MARQUÉPOUALLÉOLAC
The day after the story of boots I met Paul-Emile. He approached me, looked at me and goes to the front ...
"Do you remember the bed toé yellow at the head of the stairs near the front window where we slept? "
" One night in December was probably the announcement of a snow storm we were noisier than usual. "Shut up ptits guys, it's time to sleep," we had repeated more than one Once Popa. A few seconds of silence and then the noise began again. "I'll go!" A pause slightly longer and it broke out again. We had fun sliding each in turn on the lap of another. "
" The door opened down, it was loud. Aunts Alice and Lucienne had just entered. We took the opportunity to double our achievements. Remember Florian, it was your turn. I raised my knees higher than normal. And bang, you've picked up the head on the cutting edge of the foot of the bed that was in maple or oak. It was bleeding. Your white jacket was all stained with blood. You as a bawling calf. Moe I did not know what to do. We went up to see what was happening. There was Mum, my aunt Alice, who always spoke very loudly, Lucienne aunt who spoke even louder. Then you have come down in their arms .. Quickly they put the bomb on the first round of the stove to heat water. "
" While we are busy down around Toei, I lay in bed snuggled under the covers, fearing to be baffled. After a while I heard my aunt say Lucienne "It does not matter in another MARQUÉPOUALLERAULAC vla. Marquépoualleraulac, I do not understand not what it meant but I found that you had something that I did not. Your tears are dried. You came back to bed so proud, you were MARQUÉPOUALLÉOLAC. "
" It meant what? I've never known. "
" R'garde moé so you! " What you got on the forehead to the hairline, top right?
"Oh yes! it is a scar. I was MARQUÉPOUALLÉOLAC "I said as we closed a history book which can be put on the shelves of the past.
Ed
At that time few residents of St. Zéphirin and possibly other surrounding parishes sent to pasture in the summer on an island at the entrance of Lake St. Pierre, near Sorel, young heifers they were not firing. To recognize their cattle owners in the fall the brand marks. Hence the term "marked to go to the lake" Aunt Lucienne final in her care had served that night.
I have understood the meaning until much later. Today I am still proud of my scar as a witness of my injury wartime exploits of childhood.
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