Heritage Rescue
By Jo-Anne Lauzer

Although I was only 10 years old when my grandmother died, I still have some vivid memories of our time together. If I close my eyes, I can see her in the kitchen at the cottage in northern Quebec. She is hovering over the wood stove, baking bread. My cousins and I are sitting around the kitchen table, waiting for the bread to be done. I can even smell the bread and feel that wonderful sense of anticipation. Though times were tough, my grandmother would always have fresh butter and it was kept on the big white cabinet beside the stove. Knives in hand, we would eagerly await the fresh baked bread to be served.

Modest by nature but rich in nurture, my grandparent's cottage will always evoke wonderful memories for me. Like most French Canadian homes, the kitchen was always filled with activity. It was the place where extended family came together for meals, celebrations, games, and where children were taken care of.

Although the cottage remains, very little is there to remind me of how it once was. The kitchen table has since been burned for firewood, the wood stove has been sold, and the cabinet has been relegated to the tool shed. That is, until recently.

I am not sure how I came to see the cabinet in the shed, but I was horrified. That something so majestic, and filled with so many memories, could be placed in such a dark and damp place. It was as though the memories of my grandmother would be lost if I did not find a way to "rescue" the cabinet. This however, posed quite a challenge as I was just there visiting with my parents. There was no way I could transport it back to Vancouver. And there was the matter of who had custody.

Over the years, after my grandparents passed away, the cottage remained in the family and continued to be the place for major celebrations, like my parent's 25th wedding anniversary. My mother and her sister had a double wedding ceremony and since then, they have always celebrated milestones together. It was wonderful being able to bring together our families, and what better place than the cottage. It was a great party and I still have photos of family sitting around the kitchen table with the cabinet in the background.

Eventually I went away to University in British Columbia and when my parents moved to Gatineau, the cabinet and what it represented was temporarily forgotten. That is, until I went back to Noranda, Quebec with my parents in 1997. The last trip I would take with my father, he passed away the following year.

Somehow from that moment on, the cabinet came to mean more to me than I realized. It embodied parts of my childhood and became a symbol of our family heritage. It was hand built in the mid 1800's, by either my grandmother's or my grandfather's father. No one seems to know for sure. But what we do know is that it has a rich history within my mother's family, and now mine.

For my mother, the most provocative memory she has as a child is when the cabinet almost killed her. The year was 1936 and her family was at home when a powerful hurricane swept through their small community. The children were playing in the kitchen when suddenly the floor beneath them buckled and the cabinet came crashing down. My mother (then seven) vividly recalls how she was able to push her baby sister out of the way while also protecting her younger brother with her own body.

It was only a small clock that saved my mother and her brother from an uncertain fate. The clock managed to hold the weight of the cabinet and prevented it from crushing the two of them. The story then goes that my grandmother, powered by something greater than fear, lifted the solid wood cabinet and my mother and my uncle were able to crawl out to safety. To this day, no one really knows where my grandmother found the strength. Interestingly enough, she was baking bread when this happened.

As a funny side note, my grandfather had been in the outhouse when the storm hit and the entire structure was blown away leaving him sitting there in total shock. Once he was able to regain his composure, he ran into the house to help my grandmother with the children. Fortunately no one was hurt and the cabinet, as solid as it was, only sustained a few minor dents. Despite how terrifying this event was for them, what my mother and her family remember is how they came together as a family and life marched on.

After hearing more of these stories, I felt even more compelled to rescue the cabinet from the confines of the shed. Something deep inside me was drawn to preserving our family heritage. It is not only the physical aspect of this antique piece of furniture, but the memories it inspires.

I found out that the cabinet now belonged to my three aunts and one of my uncles. Because of its size, no one really wanted it and when they found out that someone was interested in restoring it, they were thrilled. It was still part of their legacy, despite being relegated to the tool shed.

The cabinet now sits in my brother Danny's basement and he is in the process of restoring it. Underneath all those many layers of paint we think that the cabinet is either solid oak or ash. Danny has inherited the cabinet as he has the space, the skills, and the desire necessary to breathe life back into this glorious piece of our past.

There is much work to be done, but each step conjures up another story. After all, this cabinet has been in our family for over a hundred years. My Aunt Lise remembers how Grandma used to leave her cigarettes burning on the ledge of the cabinet. We don't condone smoking by any means, but when Danny uncovered the burn marks he smiled. Somehow those marks connect us to this woman who has long since left us. He has even found the dents that occurred during the hurricane, as well as some others whose stories have yet to be told.

Once restored, it will grace Danny and his wife Chantal's home. Not unlike my grandmother's kitchen, theirs is always filled with activity and love. Many a meal and celebration has been had there already. And, Chantal is known for making the most wonderful bread. What stories will my nieces and nephews tell when they get older and have their own children. Will the cabinet be in their kitchen? I sure hope so.

I guess that is why I am so attached to family treasures, big and small. They carry traces of those who came before us and preserve family traditions through the storytelling. Each mark on the cabinet represents a moment in our family's history, both good and bad. It links us to our past while also providing a foundation for our future.

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