Rose Aimée was born in the winter of 1938 in a remote village in the province of Quebec. Eager to learn, she began attending a one-room school in 1945 at the age of seven. Unfortunately, she had to quit school after fourth grade so that she could care for her sick mother and four younger siblings. It was a time of great struggle, but it was just the beginning of her journey. Spanning seven decades, A Road without a Map recounts Rose's life as she developed from a shy girl to a successful business woman, wife, and mother. Ambitious and energetic, Rose began her first job as a housekeeper at the age of fifteen and from there took on a string of jobs in her quest to better herself. The years brought more challenges. Rose was forced to give up her infant daughter, and she and her husband, Henry, faced prejudice because of his Chinese descent. But Rose kept persevering. She and Henry had a daughter, bought their own restaurant, and even traveled to China. Though there were tough times ahead, Rose had truly found a new life, one far removed from the rural Quebec cabin of her birth. Clearly detailed, A Road without a Map reveals one woman's remarkable strength and spirit through the diverse events of her life.

A Road without a Map

By Rose Aimée

iUniverse, Inc.

Copyright © 2011 Rose Aimée
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4620-5610-1

Contents

Dedication.................................viiIntroduction...............................ix1. Starting School.........................12. The World of Work.......................93. My Daughter Martine.....................254. Henry...................................375. My Trip to China........................576. Losing our Dream........................717. A Desperate Time........................738. Finding Martine.........................859. New Beginnings..........................9510. Stages of Life.........................10111. Grandchildren..........................10312. Final Thoughts.........................107

Chapter One

Starting School

In 1945, at the age of seven and a half, I started school in a one-room schoolhouse in the remote area of Quebec where I lived.

It was the beginning of August. My sister Gisele and I were picking blueberries out in the field. Our buckets were finally full of those small berries, and we were exhausted by the heat and labor it took to get the chore done. I wouldn't dare go back home before my bucket was full. I was too proud; I had to finish the job. I was the older sister, and I had to set a good example for Gisele. On our way home, we stopped at a small creek to drink water. There was an empty aluminum can left there for people to use if they needed water as they passed by.

When we got home, there was a car in the driveway. It belonged to Robert, the only person we knew in our area who owned a car. Robert was an associate with the school system and had the respect of the community. I knew that his visit had to be important. When Gisele and I went in the house, we were welcomed with big smiles. This made me apprehensive, as the looks were directed especially at me. Robert had told my parents that they needed to send me to school because they needed a certain number of students to open the school. He asked me some questions. I was a bit scared and didn't understand what the fuss was about. If the school had enough students without me, I would not have to attend. However, I never would have had the ability to write about my experience today. After a long discussion between Robert and my parents, they agreed that I would be starting school in a few days.

The school was only a mile from my house, not a long distance away, but for me, a young child it may as well have been the other end of the world. The only road available stretched a quarter of a mile through the woods. That road was bordered by forest on both sides, where I knew that wild animals often roamed, so I was terrified. I liked those animals from afar, but meeting one face-to-face on the road would be a different story. That is why school had been out of my reach until then. Walking alone on that road was too risky.

On the first day of school, my father came with me through the woods, carrying a sporting gun, until I could see our neighbor's house. He went with me every day until winter began. At that point, I was fine. I always walked home alone. I had become used to the look of the dark forest. In the spring, there were mama bears protecting their cubs. I was lucky for a long time and never encountered anything but wild rabbits and deer.

One day the next fall, coming back home and singing as loudly as I could, I saw a large bear eating leaves from a tree on the side of the road. I had been told that it is much less likely to see those types of wild animals because they will run away if they hear noise. All that singing didn't do me any good. I could not take the chance of going by that beast. To the left of the road was a large open space, so I decided to take a detour. My legs were shaking, but I ran as fast as I could. The bear didn't seem to be bothered by me and continued to eat. I was never so scared in my life. It took some of the fun away from going to school. Finally my sister Gisele was old enough to start school; my fear was gone, because there were two of us going together through the woods. I had two other siblings at home Louiselle and Jacques, but they were too young for school.

My first teacher was Miss Janette. She had been teaching for two years. I will never forget how she made me feel. She was a gentle woman, always full of concern for every student. She had shoulder-length brown hair that was always well combed, and she was beautiful in every sense of the word. She was my idol, someone I wanted to be like when I grew up. I learned more from her in two years than in all the rest of my school years combined.

My first day of school was an event I will never forget. I was given a notebook and a pencil, the most precious tools I had ever received. The first few years I went to school were such a revelation to me. I never knew much about the outside world. I was shy. I had never been exposed to strangers, and I lived in a different world. Miss Janette was extremely patient with me and took the time to explain all that was expected of me, and I made sure she would not be disappointed. Because of my teacher's patience, I was willing to learn. She knew how to make me proud of all my accomplishments, and I strived to make the most of the several months I was in school each year. I was learning, so everything was new. I felt inferior to the other students, because of my size even though I was older. They were more advanced. I was ashamed of how little I knew, but I finally got better at catching up to the other students. I was so proud of myself after every small accomplishment. Miss Janette taught me not to give up. I will never forget her; I have to thank her for many things. I only have good memories of my first two years at school.

In our school, there was a library with about one hundred books. I read every one of them, and some I read many times. If I liked the story, I would ask my teacher if I could keep the book longer than allowed. She would allow me a few extra days. I was so happy to find one story called "The Child Lost and Found". In French, its title is "L'Enfant Perdue et Retrouvè". My mother told us that story many times when we were small children. It was about a family that had too many children, so they decided to "lose" one of their boys in the forest. The story was about all the misery and adventures that child had until he found his way home; by then, he was in his twenties. That story was every child's nightmare, especially those in large families.

The third year, all the good things about school changed when we got another teacher, one without any experience. Miss Julie was nothing like Miss Janette. She was self-centered, and all the students were on edge because of her temper and got a round of ruler hitting on the palms of their hands for one reason or another. I escaped the hitting, but Miss Julie was always looking for ways to belittle me. From the way she talked to me, I could feel that she didn't like me. Her large breasts were always in my face. I remember having the multiplication table of three to learn, but I hadn't had time to study, so I didn't know the answer. I tried to explain that I didn't have the time to study since my mother was sick and I had to make dinner, clean up the younger children, and put them to bed. After a long day at school and the work that I had to do at home it was time for me to go to bed. I was so tired that I forgot that I had to memorize the table of threes. It was to no avail that I tried to explain. The teacher humiliated me in front of the entire class. She told me to stay in front of the class on my knees and study the table of threes until I knew it by heart. She added that I should wash my clothes because I was dirty. So I stayed on my knees most of the day just to defy her and let her know I would learn when I was ready. Until that day, I'd never had a reprimand from my teacher. I was so humiliated that I never learned the multiplication table of three until thirty years later, when I needed to do some math for accounting in my business. This humiliation taught me that childhood experiences are very important.

In December 1946, I had another of my first steps in growing up, an event for which my mother and my teacher had prepared me. My father took me to the midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and I received my first Holy Communion. My mother had made me a new dress for that special event. She didn't have enough fabric for the entire dress, so the skirt was navy blue, and the top was a lighter blue, with white rickrack around the collar and the sleeves.

Before receiving First Holy Communion, each child had to go to confession for the first time. At eight, I already had a long list of sins, all venial, but I was scared of what the priest would impose as a penance for forgiveness of those bad things I had done. I was surprised and relieved when he gave me a penance to say a few "Ave Maria's", but I returned to the bench with my head hanging down because I felt as if everyone knew what I had just confessed.

I went to school only in the fall and spring, not the winter months, so I missed at least two months a year. This made it hard for me to keep up with the program. I went up a grade every year, and when I was twelve, I was supposed to go to grade five when we graduated from our classes in the spring. The last two years had been hard for me; my mother had been sick all the time with some kind of depression. As the oldest of five children, I was responsible for everything in the house, including cooking and washing. My younger brother was crying all the time. So instead of moving to fifth grade when I was twelve, I stopped going to school after my parents discussed it and agreed that home would be the best place for me.

They also agreed that in two years, after my younger sister Gisele and two other younger siblings could take over, I would go to a special school where I could learn how to sew and become a seamstress. Since I loved the latest fashions, this six-month training would be helpful. However, it never happened. Instead, I continued helping my father on the farm and my mother in the house. I missed going to school. Every morning I would look at the children walking to the place where I wanted to be, but I had no choice. I was the oldest child and a girl, so I didn't need much instruction. At least, that is what they said in those days.

I did love to sew. I had received an old Singer sewing machine from my maternal grandmother. I had made some money babysitting the neighbor's children, and bought some fabric to make two dresses, one for Gisele, and one for me. They would be our Christmas dresses. I got some black taffeta fabric, a small piece of red corduroy, and a few rhinestones, and I made Gisele's dress first. The skirt and half of the top were black. The rest of the top was a scalloped red corduroy yoke, with a rhinestone on each scallop. As soon as I finished Gisele's dress, I started on mine. I quickly realized that I was short on fabric, so I made my skirt a bit too tight. As a result, I had to take short steps every time I walked while wearing that dress during the Christmas season. I was so proud of myself; at thirteen, I knew nobody could create a better masterpiece.

Later that winter, a woman came to the village for a week to teach sewing. After some begging, I got my parents to agree to send me to those classes. I was delirious with joy. I stayed for free with a friend of my father's in the village that week while I took the classes. I just had to help at their restaurant to pay for room and board. The classes cost $3.50 for the whole week, payable at the end of the day on Friday, when my father was supposed to pick me up.

The class finished at 3 p.m., but my father did not come for me. I waited and waited. I was embarrassed, as everyone was leaving and I didn't know what to do. The teacher asked me where my father was, and I did not have an answer. My face was red with shame. As it was starting to get dark, a friend of the teacher came to my rescue. She agreed to loan me the money to pay for the class if I promised to have my father repay her.

I left the place and walked to where I had been staying for the week. My father was there waiting for me, but without the money. How bad I felt is hard to describe, but he promised me that he would pay the woman for the loan the next week. The next time he went to the village, he had to pass by the woman's house. I reminded him about the money, and when he came home he assured me that he had paid her. A few months later I received a note from the woman asking me to "Please repay the loan." I was lucky to have saved some money from babysitting jobs and I used this money to repay her. This was another reminder that I only had myself to count on. I just had to wish and hope that independence would come.

I was always aware that my lack of education caused difficulties in my life. I was forever reading everything I could put my hands on to try to educate myself. I never was a fiction buff; my reading was all about learning something new. Later in life my reading and learning came in handy. When I made a new friend, I never let on that I had only finished fourth grade. All my friends thought I had been in school much longer. When I was in a high position in a company, I always managed to fit in. I never talked about my past. It was my secret.

Chapter Two

The World of Work

My First Business

During November 1948, when I was ten years old, times were hard. I wanted to make some money for food and for Christmas gifts for my family. I was small for my age, but nothing was going to scare me. I had my mother order some Christmas cards from a sales ad in the newspaper. I didn't have any choice but to try selling those cards, and with the money I made, my mother could get food for the family. I was also a bit adventurous and wanted to try new things. I don't remember how many of those cards I had to sell, but I had to do something about our situation. I had many other ideas for making money, but my parents would not let me do anything, especially my mother. She was always afraid that something would happen to me. I had many arguments with her on that subject.

I knew how to harness the horse and attach it to the sled. I had watched and practiced under my father's supervision. Since I was short, I took the horse close to the porch and dragged the harness onto it. It wasn't easy, especially when my mother was around, because I felt anxious with her watching and worrying. She was always warning me when she came out to check the harness to make sure it was attached safely. After getting in the sled I said, "Getdiup", and started on my way.

It was a sunny day right after lunch, a good time to start out selling my cards, even though there was snow on the road. I wore warm clothes. At my first house, I was lucky; the woman bought a few cards and gave me seventy-five cents. At that moment I knew I was born to sell, and I kept on going. I completely forgot about the time and did not turn back until I had sold all my cards. My mother had told me not to go too far. "Turn back at the fork," she had warned, but I completely forgot about the warning and went on until I was all out of merchandise.

There was a grocery store on the way back home, so I decided to get some food for the family. It was during the war, the time of rations, and each family was only allowed so much sugar every month. I am not sure how I did it, but I got sugar without the stamps I was supposed to have. Maybe the owner felt sorry for me. I got home when it was dark, and my mother was worried to death about me. But I was the happiest child in the world, and I was proud of myself. It was a while before I could go back on the road again - you can imagine why!

I was about fifteen years old when my sisters Louiselle and Gisele took over my work at home and I started to work at a long stream of places. By that time, I knew that I had been brought up in a primitive way. I'd learned so much in such a short time, and if I wanted to evolve, I would have to learn a lot more. First I would have to learn how to speak French correctly. I didn't know how to speak in my own language very well. My French was slangy most of the time, and I did not realize that I was speaking the farmer's tongue.

After I stopped going to school, I read everything I could get my hands on. I used to read "Roman Feuilleton" by the window in the moonlight in our small bedroom. It was a section written in a weekly newspaper. I was so interested in the story, but it was continued every week. I had to wait for my father to go to the store the next week and bring the next part of the story. If I was lucky, maybe he would bring me the end, maybe the final chapter. Lucky for me, he did!

I wanted to know what was going on in the rest of the world, but everything was a mystery and new to me. I kept reading voraciously. I was amazed at the ways of the world around me.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from A Road without a Mapby Rose Aimée Copyright © 2011 by Rose Aimée. Excerpted by permission of iUniverse, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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