Saturday, December 31, 2016

Le Grand Départ -Leaving France

Beuvron-en-Auge - A lovely village in Normandie in the center of the cider and Calvados region.
After school let out at the end of June, I spent a few more weeks in France before flying home.  A friend had asked me to come along on a Cub Scout camping trip.   In France, teenage girls act as Scout leaders for the Cubs.  Luce and I had participated in the camping trip the year before.  Both times we set up camp in Normandy in an empty field. Along with the tents, the boys constructed a complicated structure for cooking over an open fire. There were games, singing and a lot of rain.

A Solex motorized bicycle.
That first summer my knowledge of French was minimal. Since I wasn’t much good at organizing the boys, I was sent on errands. I remember I was asked to take the Solex (a motorized bicycle)into the village to buy the boudin (a sausage made with dried blood and seasonings). Finding my way to the village was an adventure.  I had never ridden a Solex and I didn’t have a clue what I was purchasing. In the village, I went into the wrong shop and was directed to the butcher. I bought a long string of boudin.  As I remember my trip back was by trial and error as I wasn't quite sure where the camp site was located.  We enjoyed the grilled boudin with applesauce and mashed potatoes.



Here I am on the second cub scout camping trip.  The boys presented me with a birthday cake! 
Two weeks later I left for home.  A group of friends came to see me off at Orly.  I cried as I made my way to the plane.  I would greatly miss my French family and all the friends I had made.

Le grand départ.  Check out the chic full skirt and scarf.  In my hands I hold flowers and a baguette.
When I arrived in Washington, I put on a black hat with a brim to go through customs.  Under the hat I smuggled in a camembert cheese. Very naughty and highly illegal! 

Another group of family and friends were there to greet me as I exited the plane.  I was hugged and kissed and I laughed and then I cried…for joy to be back home.


Home is deep in your heart. 
It empowers your departure.

But it welcomes you back,
With arms spread wide.

It’s the fulcrum of your life,
A tether to your soul.



Here's a plaque I made with my Dad as a young girl.  We used a red-hot washer and a nail to burn in the inscription.


Friday, December 23, 2016

School Days



As I remember school started in late September.  I was enrolled in the high school: Le Lycée Mixte Enghien-Montorency with Luce and Annie. The “mixte” means it was co-ed. My first day was not propitious.  Upon arrival, I was told to speak to the Surveillante Générale, the Dean in charge of discipline.  I don’t remember why?  But I knocked on her door, waited for a response and then went in.  A thin woman was seated behind a desk. Her hair was pulled back in a tight chignon. She eyed me critically and I became nervous and plunged my hands into my pockets.  I said, “Bonjour Madame.” and she barked something at me.  I didn’t understand.  She barked again and I must have looked like a deer in the headlights.  Then she got up and came around her desk and yanked my hands out of my pockets. It was not polite to put your hands in your pockets when addressing an adult. That afternoon, Tante Suzanne went back to the school with me to complain to the Directeur. After that the Dean honored me with an obsequious smile whenever we met.

I took, French, English, German, Math, History-Geography, Science, Music and a home economics class where we learned to sew by hand. Most classes met 2 or 3 times a week.  Each day I had a different schedule and Thursday was a day off.  However, we were given homework assignments to keep us busy.  And we had classes on Saturday morning.  During the week we had a two hour lunch break.

In French we did dictées to improve our written French, analyzed short passages of literature and read books and plays.  I remember reading Le Silence de la Mer.  It was written in 1941 by Jean Cruller under the pseudonym Vercors and published secretly in German-occupied France.  It’s about a German officer that is billeted in a French family in Brittany. The young girl and her uncle promise to never speak a word to the young officer.(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Le_Silence_de_la_mer).

A movie was made of the book in 2004.

We also read La Princesse de Clèves - a story about the court of Henri II written by Madame de La Fayette. 



The first week of English class was about how to make a proper cup of tea.  We memorized the lines : “I boil the water in the kettle.  I measure the tea into the pot. etc.”  The teacher spoke with a British accent which he considered the proper way to speak.  Sometimes he had me repeat the lesson aloud so the students could hear the American pronunciation.  This often elicited some giggles.


I particularly remember chanting verb forms:  For example present tense, past tense, past participle:  
bring - brought - brought, (I bring, I brought, I had brought)
sing - sang - sung, 
broke - broke - broken,
take - took - taken 
fall - fell -fallen, 
am - was - been.

In Math class we studied algebra and geometry on alternate days.  My Mother sent me a geometry book for reference.  On the whole Math was the easiest class because numbers could be understood with a minimum of words and many of those were cognates.


The teachers remained aloof from their students.  It was THEM versus US. There was none of the camaraderie that American teachers strive to engender.  When they entered the room, we all stood up; then waited for permission to sit down.  Sometimes the teacher would lecture all period at the board and perhaps call on a student or two to elucidate the homework. That might be your one and only chance to shine during the marking period.  All of this created a certain amount of tension.  Sometimes when the professeur left the room, the class went haywire; books went flying and students were bouncing off the walls.


On the whole my teachers and fellow students were friendly and helpful. At the end of the year there was La Distribution de Prix - a prize-giving ceremony.  The three top students in each subject matter received a prize, usually a book.  Very kindly, the school awarded me a poetry book…probably for making it through the year! 

Monday, December 19, 2016

THE LAKE

It’s a perfect spring morning or is it?  While jogging on the beach, Francesca Antonelli is horrified to find a little girl floating face down in the water.  Now Francesca’s life has turned into a swirling nightmare of calculated murder.  The shadowy intruder of her childhood has morphed into the lake monster.  She must conquer her personal demons and apprehend the killer before he strikes again.  As editor of the Banner Bee, the local on-line newspaper, Francesca is uniquely situated to investigate these crimes. In the background Lake Michigan looms as a mesmerizing force. Her power and beauty are not to be denied and her secrets are hers to keep.

Friday, December 16, 2016

Tante Suzanne et Oncle Louis




The Orsonis were a warm and welcoming family.  Taking on a teenage girl for a year represented a major responsibility.  Oncle Louis was tall and thin. With swarthy skin, dark hair and blue eyes, he epitomized the typical Corsican. He had a certain presence as Père de Famille but I remember the sound of his laughter as well.  Sometimes in the evening he would do a dictée with me.  This entailed my writing down a short passage he dictated. French is a sneaky language with silent letters, intricate verb tenses and the irrational gender of nouns.  So a dictée requires the mastery of slippery grammatical rules.  

Tante Suzanne was a bundle of energy. Short, pretty with blue eyes and blond hair, she was easy to laugh.  She kept the house, clean and tidy.  Meals were healthful and prepared with fresh ingredients. Each week she was off to the outdoor market on Wednesday and Saturday.  Sometimes I accompanied her.  We would stop along the way to say hello to acquaintances. She would politely inquire “how they were feeling.” Rather than responding “fine,” This inquiry could develop  into an extended conversation involving one’s liver, one’s bladder or even the kidneys. 

During the school year, Tante Suzanne would sit down with me after lunch.  We would both sip a cup of espresso sweetened with brown sugar cubes and discuss my school work. I needed help with the history-geography class. Patiently, she would explain and elaborate the lesson.  One day we discussed Henri IV (Good King Henry)and his religious conversion.

Henri IV looks quite jolly!
An aside: la poule au pot (a chicken in the pot) is an expression attributed to Henri. He is quoted as saying”« Si Dieu me donne encore de la vie je ferai qu’il n’y aura point de laboureur en mon Royaume qui n’ait moyen d’avoir une poule dans son pot.” (If God extends my life, I would  make sure that every worker in my Kingdom has the means to have a chicken in his pot.) Back then the peasants were lucky to have meat on Christmas and Easter.

La Poule au Pot
In the winter there was a ball at Pierre’s university in Lille. I had nothing to wear and I fell in love with a fluffy green dress in a magazine.  Tante Suzanne told me she would make it for me.  Together we went into Paris to buy the fabric.  Later, I remember coming downstairs in the late evening. She was working at the dining room table.  The chandelier illuminated her head as she bent over the sewing machine surrounded by billowing sea-green silk.

A lovely painting of a ball in the 1800s. La Valse de l'Empereur - W. Pervuninsky  
The ball was a home-coming event and the whole family was to attend. Oncle Louis was an engineer and had attended L’Ecole National d’Arts et Métiers as well.  For the ball Luce and I needed to learn to dance the waltz.  In the evenings after dinner Oncle Louis would put on a record of Strauss waltzes, maybe The Blue Danube.  We would take turns dancing with him; whirling around the living room and laughing like crazy.

Renoir's Dance at Bougival


On Sundays we enjoyed a delicious dinner at noon.  Often there was a roast or a large steak that resembled a tri-tip in shape and size.  The meat was accompanied by sautéed potatoes and a special dessert or pastries.  Afterwards we girls did the dishes while Once Louis and Tante Suzanne relaxed in the living room.  They would have coffee and Tante Suzanne would smoke one cigarette.  (That was her only cigarette of the week.) Oncle Louis often put on a record of classical music.  After the dishes, I would come in to listen.  I learned to love The Four Seasons by Vivaldi.  When I left France, he gave me a copy of the record.  The Four Seasons
Here is a selection of pastries.  The second row from the right is a selection of "Babas au Rhum." These are spongy cakes bathed in rum syrup and filled with whipped cream!  Délicieux!



Friday, December 9, 2016

An Alpine Vacation


Brela Beach - Corsica
In the month of August the Orsoni family was heading off to Corsica.  Oncle Louis’s family came from the island. There was a seasoned cottage with simple amenities where the family spent their holiday.  It was decided that I would NOT join them.  As I remember, the thought was the facilities were too primitive for a delicate American girl.  Instead I spent a month in Megève, a village in the Alps with Tante Suzanne’s sister and family.

Here's a map of France.  See Megève in red near the border with Italy.  Corsica is the island at the bottom right.
Megève today.
The Orsonis dropped me off on their way to the Mediterranean.  Megève is a picturesque village surrounded by mountain peaks. The Maquins (Tante Suzanne’s sister and family) had rented a chalet for the month of August. 

This chalet reminds me of the one we enjoyed.
After a discussion it was suggested I call Madame Maquin, “Marraine" which means “godmother” in French. The family included 5 children that came and went during my stay. Their married daughter, Thérèse, her husband, Pierre and their two little children spent the entire month.   I remember feeling that the little ones were at the same level linguistically as I was. I played “house” and “store” with them.

Thérèse and children: Jean-Michel and Sylvie.
We did a lot of hiking around Megève.  Sometimes we found les fraises des bois, wild strawberries or les myrtilles, miniature blueberries.  I remember we made a tart with the blueberries that turned out a bit too runny…but delicious.

Hiking around Megève.
Me in saddle shoes, Michèle and Pierre

A pastry chef at work.
Une tarte aux myrtilles
There was a swimming pool at the Club de Sports and some days I went for a workout: 100 laps.  From my journal, I see that I did a lot of reading and Marraine taught me how to knit.  I began a sweater for my Father in a soft brown wool.  I sent it to him for Christmas although one sleeve was considerably longer than the other.  This became a standard family joke.

The pool at the Club de Sports
The crowning event of that month was a three day trip into the Alpes with Michèle, the second oldest daughter in the Maquin hierarchy. The previous winter she had lost her husband, Guy, on their honeymoon.  He had been killed by an avalanche in the Alps.  Nevertheless, she wanted to go back up into the mountains. It was as though she wanted to be closer to him. This trip necessitated renting special climbing gear: coats, pants, cleats, a sleeping bag and a backpack.

Here we are taking off on our adventure.
There were 8 people in our party: 2 male guides, 4 men, Michèle and myself.  The main guide was thin and wiry, with a long white beard and sharp deep-set blue eyes. He led our group and the other guide brought up the rear.

La Mer de Glace
We started out taking a cable car and then headed out into the snow.  The path went down to the glacier: La Mer de Glace (The Sea of Ice which is 7 Kilometers long and 200 meters deep) and then we hiked up the glacier.  In the afternoon we scaled a vertical cliff and arrived at the Refuge de Requin where we spent the night.

Le Refuge de Requin
A couple managed the refuge (shelter) and spent the entire summer there.  Once a week someone hiked up and brought them provisions. That night about 20 people were spending the night. It was an international group and many languages collided in the crisp air. We all ate a supper of soup, bread, cheese and chocolate.  I remember setting the table and helping with the dishes.  We bunked down in an upstairs room, all in a row on the floor in our sleeping bags.  I slept next to the guide.  As he snored away, I looked through a round portal at the full moon. I felt like Heidi, the heroine of a favorite childhood book.

The upper area of the Mer de Glace where the snow is being pressed into ice.  You can make out those crevices in the ice.
The next morning we climbed to the upper part of the Mer de Glace.  We were all attached at the waist with a rope. This was the most frightening part of the trip for me.  As we made our way down, we had to jump over deep crevices in the ice that were hundreds of feet deep; the walls, an icy blue. I was attached to a portly man and I thought if he fell down into the crevice, I would surely be pulled along.

At some point we found ourselves in a more civilized area with hordes of tourists who had come up on a cable car.  The spot marked the tri-point where France, Italy and Switzerland are co-joined. However, the actual spot must be at a higher elevation on Mont Dolent.


Mont Dolent

The entire experience was wonderfully amazing and terribly frightening.  I still ask myself why alpine enthusiasts climb mountains.  I found this quote from the famous Scottish climber Tom Patey (Apes and Ballerinas):

"If everyone made a point of remembering Darwin, we might be spared a lot of mountain philosophy and psychoanalysis...'Why do you climb?'...'Because it's the natural thing to do.'"




Friday, December 2, 2016

Frolicking with French Friends


Le Château de Fontainebleau.
After I had been in Montmorency for a month, Tante Suzanne and Oncle Louie invited me to extend my stay and spend an entire year.  They felt that if I really wanted to learn French, I needed to spend more time.  I was ecstatic!  Oddly enough, I didn’t seem to be worried about missing my family or my friends back home!  This astounds me because I was close to my parents and we got along well. I wasn’t on some teenage jailbreak. I was having a fabulous time. 

I wrote a letter to my parents.  The cost of a phone call would have been prohibitive.  After some back and forth, it was decided that I could stay in France for a full year and then Luce would come to Washington for a year.  

Every week I wrote my parents a letter.  Usually I wrote a little each day so they could share in my experiences.  Back then the most affordable way to send a letter was by using an aerogram which was a self-stamped, light-weight piece of paper that cleverly folded up to form an envelope. Airmail was the way to go from Europe, a regular letter could take a month or more by boat!

I can't remember the names of these kids...or what we were doing!

From day one, I had a wonderful teenage time.  We hung out with a gang of kids.  Reading my journal, it seems that everyday we did something fun.  There were trips into Paris to do some sightseeing; everything from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre.  On other days we went into Paris to the movies or to the swimming pool. Luce and I were usually joined by other boys and girls.


Outside the Château de Versailles.
During the first week, we planned a surprise-party, which was a dance party.  It was to celebrate the end of the school year. With other kids, we spent several days sweeping out the main room of the château and stringing up lights.  While we prepared the locale, we played records and danced.  I must have been quite the show-off.  I taught everyone the Jitterbug and the Charleston. They taught me to dance the paso doble.  We listened to French singers as well as American groups.

Sitting on a Deux Chevaux (two horses)
The Citroën 2CV (Deux Chevaux) was a simple, cheap car that could run forever on one tank of gas.

That summer I played tennis just about everyday with different kids.  We also spent time at a nearby volleyball court.


During the year we made day trips to Fontainebleau and Versailles.  One time we did a bicycle-rally to Chantilly which is about 20 miles away.


Le Château de Chantilly

In my journal, I write of family times with relatives of the Orsonis.  These festivities entailed a special meal and maybe some champagne. I remember once we girls were doing the dishes after a family dinner, we finished off the dregs of wine at the bottom of the glasses. This made the washing-up a giggly affair.  Speaking of alcohol, I must say, I do not remember wine or spirits being part of all the teenage parties and get-togethers.  At meals, we normally drank water.

Doing our nails out on the patio with neighbors.
We also spent a lot of time just talking.  French young people enjoy discussing politics as much as their parents.  Kids were very aware of current news events.  There was much friendly banter which was probably partially fueled by flirtation. I don’t remember any pairing-off or dating. We just had fun in a big group.

During that year, I remember the song "Petite Fleur" by Sydney Bechet:  See if you remember the song.  Here you go .