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56 Elsie Charles Basque (b. 1916) Elsie Basque attended the Shubenacadie Residential School between 1930 and 1932—years she recalled as “wasted.” In 1937 she became the first Mi’kmaq person to get a teacher’s certificate from the Provincial Normal College in Truro, Nova Scotia, and went on to teach at the Indian Day School in Indian Brook. In 1951 she moved with her husband, Isaac Basque, and their three children to Boston, joining a large expatriate Mi’kmaq community; Basque later began teaching for the Boston Indian Council. The family went home to Saunierville in 1984. Basque received an honorary doctorate from Nova Scotia Teacher’s College in 1997 and another from St. Anne’s University in 2005. In 2009 she was appointed to the Order of Canada. The following selection originally appeared in The Mi’kmaq Anthology, edited by Lesley Choyce and Rita Joe. From Here to There The ’48 Mercury was packed to the roof—three kids, Hilda Joudrey, and me on October 21, 1951. “Packed to the roof” pretty well describes the interior of that small car. We were moving to Connecticut. And a family’s needs had to be moved too, which meant not only clothes but bed clothes, etc. The etc. included Wilfred’s new bike, which had been dismantled and tucked in somewhere between the pots and pans. There even was a “pee-pot” for Beverley tucked away in the back seat. We were green, very green as far as travelling experience went. The day before, my good friend Irene (Gloade) had spent the day at our house baking goodies for us to take along for lunches. We had a box full of sandwiches , cookies, a cake, even an apple pie. Like I said, we were green—very green travellers. Hilda Joudrey from Shubie was on her way to Peabody, Mass., to visit relatives. She had asked to accompany us. I liked the idea of an adult along to help with the children. In October 1951, Wilfred was seven, Brian had just celebrated his third birthday, and Beverley was thirteen months. Hilda was a godsend. I thought. Elsie Charles Basque 57 We had said our good-byes the day before. A bit sad about leaving our new house, but we were off to new beginnings. Adventure lay ahead—right around the corner. Our first stop was on the side of the road somewhere in Cumberland County. We hauled out the sandwiches, the cake, and pie. Hilda had brought sandwiches too, but ours must have looked tastier and we shared with her. Then away we went again. We had made good time considering that I had never driven two hundred miles from home. It was about five o’clock when we hit Saint John. That was our nemesis! Trying to find my way out of that eternal rotary, we got a flat tire right in front of a garage. The good Lord and St. Christopher were watching over us. Cooped up in the car all day, we stretched our legs, went for a walk around the block. By the time we got back to the garage, the tire had been repaired and we were ready to be “on the road again.” At the last minute, Hilda came running back to the car, carrying a sack full of goodies. Hilda was a gratis traveller. In return she had promised to help with the children. All day long Wilfred had taken care of his little sister’s needs in the back seat. Hilda had not once volunteered to assist in any way. I was somewhat annoyed but said nothing, hoping things would get better. After all, we were still a long way from Connecticut. I was sure everything would improve after our flat tire episode. But then Hilda shelled her peanuts, ate her grapes right under the hungry eyes of my children, and never once offered them any. That went down in my record book and I guess some forty-plus years later, it’s still there. Time to stop for the night. About half way between Saint John and St. Stephen we spotted the Half-Moon Motel and Restaurant. It was the children ’s first adventure in a motel, lots of exploring and chattering. Above all the commotion was the need to use the bathroom facilities—now. Hilda had already stationed herself inside the only bathroom. When one’s gotta go, one’s gotta go. Several loud knocks, a few desperate “hurry ups,” in...

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