1977 Bernard et Le Garage

In 1977, I lived in Rockport, Maine, with my mother and sister Lydia, and we used to go to a great place called "The Garage".  It was a cool dive kind of place, in a basement in Camden.  The walls were brick and there were no windows to speak of.  The tables were church pews.  It had a wonderful cozy atmosphere.  There were also couches and armchairs for relaxing.  There was a stage in the front and some of the bands would come from Boston to play there, good bands.  Mother would go for lunch, but Lydia and I went often on Friday or Saturday nights to see the bands.

One night when Lydia and I were there, Bernard came and sat with us. When he realized we had lived in France three times, including Paris not so long ago, he started speaking to me in French.  After that, every time I went in he sat and we spoke French for a long time.

He told me he went to Boston once a month to tape a cooking show on TV, "Cooking with Bernard".  Of course, I told Mother and she watched it religiously.  She always was starstruck.  He also had a cooking school and three restaurants.

Then one day, he asked me out on a date!  I hadn't gone on a date in, well maybe never, that wasn't really my style.  I was excited, but not as excited as Mother!  She couldn't wait for him to come pick me up at the house so she could do her usual snake-charming act.  I think Bernard and I went to a movie and to dinner (not at The Garage).  

Then I went with him to his house.  I had noticed the house many times, of course.  It was quite famous and had belonged to Jimmy Carter's Assistant Secretary of State, Hodding Carter, before he was appointed.  It was a wonderful old house, more a stone castle really. 

Bernard's House - Norumbega Inn

The kitchen was beautiful, old fashioned, with brick and wood and copper.  We would make coffee and listen to the radio .  I remember listening to "Help Me Rhonda" which seemed just right for the moment.  I was trying to get over a hopeless crush at the time, and Bernard was a wonderful Rhonda.

     Well Rhonda you look so fine
     And I know it wouldn't take much time
     For you to help me Rhonda, 
     Help me get her out of my heart.

We would go to his room where he had white gauzy curtains.  The windows were always open and the curtains blew in the sea breeze.  He had a big bed with lots of pillows and we would lie there drinking coffee and watching his show.  He loved to watch himself, but then, he was a very handsome man.  I was 30 at that time, and I would say he was maybe 37 or 38.  We got along really well.  It was a perfect relationship, one unlike any I had ever had.  We saw each other casually whenever we wanted, or not.  It drove Mother crazy, because I am sure she was ready to have him as a son-in-law, but it wasn't like that. 

View from Bernard's bedroom (since remodeled)

When I went to Texas to visit my friend Jean-Anne and my grandparents, I sent him suggestive postcards in French.  Apparently they worked, because he called Mother almost every day to find out when I would be back.

A few days after I returned, we were at The Garage at one of the tables listening to the band.  A girl walked up to him and started yelling at him.  Then she took an entire pitcher of beer and poured it over his head.  I had never seen that happen in real life and I couldn't help myself; I started to laugh.  Bernard jumped up and ran out, absolutely furious, and obviously embarrassed.  

The next time I went to The Garage, he ignored me.  In fact, he never called me again.  As well as we got along, I think the embarrassment was too much for the relationship.  It was a shame, I missed him.  He was a lot of fun.

But on my trip to Vernon, Texas, I had met my future husband, Jim, and I got over Bernard pretty fast.

I found out later that there was a book by Bernard (which I bought used in 2016) and that the house (which he had rented from Hodding Carter) was turned into a famous bed and breakfast in Camden called the Norumbega Inn. 

I can't say I'm surprised, it was quite a place.  And it's on Facebook.  How bizarre that I can go there on Facebook, the house where I spent so many pleasant hours with a Frenchman so many years ago.