The letters arrived on a crisp autumn morning, each envelope carrying the weight of history and the lightness of new friendship. Jeanne LeBlanc, 78, sat at her kitchen table in Moncton’s Dieppe neighborhood, carefully unfolding pages covered in neat French handwriting – correspondence from a 16-year-old student in Poitiers, France.
“Ma chère Jeanne,” it began. “I’ve never spoken with someone who shares my language but lives so differently. Please tell me about Acadian traditions – are they like what we have in France?”
LeBlanc is one of twenty-five seniors from the Villa Providence retirement community participating in a cultural exchange program that connects Acadian elders with high school students in France. The initiative, “Ponts Entre Générations” (Bridges Between Generations), aims to preserve Acadian heritage while fostering international understanding.
“These young people in France, they know about Louisiana Cajuns from television, but Acadians from New Brunswick? We’re almost invisible to them,” LeBlanc explains, adjusting her glasses as she prepares to write her response. “My grandparents spoke a French that carried echoes from the 1600s. That’s what I’m sharing – not just my life, but centuries of perseverance.”
The program began when Marie-Claire Arsenault, activities coordinator at Villa Providence, connected with French teacher Pascal Dubois at Lycée Victor Hugo in Poitiers through an educational networking platform. What started as a simple language exchange quickly evolved into something more profound.
“Our residents hold cultural knowledge that isn’t in textbooks,” Arsenault says. “Many grew up speaking traditional Acadian French before standardized education. They remember community traditions that are fading – like ‘tintamarre‘ noise parades and recipes passed through generations.”
For 82-year-old Georges Cormier, the correspondence provides purpose. After losing his wife last year, the former shipyard worker found himself increasingly isolated. Now, he meticulously crafts responses to his pen pal Thomas, who asks about everything from Acadian fishing techniques to the 1755 deportation that scattered Acadian communities across North America.
“I tell him how my family returned to rebuild after Le Grand Dérangement,” Cormier says, referring to the British-led expulsion. “I explain how we still gather for ‘fricot’ chicken stew on Sundays, how our language survived despite everything.”
Research suggests such intergenerational projects provide significant benefits. A 2022 study from the University of Moncton found that seniors who participate in cultural storytelling activities show improved cognitive function and reduced feelings of isolation. Meanwhile, the Canadian Public Health Association recognizes cultural connection as a social determinant of health for aging populations.
The exchange has practical benefits for the French students too. According to Dubois, exposure to Acadian French enriches their understanding of Francophone diversity. “In France, we learn standardized Parisian French,” he explains via video call. “Discovering Acadian expressions and rhythms helps students understand how language evolves in different contexts.”
The program has expanded beyond letters. Students and seniors exchange voice recordings, allowing young French students to hear authentic Acadian accents and expressions. Villa Providence residents recently compiled a cookbook of traditional recipes – including poutine râpée (potato dumplings) and pets de sœur pastries – which was sent to their French pen pals.
When I visited the retirement community in early spring, a group of seniors gathered in the common room, preparing care packages for their correspondents. Thérèse Bourgeois, 75, carefully wrapped maple candy and small handcrafted items representing Acadian culture. Her fingers, slightly stiffened by arthritis, moved with purpose as she tied a ribbon decorated with the Acadian flag’s star and tricolor.
“My pen pal Élise asked about our symbol,” Bourgeois explains. “I told her how the star represents the Virgin Mary, ‘Notre Étoile de la Mer‘ – our star of the sea – who guided our ancestors across the ocean and through difficult times.”
The exchange has led to unexpected connections. When student Charlotte mentioned her grandmother’s maiden name was Melanson, her pen pal Marguerite discovered they likely shared ancestors who arrived in Acadia in the 1650s. They’ve since exchanged family photographs spanning generations.
The program has attracted attention from the Canadian Heritage ministry, which recently provided funding to expand it to other retirement communities in New Brunswick. According to the Société Nationale de l’Acadie, initiatives like this one are crucial for maintaining cultural vitality among younger generations, both in Acadia and internationally.
“This isn’t just about nostalgia,” says Dr. Louise Arsenault, cultural historian at the University of Moncton. “It’s about ensuring living traditions continue. When seniors document their knowledge and share it with young people abroad, they’re creating ambassadors for Acadian culture in Europe.”
For the participants, however, the rewards are more personal. Georges Cormier shows me a photograph his pen pal sent – a French teenager standing proudly beside a homemade poutine râpée he prepared using Cormier’s family recipe.
“Look at that,” Cormier says, his voice catching. “My grandmother would be amazed to see her food being made in France. C’est comme si notre culture traverse l’océan encore une fois – it’s like our culture is crossing the ocean once again.”
As the program enters its second year, there are plans for a video conference where the pen pals will finally see each other face-to-face. Villa Providence is also working with a local documentary filmmaker to capture the seniors’ stories before they’re lost.
Jeanne LeBlanc seals her latest letter, adding a pressed flower from her garden between the pages. “When I was a girl, nobody cared about Acadian stories,” she says. “Now, someone across the ocean wants to know everything about us. C’est un petit miracle, ça.“
A small miracle indeed – one unfolding through handwritten letters carrying centuries of resilience across the Atlantic.
