I met my husband at Stanstead, but he was originally from Montreal. He was a student at Stanstead College in 1924, at the same time as I. At the time, I was 17 years old. We began a correspondence which lasted nearly ten years. But only when I felt like it! When I didn’t feel like it, no. But I always got letters from him. We were finally married, ten years later, on September 22, 1934, and we honeymooned in the Gaspé.
Getting married and living with someone isn’t easy, especially when you’re young and haven’t had much experience making choices. We lacked life experience. Today I have that kind of experience, now that I’ve lived my life. But I tell you this: there are many little things which an older person sees in certain people, men or women. I think that you need to live with a person for a while to really get to know them.
I often said to my husband: “The next man I marry is going to be a French Canadian.” I said that often. I said it as a joke — but I said it! To set things up the way I wanted: my home and all my antiques! [Laughing] Because an anglophone, I think, never feels quite at home in a French-Canadian house like mine. [Laughing] Unless he loves it a lot . . .
I discovered, in time, that all the problems that we go through end up pushing us to do more. Challenges push us to figure out what we really want. And then, we grow determined. I was always like that. All my problems pushed me to persist, to go on, to do what I wanted. Even better, I was successful at what I did!