Happy Birthday Dad!!!

Today is my dad's 62nd birthday, so I am dedicating this blog to him! Over the years he has helped get me to where I am today in hockey and in life. The hockey part is obvious, he was supportive, he got me equipment, drove me to tournaments, paid for hockey camps. He was at every game just there for support, it didn't matter if I was cut from the team or if I scored a highlight reel goal against the Riverside Rangers in the Bluewater Playoffs on goaltender Sean Voy, my dad was supporting me no matter what.

The life part I feel has a greater value. As I sit at the dining room table of my house in France, it feels very comfortable to me, it is not such a foreign feeling to be here. In reality it's not! Since I was a little boy, my parents took me on all of their trips, explaining to my brother and sister that I was just a "very good traveler." Though England was my #1 choice for a vacation because of their amazing castles, France seemed to be the place my mom and dad enjoyed the most. We frequented Paris many many times, hitting up the great attractions of La Tour Eiffel, L'Arc de Triomphe, La Louvre and one of my personal favorites was Napoleon's Tomb and Jim Morrison's Grave.

For a young boy, this foreign country of a different language and no eggs or cereal for breakfast, was not very exciting for me! When I was in grade 3, I was set to miss 2 weeks of school for a trip to Europe with my mom and dad. My teacher at the time, Mme Easby decided that instead of assigning me homework for the whole trip, I was only to keep a journal of all my travels. The only problem with this was that our trip took place in the spring (Paris is beautiful in the spring), but the spring is also the time for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Being a die hard Habs fan, it was imperative that my father call home to my brother Andre, (16 years old at the time, who no doubt was having parties) to get the scores of the games. I still remember, Montreal was faced off against Buffalo in the first round Adams Division match up. Players like Russ Courtnall, Shayne Corson, Patrick Roy, Guy Carbonneau and my favorite player Stephane Richer were leading the charge that year. Needless to say, my whole journal was summaries from the Canadiens playoff games, and littered with drawings of Courtnall scoring in overtime of game 2 and maybe a line or two of how the view was from the top of La Tour Eiffel.

My dad, a great story teller realized that my obsession with hockey and for the Montreal Canadiens was getting the better of me on this trip. He could see the value of me being in France but knowing that I would much rather be sitting at home with my Habs jersey watching the games, he began to tell me stories of the great Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. Speaking of this great General in the French Revolution and how he ruled Europe, how his army was slaughtered in Russia, then he was exiled to the Island of Elba for 300 days before escaping. "wow this guy sounds amazing!" Now I look back, this was all a set up, my dad got me so pumped up about Napoleon, because he knew that going to Musée du Louvre, the world's most visited art museum, would be pretty boring for an 8 year old and for my parents to see everything, they knew that little Stephane would have to be kept entertained. So my dad would tell me about the great Napoleonic Wars, and how at this great museum contained tons of paintings of him in battle, crossing the Alps on a mule, killing people, and surrounded by his dead soldiers in the snow in the cold of winter in Russia. I couldn't wait to go!

Next up was none other than Napoleon's Tomb, well you just tell me where to sign!!! I was jacked, I got to see where this great Emperor was laid to rest, he was my hero and I didn't even know why, he was so built up. My father was so descriptive in his stories that I felt like I was there along side of Napoleon as "we" surprised the Austrians in Ulm in 1805 on October 20th (my dad's bday).

Another great feat my father was able to pull off was convincing me to change schools after grade 2 to go to this new "French Immersion" school that was opening. Still to this day he claims it was my idea, but I am pretty sure he was very manipulating in the whole process. To make this brief, lets just say, my favorite hockey team is the Montreal Canadiens and at the time my favorite player was their winger #44 Stephane Richer. So the final decision apparently was mine on the theory that if I went to this french school, I would be able to speak french to Stephane Richer. My dad insisted that it was a great idea. I stayed the course, never once made contact with Richer in English or french and even after he was traded to the New Jersey Devils, I still enrolled in the French Extended program at St. Joseph's High School for 5 years.

The impact my parents have made on my life has been tremendous but also a bit eerie too. You would think they must have called Dionne Warwick's Psychic Friends Network from the TV infomercials back in early 90s and were told that their young Stephane would one day have a life in France, be it as a pro hockey player, and that it would be essential for me to see this beautiful country before I lived there and how could I possibly survive if I did not speak the language? Is that the reason they took action??? Or was simply that my mom and dad have always loved France and the half dozen trips we took here together was a scheme to somehow brainwash me into believing that this was my calling and the stars must have been aligned when the call came in for this great opportunity to play hockey in France. Riiiiiight..... They just wanted me to live here so that they could have a reason to keep coming back here! I still remember being pulled away from a basketball tournament in grade 8, and as I was leaving the school gym, a girl said "where are you going Stephane?" I responded very disgruntled "I have to miss the next game, I have to go to Paris with my parents." I missed the playoffs too. They knew it was not basketball that was going to bring me here though.

Whatever the case may be, I am just glad that they allowed me to choose my own way to get here, instead of forcing me into writing or being a painter. At least I am able to combine my passion for hockey, with their passion for Europe. Though I do remember stopping at an art store just outside of Luxembourg Gardens (Jardin du Luxembourg) and being very fascinated, that Henri Matisse used to buy his pencils there. Grrrrrrrrr, dad was at it again!!!