friend’s house for some hot coffee and the usual chit-chat. Then, as it was getting dark, she had walked home, had eaten supper, and had retreated to her rocking chair to watch television.
In the evening, television was all Mom had for entertainment. So she would sit in her rocking chair, all alone in that house of hers by the side of a dirt road. In the middle of nowhere. In Sainte-Sophie-de-Lévrard.
Oh how she hated watching television.
She used to say, C’est plate à mort!
Which translates to It bores me to death!
And so Death struck Yvonne in her rocking chair…
while she was watching television.
* * *
Herenow…
Since posting Reality Won’t Destroy Me, I’ve decided to connect to the Twenty-First Century: I now have Internet and basic cable television. With the television channels come — to my delight — more than forty music stations. As I type away, I’m listening to Flashback Seventies on Galaxy… after overdosing on Smooth Jazz Christmas.
But the good news is, I get to publish my blog posts and communicate with you directly from my humble adobe.
Life is so darn beautiful.
Hope yours is too.
LOVE YOU!
P.S.: Thanks for all your kind words and cheers on Facebook. And thanks for taking the time to leave a comment as I really look forward to more action and interaction right here on my blog.
P.P.S.: About SUBSCRIPTIONS — I didn’t receive an email notice for my last blog post. So I went ahead and subscribed again (see subscribe icons at top-right corner of this site). If you didn’t receive an email notice as well, please subscribe again. And if you haven’t subscribed yet, please do as I should be posting on a more regular basis in the future and you want to make sure you follow my new Mountain Adventures on this Road Trip Destination Happiness. Oh yeah, baby!
While I travel in my head, in my dreams, in my imaginary bus, my brother Robert travels in reality.
Recently, he and his wife took a 3-day trip to London. They left their home in Saint-Symphorien and went by car to Brussels, and then took the train for the rest of the way. I phoned him as soon as I received his card, last week, and he told me they had a blast.
Let me translate for you:
Wednesday, November 3
A little trip for two in London.
Quick, but superb. We’re thinking of you.
See you soon, big kisses.
I forgot to show you the 2 postcards Bobby Baby sent me over the summer. They’re particularly interesting as they were sent from the region, in France, where our ancestor René de la Voye was born. With all the renovations and stuff lying all over the place, I’ll have to find them first! As soon as I do, I’ll put them up.
And do you know where the next postcard will be coming from? Barcelona. Cool, huh?
For more about Bobby Baby and
his postcards: (1), (2), (3).
After almost a month and a half away at my son’s place in the mawwwvelous Laurentian Mountains where I logged wood, stacked wood, dragged large pine branches, raked and shoveled and ran around with a wheelbarrow, cleaned the basement, cleaned the cupboards, and did miscellaneous jobs that all had to do with putting the finishing touches to the house my son has been building for more than two years now (get to the point, Vince!), I’ve returned to my humble abode — black and blue and calloused all over.
But hey, I had a great time. Learned a lot about myself. Made peace with my anxieties. Got in touch with my *true bumness*. And now I’m ready to take the next step… a rockin’ dance step towards my dreams.
Speaking of dreams, one of them is to create a series of podcasts – THE ROAD TRIP SHOW — in which I’ll be taking us on a ride through the last half of the 20th Century and all the way back to the present — a better and brighter present! The show will feature personal stories, historical facts, and lots of music to help us reminisce.
So here’s where you’ll find me in the days and months to come: at my desk, with my faithful Snowball mic, recording what hopefully will become the most popular podcast on the Internet — yeah, baby!
While I’m organizing this audio revolution, (“promises, promises,” you think — we’ll have to wait and see)
here’s another little somethin’ to help you
get used to my voice:
Last month, my brother was in Prague.
He’s the same traveling sibbling who
graced me with postcards 1 and 2.
I spoke to him this afternoon. Actually, the call was meant for his son Benoît who turned 20 today — I wanted to serenade his ears off with an appropriate song. But my nephew was out and about with friends, so good old auntie Mudd will have to wait.
All this to say that my dear brother Robert was blown away by Prague’s architecture. He visited the “superbe belle ville” (i.e., superb beautiful city) with his childhood friend Louis and, of course, the wives. Result: 5 days of total bliss.
So blissful that he ran out of words to express his feelings — as you can plainly (and shortly) see by reading the card.
I can remember the days, many many moons ago,
when we used to hold hands and wait for the future
to whisk us away on exotic adventures.
Well… one of us is still waiting.
But my time will come!
