The Coolness & Tragic End of Antoine Legros

There are some amazing stories that slip away into the past. But ever since Zsolt’s started digging into our family tree – they just keep popping back up! Today I want to share one of them with  you.

This fellow with the beard is my great-great-great-great grandfather on my father’s side of the family, Antoine Legros dit Lecount (which means, his nick name was ‘Lecount’ – i.e. The Count, a nickname often given to people who were being said to behave in an aristocrat fashion – i.e. overly proud). Antoine was a voyager – he was the man you’d imagine trekking through the pre-Canadian wilderness leading traders, exchanging with first nations, delivering mail between forts, and living off the land. He was contracted by the Hudson Bay Company in exchange for some cash, cotton shirts, shoes, one silk handkerchief and a necklace.

Antoine Legros dit LeCount

Antoine Legros dit LeCount

In short, he was really cool.

Unfortunately, his life was cut short with a double barrel shot gun. It sounds horrible – it is horrible. But one thing that nevertheless remains touching is that in the last moments of his life, he saved his son from a paranoia-crazed English man. Here is that story, taken from the original account of witness, James Bruce in 1840, later to be transcribed into Artic Expeditions (1877) by David Murry Smith.

The Murder of Antoine Legros

“James Bruce and Thomas Simpson were hired by Hudson’s Bay Co. to explore and survey along the north coastline of America between the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.  They were traveling with a large group of Indians and Metis (mixed-blood). The following incident happened in 1840, the third year of the expedition on the Pembina Trail, Dakota Territory.

In early June Bruce and Simpson left the main camp along with Antoine Legros, Sr., Antoine Legros, Jr. and John Bird; the last three were Metis.  The party of five intended to travel ahead of the main body, arriving at St. Peters quickly.

After a few days of travel, Simpson began complaining of feeling unwell and wanted to return to the Red River Colony.  On June 14, Simpson and the other four men turned back.  Simpson was restless and uneasy and commented that he would never recover from his ailment.  The party traveled until an hour and a half past sundown, arriving within a mile of the Turtle River.

The men then began arranging their camp for the night.  All the accessories of prairie travel surrounded them. Their horses were grazing nearby, and a cart for the outfit occupied the center of the camp. All were armed with guns and pistols, for the Sioux were on the warpath. But within themselves were elements more dangerous than the tomahawks of the savages; only two of the five would ever leave that spot again; for three it was their last camping ground.

Bruce, Bird, and the elder Legros began raising the tent.  With his back to Simpson, Bruce heard a gunshot and turning he saw that Simpson had shot Bird, who groaned and fell to dead.  He then saw Simpson turn and shoot Legros who staggered and fell against the camp cart then fell to the ground.

Immediately Bruce and the younger Legros ran a short distance away to where the horses were tied.  Simpson called out to Bruce asking if he was aware of any intention to kill him (Simpson).  Bruce replied he knew of no such intentions.  Then Simpson said he shot Bird and Legros because they intended to murder him in the night for his papers.

The elder Legros, who was still alive, asked Simpson to allow his son to leave unharmed to which Simpson complied.

Simpson then offered Bruce five hundred pounds to go back with him to Red River Colony and “keep the affair secret”.  He then asked Bruce if he knew the way back to Red River.  When Bruce said he did, Simpson gave the order to harness the horses.

The elder Legros now called to his son to come and embrace him one last time.  It was then that Simpson asked Legros if it was true that he and Bird meant to kill him to which the dying man replied, “No”.

All this time the explorer was standing in the middle of the camp with his gun in his hand.  At this time Bruce and Legros Jr. went to the horses, mounted and rode away to the main camp.   Immediately after arriving they gave the alarm, and joined by five men, returned to the scene of the murders.

Bruce found Simpson dead in the cart, shot in the head with his own gun.  In his report, Bruce stated that Simpson did not display symptoms of insanity.  There were no papers found in Simpson’s belongings indicating a reason for the murders.  Another report suggests Simpson had become a ‘madman’.

The three men were moved to the churchyard in Red River Colony where they were interred in the same grave.

The younger Lecount was never asked to give a statement.”

Asking for Help & Feeling Ashamed

I saw this video after Neil Gaimon tweeted it out to his followers. It’s a TED Talk featuring Amanda Palmer. Okay, maybe like you, I’d never heard of her before. But Neil Gaimon is a very cool author and I trust his suggestions, so I clicked through.

At first I wasn’t sure what to make of her talk, but by the end I was thinking to myself, “I’ve got to share this with the awesome people who read my blog.”  (Skip to bottom of this post if you’re really excited to view it!)

Her message is just SO powerful. The idea that “it’s okay to ask.” Sure, she’s speaking from the point-of-view of an entertainer trying to make a living . . . but going beyond that, to the concept of asking, to the concept of supporting. It’s amazing. It’s powerful.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again right now. It was damn hard to ask for help during chemotherapy – hard to the point of shaming. And yes, when I finally did break down far enough to say I wasn’t okay, people were incredible in giving their support. I think of my family, I think of my friends, I think of my cousins, my aunts, my boss, my colleagues, my husband. They were all incredible.

So why – WHY – so much shame in asking?

There is power in asking for help. Maybe Amanda is right. Maybe this is the future – and not just for music, but for dreams and lives and ambitions. I know of one women in the US who is struggling to pay her medical bills (Okay, I know of several women in the US who are struggling – universal healthcare is a GOOD thing, not a communist thing) and her friends are crowd-sourcing to help her buy a new car (replacing her ancient clunker) to get between treatments. I know of another young woman who has started an amazing charity called A Fresh Chapter, and she’s been raising funds to help twelve other people discover life after cancer.

Whether it’s thinking big or just thinking about the next meal – what is wrong with asking for help?

So here is the video. Don’t get weirded out by the ‘live statue’ intro. It’s worth watching through – this may well be the future of creative work. And asking for help, that’s something we should all be able to do without shame.

Catherine Goes Boob Shopping

Today, we’re going to talk about boob shopping. Boob as in a single breast (i.e. a prosthesis). Last week, Zsolt and I decided to finally act upon my long-desired craving for a breast that properly fit my body. Therefore, after waiting and waiting for an opportunity (i.e. insurance) we decided to go for it.

Boob shopping

I call this picture: “Chronically Awkward.” You can see the nerves.

SO! I called up my local mastectomy boutique, aptly named Kelly’s Boutique, and arranged an appointment with Diane Hayes who owns the shop. It’s easy to tell that Diane has her heart in this business. The shop itself is named after her sister-in-law and youngest brother’s wife, Kelly, who lost both breasts to imflammatory breast cancer and later passed away from the disease. Diane herself seems to genuinely thrilled when she can help a woman feel better about her body.

The appointment was made.

Fast forward to the next day, Zsolt and I get on the bus and head to the St.Laurent area. We hop off near the St. Hubert Chicken Restaurant (drool) and cross the road to Kelly’s Boutique.

Now I’ll be honest. I almost cancelled this appointment about six times before actually walking through that door. Zsolt had to talk me down . . . he told me it was okay. Everything would be fine.

Why was I so nervous? I don’t know. I was worried about filling out the insurance since I’ve never done that before in my life, worried about whether I should get a properly-fitting breast form at this point, stressed over something else that had just happened in our lives that I’ll mention another time (sorry that’s so cryptic), and just worried in general. It is my natural tendency to worry.

So we arrive at the boutique, and step into the store.

Sensory overload! Suddenly I went from anxiety to full on “shopping!” mode: There were scarves, hats, BRAS, bikinis, and bathing suits everywhere. The place is PACKED with colourful and varying product. And while I totally avoided the hats .  . . because they kinda make me shiver with memories of chemotherapy, I gravitated to the bras.

Bras. Bras. Bras! Pretty bras that you wouldn’t have seen three years ago when I was first diagnosed. There was one particularly black and purple number I really loved. The price tag was beyond my range, since my insurance doesn’t cover clothing for mastectomy, but I am nevertheless so glad to see that designers are finally catching on. Women want to feel attractive, even after their breasts are taken away.

Okay, so I was playing in the land of bras and bikinis, when Diane’s assistant let me know that Diane was done with her previous client and I could come along now.

Come along where, exactly? (My nerves were rising again.)

We were led to a backroom with a fainting couch (apparently, I’m not the only person who gets nervous) and a full length mirror, and possibly a feather boa – but that could just be from my imagination. Zsolt and I went into the room and waited.

Soon, Diane came in. After a few questions about what I was looking for, (“a boob?”) she said, “okay, let’s see.” So that’s how I found myself, once again, exposing my chest to a stranger. Oh my goodness, if I had a dollar for every person who has seen my chest – I could at least buy 3 pints of Hagendaz ice cream.

Again, I was nervous. But Diane was so professional and so certain in what I needed that the nerves lightened. While she disappeared to pull options, I waited on the sofa wrapped in a slippery bathrobe and took pictures of the place with Zsolt’s phone for this blog post. Then she came back and we looked at her pick.

The BOOB of CHOICE: An Amonea breast form that sticks to my chest!!! We played with the sizes till we found the perfect match, and then she showed me how to stick on the breast. It’s fascinating stuff – and it’s not itchy at all. I was so freaking thrilled with my new boob, I was pushing out my chest for Diane and Zsolt to judge the shape. The two of them (my breasts, not Diane and Zsolt) just looked so very pretty inside that black and purple bra.

Sold! I took the breast.

Do you want to know the very best aspect of this stick-on breast? Well, because it sticks to me and doesn’t sit inside a pocket within the bra that means –

Hold on.

Drum roll.

That means . . .

I CAN BUY ANY BRA I WANT! WoooooHooooo! Bring on the pretty zebra stripes, satins, COLOURS and cheap frills that LaSenza and LaVieEnRose can offer. It has been over three years since I could walk into a lingerie shop and not despise the rows upon rows of unattainable bras representing a part of me that couldn’t be reclaimed. Not without reconstruction, and I long-ago choose never to reconstruct.

But now, with my stick on & not-itchy & not too heavy breast – I can be pretty, and it can done in a way that I can afford.

So that’s the lovely news.

It was a good experience, and I’m so glad I didn’t cancel that appointment.

If you are in Ottawa, and want to visit Kelly’s Boutique, here’s her website with all the needed information: http://kellysboutique.ca/