This isn’t a story, I just want to tell you a little about the people of D’Escousse that I grow up with. Some of these people are no longer with us, but they definitely shouldn’t be forgotten. In researching the genealogy of Isle Madame, it’s made me realize how precious stories are about our ancestors. Just a name mentioned in passing is delightful to see. So for this reason I want to tell you about Joe Leblanc. |
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| Mr. Joe LeBlanc, as I addressed him, was the owner of the LeBlanc’s General Store in D’Escousse. I’m not sure when he purchased it, but he was there when we moved back to D’Escousse in 1954. He was a short dark man, quiet manner, and a keen businessman in his sixties or so. He always wore the same cloths, rumbled suit, white shirt and worn black shoes. His store was always dark and dingy, but he stocked the shelves with just about everything you needed and then some. Mr. LeBlanc gave credit to his customers and he painstakingly wrote every item in his little book, licking the tip of his pencil after each item. A copy of the bill accompanied the groceries in the bag. He didn’t care how much you charged as long as the bill was paid at the end of each month, but if something happened that they couldn’t pay it all, he didn’t give his customers a rough time about it. Some people didn’t like Mr. Leblanc because he was different and didn’t mix much with the people on a personal level, but I did. I asked him once why he wrote "nite" instead of "night". His answer was "that’s the way the ‘yanks’ do it". Seems he had spent some time in the States in his earlier days. Some people said that was where he made all his money. The building his grocery store was in was the original LeBrun Grocery Store. When Mr. LeBlanc owned it, he had apartments in the back of the building, the Post Office with Susan Murphy in the front and a teen hangout operated by my Uncle Simon Samson and his daughter Sylvia. Today the very spot where Mr. LeBlanc’s Store was, Claire’s Cafe is situated. Claire has Mr. LeBlanc’s safe sitting in the restaurant. He died sometime in the 80s. I miss him. |
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| Mr. Alcide Samson lived next door to our house in D’Escousse. My sisters and I would cross the field to his house and we sometimes spent the whole day with him. We played cards, made puzzles but most of the time we would cook fudge or tamara (stretch taffy). In the summer, Mr. Alcide had outdoor games for us. We would play basketball, baseball, races to see who could run the fastest and he had prizes for the winner. The equipment was homemade but it served the purpose. Mr. alcide was a lonely old man because his wife was in a mental hospital and had been there for many years. Years earlier the neighbors almost never saw his wife but when they did, she looked like a crazed woman with long matted hair, hiding behind a window curtain. Eventually Mr. Alcide had no choice and placed her in an institution. She died there. |
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| The Frenchmen, Mr. Champion, was from France and for some unknown reason decided to settle in Poirierville after the 2nd world war. He rode his bike everywhere, winter and summer. When I was about 11, he came to our house and asked my mother if she would keep his dog, Gigi while he went to France to visit his family. I became very attached to Gigi and dreaded Mr. Champion’s return. He was gone for a long time and after a while I felt safe that he wouldn’t return and take Gigi from me. One day I saw his bike turn into our driveway and Gigi and I fled to the woods behind our house. After several hours I returned home to find my mother waiting at the back door. Mr. Champion had gone home to Poirierville, never to return for his dog. When he saw how attached I was to Gigi he didn’t have the heart to take her. Rumor had it the Frenchmen ate cats and people wouldn’t let their cats out when he was around, but I never believed it. Years later I sat next to him at a dinner at the Legion and struck up a conversation. I reminded him of Gigi and how much he had pleased me the day he gave her to me. He said that when he saw how fast we had disappeared into the woods he knew she had found a good home. |
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