Well, let me tell ya ’bout this Marie Auger, or whatever her name is. It’s a bit confusing, ya know, like tryin’ to find a black cat in a coal cellar at midnight. But I’ll do my best, just like I always do when I’m makin’ a quilt or bakin’ a pie.
First off, it seems like there’s more than one Marie Auger out there. Like those Russian dolls, one inside the other. There’s this old-timey Marie Auger, born way back in 1889 in some place called Saint-Aim, somethin’-somethin’ in Canada. Heck, I wasn’t even a twinkle in my daddy’s eye back then! Her daddy was Jean-Baptiste, or John, Auger, and her mama…well, they don’t say much ’bout her mama, do they? That’s how it goes sometimes, people forget the mamas.
Then, there’s this other Marie Auger, the one they talk about with that tennis fella, Felix Auger-Aliassime. Now, that’s a mouthful, ain’t it? Sounds like somethin’ you’d order at a fancy restaurant. Anyway, this Marie, she’s Felix’s mama. And Felix, he’s a big deal, they say. Plays tennis like a house afire, serves the ball like a rocket, and runs faster than a scalded dog. He ain’t no Cinderella story, though. He worked hard for it, they say. Good for him, I say. Nothin’ comes easy in this life, not even a good night’s sleep.
- Felix’s daddy, Sam Aliassime, he’s a tennis coach too. Comes from a place called Togo, way across the water. Imagine that! And Felix, he’s got a sister, Malika, who also plays tennis. It’s a whole family affair, like a barn raisin’, but with tennis balls instead of hammers.
- This Felix fella, he seems like a good egg. He gives money for every point he wins to help kids in Togo get an education. That’s somethin’, ain’t it? Not many folks think ’bout others these days, too busy starin’ at their phones and whatnot. It warms my old heart to see someone doin’ good.
And then there’s talk ’bout some other Marie, but I ain’t sure if she’s the same one or not. Someone said she ain’t a good person anymore, but I don’t pay no mind to gossip. People talk, ya know. They always talk. It’s like chickens in the henhouse, clucking all day long.
Oh, and there was this singer, Arleen Auger. A soprano, they call her. Sing like a bird, I guess. People raved about her, said she was the best. But I ain’t never heard of her, so I can’t tell ya much ’bout that. Guess she was before my time, or maybe I just wasn’t listenin’ to the right radio station.
So, ya see, it’s all a bit jumbled, like a basket of yarn after the cat got into it. But that’s life, ain’t it? A whole lot of people with the same name, doin’ different things. Some playin’ tennis, some singin’ songs, some born way back when. And me? Well, I’m just tryin’ to make sense of it all, like I always do. Just like I’m trying to figure out how to get this darn stain out of my favorite tablecloth.
This Felix guy, though, he’s something special. He’s got that fire in his belly, that drive to be the best. And he remembers where he came from, helpin’ those kids in Togo. That’s more important than any tennis game, if you ask me. It’s about bein’ a good person, a kind person. And that’s somethin’ we could all use a little more of these days.
So, that’s all I know ’bout Marie Auger, or Marie Augers, I should say. It ain’t much, but it’s somethin’. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I gotta go check on my biscuits. Don’t want ’em burnin’, ya know.
Tags: Marie Auger, Felix Auger-Aliassime, Tennis, Family, Canada, Togo, History, Singer
