Acadian Culture

I’ve always known that my family has very deep Acadian roots; from the day I was born I’ve been exposed to French-Canadian culture. My mom actually tried to make it so that French would be my first language by speaking it to me exclusively, but much to her disappointment, my first words came out in English. I always kick my past self for that, because if I had listened to her better, I could be bilingual right now. However, while I never became fluent, I was able to pick up not only pieces of the French language, but also of the culture, when we would visit our relatives in Northern Maine. It was through all of these things that I came to realize that my family history plays an enormous role in who I am as a person.

First and foremost, I’d like to say that the more time passes, the more little things I notice about myself are reflections of my older relatives. For instance, I have a terrible sense of direction. There will be a few times where I’ll be all set and know how to get somewhere that I don’t visit very often, but more often than not I end up getting lost when I decide to follow my gut instincts. One time I somehow ended up in Auburn while looking for the Hannaford on Sabattus Street, because I was trying to follow my mom’s directions on how to get there from another part of Lewiston. I ended up finding a Hannaford, just not the right one. One of the employees overheard me talking to my mom on the phone, and drew a crude little map for me to attempt to follow to find my way back to where I was supposed to be. I really appreciated it, but it didn’t help me at all. After another half hour or so of driving, however, I finally managed to find my way back. It’s actually really funny looking back on it, because I was so hopelessly lost in an area that I should know very well by now. I felt better about it though, when I was taking everything out of my old car that used to be my Pepere’s. I had never really thought to look in the dash, because I had never put anything in it myself. However, when it came time to take everything out, I found multiple hand drawn maps and lists of directions in my Pepere’s handwriting. It turns out that I’m not the only one in our family who was directionally challenged.

While that little similarity helped me to feel closer to my family, there were also many important lessons that I learned from being around them. The one that has most impacted my life, however, was the sense of community that they all have. It could be due to the fact that the families in their little town in northern Maine have lived together for generations after having come to America from Europe many generations ago, but their boundless spirit of generosity permeates every aspect of their lives. Everyone knows everyone, and no matter where you go in the St. John Valley you’re greeted by a warm smile and genuine well wishes. Whenever we would go and spend time with my grandparents, their house was always overflowing with warmth, love, laughter, and delicious food. To me, this served as a hallmark of how life should be. I’ve been incredibly blessed to be born into a family where none of us are estranged, and I’ve always had a very supportive home life. I know, however, that not every person is so lucky, and so I try really hard to be that warmth in other people’s lives. You never know what other people are going through at home, and because of that I try not to make their lives harder for them. If I hadn’t been treated with such warmth by my family growing up, my mindset may not have been the same as it is today.

They have influenced me in so many ways, and I’m proud to say that they’re my family. They’re not perfect, but they’re unapologetically themselves, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. My heritage will always be a part of me, and I’m so grateful that I was born into such a tight-knit, Acadian family. The more time that goes on, the more I find out about them, and the more I can’t wait to discover more.

Photo by Government of Prince Edward Island on Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND