Back for these holidays, the Snapshots series, an end-of-year gift from journalists from Duty, offers fiction texts inspired by archive photos sent by readers to the editorial staff. Today, a text by Marilyse Hamelin based on a photo by Johanne Renaud.
Gilbert Lachance was often the object of mockery by his teammates at Imperial Tobacco, where he had worked for 25 years. He first worked there making pipe and chewing tobacco, then, since the end of the War, became a tobacco maker.
Same thing in the evening, at the Imperial not far away, a tavern which hosted his after-work ritual: he was mocked there. Amid bursts of laughter, Gilbert downed four glasses of lager in three hours – of which Sylvio only gave him two – before going to “find” his sweet Thérèse.
The teasing, then. They weren’t very bad… We could even say that it was quite the opposite. Gilbert knew that he was being “picked on” because he was loved. If his comrades pinched him a little, it was a manifestation of the ways men had among themselves to show appreciation… And perhaps even affection.
An irreplaceable member of clans, Gilbert was and would remain so. It must be said that he did not measure his efforts, always there to help, to be the one on whom one could count, the one who knows how to repair each piece of machinery and does not hesitate to leave last; often because he had fallen behind on his own line by sharing his tricks with the new ones or, above all, by giving a hand to old Albert who was half-infirm and absolutely counting on his meager pay to survive. The poor guy would have been kicked out ages ago if it wasn’t for Gilbert taking it upon himself to help him complete his tasks.
Gilbert was a regular at the Imperial tavern, therefore. But it was for the friendships, the laughter, the concern of waiters — even the gruff ones — it was to enjoy life, to come home relaxed, in a good mood, to love her Thérèse even better, who deserved it. How much he loved this woman! And always apart from that. The one who had been his pretty little neighbor, his friend, his fiancée, the mother of his children, combined to this day in her heart all these incarnations to become only one: the most wonderful creature there is.
Since their two children, Lucille and Gérard, had left to become loving and caring young parents, calm had reigned in the small house on rue Saint-Augustin. Except for the festive atmosphere of family dinners on Sundays and, needless to say, the holiday season, the best time of the year, or at least their favorite, for both of them. Christmas, of course, but also New Year’s Eve, during which we sang, we played cards and we laughed, how much we laughed!
Once, in 1952, Rosaire, Gilbert’s older brother, brought back for New Year’s Eve from Bourbon ” States », where he had spent a big week of vacation the previous summer. Very cheerful, he wanted to share his loot with the two men present: Arthur, Gilbert’s son-in-law, as well as his beloved younger brother, who was not, however, used to drinking strong wine or large gin. and even less of the equally good Bourbon. Poor Gilbert… He may have missed the 12 strokes of midnight that evening, but it was still one of his favorite New Year’s Eves, if not the best, “by force” that they had had fun during the preceding hours, everyone together, Rosaire, Thérèse, Gérard, Lucille, Arthur, and “Lucille’s little ones”, Claire and Hélène, beautiful twins aged five, almost six.
Moreover, it was with tenderness that Claire seized her grandfather’s camera for whatever reason to capture him asleep sitting “bendy” on the sofa. The person concerned had such a laugh when he discovered the photo that he decided to pin it to the wall of the small living room. And he lived another 27 good years to admire it, before falling asleep on his sofa, with a peaceful heart, on January 5, 1979.