1957 Biarritz and Castles in Spain

In 1957, we drove south to Biarritz for our summer vacation.  

Hotel du Palais

Beach and Hotel du Palais

We stayed at L'Hotel du Palais, which was beautiful.  

We always stayed in the best hotels because as she told my dad all the time, these were once-in-lifetime experiences.   

Postcard that looks just like
the view from our room

Rock outside the window

I don't remember much about the hotel except that out the window we could see the ocean and a big rock.  One morning we heard a helicopter and there it was, right between our hotel window and the big rock, lowering a metal basket to the ocean.  Then someone climbed in the basket and the helicopter took off, with the basket swaying.  We were really excited that we had seen a real life rescue, but we learned later that it was a drill.  Still, it was exciting to me.

  

Beach at Biarritz

Surf at Biarritz

Biarritz was a beautiful place, with big white sandy beaches and really high surf.  The waves were huge and the water wasn't as cold as I was used to on the New England coast.  Apparently, it was well known for the excellent surf.



We had an air mattress, the most awesome one I have ever seen.  It was orange with yellow sides.  It had a window on both sides so you could see through to the water below.  It had a cushion and pillar type construction, so it was extremely stable. 

I would take the air mattress and go out and ride back in on the waves, sometimes with my sister in tow.  It was pretty deep though.  My mother spent all her time lying on the beach getting a tan.  I don't really know what my dad did, he wasn't much of a beach bum.  He probably dropped us off and went looking for refineries.

Great Pyrenees

Biarritz to San Sebastian
across the France/Spain border

One day we decided to go to Spain, to San Sebastian.  It wasn't very far. I thought we would cross the Pyrenees and I was convinced I there would be big white dogs galloping along the road.  

Of course, I didn't, because we never even saw the mountains.  


When we got to the French/Spanish border, they checked out passports.  I was very proud of the fact that I had my own.  Then we had to get out of the car and they casually searched it.  I think the Customs agents wanted to check it out more than anything, because they did a lot of talking and nodding their heads.  Then we were on our way.  As we were driving, at one point, my mother asked my dad to stop and take a picture of what looked like an old castle.  My mother sighed and said "There is it, my castle in Spain."  I didn't know what she was talking about but I found out later that a 'castle in Spain' is an unachievable goal, an unobtainable dream.

Castle in Spain

In San Sebastian, the first thing we did was go to the top of a mountain so we could see the spectacular view that was so famous.  

View of San Sebastian

When we went down to the city, we didn't go to the beach, we walked in the city.

My dad admired the architecture and my mother admired the shops and boutiques.  





We had lunch at a small restaurant off the main street.  It was almost like a cave, dark and cool.  For our first course, we had French fries, very good and crispy, not really like any I had had before.  They were so good that while my parents were busy talking about the day so far, I ate almost all of them.  When my dad noticed, he laughed and said "My goodness, you really liked that squid, didn't you?  Should we get more?"   What?  I almost gagged on the spot.  Squid?  I just ate an entire plate full of tentacles?  It took all my willpower not to throw up but I could tell by the expression on both my parents' face that would not be wise.  I just sat there afraid to open my mouth at all for the rest of the meal.  Of course by an hour or two later, I had gotten over it.  That was my one and only time to eat squid.  

Looking back, it must have been pretty good.

1957 The Dog Angel

We had some friends who lived a couple of towns away from us named Miche and Jean LeMaitre.  Their son was at hotel school in Paris, which I thought was wonderful.  I had a bit of a crush on him actually.

The LeMiatres had a very nice big dog.  Whenever we went to visit them, we usually stayed most of the day because it was fairly far away, and I spent all my time playing with the dog.  One spring day, we went to see them and the dog wasn't there.  When I asked where he was, Jean LeMaitre said that he had taken him hunting over the winter, and somehow the dog got shot.  Jean tried to save him but he lost too much blood.  The ground was frozen, so Jean made him a grave under a pile of leaves and branches, and put a little cross over it. 

This made me very sad because he was a wonderful dog and still young.

About a month later, we got a phone call from Miche that the dog had come back.  Someone had found him and unburied him and taken him to a vet.  The vet was shocked that he was alive, though barely, and called someone at a university.  The vet took him there, where they performed tests on him, and transfused him.  Apparently, he had lost most of his blood, and had been in a deep freeze, like suspended animation.  After transfusions and slow warming of his body, he came back to life.  They got the LeMaitres' name from his collar.  Needless to say, Jean and Miche were overjoyed.

Of course, the dog probably wasn't really dead, he was just at a low body temperature and his body functions had slowed down.  

The university wrote some articles about him and he was on the TV news once.  You could see the place where he had been shot, right in the chest.  He was like a canine angel come back to earth.  I never forgot him.

In a totally unrelated story, the LeMaitres' son had gone to Switzerland for vacation that winter.  He and two of his friends were running for a train, and one of them attempted to jump up onto the train from the platform.  He was hit by the train and decapitated.  I remember hearing my parents discussing it when they thought I wasn't listening.  I had nightmares about it.

1957 Mes Autres Amis

Other than Fifi and Jacques, my other two best friends were Catherine and Mizou.  

Catherine Villeneuve was a little younger than me; her brother Jacques was about my age.  Catherine was always the prettiest of us, she had huge brown eyes and brown hair that she wore in a perfect pageboy with bangs.  I always wished I looked like her.  I didn't really know her parents very well, although I spent a lot of time there.  They were strict and followed the doctrine that "Les enfants devraient etre vus and pas entendu" ("Children should be seen and not heard").  Their house was across the street and about 2 or 3 houses down from us.  They had a huge willow tree in the front yard where we used to hide when it rained.

One day I was banned from their house for a week because Mme. Villeneuve was having a bridge party and Catherine and I ran into the living room with a dead rat we had found under the willow tree.  The reaction was definitely worth the punishment.  

I was a bad influence on Catherine.

Mizou's real name was Monique Brossard.  She was about a year older than me.  She looked a little like a monkey.  She had an older sister, Claire, who was about 3 or 4 years older than us.  Claire was very smart and didn't want to have much to do with us, although she did babysit on occasion.  

I remember one time, Claire broke her kneecap falling off her bicycle.  It sounded terribly painful to me.  I pictured it shattering into a million pieces.  (To this day, when I type about patellas I think of Claire).  

Mizou's parents were very close friends of my parents.  Her dad, Roger Brossard, worked at the refinery at Port Jerome with my dad.  He was great, all the kids loved him.  On the other hand, her mother, Jacqueline Brossard, was just like my mother, maybe more so.  She had been given permission by my parents to treat me exactly the way she treated her own children, and she was strict.  

One day I talked back to her and instantly I got a slap across the face.  I was furious and ran home crying.  When I arrived and my mother found out what happened, she immediately called Jacqueline, to read her the riot act no doubt.  Well, not exactly.  I was grounded for a couple of days after that.  But I loved Jacqueline like she was my mother.  Mizou and I lived apart a block apart and we were in and out of each others houses like they were our own.  Catherine's house was much more intimidating to me.

Mizou wasn't very brave when it came to defying her parents.  Neither was Catherine actually.  The two boys, Fifi and Jacques, were much better at it.   

Claire went into a career in science, and when we lived in New Jersey, she visited New York for a conference.  My mother went to New York to see her (I couldn't go because it was a school day).  When she got home, she was upset.  She said Claire didn't look well at all; she looked very thin and run down.  She wrote to Jacqueline about it.

About six months later, we learned that Claire had died of anorexia.  It was an incredible shock.  

My mother felt a lot of guilt that she had not known what was going on, but how could she?  It was a family secret and not something that was acknowledged or discussed in the 1960s.  
It was very sad.

1957 Polio

The mid 50s was the time of the polio epidemic in the United States.  We had just left Port Arthur, Texas, where my friend Doug had polio and was in a wheelchair.  His father was a doctor, but Doug didn't get vaccinated in time.

Polio didn't appear to be a concern in Europe, but my parents were so worried about it that they had my uncle Abbey send them polio vaccine.  He worked for Lederle, a division of American Cyanamide, who made the vaccine.  I remember it came by special messenger and apparently it cost a fortune to have it delivered from Boston to Normandy.  It had to be kept refrigerated and my sister and I were threatened with death if we even touched the container.

My friend Catherine's dad, Dr. Villeneuve, came over one night to administer the shots.  I wasn't thrilled but I certainly wasn't going to let him see me cry.  He knew how tough I was.  But my sister...  She took off when he was about to give her the shot and my mother had to chase her around the dining room table.  By the time she caught her, my sister was screaming bloody murder so Dr. Villeneuve didn't even try to be gentle.  I thought it was kind of funny.

1957 Mes Amis et Moi

Nous Trois
When I lived in Gravenchon (Normandy) in 1956 to 1959, I was in a gang.  There were three of us.  The other two were my best friends.  Philippe Horeard (Fifi) lived right across the street from me.  His parents were older and he had just one sister, Lily, who was a lot older than he was.  We were both around 9 and Lily was about 19 or so when I first met her.  I remember so well standing at that front door waiting for Fifi to come out while their dog was scratching at the door barking. 

The other member of the gang was Jacques Villeneuve.  His sister Catherine was my best (girl) friend.  Their dad was a doctor and was hardly ever home.  I don't remember much about their mother, but I used to go to their house a lot for dinner.  That's where I learned to drink a mixture of water and  red wine at dinner.  That's also where I ate horsemeat for the first (and last) time.  One day, Catherine's mother was having a bridge party.  Catherine and I found a dead mouse under the willow tree.  We were so excited we just burst into the living, the mouse dangling from my fingers.  I wasn't invited back for quite a long time after that. 

Fifi, Jacques, and I ran wild any time we weren't in school.  Back then, only a block or two away from our street, it was fields, streams, and woods.  There was one field that was fenced with cows and a bull and we once saw a mating in progress.  We were really embarrassed.

About the way it was in the 1950s.

The Woods
We would ride our bikes down the little dirt trails deep into the woods and stay there all day, just riding around and exploring.  The woods were really thick in some places, and there were rumors of wild pigs running loose.  We never believed that until the day we saw one.

Le Taureau

Once we found a pasture with a huge bull in it.  We dared each other to go run in front of it and get chased.  Of course, I was the one who did it.  I wasn't that scared at first  The bull just looked at me until I was halfway across the pasture.  Then he took off after me.  I barely made it through the fence and tore my shorts and my shirt, and lost one of my shoes.  That was hard to explain when I got home.

A la Recherche des Serpents

One day, we found an abandoned building, probably a small house or cottage.  The walls were almost gone, and there was debris everywhere.  It became our place.  We would take our lunches and stay there poking around all day looking for snakes (we never found any).

L'Arbre Parachute
There was what we called a parachute tree near the abandoned house.  That was our most exciting adventure.  We would climb up the tree and then climb onto the biggest branch.  The branch would bend down and we would jump off to the ground.  Usually, it was a drop of maybe six or eight feet or so, but there were always a lot of leaves and ferns to cushion our fall.  We usually came home covered with bruises and scratches.  ("Tree parachuting actually became a sport in the early 2000s.  We did it in the 1950s).


L'Accident
One day it was raining when it was Jacques' turn to jump off the branch.  He climbed up onto the branch but then somehow he slipped and fell.  He didn't have the chance to go further out on the branch and have it bend towards the ground.  He fell with a big thud and then a scream.  

He was in terrible pain and it was obvious he had broken his arm.  We put him on his bike and then I took one handlebar, Fifi took the other, and somehow we managed to guide him on his bike through the woods.  Sometimes the trail was too narrow or rough for all three bikes and one of us would have to walk alongside Jacques' bike and steer it.  Meanwhile he was on the bike cradling his arm and bawling his eyes out, saying his dad was going to kill him.  


Eventually we got him home and he made us stay while he told his dad what had happened.  The next day, he had a cast.  Apparently he broke his arm in two places.  He was pretty brave, all things considered.

Needless to say, the woods were off limits after that, not that it ever stopped us.  I would come home every day covered in dirt and mud, with scratches and bruises,   My mother was at her wits end about what to do.  My dad, on the other hand, told her to just leave me alone.  He was pretty proud of me I think. 

Gravenchon the way it looked in 2016 according to Google.
It is much much bigger and the woods and fields are all gone.

1957 Les Escargots

When my dad had to go to Paris for whatever reason, we often went with him.  One night, he decided to take us to Maxim's, the most expensive and most famous restaurant in Paris, and maybe the world.

It was June 26, my mother's birthday.  He and I hatched a plan that I would order escargots (snails) and I would eat them.  He basically trained me on how to do it, never to chew them, just to suck the garlic and butter out and then swallow them.  I was pretty scared, I was afraid I would throw up all over the beautiful white linen tablecloth and get us kicked out. 

When I told the waiter I wanted "les escargots s'il vous plait" the expression my mother's face was priceless.  But then they arrived and I wanted to chicken out.  One look from my dad though, and I knew I couldn't.  So I took a deep breath and in went the first one.  It wasn't so bad with the garlic and all, but when I had to swallow it, that was hard.  But I did it!  I don't know how many there were, probably at least one thousand, but I did it, I ate all of them!

My dad was so proud of me.

1957 Horse Dentist

Much of my childhood (and adulthood for that matter) was spent in a dentist's chair.

In Normandy, after I was caught not going to my dentist appointments after school, my mother drove me to Le Havre to a fancy dentist.  I seem to recall that I was getting my first caps.  My dentist was wonderful.  He was very brusque and abrupt with Mother and she wasn't used to that.  She thought everyone was charmed by her.  But to me, maybe for that very reason, he was amazing.  After the first few visits, we started talking and he told me he had horses.  He invited me to go horseback riding with him one weekend.  

I never thought my parents would agree to it, but they did!  My mother drove me to his farm near Le Havre, and left me there for the day.  Mme. Le Dentist made us lunches and off we went, just the 2 of us.  We rode all over the area, down dirt roads and across fields.  I was riding his daughter's horse and he was perfect.  When we were about to stop and have lunch it started pouring rain, so we found a barn and we and the horses spent an hour or so inside that barn while it poured down rain inside.  I have no idea what we talked about, horses no doubt, not about teeth.  

By the time we got back to his house, my mother was there chatting happily with Mme. Le Dentist (who seemed properly charmed).  I was so blown away by my day that I barely talked all the way home.  That day stayed with me a very long time.  It was the first time I understood how it would be if I had a horse of my own.  

1957 The Best Snow Ever

Every time it snows, I am taken back to one particular day when I lived in Normandy.

It was after dark and it was snowing hard, with big fluffy white flakes.  My friend Catherine and I went to the field not far from our houses, where the snow was deep.  There was a street light there and looking up, you could watch the flakes slowly drift down magically.

We would catch them on our tongues.  I was wearing a puffy red ski jacket and the flakes would land on the red and stay there forever.  We made snow angels and just laid in the snow, letting those cottony flakes cover us.

It was one of the best moments of my life.  It still resonates when I see that kind of snow.  I wish I could go back to that exact moment.

1957 Gilda

I remember when Gilda arrived.  A trailer pulled up and Odette said it was the school’s new horse.  She seemed excited, and as I watched, a beautiful black horse, shiny and sweaty backed out of the trailer.  She stood and shook her head.  She had such a presence.  In later years when I would watch the TV show ’Fury’, I thought of Gilda on that first day, that moment.  It was love at first sight for me.  

They walked her over around a bit and then Odette asked if anyone dared ride her.  I didn’t think she really meant it, but I said “Me, me, please me”.  They saddled her and up I got.  I remember on the far end of the ring were a few jumps set up for Glycine, my dream horse.  

I gathered the reins, and we started to walk.  She was like a dream. Then I felt her tighten up a bit.  “Go ahead and trot her and maybe try a canter if you dare” Odette shouted me.  (Why “if you dare“?).  I squeezed my legs and felt her tense up and quiver and I knew what was coming.  All of a sudden, she collected herself and then expanded like a spring and we were gone.  

I lost my stirrups and my reins, I grabbed her long mane and just held on with my knees and crouched down.  From a long way away I could hear Odette yelling, "Just hold on, just hold on." I looked up and saw the jumps coming.  I can still see her ears flattened, the jumps coming up, and her mane flying, hitting me in the face, stinging my eyes along with the sweat and tears…

I was terrified and exhilarated and then we were airborne, not once, not twice, but 4 times, over the 2 uprights and the in-and-out.  I was flying and yet time was not moving.  Nothing was.  It was like being suspended in time and space, frozen in terror and joy.  I wished it could have lasted forever, but then it was over.  

We cantered around the ring, breathing hard, and I got my reins back and my stirrups.  Then when I looked around I saw Odette and the class just staring at me.  When I stopped her in front of Odette she said ‘Do you know how high those jumps were?”  “No’.  “‘5’, 5’2 and 5’4 (in meters).  Oh and I forgot to tell you , Gilda was just retired from the steeple chasing track”.  

We had a bond from then until the last time I saw her.  From then on, she was the horse of a lifetime for me.  I will never never forget her.   

1957 Piaf, un Cheval, and l'Aprenti Fakir

When we lived in Normandy, we would often take weekend trips to Paris, it was only about 3 hours away  Usually we would go with one of my mother's friends and sometimes with my dad. But once she took just me. 

The first thing I remember is being at the hairdresser’s. It was very warm inside but outside it was spitting snow and cold rain, miserable. I remember one of the hairdressers working on a lady with very long hair. He took the hair and twisted it into a long rope and then he took a blowtorch of some kind and ran it up and down that rope of hair. I was shocked. He told me he was burning off the split ends. I thought it was the most awesome thing I had ever seen! And the lady wasn't even scared. 

But the thing I remember most was looking out the window. I was bored; after all we were there for several hours. At one point I looked out the window and right below was a horse-drawn carriage, which are quite common in Paris. As I watched, a couple got in and the driver started to direct his horse out of the spot. The horse hesitated, and the driver started whipping him unmercifully. I ran over to my mother and told her someone needed to go make him stop. She laughed, as did the hairdresser and the lady with the burning hair. They told me something like "Ma petite, ce n'est qu'un cheval, c'est son metier" (honey, it's just a horse, it's his job). I found that unacceptable. But no matter what I did, they paid no attention to me. 

What I found out later was that was that my mother was totally in shock because her idol, Edith Piaf, had just come in.  She was old, and in ill health I guess, but apparently she was going to have a concert in the next few days. I was introduced to her but it didn't mean much to me, I was reading magazines and thinking about the horse.  He looked so beaten and resigned, in that cold wet weather. But a few minutes later he was gone. 

Still, my mother was absolutely blown away. Piaf was her idol (along with Judy Garland, whom she also met, but that's another story). My mother's dream was to be on the stage. She went to dramatic school and sang on the radio for a couple of years. She wanted to be Piaf or Garland. To meet Edith Piaf must have been an amazing experience for her and now I regret that I did not pay more attention to it.

After the hairdresser, we went to see a ballet called "L’Apprenti Fakir” Tthe Sorcerer’s Ppprentice). It was awesome and I totally lost myself in it, except when I thought back to that horse. Then we went to a restaurant called "Jour et Nuit” which was famous for its onion soup. We had been there before (we went there almost every time we went to Paris) and it was truly the best thing I had ever eaten - thick, melted cheese, French bread. Oh...  Then we went to our hotel.

The next day we went shopping. My mother always went to Christian Dior (she had several Dior outfits - one was a wonderful black and white cocktail dress) and to Chanel (she had a pale blue Chanel suit that she just loved).

And then we went home to Gravenchon.  It was a wonderful weekend, full of experiences that I have remembered for almost 60 years.  And yet, I think of that horse - I think of him when I see horses huddled out in the rain, or when I see horses being abused in any way.  It broke my heart.

1958 Biquet

His body is hot and sweating.  He is snorting after the tough ride around the arena.  He never has liked to jump.  Suddenly we are called into the center and Odette asks me to get off.  When I ask why, she just shakes her head and looks down at the ground.  After I take off his saddle, she hands me a halter and a brush.  She tells me  brush him quickly, but to do it with care.  She still will not tell me why.  As I rub his wet coat, he turns around and nuzzles me.  He is not a jumper, but no one minds riding him because he is so dear.  When I am done, Odette asks me to lead him into the courtyard and turns away.  All the other riders have stopped and are watching as we walk out into the sunlight.  When I see the truck that says ‘abattoir,’ my feet stop and I cannot make them move forward.  Inside I am screaming, no, you can’t take him.  But when the man reached his hand forward to take the rope, I hand it to him.  My mind is racing,  maybe we could buy him, we could  give him to Odette.  But meanwhile Biquet has walked to the ramp of the trailer.  He turns and looks at me and then goes inside.  As he disappears into the darkness, one of his shoes comes off and falls to the dirt.  The man closes the ramp and suddenly Biquet has gone to his death.  Inside my head is an echoing silence.  Still in shock I walk over and pick up Biquet’s shoe.