Uncle Jos was born on February 2nd, 1892 in Sturgeon Falls. He is the first child of the Louis Guy and Sara Monette family to be born in Ontario.
Uncle Jos spent two years overseas fighting in the war of 1914-19. He was part of the Royal 22nd regiment. He rarely spoke of the war when he was sober. However, Louis-Jean relates that uncle Jos had been buried in a trench and the only way he could breathe was by using the barrel of his rifle. Someone happened to be passing by, noticed the vapour escaping from the barrel, started to dig, and saved his life.
Mother told us that uncle Jos was a very loveable man before going off to war. As for me, I mostly knew the more hot-tempered side of his character. The war must have embittered him. Today, a veteran receives therapy, but poor uncle Jos never got any counselling. That, no doubt, explains his bad temper and especially his anger.
Uncle Jos was a very supple man, He could jump in the air and kick his feet together at more than 5 feet off the ground. No one dared compare himself to him. He worked in lumber camps and on log drives. He was skilled on the canthook (a lumberman's lever that has a pivoting hook arm). He was an excellent topper on the log rafts and even a good cook. No one dared complain about his pies nor his cooking.
Aimé Bigras related to me that his father, Albert Bigras, spent many years on log drives with Uncle Jos. Once, Uncle Jos was coming down a rapid on a log. When it hit the bottom, the log rolled and Uncle Jos sank into the water. When surfacing he said "I will not die - drowned like my father". (Uncle Jos and Dollard Guy were with their father when he died). Uncle Jos swam between the logs, some of which were standing straight up. He followed the current and managed to come out safe and sound - a survivor!
For three or four summers, Uncle Jos looked after pigs - a hundred of them - on 18 Mile Island for Ovid Lafrenière. His job was to protect them from bears.
From 1942, he lived in a shack that he built himself, on the other side of the Little Wolseley River, near the bridge in front of our house. That is where I knew Uncle Jos. He always wore his pants rolled up mid-calf. I can still see him cutting his wood with a hand saw and making axe handles and handles for canthooks. He would fetch spring water, on our side of the river, from a pipe that he had rigged.
Each year, he made his own moonshine for the festive season.
Uncle Jos was also a man of great physical strength. One day, Ernest Daoust and Herby Ouellette were coming back from town on foot with Louis-Jean. Once near Uncle Jos' shack, Louis-Jean said "Now I'll get Uncle Jos and it'll be fair, two against two." Ernest and Herby turned around and ran up the hill ; they knew who they were dealing with!
We, the younger ones, ran errands for Uncle Jos at Mrs Roy's store. In return, he gave us peppermints.
Uncle Jos passed away at the Veteran's Hospital, Sunnybrook in Toronto on the 29th of December, 1953, at the age of 61. His body rested in his brother Antonias' home in Noëlville, on December 31st of that year. The funeral mass was said by the parish priest, Jean-Marie Leclair. He is burried in the parish cemetery.
(translated by Ghislaine Monette Books)[1]
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