Growing up, I was lucky enough to know my great-grandma Mary Gordon (née Roche). The odd Saturday after dance class my mom would tell us we were going to Great Grandma’s, to the disbelief of the other dance moms who had lost their own grandmothers years ago.

My great-grandma Gordon lived to be 96. She was full of life right to the end, and stories, so many stories, a trait she passed down to her eldest, my grandmother.

I always knew there was importance in the stories she told. I’d sit at her feet rapt by the tales she spun from her armchair in her living room on Stella Avenue in the North End of Winnipeg, a long way from where she grew up in County Clare, Ireland.

When I was a child, she used to tell me that she wasn’t born, she was “found under a rock by a leprechaun.” She never failed to tell me this with a straight face and I never failed to laugh; I just thought she was playing into Irish stereotypes.

Five years after her passing, I set off to travel Europe on my own for a month. My first stop? Ireland. I learned so much about Irish history, including the Irish Civil War and the Great Famine.

On one of my last days, I popped into a gift shop. A stand of Irish family names caught my eye. I searched for Roche and found the familiar red and yellow crest with the three fish, framed with a write-up on the family’s origins. It read:

“originated in France as de la Roche, meaning ‘of the rock’.”

I read it again before a wry smile spread across my lips. I laughed, finally understanding the punchline of my great-grandma’s twisted Irish joke. After all these years, she really was telling me exactly who she was.

Subscribe now

I never knew my great-great-uncle Albert Lloyd Fox (his mother spelled it Loyd). But growing up I always heard of how he died fighting for his country. My grandfather was lucky enough to get hold of his diary that he kept during the war. My uncle’s diary has been transcribed and typed up by my grandfather, who is Fox’s nephew. Fox was a pilot officer for the Royal Canadian Air Force. He served in 1942 during the Second World War in the year of 1942. Fox fought with and for his country alongside the allies and helped them become victorious.

In his first entry on January 1, 1942 he wrote, “This day finds me at Rivers (Manitoba) having been presented with Air Navigators wing and sergeant stripes on December 20 and now studying Astral Navigation.” Albert wrote in his diary every day, usually just one or two lines. The temperatures started to drop and a lot of his practice flights were cancelled due to bad weather. On January 22 he headed home for the last time.

Before setting off by boat to Liverpool he wrote, “Realized that although it’s hard to leave, it’s harder for those we love to wait.” He spent eight days on the boat before catching sight of Ireland. Fox continued taking classes while in Europe and wrote to his family back home faithfully. On April 16 he wrote, “Nearly ‘had it’ tonight when another aircraft came down on top of us while waiting at the end of the runway – had no ‘after effect’ though.” Fox spent his down time attending shows and going to dances where he met Ida Sharmen, “a very nice girl and good company.”

In May he got out flying more, “saw more country in three hours than most people see in three years.” He wrote about his cross country flight. On May 27 he wrote, “tension very high in camp, nothing doing for us but all others preparing for something big. My guess is invasion preparations.”

“Went on ‘Ops’ (operational flight) tonight – dropped over a ton incendiaries on Dusseldorf. Attacked by fighter coming back punctured one gas tank. Caught by search lights and flak over Dutch coast – and another tank punctured,” wrote Fox on July 30.

The last letter Fox sent was to his family at home on December 19. The letter started, “well here I sit with a box of chocolates beside me – munching. I fully realize that I am going to have a terrible stomach ache, but it will be a glorious one.” Fox said he had received all of his family’s Christmas gifts that day. On their last “Ops” tour he was commended by his squadron for his navigation.

Fox died at the age of 22 on December 20, 1942. His family was notified of his death in a letter to Fox’s mother from crewman Ralph Bailie. The crew was on their way back from an operational flight and something went wrong. Their pilot decided to ditch and due to the bad weather their plane crashed into the sea. Bailie thinks Albert drowned almost immediately and only saw Fox come to the surface once. A gunboat picked up Bailie after picking up Fox and another crewman. The men on the gunboat tried to save Fox but there was nothing they could do. Fox was buried at Great Yarmouth (Caister) Cemetery in the United Kingdom.

This Remembrance Day I thought a lot about my great-great-uncle Albert Lloyd Fox. Remembrance Day is a time for Fox’s family to reflect on who they have lost in war and to always remember them.

Subscribe now

I’m Métis on my mother’s side, and as I’ve grown up, I’ve become very driven to understand what that means for me and how I fit into the beautiful Indigenous tapestry of this land. I’m so incredibly grateful for my uncle and all the research he’s done on our family tree over the years. Along the way, he’s shared many Indigenous books, family documents, photographs, and pieces of history that continue calling to me.

My family history can be traced back to Jean-Baptiste, the youngest child of Pierre Léger dit Parisien, my seventh great-grandfather, and Jeanne Boilard. Jean-Baptiste was born on March 27, 1725 in Oka, Vaudreuil, Quebec.

Jean-Baptiste and his brothers Charles, Paul, and Etienne, were voyageurs also known as coureurs de bois. Their journeys took them west through Green Bay, Wisconsin and the Pays des Illinois. In 1750 Jean-Baptiste married Marie Elizabeth Brébant dit Lamothe, and they went on to have seven children.

Their son Bonaventure (1757-1834), travelled west with his nephew, Jean-Baptiste Léger dit Parisien, and settled in a Red River Settlement, in what is now known as Ruperts Land. Bonaventure married Isabelle “Lisette” Saulteaux, a woman from the Chippewa Indian Nation. His nephew Jean-Baptiste married Louise Forcier, a Métis woman.

In the next generation, “Léger dit” was removed, creating the simpler surname “Parisien”. From this point on, the Parisiens were Métis. My Parisien ancestors played significant roles in the Battle of Seven Oaks (1816), the Red River Rebellion (1869-70), the North West Rebellion (1885). They also served as councillors to Chief Little Shell I and II. Most of us Parisiens, or Parisians, west of the Manitoba-Ontario border are related and can trace our roots back to Bonaventure and Jean-Baptiste.

After Manitoba’s confederation on July 15, 1870, my second great-grandfather, Andre Parisien, signed a Métis scrip, often referred to as a “half-breed” scrip. These scrips were issued by the Dominion of Canada and were sometimes fraudulently signed or turned for profit. This was one of the major steps towards the attempted erasure of the Métis land rights, culture, and people.

Below, you can see six of the eight Parisien lots on the east side of the Red River, along with one Zace lot, also my relations. Today, this area sits just above what is now A Maze In Corn. My grandfather Armand Parisien, shown in the gallery below, grew up and lived just north of our ancestral homelands, now known as St. Germain, until he married my grandmother and moved into the city.

My Métis ancestry is rooted in the land and the places my family was pushed and moved through. Though my history is unsettled, learning all of this has made me feel more grounded. I don’t take this reconnection to my roots lightly. It’s fraught with racism, genocide, and violence. I take this on as a responsibility. By reconnecting, I honour my ancestors’ resilience and remind those who tried to silence us that we are still here.

Maureen Parisien sits on her living room couch bouncing one grandchild, or as she likes to call them “grandbabies.” Another grandchild is running around the living room, testing out her newly discovered mobility. Maureen is frantically flipping through her day planner trying to figure out if one of her 11 grandbabies had a birthday that day. One night in early 1963 Maureen met Armand at The Bay and walked over to the Metropolitan Theatre to catch a movie. “It’s where we had our first date,” she says blushing before spilling the details of her first date with her future husband Armand Parisien.

“I can still see him standing there with his fedora on. He was so cute,” she says gushing. Maureen is so taken with the details of his charm, “I can’t even remember what movie we saw,” she says laughing. Maureen moved to Winnipeg from Surrey, England during World War II and Armand was born and raised in St. Germain, Manitoba. Armand worked at Prairie Maid Cereals when the new girl caught his eye. “I went home after meeting Armand and I said to my mother, if he asks me out, I’m going out with him. And If he asks me to marry him I am going to marry him, after that my mother tried to get me fired,” Maureen said laughing. After a short courtship Maureen did exactly what she said she would do and they were married in 1963. 

The Metropolitan, originally built as the Allen Theatre, is the only movie theatre in Winnipeg still in its original form. The Allen Theatre was built in 1919 and the only major alteration was the modernization of the box office. “There were chandeliers, gold paint on the walls and beautiful woodwork,” said Maureen. Inside the theatre was a large proscenium, an elaborately decorated arch 60 feet wide by 40 tall that framed the stage. There was also a shallow stage and a 15-musician orchestra pit. “It was quite the movie house, very grand,” Maureen said. 

The Allen Theatre closed in 1923 and reopened as the Metropolitan that same year. “Everyone went downtown. Friday we would get our paycheque and we would go downtown,” Maureen says. Maureen and Armand would shop at Eaton’s then head to Picardy’s, a small restaurant they frequented. 

When TV was introduced to Canada it threatened theatre revenues nationwide. The crowds that surrounded Portage Avenue’s street level shops and restaurants were in awe. Canadians became “captivated all over again by television” according to CBC’s Digital Archives (archives.cbc.ca). 

Maureen recalls their fascination, “Oh, there were televisions set up in the store windows and people would crowd around the window to watch.” Having televisions in the home created competition for the movie theatres. The Metropolitan pushed through it and kept up their schedule of six screenings a day. 

As early technology changed so did Maureen’s family. At 19 she gave birth to their first child followed by four more children in the next seven years. Armand and Maureen raised their five children in Fort Rouge. Armand was a proud father and grandfather. He loved his family very much but in 2008 Armand died. Through the support and love of her family Maureen managed to stay in the home where they raised their children. She really found happiness again when her tenth grand baby was born. “Oh, I love my grand babies. Armand loved his babies too.” Maureen watches her 1-year-old and 3-year- old granddaughters full time. “They keep me busy,” Maureen says laughing.

After the Metropolitan closed its doors in the late 1980s there was talk of the theatre being demolished. Cindy Tugwell of Heritage Winnipeg says, “If they got rid of that building there would be a huge public outcry.” Heritage Winnipeg had the building protected and the Metropolitan remained untouched until Canad Inns bought property and promised to further convert the building. 

“It was big bucks to fix,” says Tugwell. “It’s not just about buying the building. What do you use it for? And how do you make it economically viable?” The Canad Inns has yet to confirm what they will do with the building. All that matters to Tugwell is, “they bought it and it’s protected.” 

Maureen went to the Metropolitan to see the magic happen on the silver screen. But instead the magic was happening in the theatre. And the rest is history. 

Author’s Note: This was an article written in 2012 for a college project so the structure is different from most of my writing on here. It was a feature in my group’s made-up magazine Urban Heritage. It features my grandma and grandpa Parisien and their first date. I would like to revisit and rewrite it one day.

I always remembered sitting on that itchy chair on those hot summer days watching my brothers’ baseball games. I grew up with that chair “KDM” woven into the back. Kenneth Darren May, my dad, is who the chair was made for. His aunt Lillian, or, aunt Lill made it for him in her days at The Hand Crafter. 

The Hand Crafter is a very special place to Boissevain because it is a place where mentally and physically handicapped individuals can spend their time improving a life skill rather than being institutionalized. My great aunt Lill had a very proactive mother. My great-grandmother Elsie May and a few other mothers who had children with disabilities got together and created a special classroom for their kids. This class brought many individuals to Sunrise School from close by communities.

Sawmill Tea & Coffee Co. is located next door to The Hand Crafter and is the newest addition to Boissevain’s community, not yet a year old. Sawmill is a café owned by Prairie Partners. Mainly described as a place where these supported individuals, as Sheena Cochrane, executive assistant of Prairie Partners, prefers to call them can come and receive payment for the work they do. “We try to get them interactive with the community and we try to give them life skills,” said Cochran.

Sawmill is a not-for-profit community gathering place and makes up for one of three parts of the building in downtown Boissevain. The Hand Crafter and the woodshop are right next door.  Sawmill gives these supported individuals an opportunity to cook, work the till and interact with other members of their community.

With a “no purchase necessary, come in and relax,” sign on the door you can guess that this is a really welcoming place in the Boissevain community. “It’s the gem of Boissevain,” said Rhonda Coupland, “great atmosphere, my kids go there, they enjoy meeting friends and they do their homework there.” Sawmill is open Mondays 8:00 am-4:00 pm, Tuesdays to Thursdays 8:00 am-10:00 pm, Fridays 8:00 am-11:00 pm, Saturdays 10:00 am-11:00 pm. These hours are great for Boissevain’s youth helping to keep them off the streets. Keeping the town’s crime rate low with 1 crime in the last 1.5 years according to the Boissevain Community Justice Committee. “They can play pool with out going to the bar,” said Karla Reimer, manager at Sawmill.

Check out Sawmill’s Facebook page and what else you can do in Boissevain at www.boissevain.ca. Comfortable couches, used books, live entertainment and great food such as the famous cinnamon bun for only $2.00. 

It started in Boissevain with my great grandmother and her dream to give her daughter the best life she could. About 80 years passed and it has grown into something so special that has truly touched my heart.

Boissevain: Wall-to-Wall Rural Mural Tour 2019 from Synonym Art Consultation on Vimeo.