1965 Bus Stop, Bus Go...

 My sister and would walk from our apartment at 89 Avenue de Wagram to the corner of l'Avenue des Ternes and la Rue Bayern, where the bus would pick us up to take us to the American School of Paris in Louveciennes.   At the time, there was a big Au Printemps department store on the corner.  I remember that there was a tower on the building. (Au Printemps was eventually bought out by FNAC)

When I think back, it always seems to be a gray, cold, and rainy day, maybe in November.  I am standing at the bus stop with my sister, I watch her get on the bus, then I turn around and go into the store.  In the entrance way, there is a place that makes berlingots basque, which is a triangular candy made with hot sugar.  It smells like cotton candy and the air is warm and humid.  I can see my breath.

Then I go inside to the stationery department.  I stay there for at least an hour or so, handling all the cahiers (notebooks), plumes (pens), et crayons (and pencils)*.  After that, I go home, stopping at the boulangerie across the street from our apartment to get something tasty so I can bribe my mother not to tell my dad I skipped school again.

However, when the weather is nice or I am going to meet my boyfriend, Patrice, I walk to les Champs Elysees and just wallow in the joy of being there.  When that is the plan, I meet my sister in the afternoon at the bus stop and we walk home together down la Rue de Poncelet.  She gives me all the pertinent information like what they served for lunch, etc., so that I will pass any cross examination that might be thrown at me.

It worked for a long time, that is until my mother saw me "sauntering" (her word) down les Champs Elysees with Patrice one day.  It just so happened she was sitting at one of the cafes.

She took it well.  My father, on the other hand, did not.

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* I have always been drawn to paper and notebooks, maybe because of that innate need to express myself, whether by writing or by drawing, neither of which I can do.  It's one of the great frustrations of my life - how do I express myself, let everything that's inside come out?

1965 My Parisian Gang

My gang consisted of:

• Francois Lloyd, my first boyfriend (Well, there was Reynaldo but that's a different story).  Francois always said his father was some famous Frenchman who abandoned his mother before he was born.  I seriously always doubted that.  He was an odd duck.  He was cute except for bad skin.  He had great chestnut colored hair that he wore like Ronnie Bird (my crush).  Francois and I would go up to the maid's room on the top floor of our apartment building and spend hours on the bed. We never really did anything, but the desire was there.  I always had a special place in my heart for him because he seemed like a tragic figure.
• Yves.  He was my best buddy.  He was the one would go anywhere and do anything.  I don't know anything about his family life, never did.  I don't know where he lived or what his last name was.  And yet, we were best friends for 3 years.  He was the one I took with me on my rock and roll adventures.  We were really close.  It was him who was spattered with my blood at La Locomotive.  Whenever he would come to the apartment, if Daddy was there, Yves would run down the hall to my room like a scared rabbit.  Daddy got a terrific kick out of that.
• Alain Lesage.  Diddy and I met Alain at a Moody Blues concert at L'Olympia.  He was sitting in the row in front of us.  (Read my post about Ostrobogulous).  I went to Alain's dad's apartment in Orly many times, mostly to see Claude, his older brother.  Alain was a little more responsible than Yves and sometimes refused to come with us if he thought we would get in trouble.
• Claude Lesage.  He wasn't really part of the gang.  He was usually busy working or playing with  his band, David et les Prophetes.  I met him the same night I met Alain at the concert, though at the time I thought he was someone important.  It was only after I had started hanging out with Alain and Yves that I met Claude again.  Of course, in 1969 I married him.  He was David.
• Sometimes my sister Lydia was part of the gang, but she was 5 years younger.  Claude and I were about the same age, and Yves, Alain, and Francois were a couple of years younger than me.

About Reynaldo...  He was a waiter at L'Hotel Continentale where we stayed for 6 weeks until we moved into our apartment.  He was Italian and very good looking.  We would call the kitchen and order meat for our dog, Benjamin, who we got about 2 weeks after we moved to paris. Reynaldo was usually the one who brought it up.  We used to talk a lot.  After we left the hotel and moved to our apartment, he took me out on a date once.  It was fun.  But we just went out on one date.  I don't know why.

1965 People who Need Rocks

When I was going to Millburn High School in the spring of 1965, we had the following essay question on our 
final English exam.  "Explain why this song is true", with the lyrics of the song "People".  
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People

People who need people
Are the luckiest people in the world, 
We're children, needing other children
And yet letting our grown-up pride
Hide all the need inside, 
Acting more like children
Than children.

Lovers are very special people, 
They're the luckiest people
In the world.
With one person, one very special person
A feeling deep in your soul
Says you were half, 
Now you're whole.
No more hunger and thirst

But first be a person
Who needs people.
People who need people
Are the luckiest people
In the world!  
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I was appalled and immediately I wrote my rebuttal.  In it I used the song "I Am A Rock". 

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I Am A Rock
A winter's day
In a deep and dark
December;
I am alone,
Gazing from my window to the streets below
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I've built walls,
A fortress steep and mighty,
That none may penetrate.
I have no need of friendship; friendship causes pain.
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

Don't talk of love,
Well I've heard the words before;
It's sleeping in my memory.
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.

And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
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I wrote almost twice the minimum number of words required.  I used examples of how many times I had moved as a child, leaving my friends behind, and how I learned early on that it was much better not to need people.  

When I got my final exam back, I had an A- on it (because I didn't really follow the instructions per se) and my parents got a note suggesting maybe I needed counseling.  LOL

Turns out they were right.  I have, and apparently have always had, attachment disorder, avoidant type.  I really am a rock.

1965 My 18th Birthday

Lucky me, I spent my 18th birthday on the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I have never liked parties, and my birthday treat was always going out to eat. My choice this time was the restaurant on the Eiffel Tower. We went up to the top first, then to restaurant.  I remember sitting at a table near the windows, with a fabulous view of Paris in the dusk and approaching night.

View from the restaurant

Then casually my dad said "You know, this might not have been such a good idea". 

"Why not?" my mother asked.
"Look at those rivets. The metal is buckling and the rivets are loose. If there is a high wind, they might not hold! It's possible that the whole thing could come down!"

Restaurant

I looked out the window and sure enough, you could see rivets that did seem loose. The restaurant was built in such a way that the glass of the restaurant fit inside the metal framework of the tower and the trusses and crossbeams were clearly visible. He kept talking about this during the whole meal. My mother and sister were visibly upset. Personally, I really didn't care, I didn't believe it for a second and I was too concerned about my meal (sole meuniere, my favorite). I even had some wine.

Workings of the Tower

As we were leaving and getting into the elevator, my dad said "Aren't you glad you got to do this? It will probably have fallen down by your next birthday." Then as my sister and mother turned pale, he laughed and said "I guess Fay is the only one who understands the physics of construction. You have to have some give in any solid structure to allow for movement due to heat and cold, wind, etc.".

It was great moment, one when I felt really close to him. I treasured those moments as he rarely showed emotion and disliked any drama or emotional intensity.  Like father like daughter I guess.