time

It's December! Already? I say this every year, but this time I mean it even more: where does time go? I feel like somehow, on the very abstract and immeasurable time-space continuum, the year 2014 had more of an impact on my small family nucleus than any other year in recent memory. It's almost as if these past 11 months were packed with what seems like 4 years of evolution and change.

My sweet Elsa, who turned 8 in September, has officially begun displaying pre-teen or "tween" characteristics, which I honestly and naively thought would happen much later. Heavy foot stomping, eye rolling and slammed doors are on the rise in our household. Luigi and I feel like we have begun to navigate in very murky waters, having to readjust our parenting skills (I use the word "skills" very liberally) and reassess their effectiveness. We're at that point where parenting slowly becomes an exercise in letting go. Letting go of your preconceptions and hang-ups and letting your children develop their individuality. Letting them make choices while making sure certain boundaries are not crossed. NOT letting yourself turn your children into a projection of yourself. That's the hardest part. On the upside, the young lady Elsa is beginning to turn into is a kind, confident, spirited, smart and good-natured one, and this makes me very happy and hopeful.

And my Enzo. Enzo is a little boy. Some of you are probably thinking "Hasn't he always been?". To this I say: no. When Enzo woke up on January 1st, 2014, he was still two-years-old. My sweet, curly-haired, binky-sucking, two-year-old toddler. He turned three a couple of days later and, in the past eleven months has, at warp speed, turned into an almost four-year-old. A sweaty, busy and independent little boy. He will hold conversations with anybody who will give him the time of day. He dresses and undresses himself, brushes his own teeth and fixes himself snacks. He builds and rebuilds puzzles or Lego creations all day long and is quite the prankster. He's a joy to behold.

Luigi is in a very good place. He's getting back into shape and striving to keep that very fragile balance between work, personal life and family life. The unpredictability of his travel schedule throws us off balance regularly, but we've gotten pretty good at rolling with the punches. Change and uncertainty are considered to be huge stress factors on a relationship and I feel like we've been through so many ups and downs over the past 13 years that we can weather the wildest storm. 2015 is shaping up to be a very big year for our family, change-wise. I think we're ready!

Hommage à notre grand-père - Remembering our grandfather

 

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Edouard Baudry (1905-1943)

 

 

À l'occasion du Jour du Souvenir, nous rendons hommage à notre grand-père, Édouard Baudry, citoyen belge, journaliste et écrivain qui est venu s'installer au Québec. Il était l'auteur de plusieurs radioromans dont "Rue Principale" qui fut lancé sur les ondes de CKAC en 1937 et qui eut un succès retentissant. Il a été nommé président de l'Union des artistes en 1939, l'année qu'éclata la deuxième guerre mondiale.  Ayant effectué son service militaire en Belgique, il est devenu correspondant de guerre en 1941 et a été affecté à la division d'outre-mer de la Société Radio-Canada.

 

Il est décédé le 22 janvier 1943 à l'âge de 38 ans quand l'armée espagnole a tiré sur le petit avion dans lequel il prenait place alors que l'appareil survolait le Maroc espagnol. Notre grand-père s'en allait couvrir la conférence de Casablanca. La seule victime des tirs, il fut d'abord enterré dans un cimetière militaire américain à Port-Lyautey et sa dépouille a ensuite été transférée au cimetière européen Ben M'sik  à Casablanca où elle repose toujours. Franklin Delano Roosevelt a déposé une couronne près de l'endroit où a atterri d'urgence l'avion. Le décès d'Edouard Baudry et l'hommage de FDR ont fait la une des journaux montréalais. Ses collègues écrivains et artistes de CKAC lui ont rendu honneur dans le cadre d'une émission spéciale diffusée sur les ondes de la station, le 30 janvier 1943.  Il s'agit du seul journaliste canadien de langue française à être décédé lors de la deuxième guerre mondiale.

 

Il a laissé dans le deuil son épouse, notre grand-mère Yvette Gagnon, et notre père, Edouard Baudry, qui n'avait que six mois.

 

 

 

 

Un sympathique client britannique de Luigi, David Hartley, passionné par l'histoire de la seconde guerre mondiale et qui fait souvent affaires au Maroc, s'est intéressé à l'histoire de notre grand-père. Il a offert de se rendre au cimetière et nous a demandé s'il pouvait poser une couronne sur la tombe et si nous voulions qu'il récite un poème en notre nom. Touchées par son offre, nous lui avons soumis un texte intitulé "Vivons, dans notre amour et notre ardeur" écrit par Emile Verhaeren, un poète flamand de langue francaise (comme notre grand-père). David s'est rendu au cimetière le 7 juillet dernier et nous a envoyé des photos de la pierre tombale ainsi que des lieux du cimetière - très bien entretenus - et de quelques-uns de ses employés.

Il a gentiment posé une couronne de coquelicots sur la tombe de notre grand-père et nous sommes extrêmement touchées par sa generosité et par l'altruisme de son geste. Il s'agit d'un pèlerinage que notre père avait toujours voulu faire mais qu'il n'a malheureusement pas eu la chance de réaliser avant son decès. J'espère que nous pourrons un jour y aller pour rendre honneur à un grand homme et lui présenter ses petits et ses arrières petits-enfants.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Edouard Baudry (1905-1943)

  

Today, on Remembrance Day (Veterans day in the USA) we pay tribute to our grandfather,

Edouard Baudry, a Belgian citizen, journalist and author who chose Quebec as his home. He wrote several radio dramas, including "Rue Principale", which aired on CKAC in 1937 and which was a resounding success. He was named President of the Union des artistes in 1939. Having undergone his military service in Belgium, he became a war correspondent for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation in 1941.   

 

He died on January 22nd 1943 at age 38 when the small plane that was carrying him over Spanish occupied Morocco was shot at by the Spanish army. Our grandfather was on his way to cover the Casablanca conference. The only casualty of this attack, he was initially buried in an American cemetery at Port-Lyautey, but his remains were then transferred to the Ben M'sik European cemetery where he was permanently laid to rest. Franklin Delano Roosevelt lay a wreath close to where the plane made its emergency landing. Edouard Baudry's death as well as FDR's gesture made the front pages of the Montreal papers. His colleagues at CKAC, fellow artists and writers, honored him in a special tribute that aired on January 30th, 1943. He was the only Canadian French-speaking journalist to die in World War II.   

 

 

He was survived by our grandmother, Yvette Gagnon, and our father, Edouard Baudry, who was only 6 months old at the time. 

 

 

  

One of Luigi's clients, a very nice British chap called David Hartley who also happens to be a World War II history buff, developed quite an interest in our grandfather's story. Having to travel to Morocco for work, he asked us if he could lay a wreath on our grandfather's grave and read a poem in our name. Touched by his offer, we asked him to read a poem by Emile Verhaeren, who was Flemish and French speaking (like our grandfather). The poem is entitled "Vivons, dans notre amour et notre ardeur" (translated to "Life"). David visited the cemetery last July 7th and he sent us photos of the grave site as well as the cemetery grounds, which are very well kept.  

 

 

David kindly laid a wreath of poppies on our grandfather's grave and we are extremely touched by this kind and altruistic gesture. Visiting the grave site was a pilgrimage that our father had always wanted to make. This, sadly, was something he was never able to accomplish before his death. I hope that we will one day make our way there in order to pay homage to a great man and, hopefully, introduce ourselves and his great-grandchildren to him.