Monday, July 7, 2003. Preparations.

I enjoyed my first official day of vacation by taking a drive from my home in Houston to St. Martinville, LA, to visit the library at the Acadian Memorial and do some research for my Nova Scotia trip later this week.

A highlight of the day was the chance to spend a pleasant couple of hours with a priest whose weblog I read, Rev. Bryce Sibley, pastor of the parish in Parks (between Breaux Bridge and St. Martinville).

One of the fascinating discoveries I made at the Acadian Memorial library was the existence of several monographs on archaeological excavations of Acadian sites in the Port-Royal area (See An Acadian Home at Belleisle and Melanson Settlement National Historic Site).

From some hand-drawn maps in some books I was able to figure out where two of my ancestors lived in the 17th century, and I made some rough sketches so that I could try to visit those sites Thursday.

But then, glancing at the book counter on my way out, I noticed a poster: Au Coeur de l’Acadie, Acadian Settlement on the Annapolis River, 1707. The graphic is too small for you to see what is on this map, but it shows the locations of the farms of Charles Melanson, Daniel LeBlanc (actually, Pierre's name is on the map, but I had already figured out that this was the location of Daniel's property), Jean-Emmanuel Hebert, Claude Dugas, Jean Belliveau and more! This is a treasure map!! No, I won't dig. I'll mainly see empty fields where the houses of my ancestors stood 300 years ago ... but the dikes they built still hold back the tides.

I also watched some videos, including one on the town of Annapolis Royal and another on Chéticamp.

Another, of which I was able to watch only a portion, is worth purchasing. Evangeline's Quest (National Film Board of Canada) tells the story behind Longfellow's 1847 poem. He invented the name, "Evangeline," which no person bore before his poem was published. He had considered calling his heroine "Gabrielle," but kept that for her beloved, "Gabriel Lajeunesse" (the name of a coureur du bois whose story fascinated him).

Both names suggest bearers of good news; indeed, that's what Longfellow's poem proved to be for Acadians, as it apparently had a major role in sparking the Acadian renaissance of the late 19th century. The downside of this is that this fictional heroine has eclipsed the stories of the real heroes of Acadie.

The film visits Grand-Pré, and juxtaposes Longfellow's words with the actual landscape. He obviously never went to Acadie, nor did he ever talk to anyone who did. There is no "forest primeval" at Grand-Pré, no pounding surf, no coastal caves--only salt marshes and mud flats.

In St. Martinville you're sure to hear about "the true story of Evangeline." Judge Felix Voorhies, in his book, Acadian Reminiscences (1907), claimed the "true" story involved Emmeline Lebiche and Louis Arceneaux. As he tells the story, "Evangeline" (which he says means, "God's little angel") was a nickname for Emmeline. In his account, the lovers reunite not in Philadelphia, but in St. Martinville, under the giant oak tree on the banks of the Bayou Teche behind St. Martin's Church. Louis is not dying--he's married another, and Evangeline goes mad in despair.

But, as the film points out, Voorhies' story is just as fictional as Longfellow's. His was a deliberate modification of Longfellow's tale to highlight Louisiana's Acadian community, and to help overcome the negative stereotypes of Cajuns (stereotypes which persist to this day, unfortunately).

I also purchased a book (big surprise!) by William D. Gerrior, France & Acadie, the first volume in his series, Acadian Awakenings. He tells how he got bit by the genealogy bug, and also relates trips to Acadie and to France, trying to identify the places his ancestors (and many of mine!) lived. It will make good reading on the plane.
 

Wednesday, July 9. Arrival.

Travel day. Drove to Bush Intercontinental Airport for my flight to Halifax (via Newark). I decided to use some of my frequent flyer miles for a first class upgrade. The flight to Newark was about three hours long, and on a Boeing 777. The "Business First Class" section was ten rows, with the galley in between, making two first class cabins. Each row was eight seats wide, with two aisles. Each seat had so much room that I could not touch the seat in front of me without leaning far forward--and was able to recline to a nearly horizontal position, with the leg rest coming up and extending. There were individual video monitors with each seat. And the food was wonderful. The regular first class seat on the 737 from Newark to Halifax seemed small and cramped by comparison.

I read most of Gerrior, France & Acadie, between my time in the air and in the airports. I don't have the background to be able to critique the content, but as a work of autobiography, Bill Gerrior's telling of his own search, it is compelling. He could have used an editor (I found myself skimming quite a bit), but the emotional content and the personal investment of the author makes it a worthwhile book to read.

Looking up from my book at the Newark airport, I noticed a fellow looking intently at the Acadian Memorial t-shirt I was wearing.  After a few minutes, he came over and struck up a conversation. He and his wife (a Vincent) live in Louisiana, and were making their first trip to Acadia, too. He's a Baptist pastor who works for the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. His wife joined us, and we soon found ourselves pulling out our genealogy notes to see if we could find connections--which we quickly did. We talked about the different spots we planned to visit, and laughed, saying we might bump into each other again.

Taking off, we had a great view of New York harbor and the Statue of Liberty, and Manhattan. I haven't been to New York since September 11, and was struck by the changed skyline. No matter how many photos you see of New York without the World Trade Centers, it doesn't take away the impact of seeing the city itself.

The sky clouded over as we reached eastern Massachusetts, but cleared as we neared the Nova Scotia coast. We flew over Cape St. Mary, and I choked back a  lump in my throat.

I landed in Halifax and rented a car for the quick trip to Upper Tantallon, where my wife and kids were waiting at her aunt's house. They'd arrived just a couple hours before me, having taken the Cat ferry from Bar Harbor, ME, to Yarmouth that morning with my in-laws. They've been in Vermont for two weeks, and will go back to Vermont for another two weeks after we leave Nova Scotia.

The main purpose of this trip is so that my wife and her parents can attend a Longard family reunion in Lunenburg, but it is providing me the chance to visit Acadia for the first time, and to share with my family some of what I've learned these past few years about my Acadian heritage.

Continue to July 10.