Summerside, P.E.I (Full day)
One Man’s Lottery is Another Man’s Deportation
Remember the Acadians in Annapolis Royal? The ones yanked around by
the 7-fold change in power between the British and the French? The
Acadians were descendants of French settlers who came early, and lived
well with the native population. They spoke and still speak French.
Turns out that the British were nasty enough that many Acadians fled
in the 18th Century to Prince Edward Island, which is where I am
today. Having escaped the British, they prepared and cultivated the
land on P.E.I.
Here is what I learned visiting two museums. First, the Acadian
museum. It revealed what I didn’t learn in Annapolis Royal: Between
1755 and 1764 the British rounded up and deported about 11,000 of the
14,000 Acadians to the US colonies, to France, and to Britain. The
P.E.I population was hit in 1758. British soldiers landed, rounded
everyone up, and took them away. Feelings clearly remain in the
Acadian Museum. Here is a tableau showing the deportation, and the
cardboard statue of a British soldier.

Not that these Acadians were necessarily all happy. Here is a married
couple. Mazel tov, and a happy years to them! I’m sure they made
sensitive and responsive parents.

My next stop was the Canadian Potato Museum. All about the history of
potato farming and distribution. Surprisingly interesting. Most
interesting, though, was the cheerful explanation of British potato
farming on Prince Edward Island.

See the connection? The lottery gave away what used to be farmed by
the deported Acadians. Never mind the native population, of
course… No mention of the deportation in the Potato museum.
Funny how well that works. Whether Jewish stores ‘change
hands’ in Germany’s 1930s, land is ‘available’ for US Western
expansion in the 19th C., or land is fortuitously obtainable by
lottery to British settlers in the 18th.


A Funny Hobby
In the 70s and 80s an Acadian descendant used his spare time
collecting 10,000 bottles. With them he constructed houses by
inserting them through the exterior walls, making them part of the
structures.

One of the buildings is a chapel, including pews and an altar.


Expand or Integrate?
Speaking of expansion. This morning I ran into a dilemma. I needed
supplies, and made a list. But, where does this list fit? In the crypt
with passport and cash? In the choir with the cell phone? The nave
with the credit cards, or the belfry with the motorcycle
keys? Arguments could be made for each.

But I do, of course, have the unoccupied left pants pocket. A manifest destiny awaiting settlement, to mix metaphors. An option would be for the left pants pocket to become the Chapelle St. André, reserved for
lists of various sorts. I have not gone through with the consecration. It’s a big decision. I kept the list in the crypt for
now. But I don’t like it. I really don’t like it there.
Fixing the Mistake Fix
Turns out the comb I bought to replace the one I forgot: no good. It’s
too small for my hands. And the spikes are so pointy that they
oxiginate my scalp like a lawn aerator, by punching holes through the
skin.
