Friday, June 29, 2007
That would be my first Acadian Tradition to discuss. We love speaking English. We really do. We bask in the fact that we understand what goes on EVERYWHERE IN this country. And that we will never fully understand why seperatists in Québec are so upset. We got a much crappier deal than they did. But in Acadian fashion, we found a way to accept English reality of Canada and melt it with our Acadian one. Its makes us Canadian. Which I am first and foremost.
That openess translated to everything we did on a daily basis. There was a rule in our house. Never ever refuse someone over for diner. Therefore there should always be enough food to go around if someone showed up, and there had to be enough for them to have seconds, if they so wanted. My friends would love to come over for spaghetti. It was a spahetti festival, with meatballs, parmsean cheese, hot spices, and mushrooms. We knew, certain mothers were dying for the recipe. They never got it.
If you were lucky enough to be at the Robichaud table, you would have witnessed a dining ceremony unlike any other. Meal time was a serious affaire. No T.V. in the dinning room. An affaire so important, it got its own room. The oldest sitting opposit of the Father at the head of the table. The mother with the two youngest, the the two other boys on the opposite side of the mother. Guest would sit next to the family member whom had invited them. Sometimes there would be vary many.
Converstation was manditory. No subject was too bold or taboo for the table, no matter how uncomfotable our poor dad felt. My mother would haved discused the pros and cons of oral sex if we had asked. We didn`t, we were scared she might actually take a banana and saran wrap out of the kitchen.
The best meal time, was when there was brocoli cheese casserole on the menu. We would litteray fight over brocoli. But not just brocoli, turnips! Liver! We would eat it really quickly to get another serving. It was just that good.