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rfmcdonaldThe Globe and Mail is just one news source of many reporting on the steady decline of the French fact in the American state of New Hampshire.
This is a blow to Franco-Americans, a community numbering perhaps several million people descended from turn-of-the-century Canadian Francophone immigrants.
The decline of the Franco-American community, caused by falling numbers of incoming French Canadian immigrants and the assimilatory attractions of shiny American consumer capitalism, was a major focus of the section of my Honours thesis dealing with Ringuet's Thirty Acres. The organizational and ideological structure of ultramontane French Canadian Catholic nationalism in the first quarter of the 20th century certainly shouldn't be underestimated. And yet, even though there are proportionally as many people of Francophone descent in New Hampshire as in Canada's bilingual province of New Brunswick, even though Québec is just across the border, the Franco-American community of New Hampshire is declining, with road signs (not, say, schools) taking a prominent role as an identity marker.
It may just be a sign of the times, but French-speaking groups in New Hampshire are upset over a plan to eliminate French from highway welcome signposts on the state's southern border.
Governor John Lynch announced last week that the state, where an estimated one-third of residents have French roots, plans to replace its plain blue-and-yellow border welcome signs with a more attractive logo.
This is a blow to Franco-Americans, a community numbering perhaps several million people descended from turn-of-the-century Canadian Francophone immigrants.
New Hampshire was once a haven for French-speaking Quebeckers willing to work in the state's growing textile mills.
Nearly one million moved to New England between 1860 and 1920.
Mr. Gilbert, 67, whose family came from Quebec around 1915, said that back in the 1970s, his father originally proposed the bilingual signs to the governor.
He brushed away as "baloney" the government's assurances that French-English signs will actually increase.
"There's a difference between someone saying goodbye and welcome -- you're rolling out the welcoming mat," he said.
He said the signs serve as recognition that New Hampshire's economy is deeply integrated with that of Quebec. He estimated that 70 per cent of its trade is with the province.
Henri Bersoux, president of the Association Canado-Américaine, a fraternal society that has fought to keep the state's French culture alive, said the signs are "not so much as a welcome to people that speak one language . . . but to remind people that New Hampshire is rooted deeply in French."
He estimated that half of the residents in Manchester, the state's largest city, have roots in Quebec. But although some of the state's older residents still speak French, few children do, often because they would rather learn Spanish.
"It's getting harder and harder to remind residents of New England of their roots. It's disappointing. I don't understand the rationale," Mr. Bersoux said.
The decline of the Franco-American community, caused by falling numbers of incoming French Canadian immigrants and the assimilatory attractions of shiny American consumer capitalism, was a major focus of the section of my Honours thesis dealing with Ringuet's Thirty Acres. The organizational and ideological structure of ultramontane French Canadian Catholic nationalism in the first quarter of the 20th century certainly shouldn't be underestimated. And yet, even though there are proportionally as many people of Francophone descent in New Hampshire as in Canada's bilingual province of New Brunswick, even though Québec is just across the border, the Franco-American community of New Hampshire is declining, with road signs (not, say, schools) taking a prominent role as an identity marker.
