Brief Family Reunion In Montreal

My parents were born, grew up, met and married in Montreal. One of my brothers and my sister were born there. My family came to permanently live in America about 3-4 years prior to my birth. When I was very young, my family visited Montreal often, but over the years the trips became fewer and fewer, as relatives died and my family became immersed in a busy life here in America. The last time I was in Montreal was when I was a kid. I have three cousins and an aunt living there now. My dad's family is all gone and has been for some time now. My mom was the eldest of 4 children. My mom's younger brother, Dick, has been dead for some time now, but his widow, my Aunt May is still alive and well, as are her two daughters, Lorna and Arlene. Lorna is 5 weeks older than I am, and Arlene is a couple of years younger. They wanted to see me so much that they bought me a plane ticket and also paid for my hotel in downtown Montreal.

My flight out had me on US Airways, changing planes in Philly with a lay-over of about an hour and a half. This was quite reasonable. Because I was just coming for a weekend, I only had a carry-on. Lorna and her husband Darrin were meeting me at the airport and I was a bit worried we might not recognize each other. Earlier in the day I e-mailed Lorna that I'd be wearing a Kelly-green coat. The coat is a light-weight wool, under which I could layer. I brought some light layers of clothes with me. After deplaning, of course, I had to go through Immigration/Customs. A couple of international flights had landed simultaneously, so it was a mob scene, but I had my paperwork filled out and the agent who asked me the purpose of my trip was pleasant and told me that my cousin lived in a good section of town when I mentioned where she resided. At last I emerged into "Arrivals" and saw a number of people there. Suddenly I spied a woman walking toward me saying "Kathy?" and I knew it was my cousin Lorna. Her facial features strongly resemble those of her dear late father, and she also has some features of our late Aunt Marg. Lorna introduced me to her husband, Darrin, who spirited away my bag and led us to the parking structure for the ride to dinner.

Lorna explained I'd be staying in the Cantalie Suites on Sherbrooke Ouest, which is in the heart of Montreal. But first we were going to dinner in a place she called "a hole in the wall" in a section of Montreal called NDG, which I knew stands for Notre-Dame-de-Grâce. The place we went to was called Chalet Barbecue, and it was further down the street from my hotel. Lorna said my folks definitely would have known the place. It's paneled with light wood, the waitresses all can carry 70 lbs. of food and they've all worked there 20 years or more. The mix of clientele is delightful--young families, older folks, and obviously a lot of "regulars". The food was good and plentiful, too, but not like a traditional American barbecue place. The barbecue sauce is not so tomato-based, and is more like a honeyed-mustard sauce that gets tang from vinegar. After dinner we took a brief drive and Darrin proposed we go somewhere for dessert. Lorna exclaimed that Rockaberry was nearby, so that's where we went. (I had no idea what it was and thought it might be an ice-cream place!) Turns out Rockaberry is actually a café (more accurately a small chain of three of them) that serves amazing desserts. They call them "pies" but they're not like any pie I've ever seen anywhere, nor do they have a traditional crust. They're more "bombe"-shaped and I found them to be more like a cake or pastry and they are in every possible flavor you can imagine. Darrin ordered raspberry-fudge, Lorna ordered Boston Cream, and I ordered mille feuille and we also had coffee and tea. We headed over to the hotel afterward and I checked in. My cousin wanted to make certain I was settled in, so she came with me to my room, which was on the 11th floor. This hotel has undergone recent restorations. Some of the floors are smoking floors, but of course I wasn't on one of them. All rooms are suites. My room had 2 beds and the windows overlooked Sherbrooke Street. There is what looks like a small closet in the room, and if you open the doors you find there's a cupboard containing some pots, glassware and plates, as well as a sink, 4 burners, and a small fridge. We bid each other goodnight and agreed upon a time when my cousin would meet me in the lobby in the morning. The hotel staff were very friendly and helpful, but I felt oddly as though I could not get the room cool enough.

Aunt May lives in the very nice area of Montreal known as Côte Saint-Luc. The houses are kind of close together, and look small on the outside but are deceptively roomy inside. We stood on the porch and rang the bell. At first nothing. Lorna rang again and I heard a lot of excited barking. Lorna said she forgot to tell me and hoped I didn't mind dogs, as Aunt May has 3 now. (No worries, I enjoy dogs.) So with a great deal of trouble, my cousin Arlene, who with her two teenagers, lives with my aunt, opened the door and welcomed us in. We did the "kiss-kiss", or bis, and Arlene told me she was so sorry, but she had to go to work! I was so sorry and hoped to spend some time with her, but I do understand. When you're trying to support two teenage kids, it's got to be tough and when your employer offers you OT, it's impossible to turn down under those circumstances. Aunt May came out and looked great. Although short. Quite short. My family has never been known for its stature, and I guess it's because I'd last seen her in childhood, but Mon Dieu, she is a tiny lady now! We sat and chatted for some time and then Aunt May decided it was time for lunch. The nicest china was on the table, a floral pattern in reds, and Aunt May had an amazing assortment of cheeses, good rye bread, a nice coleslaw, charcuterie and tea for our lunch. We chatted about family stories, politics in our towns (Montreal has a newly-elected mayor), our health. Aunt May is doing pretty well. She take blood-pressure medicine and I think is experiencing some sciatica from what she described. She said she'd been shocked to hear what I'd experienced with the lymphoma, but so relieved to see me well and to see me at all, for she said there had been times she thought she never would. We repaired to the living room, where we chatted a bit more, then Lorna announced it was time for our walk. My dad was almost a professional hockey player; he made the cut into "semi-pro" and then decided after a couple of my uncles died (one accidentally, one from diptheria) that he needed to be a stable force for his mother, and remain in Montreal, something he couldn't do if he played hockey professionally, although back in those days professional hockey players didn't command the outrageous salaries they do today, and all of them had "other" jobs in "the off-season" which was considerably longer back in those days prior to the NHL expansion. My father, nevertheless, had close ties to the Montreal hockey community and was a good friend of a man named Toe Blake, who became the coach of the Montreal Canadiens hockey team. (Yes, Canadiens, it's French.) "Toe" had been known by that name from his childhood until his death, although his actual first name was Hector; his baby sister had called him "Hec-toe" and the "Toe" stuck as his nickname. In any event, it turns out he lived in a house behind where Aunt May's house is now, and there is a park in Aunt May's neighborhood named after Toe, so we went there. It was windy, cold and a bit overcast, but I felt no threat of rain. Lorna, who is trying to give Ansel Adams a run for his money based on number of photos taken, snapped me near the sign that says "Toe Blake Park" several times, and then took some photos of Arlene's daughter, Shannon and me. She'd already snapped me with Aunt May. Arriving back at Aunt May's, the delicious aroma of coffee was in the air, and Lorna, Shannon and I were happy to be out of the cold wind. Arlene had picked up some nice bakery cookies from an upscale kosher bakery. The cookies were fine and a lovely accompaniment to the coffee.

Our plan for the evening was that Darrin, Lorna, and I were going out to dinner. Lorna's daughter, Jennifer, was taking the car to go meet up with a friend. From the restaurant, Darrin was going to walk to his office and Lorna and I were headed to The Bell Center to see a Canadiens hockey game. Well, part of it, anyway. The plan was that we stay through the first period, then come outside where Jen and her pal would take our tickets. We'd walk over to Darrin's office from there, and collect him and get the car and the three of us would drive around a bit. It was sooooo funny---I don't know whether it's because I'm a woman or an American, but I think Darrin didn't think I'd know as much about hockey as I do. I said I was really sorry but my Red Wings would crush the Canadiens at some point in the season, and Darrin laughed and asked what I thought of the Canadiens. I summarized as "strong skating, weak defense and poor stick-handling" and I could tell he and Jennifer were impressed. Lorna, Darrin and I ended up at a place called Les Trois Brasseurs on rue Ste. Catherine for dinner. It's a small chain, 3 restaurants in Montreal, and one opening in Toronto, a few in France, and is a microbrew pub. The menu was in French and my cousin and her husband offered to translate for me, but I told them I could make it out just fine. Darrin and I each ordered a "flamm" which is a kind of flatbread pizza and Arlene had a chicken wrap. We heard a bell ring a couple of times in the restaurant so my cousin asked our server what that meant, and he told us it meant someone had just consumed a meter of beer! Here is their website, you can play around a bit with it:

http://www.les3brasseurs.ca/fre/ste_catherine.php

The pre-game color show at the Bell Center was amazing. The seats we had were right on the blue line, but up a bit, so they were perfect and we could see everything, including a big screen in front of us. Canadians take hockey seriously. Very, very, very seriously. Projected on the big screen were videos of famous hockey players whose "numbers" were retired when they stopped playing for the Canadiens. Then the screen projected a message that stated there have been 773 men who've worn the "bleu-blanc-rouge" (color of the Canadiens' jerseys) and the Bell Center went completely dark and the names of all these men were projected "scrolling" onto the ice! The Canadiens skated out on the ice as the lights came on in the Bell Center, and I thought perhaps Celine Dion was in the building there was so much screaming and whooping! However, when Tampa came onto the ice there was so much "booing" I thought I'd go deaf! Wow, what a bad time to be an American. The Canadiens did not play well, and in the first period Tampa scored 2 goals. We left, and had been forewarned by Darrin to have someone scan our tickets out at the door, so they could be scanned in. We had no problem at all finding Jen and her buddy, and passing our tickets off to them. We walked over to Darrin's office, and he showed us around---very impressively filled with works by Canadian artists, the passion of the owner of the company where he's employed. We stopped at Second Cup for something to drink, but all I wanted was water, so Darrin got himself a tea, and got Lorna a mocha coffee drink. Then we took a drive around the city and ended up at the top of Mount Royal. This was amazing. In the darkness the lights of the city before us glowed, illuminating to us a beautiful city, and the St. Lawrence Seaway. Lorna pointed out the lights of a bridge and told me their home was just on the other side of that. Darrin promised to take us back in the daylight the next day. After this, my cousin and her husband drove me back to the hotel. Lorna told me to plan on meeting here the next morning in the lobby at 10:30 and we'd go for Mass at St. Patrick's.

The next morning I skipped breakfast again. We'd tentatively thought Aunt May might join us, but Lorna said she felt Aunt May's sciatica would prevent her from being comfortable, so she spoke to Aunt May on the phone and told her not to worry about coming to Mass. St. Patrick's is now a basilica in Montreal and is absolutely the most ornate church I've ever seen in North America, and compares favorably with the churches and basilicas I've visited in my travels in Europe and my student life in Italy. This church was built by Irish immigrants, and everything in it is work done by hand. The oak pews have shamrocks carved into the sides of them. The statues and gold-inlay are utterly stunning. Mass was celebrated by a Monsignor and Lorna and I shared a small pew. I have to admit, I didn't have a hard time, but with no cushioning, I think Aunt May would have had some difficulties. After Mass Darrin met us outside and Lorna told me we were going to another "hole-in-the-wall" for lunch, but Darrin informed her it was closed Sundays. Turns out the place she'd selected does a very healthy business at lunchtime when the workers of downtown Montreal frequent the place, so she made another selection, and we ended up at Green Spot:

http://maps.google.com/maps?layer=c&cbll=45.480842,-73.578670&cbp=12,,,1,&ved=0CBEQ2wU&sa=X&ei=fkT_SsbzCoq2NPzNya0H

Green Spot is known for its "Michigans" which I didn't know are what we Michiganders call Coney dogs, Chicago Red hots, or chili dogs. My cousin-in-law also ordered a "pogo" which is a corn dog. As I'm not a tremendous fan of hot dogs I ordered a hamburger. As with the chicken we ate on Friday night, the orders came with fries which were delicious. Darrin and Lorna told me the place is as old as the hills, and that surely my parents would have known this place. Over lunch we discussed our plans for the afternoon. When our parents were still relatively newly-married, they lived around the corner from each other in a little neighborhood in Verdun. The day was brilliantly sunny, and Darrin drove us over. I was flooded with childhood memories of visiting Lorna & Arlene when we were kids and going to a "natatorium" with the two of them. Lorna & I stood at the corner of Stevens and Bannantyne, the streets where our parents lived, and standing underneath the street signs, Darrin photographed us. There is a park near the natatorium, and there used to be a boardwalk, which has since been torn down, but you can walk right up to the water, and there is a cement walkway replacing the boardwalk, but the posts from the boardwalk remain. We drove past the church where my brother Tom made his First Holy Communion, the church my parents, aunt and uncle attended as young, married couples. True to his word, Darrin drove up to Mount Royal again, and the view during the day was quite breath-taking. I stood at this vantage-point thinking of the generations of my family--my paternal grandparents who arrived in Canada on a "floating coffin" against all odds, with few resources and no prospects, but with hope and with a determination to forge a life together in this new land--and of my mom's family, who arrived first in Newfoundland and traveled further west to Montreal to endeavor to earn their fortunes in "the big city". After some photo ops, we drove around some more, taking in the sights of the old Olympic Grounds, the Botanical Gardens, the Biodome, and eventually we ended up at St. Joseph's Oratory.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Joseph%27s_Oratory

This is a wonderful building that houses a church, a couple of museums, a gift shop, and some conference rooms. Lorna told me when she was pregnant with Jen, she suffered some complications and had to be hospitalized at St. Mary's Hospital. From her room in St. Mary's, she could see St. Joseph's Oratory, and she prayed fervently for the health of her unborn child. After a week, she was sent home to rest in bed, and a month later little Jennifer entered the world with a loud, healthy scream, so my cousin's prayer was indeed answered. The building is modeled after St. Peter's Basilica, hence the dome, and the "church" part of the building, directly below the dome (but up a series of escalators), was surprisingly modern. Coming out, the view of the city was once again so very gorgeous, highlighted by the setting sun. We headed to Lorna's house for dinner, stopping at a market and a pizzeria on the way. The pizza was outstanding and my cousin made an out-of-this-world Caesar salad. For dessert she served apple pie and tea. Darrin and Jen were kind enough to do after-dinner clean-up and Lorna and I sat in her living room and chatted.

Monday morning Jen and Lorna picked me up at the hotel and I checked out. Jen had some school-related errands to run and dropped us off on Ste. Catherine's Street. We walked almost the entire length of the street, drinking in all the sights and going into Ogilvy's, which is a high-end shop. We stopped into a department where Christmas ornaments are sold and chatted with one of the ladies putting wreaths together. As we continued on, I asked Lorna if we could go into a post office so I could drop a postcard to Cigalechanta and Pastis. They have beautiful postcards with scenes of Montreal on them, and postage already printed on the card. I walked to the counter and told the clerk I needed to pay extra postage, but he explained the postage on the card was good anywhere in the world. Jen picked us up and we went out to Dorval, had lunch in a little mall, and continued on to the airport. Of course I didn't see enough of Arlene, and Aunt May, and would love to see more of them. I know I'd like to see a couple of churches, Notre Dame and Mary, Queen of the World. So I hope someday I will realize this dream, and it will all come together.