Monsters and Monks

a trip to Magog

Bill and I drove to Canada a few weeks ago. We stayed in Magog, a lovely little city at the northern tip of Lake Memphrémagog, a 31-mile fresh water glacial lake located between Newport, Vermont, USA and Magog, Quebec, Canada - a perfect metaphor for the long standing friendship between our two great countries.

In Canadian folklore, Memphré is a lake monster said to live in the lake. Despite scientific skepticism, we were hoping for a sighting.

Magog is in southern Québec, part of what is known as the Eastern Townships. A small city, it is bustling with walkers, bikers, hikers. We walked the beautiful maze of trails, along with all of Magog, it seemed - everyone walking the long stretches of boardwalks that traverse the marshland near the lake…ladies exercise groups, jump-walking after their instructor, bird-watchers, groups of Alzheimer folks, neighbors visiting, chatting. At a fork in the paths, we chatted for a bit, with a bunch of ladies, exchanging pleasantries, where we were from etc.- all of us delighted to learn about someone else’s life. At the end of the trail, while waiting for me to use the portable toilet, Bill was greeted by a lovely elderly man who was chatting away. In french. I was able to rescue Bill when I returned. Kind of. The smiling old guy’s Canadian french was so thickly accented, I could hardly catch what he was saying. Turns out, he was part of the Alzheimer’s group.

Along the way, I became aware of a small detail of language - when we say hello or good morning, our lips form the shape of the H of hi or hello. When the french say hi, their lips form a B. Bonjour! I adopted the B. Bill stuck with the H. I know he would have felt phony otherwise. Bill doesn’t do phony, dieu merci.

You don’t have to travel far to get a glimpse of the lives of others. It’s so good to step out of your life, to imagine a life different than your own. Strange and wonderful to think about the randomness of our lives, each one of us spinning out a story from a given starting line.

On our way to Magog, we drove past the famous Abbaye Saint-Benoît-du-Lac, on the shores of the lake. Our timing wasn’t right for the monks’ chanting of the hours, but we walked around a bit and spent some time in the gift shop. The monks produce delicious hard cider and their special varieties of blue cheese. We returned the next day at 5:30PM to hear vespers - part of the divine office. (I’ve loved the divine office ever since I sang matins every morning with the Dominican Sisters of Charity up the hill when we lived in Dighton - so soothing to sing the psalms antiphonally in a quiet chapel in the woods!)

We sat in the St. Benoît sanctuary, transfixed, as the monks filed in, sat in their stalls and began to sing the call and response of The Book of Hours.

In the past few years, I’ve realized how much I enjoy doodling in my sketchbook when I listen to music - twice the pleasure.

Our last night, were lucky to snag a dinner reservation at Alessa Trattoria, a very popular dining spot on the main drag. We were seated at a table for two in a tight-packed row of tables. The lovely old couple (I say old couple…turns out they were younger than us) next to us were enjoying themselves - lovely pasta dishes, glasses of red wine. When they started to take photos of each other, posing with their raised wine glasses, I asked if they’d like me to take their picture -speaking other languages opens doors! Sylvie et Yves were celebrating their 60th anniversary - a gift from their four kids and grandkids. Both Sylvie and Yves had retired after many years of factory work; Sylvie, in an artist canvas factory and Yves, from a steel manufacturing plant. They were a beautiful and happy couple. Turns out, Yves had been painting for years! We extended mutual invitations to visit each others’ hometowns any time. Of course, chances are, that will never happen, but I believe deeply that sharing stories and friendship makes the world a better place.

At the end of our time in Magog, we were both filled with the beauty of people, the beauty of singing, the beauty of nature, and always, the of silence.

We never did catch a glimpse of Memphré, but on our last night, we stood on the shores of Lac Memphrémagog and watched a spectacular full Flower Moon rise over the water.

Greet your neighbor. Turn a stranger into a friend.

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