I’ve just finished Christopher Hodson’s (https://history.byu.edu/Pages/Faculty/Hodson.aspx) inspiring new and first book The Acadian Diaspora. Wow. It is, for me, the beginning of understanding the deeper story of the consequences of being uprooted from your people and of being scattered hither and yon. And how I came to find it seems a bit like the wandering route of the ancestors to get back to their roots.

There I was in late July, looking in my family history files for the Comeau line so that I could keep a year-old promise to Cousin George to send him what I had about the link to our patriarch Pierre (married to Rose Bayols in 1649 in Port Royal, Acadie). I was still trying to find my way back to listening to “the ladies” when Marie Vigneau stepped forward demanding attention. There she sat on a branch of the genogram, a grand-daughter of Marguerite Comeau, who was herself a grand-daughter of Pierre and Rose. What did it mean that Marie married in 1764 on the still-owned-by-France islands of St. Pierre et Miquelon?

So, I “googled” her and her parents (Jean-Baptiste Vigneau and Agnes-Anne Poirier) and came upon Jacques Maurice Vigneau who was something of a Moses to a group of Acadians who were first deported to Georgia. Lo and behold, up pops Marguerite Comeau, his mother, and her husband Maurice Vigneault, grandparents of Marie. That made Jacques, known to the British colonists in Boston as Jocky Morris according to Hodson (p. 59), her uncle. Jacques’ story, told through Hodson, became my story.

What an eerie feeling to be reading a history of a people only to discover that you are reading a history of your people.

The kicker was that I was reading this part of Hodson’s book as I sat on the Lower Marshview deck at Craigville on Cape Cod. Note that this is in Barnstable County. So, when I read that Vigneau and his extended family (100 Acadians) in the spring of 1756 headed up the Georgia coast in old canoes (p. 59) past “both Carolinas and New York before the alert residents of Barnstable, Massachusetts, had the group arrested” (p. 60), I felt stunned. Seriously? The ancestors of the people in this place that I love arrested my ancestors?

What do you do with something like that? I’m still sorting it out, but I suspect that Marie would like to state her opinion about what it was like to wander hither and yon.

I’m listening.