Growing increasingly tired of watching television in my free time because of a lack of quality programming that would interest me, I’ve been reading more books and escaping in that fashion.

There are just so many cooking shows I can stomach (pun intended) and most have changed from fun, entertaining and informative into battles for this and battles for that.

I don’t want to watch people win or lose, based on a topic that is in large part subjective at best. One judge may enjoy a preparation and another may not. Frankly, I find most food show judges to be pompous, without a grasp of the world outside their kitchens. The pickiness of the comments shows clearly that they don’t realize, or choose not to, that there are millions of poor souls on this earth who go without a morsel every day of their troubled existence.

I recently was introduced to a detective series about a police homicide inspector from the province of Quebec, Canada.

I’m now six books into the as-of-now 18-book series and I have become completely engrossed in the life up there, the land from which my ancestors came.

For me, with deep French-Canadian roots, it’s a delight to read about places I’ve been and hear the surnames of so many people I’ve known through the years. There is one thorn in my paw though. With myriad French-Canadian names dropped, there has not yet been one from my family. There have been no Jolivets, Dudevoirs, Vautrins, or Simons.

My wife’s Belanger and Francoeur roots have appeared, but nary a name from my peeps.

In the past I’ve researched those four names in a National Hockey League database, and only Simon came up. Now, the NHL is more than 100 years old and originated in Canada. Where are my peeps?!

I can’t say for sure why this bothers me. I’m proud of my ancestors but can’t understand why we’re so nondescript.

I’ll remain optimistic with there being 12 more volumes to enjoy. But it is getting to the point where I’ll take a reference even if it is the surname of a murderer.

And if there are any Jolivets, Dudevoirs, Vautrins or Simons out there, give me shout to help me believe that my Canadian roots haven’t suffered from root rot.