La Quincaillerie‏

 Marcel Proust once said, 'The door of memory is opened by the taste of a Madeline cookie.'  He, of course, was referring to his mom being in the kitchen baking and the smells that that awakened in him... but for me, it was seeing the weathered facade of a hardware store (Quincaillerie)... as I ventured down Notre Dame St. West in an old part of town... and I thought of what that French novelist said a century ago and how apropos to here and now.

  As a young boy, my formative years were spent in a quiet, safe neighborhood in a borough in the city of Montreal, now known as Villeray–Saint-Michel–Parc-Extension. Until the late Nineteenth century, the area was predominately rural and dotted with farms. The inauguration of the Canadian Pacific Railway in 1878 and the arrival of electric streetcars in 1892 permitted the growth of Villeray. It was also in this era that the Italian immigrant community chose the neighbourhood as their preferred location.
  My grandfather, when he immigrated in the late 1950s', chose a little corner that had these beautiful tree-lined streets and mom-and-pop stores. The main street, in our quaint section of town, was right around the corner from where we lived. There was a linen and clothing store run by an old, Italian couple, who my mother, until this day, is very friendly with, albeit with the widow. They have traveled together extensively, from Europe to the French Riviera, from Monte Carlo to a cruise in the Caribbean. The friends you made back then were rooted in a strong sense of belonging and lasted a lifetime. There was a grocery store that delivered (hard to believe in 2013) with a special bike that had a box saddled to the front wheelbase... for the ones in the vicinity, and a van for distanced carting. There was a barbershop, and a bakery where enticing aromas emanated every morning. In the midst of all that secure feeling of being home was a hardware store. 

  Quincaillerie Tillemont was situated where my lane ended to meet with that main street. My grandfather being a do-it-yourselfer, long before it became a phenomenon and spawned a network, was a frequent visitor. He and the owner, a man named Jean Bordeaux (because back then the owners still fiddled about their stores, greeted and cordially assisted the customers), who was a gentle old Frenchman, had a special relationship. You sensed theirs was a kinship based on mutual respect of two men who knew their trade and craft... of hard work, and of what that entailed, along with the necessary tools needed for a job well done. The facade had large weathered steel frame windows that contained tools, and samples of the wares you should expect  to find on the inside.     

 'We come together in unity to play a grand symphony of cosmic consciousness in the divine meditation of our souls' manifestation as being one.' ~ ©Frank Borsellino      

     Namaste ±    

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