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St Pierre, 1963

Damien Fleury pulled hard on his fishing nets. The catch was poor today, like it had been all year, and maybe for years now.
He slowly trod his way from the harbour to his home, the brisk sea air keeping him lively in spite of how tired he was.
When he arrived home, he could smell the warm broth of the seafood choudière his wife, Marie, was preparing.
After their pleasantries, she informed him he had received a letter from Paris. This wasnt uncommon, as, in addition to the a fishermen, he was the Prefect of the small French territory.
He opened disinterestedly what was surely to be some minor adjustment in the Metropole which didnt effect his tiny overseas commune.
Marie turned away as he sat down with the letter, until a sudden slap on the table caused her to spin round.
"What's the matter?" She asked.
He cleared his throat.
"For the unity of the French Nation it is imperative that all education and government business shall be conducted in French. All communes departments, whether in the Metropole or overseas, are instructed to take directions toward this end immediately, and end at once use of any regional languages for official purpose."
Her jaw dropped. "You mean..."
"De Gaulle wants us to stop teaching our children in Basque. And he wants me to enforce it."
"Oh no! The people will not stand! You must write back and explain!"
"There is no issue with this arrogant...de Gaulle..." He paused reflectively for a moment. He shook his head.
"What is to become of our way of life? Our simple colony. If only...Newfoundland, our neighbours, they suffered economically as much as we do, but they could count on a warm reception in Canada, where they were given generous rights their language, education...if only we could join Canada."
He jolted up from the table.
"Marie!"
"What, Damien?"
"I must go to St John's immediately."
"For what?"
"I need to talk to Joey Smallwood."
"Why?"
"Because, Marie. We are going to join Canada."