January 24, 1948: Toronto, ON:
"How'd you do it, Maman?" Agnes asked her mother.
Marie didn't take her eyes off the action on the ice as she answered her daughter's question with one of her own, "Do what, cherie?"
"This?" Aggie waved a hand toward the ice. The Toronto Dukes were hosting the Chicago Packers at the Dominion Gardens. As the wife and family of the head coach, Marie and her daughters had good seats. Vera sat on Marie's left, and Aggie on her right. Jean had begged off - she was locked in a battle of wills with Marie.
"Hockey? What is there to do? You sit and you watch the game. I did not understand this at first, but your Papa... you should have seen him!" Marie enthused.
Aggie smiled. "I did see him, Maman," she replied with a smile, remembering watching Jack Barrell flying around the ice as a young girl. Her smile faded, and she asked, "What I meant was, how did you deal with the worry that Papa would get seriously hurt?"
Marie made a derisive sound and replied, "Your papa is tougher than he looks. Sure, he 'took his lumps,' as he would say, and he spent more than a few nights in the hospital." Marie took her eyes off the ice where the Dukes were handling the first-place Packers much better than expected. She looked at Aggie and gently asked, "You are worried about your young man, are you not?"
Aggie smiled at her mother's phrasing. She had been following Jack Barrell around the western hemisphere for almost thirty years, but she sometimes still spoke like the French farm girl she'd once been. "Yes, Maman, I am worried about Quinton."
Marie took her daughter's hand and with the other pointed to Quinton on the ice. He was getting ready to take a faceoff. "That young man? He is incredibly gifted," she told her daughter. "I have seen many hockey matches," she added, again showing her still slightly-imperfect grasp of the language. "He is one of the best players I have ever seen," she concluded.
"But he's still just a man and...." Aggie said, not finishing her thought.
"C'est vrai," Marie replied in her native tongue. "And he can... and will... get hurt. This is the nature of life, cherie. We can only..." she paused for a moment as she thought of how to say what she was thinking, then continued, "... walk into the future bravely, and hope for the best."
Aggie was looking at her feet. Her mother squeezed her hand and went on, "This is not like it was with William," she said, and Aggie gave a sad smile. Her mother had never called Aggie's husband 'Bill' - to her, he was always William. "William was a sailor and died in service to his country," Marie said. "Quinton is a hockey player," she continued and again pointed to the ice where Quinton was shoving his way into a position near the Packers' goal. "He will be hurt, but he will also recover. You cannot live in fear, cherie. Life is short and you should enjoy it."
Aggie squeezed her mother's hand. She had been worried about Quinton for months. In October, he had been hit in the face with the puck while playing against the New York Shamrocks; the resulting gash had taken thirty stitches to close, and the scar... was ugly, though it had faded some since.
Vera, sitting on Marie's other side, had been listening to all this intently. She pursed her lips and then said, "Maman? What about Jean?"
Marie's head snapped around. "Jean? What about her?" she asked.
"Well... you are telling Aggie that life should be enjoyed, and yet you are preventing her from chasing her dream," Vera explained, trying to soften her mother's stance on her daughter wishing to leave Toronto. Jean was 24, working for an advertising agency in downtown Toronto but wanted to go to New York or Chicago "where the action really is," as she put it. Jack had mixed feelings about this: Marie decidedly did not and was adamantly opposed. Jack had suggested that Vera talk to her mother. He himself had explained to Marie that Jean was an adult and she could go anywhere she wished, at any time she wished to do it. The fact that she was even discussing this with her parents was a sign that she was not a flighty child but was showing maturity and responsibility. He hadn't been able to change Marie's mind, but thought Vera might. As the youngest of the three girls, Vera had a special relationship with her mother.
"Jean should stay near her family. This is for her own good," Marie said stubbornly.
Now Aggie joined in. "Maman, I was married and living in Hawaii when I was two years younger than Jean is now," she said, giving her mother's hand another squeeze. "You should let her go. Let her live her life. After all, this is nothing less than what you've let me do."
Marie frowned. She didn't like this, at all. She tried to explain to Aggie and Vera that in Aggie's case, she was a married woman and had William to take care of her. Aggie pointed out that had only lasted until Bill had been killed aboard USS Arizona. After that, she was on her own. Vera also mentioned that of the three of them, Jean was the one who was the most responsible. Aggie laughed and said, "Well, she's much more level-headed than I am, that's for sure!" making both Vera and Marie laugh as well.
"I will think about it," Marie finally said after the laughter had ended and the three of them had sat thinking for a moment.
Vera opened her mouth, but Aggie, leaning over, said, "Let it go, Vera. Maman said she'll think about it, and that's about all we can hope for."
Marie narrowed her eyes at her eldest daughter but then gave a small nod.
There was an audible crunch, punctuated by a collective "Ooooh" sound from the crowd, catching Aggie's attention. Quinton had been checked into the boards, hard, by Chicago defenseman Jesse Santoro. Their seats were good enough that Aggie could clearly see the grimace of pain on Quinton's face as he slowly skated toward the bench and heard him tell Jack, "It's my back," as he made his way through the small door in the boards while another Dukes player hopped over to replace him.
"You see Maman?" Aggie asked her mother.
Marie shook her head and firmly said, "He'll be fine."
"You sound like Papa," Vera noted.
Marie looked at her and replied, "Your Papa is a smart man, cherie."
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Marie Barrell (center) with Vera (l) and Jean (r) in Detroit, 1944
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