FLASHBACK: France (1963)

My memory really kicks in around age nine.  And why wouldn't it?  Mary and I joined Ken in France shortly after he collided with a horse-drawn honey wagon and totaled his beloved Corvair. Even as a young child, I knew not to get him started on Ralph Nader.

Our arrival had been delayed by the aftermath of the Cuban missile crisis, when military families were prohibited from going overseas.  In the meantime, Mary bought me a cocker spaniel we named Taffy and Ken found a used car and a rental home "on the economy."  

Taffy (El Paso, 1962)

My world went from brown and dry to green and rainy as quickly as it took to get from El Paso to Orleans.

Reunited (Orleans, 1962)

We were within walking distance of the Loire River.  Unlike the Rio Grande, it was always full of water.

An itinerant artist knocked on our door one morning.  In return for permission to harvest the snails in the garden, he offered to draw my likeness in colored pencil.  I recently had it reframed and put it on display in my bedroom at the Florida Folly.

American soldiers irreverently nicknamed two city statues: "Joanie on the Pony" (Jeanne d'Arc)

. . . and "Dotty on the Potty."

There were weekend trips to Paris, less than two hours north.  Mary was an avid Francophile.

We also visited the Palace of Versailles.

And Mont St. Michel made a big impression despite the dreary weather.

Ken promised a White Plains neighbor that he would find the grave of her son, William Shampnois, in the Brittany American Cemetery. He was killed two months after D-Day.

Mary's deteriorating health required a transfer to Germany, where the Army had superior medical facilities.  I didn't want to leave, especially when I learned that Taffy couldn't go with us.  Ken took me to feed the ducks one last time, something we did after visiting Mary in the hospital on a Sunday afternoon.