Chartrand-Dery, Elise,My Childhood Initiation to Life in Edmonton; Franco-Albertans in Edmonton

Elise Chartrand-Dery describes her experiences of growing up as a francophone in Edmonton, a city dominated by English-speakers.
\r\nDate: 1930s to 2003

"Speak white", reprimanded the store clerk.- "Qu'est-ce qu'elle a dit?" (What did she say?) I asked my mother.The woman, glaring down at me raised her voice and repeated:- "Speak white..."My mother, visibly hurting but containing her emotions, guided me outside the Hudson's Bay Store onto Jasper Avenue.

Making decisions...Later, I overheard my parents talking about the store clerk incident then they went on to more important matters – making decisions about their future.

My father, Elie Chartrand, debated selling the farm to move into Edmonton. My mother, Beatrice Groleau-Chartrand, a certified seamstress/dress designer, suffered from chronic colitis. Father hoped that by moving mother into the city, she would be closer to specialized medical attention.

Uncertain times and World War II...The year was 1944. Reports of the ongoing war in Europe blared over the airwaves while rationing made its way into Canada. Limited housing caused people to live in overcrowded facilities.

Preparing for a future...After auctioning off the farm, the Chartrand family moved into Edmonton. They left Therien, Alberta, a predominantly French community behind. Relocating was not an easy matter.

The results of a lengthy search brought my parents into temporary lodgings - the attic in the Mayflower apartment house, situated on 100 Ave and 118 St. During that time I boarded at the Assumption Convent, administered by the Sisters of Assumption. Although I longed for my parents, I was quite at home in this private school environment for French speaking girls.

While father trained at the Jacob School of Welding, mother worked as seamstress at Mortons Ladies’ wear – located on 102 Street and Jasper Avenue.

More changes...Back in Therien, my grandparents – Ferdinand and Rosilda Groleau, owners of the local hotel, sold their establishment to purchase a property in Edmonton – the Chatham Apartment Block at 10033-107 Street.

After the sale of the hotel the Groleau grandparents decided to remain in Therien for a while longer, therefore they required someone to administer their new acquisition in Edmonton. At that point my parents moved into the Chatham Apartment Block and I cam home to live with them.

A rude awakening within a different style of schooling...My new schoolmates at Grandin School, mostly from a French background, were more fluent in English and I felt lost within this linguistic ocean. While navigating my way into the language of Shakespeare I overcame many obstacles. The era leaned towards an English only mentality and, under these conditions; assimilation was submerging many cultures in its wake.

Roller-skating into English...I continued my progress with the English language on roller skates, but not without a few bumps and bruises. Linguistic misunderstandings can be very volatile and even hilarious.

With my neighborhood buddies I often roller-skated on Jasper Avenue while dodging the patrolling police officer. Frequently we took refuge in the lobby of the Corona Hotel to avoid the officer's warnings of forcefully removing us from this busy street. The alternative, to the smooth cement walks of Jasper Avenue, was the tarred gummy side streets.

Ever tempted to move away from Edmonton?In my childhood, I fancied moving east. My father had two sisters living in Montreal. A high school teacher belonging to a religious congregation, and the other, a registered nurse married to a biochemist.

Opportunities...At 19 years of age, my dream of going to Quebec became a reality. A Girl Guides leadership-training program, offered the opportunity to travel east. Following these sessions, some relatives invited me to stay on. I was naturally drawn to the cultural environment. The opportunity to continue studies at a university was even more tempting.

However, my parents were here in the West and I decided to come home.

Years later, I met and married Aime Dery – also of French background.

Eventually, with our five children, we traveled to Quebec.

Did we think of moving our family there? Yes, we seriously considered making the transition but again, our families still resided in Alberta.

Throughout the years I must confess envying my Quebecois cousins with their feeling of belonging to their environment. I often wished that my maternal and paternal grandparents had not ventured west in the early 1900s.

Special identity...During my school years, the written history of French pioneers in Alberta was virtually unknown. Now, due to the wealth of documents originating from religious congregations and private collections, this rich history is coming to light.

Our culture in Western Canada has weathered many storms. In spite of some adversaries, trying to eradicate our existence, we have flourished. The proof of our survival is present in our publications, radio/television stations and schools. In Edmonton we have the Faculte St-Jean (an affiliation to the University of Alberta), a bookstore – Le Carrefour, churches/parishes, organizations... and the list goes on.

Recently a friend of mine told me - "I became a true francophone here in Alberta. In Quebec it is effortless to be a francophone, whereas here in West it is a decision."

The years have slipped by...My father having joined Century Sales, in its early beginnings eventually became Service Manager.

My mother, after a long and painful struggle with her health, at 59 years of age passed away.

In due time, my father married a wonderful person whom I call “mom”. This well-educated widowed lady, of Metis Cree-French background brought a different perspective to my life.

My mother and father gave me the love and knowledge of French as they encouraged me to become fluent in English. Then mom gave me an appreciation of the written English language.

Cultural melting pot...The ‘speak white’ incident has faded into memory and yet, I can still remember the store clerk’s facial expression of long ago. I have not forgotten the accent in her voice, which was British, Irish nor Scottish. This lady, having slipped into the cultural melting pot abandoned her identity. Pretending to be something different she expected everyone else to do the same.

Where is home?The years have taught me the wisdom of gentle persuasion. Looking back on my youth, I can say that growing up in Edmonton was never boring. My roots, as a Franco-Albertan, are well established here and now I can see the threads of our lives interwoven into the historic fabric of Edmonton – the city we call home.