In July I fulfilled a commitment and accompanied Guylaine Tanguay to his 100th anniversary show at Girardville in Lac-Saint-Jean. Guylaine is from the village, as is my mother’s family, the Bolducs, and I lived there myself for some time in my youth.
Posted at 6:00 am
So far, so good.
Things get complicated when Guylaine made me promise to sing country with her on live TV on the occasion. phew! Too many witnesses, no way out. And I promise, I promise I was raised that way.
Singing is the generic expression of my performance. In fact, the whole thing sounded more like Gregorian chant for a beginner with a cold.
Of course, intonations came out of my mouth, but the whole thing was an indefinable vocal mash. A big test for everyone.
I was applauded, shall we say Guylaine, but Aunt Pauline and the Bolducs made an effort. Of the proud. The dignity of the family had to be preserved.
All in all it was a very nice evening and a stay of several hours, which brought a highly bizarre remnant of my memory back to life.
You see, in the great deeds of Christian history, of course, there were the Crusades and the Girardville religious schism.
Google, the godless!
In short, a Homeric sophistry in the 1930s over the choice of site for the erection of the new parish church. In the Grand Rang or elsewhere. I’ll make it short, the Bishop snubs the Great Rank and chooses another.
And there, heresy! Some of the residents of Grand Rang revolted, fired, and changed their religion. They become PROTESTANTS! Imagine, in the middle of the Catholic country!
Believing at the time that a Protestant was inherently dangerous, I wasn’t even sure if it was human.
And so, whenever my grandfather, who lived in Grand Rang, would take me shopping at the general store across the street from the famous Protestant house of worship, I’ve always, looking back, expected to see it come out at best the kind of Characters from Margaret Atwood’s novel The Scarlet Handmaiden or, at worst, a kind of Hydra from the series Stranger Things, for example.
That was before I understood that being Protestant is not a way but a profession.
However, Girardville has never seen a Catholic-Huguenot-style religious war. An uneventful coexistence in this needy country.
Coming back to Guylaine, she was the absolute and brilliant mistress of her show that night and of course I was lagging behind.
But the last time I had to dare to sing the song in front of an audience, I had managed to take my fate into my own hands.
However, I have to judge whoever got me into this mess, he deserved it so much!
Because he had to sing there himself beforehand and felt he had to share in the suffering, Marc Tardif had suggested my name for a fundraiser on the pretext that I assume I look like Elvis with a microphone.
Yes / Yes ! The former captain of the Nordiques! Damn Marc Tardif! We expect a pass on the pallet from the great Marc, not a Coyote pass.
Top network, my Marc, but life is long, like my memories…
I chose Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah. Just that. No, I didn’t think I was a cherry dick.
But a week before D-Day, I’m panicking! The only way I can think of to get out of this is to make myself small and prefer lip syncing.
Lip sync = lip sync. A splendor of the French language.
I send a desperate SOS to a friend and we agree that I need to be “escorted” onto the stage. We invite a gospel group from Quebec, beautiful voices. Behind it there should be a loud hum.
And a one-night co-star, because stressed I risk dyslexia and atony. We’re visiting a girl from Quebec, Mélissa Bédard. A strong and spectacular voice, Melissa! And generous as it is not possible. We’re in business!
As a result, few people heard me overall and I won the pantomime competition.
The evening was a stressful one for me overall, but the audience would have appreciated it, seems more like laughter, and the Maison Le Petit Blanchon and its Foundation walked away with a rewarding evening.
I was very proud at the end because this wonderful organization welcomes children under the age of 8 who already have a difficult past.
Children who have had traumatic experiences related to neglect, physical or sexual abuse, or repeated abandonment. No wonder they have mental health, behavior, and attachment issues.
Well, everything exists! Who said we were born the same?
I would scream my life just thinking about it.
Thank you bloody Marc Tardif!
Someday we’ll have a duo… Love me tenderly!
Between us
If you do a search you may not find Girardville on the map. Its existence is often absent.
Cartographers are ungrateful or ignorant.
Inevitable in a village of this size, Guylaine and I discovered a family connection. My grandfather, Adjutor Bolduc, was married to my grandmother, Maria Tanguay, who was the sister of Guylaine’s grandfather, Jos Tanguay.
You follow me ?
But talent and voice did not follow in all offspring. Unequal, inheritance.