Backspaces Showcase : My Father by Nathalie Beaurin

by | Feb 17, 2013 | Showcases

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When I see oranges, especially at Christmas Time, I think of my father. He was born in 1943. He always used to tell us how at Christmas Times all they used to get was an orange. And that it was a huge treat for him and his 3 siblings. He always used to quarrel about the material aspect of that Time of year.

My Dad was a school teacher who went into “l’école normale” – the French Institution where you had to study to become a teacher – at a young age… He loved what he did and cared about his students. He had tons of note books with lesson plans, drawings, and songs. I found in his stuff some of his old students’ notebooks

He left France at the age of 21 to come to a tiny Island in the Caribbean that no one ever heard about, leaving the life he knew for the unknown. At the time there was not much in St Martin, electricity in some parts, not much cars, not much anything. It was 1964, St Martin was poor financially but the people welcomed him with open arms and even fed him and housed him during a few months before his pay money followed. He and 2 of his colleagues were the first “white Europeans” to come live there. At first he taught all subjects to children from various ages. Then a few years later he became a French teacher at the High school. He was a hard but good teacher. I know because he taught me 🙂

My father was passionate about everything from animals to photography. I grew up in a house full of aquariums (wall to wall), with birds singing, plants and flowers all over. My Dad also played football, had a radio show, organized a Movie Night and so on. He used to get old reels from all over. He loved Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin. He loved music and songs, he never played any instruments but he sang well. He ended up staying longer than he thought on that small island. He fell in love with my Mom, got married and had 2 children.

His old students still remember him. As I said he was tough but just. His students respected him. It is no wonder because doing this essay, I have been digging in his stuff and found some books full of pictures and notes about his students, about the “where” and “how” they lived, if they had difficulties at home that could affect them at school, if they needed help in any area and so on. He respected his students too and he cared for them as well. These note books are dated from 1970.

My dad is no longer with us, He passed away in April 28, 2010 from liver failure, he was 67. He had been in and out of the hospital. Towards the end he told us he wanted to stay at there. I think he didn’t want to burden us by staying at Home and having us taking care of him. He died with his children and wife around him. I miss him. He was opiniated and he always wanted to be right, he told lame Jokes at Times but he loved us, even if he wasn’t shown love growing up. He was a people’s person, he could make friends with anyone, talk with them about anything, so unlike me. He could also fix anything: from a broken pipe to a broken fan. He was a good Man. He was my Dad.

Je voudrais oublier le temps Pour un soupir pour un instant Une parenthèse après la course Et partir où mon cœur me pousse Je voudrais retrouver mes traces Où est ma vie où est ma place Et garder l’or de mon passé Au chaud dans mon jardin secret

Je voudrais décrocher la lune, Je voudrais même sauver la Terre Mais avant tout je voudrais parler à mon père Parler à mon père… C. Dion”

“I would like to forget the time For a sigh for an instant A parenthesis after the race And depart where my heart pushes me

I would like to find again my traces Where is my life where is my place And keep* the gold of my past In the warmness of my secret garden

I would like to take down the moon, I would as well like to save the Earth But before everything else I would like to talk to my father Talk to my father.

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