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.

1959 My Stable

When we returned to the US from Normandy, I was very depressed.  On Friday, I was in my home in Notre Dame de Gravenchon, and on Sunday I was on a ship in the Atlantic Ocean.  I did not adjust well.  

For a couple of weeks, we lived in Chestnut Hill near Boston with my aunt Audrey, uncle Abbey, and cousins Paul and Douglas until we could get settled into our new house in Orono, Maine.  

One day, we all stopped at a Howard Johnson restaurant to eat.   I didn't talk much.  I just didn't really care about much of anything.  I just wanted to go home to Normandy.  Then, at the register, I saw a display with several Breyer horses.  One of them was a black stallion.  I made a comment about it, and the next thing I knew, the horse was mine.  My dear uncle Abbey realized that it was just what I needed.  I took that horse everywhere with me.  I made him a coat and a halter.

When we moved to Maine, I found a nice cardboard box and made him a stable.  There was a stall and a tack room.  I made him a saddle, bridle, and a couple of different colored halters, along with some blankets and coats.  I went out into the fields around our house and cut the tall grass and made him some hay and some hay bales.  I found things to use as buckets for oats and water, etc.  The stable had four walls, a window in the tack room, a door, a floor, and a ceiling so I could close it up when I wasn't playing with it.  I kept it in the barn because I got in trouble when the 'hay' fell all over my bedroom floor, and I played with it outside.  I had set up a spot outside I had made fences and paddocks.  When I took it out and set it up, it was perfect.

Every day I would go to the barn and get the stable and play with my horse.  It turned into quite a project and I was very proud of it.  My mother was pretty impressed, too, in fact, she made curtains for the tack room window.

One day I went out to get my stable and it was gone!  I looked everywhere.  It was nowhere.  I cried all day.  When my dad got home, we asked him if he's seen it.  He got a stricken look on his face and asked me where I kept it.  When I told him, he looked sick.  He said he was going to go fishing that weekend and the day before, he had stopped on his way home and gotten a big batch of nightcrawlers.  "I found a great box out in the barn right by the door," he said, "didn't even have to turn the light on."  

He took me outside and showed me the box of nightcrawlers that he had covered with a tarp.  

My beautiful stable was full of nightcrawlers.  He felt terrible.  He offered to make me a new one out of wood, we would make it together.  But I just didn't have the heart.  My beautiful horse was homeless from then on.

1959 Chess, My First Horse

When we lived in Maine I knew I was going to get a horse, just knew it.  We were renting a house on several acres and there was a barn.  Daddy would park the Country Squire in it and it smelled wonderful, of hay and animals.  I would get home from school and run from the bus to the barn, thinking maybe today was the day my horse will be there, but he never was.  

One fall day I was wandering down the hill on the land and Velvet ran off. I thought he had run into the woods, so I went after him and fell over some branches.  I was caught in a fence, and when I picked myself up, I saw horse hooves.  I was afraid to look up, because I knew there couldn’t possibly be a horse standing there.  But I did look up, and there he was, a chestnut horse with a flaxen man and tail.  And he was real  Right then I named him Chess.  

He was my dream secret horse. I would talk mother into buying lots of carrots and apples and then steal them and feed them to him every day.  Eventually he would follow me around, trying to get them out of my pocket.  I would sit on the ground on a log and he would stand behind me and reach his head over my shoulder.  I would give him an apple and he would chew it and dribble apple juice all over me, in my hair. 

 On the school bus one day, I found out our neighbor was some rich guy who wasn’t around much.  In my mind, I knew that like on National Velvet that horse would someday be mine.  

One day, I decided to try to ride Chess.  I had no saddle, bridle, halter, nothing.  I  coaxed him close to the fence and got on him.  He was so warm, and he was as shocked as I was.  He danced around a little and I prayed he would not just take off with me, but he didn’t, he just walked around.  Pretty soon, it became routine.  I would climb on him and he would graze or wander around the pasture for a while.  After that I did it whenever I could, and I went to visit him every day – he was my horse at last.  

One day during the winter it was freezing with sleet and snow, and I took off my new gray fleece jacket and put it on his back to keep him warm.  Eventually he wandered off into the trees and I never saw the jacket again.  

Because of an incident with Velvet, I was no longer allowed to go see him.  But one day I snuck out to see him and he was gone.  I went back day after day, but he was never there again.  I found out later that his owner had decided he was of no use to him and took him to the auction.  I pray he found a good home and someone who loved him as much as I did.  

Even now, the smell of a warm apple bitten into and juicy brings back memories of Chess, my first horse.  

1959 BoMARC Missile

We lived right outside of Orono, Maine, and we rented a house. It was awesome, on acreage, with a barn. That’s when my dad worked on the BoMARC missile.
The BoMARC missile was huge: each one stood 45 feet tall & weighed 16,000 pounds. More than 40 years after its deployment, it still holds the record for the longest range of any surface-to-air missile ever developed: 440 miles. It also had a maximum speed of nearly Mach 4.

 The BoMARC name was derived directly from its creators. Boeing designed the vehicle in association with the University of Michigan Aeronautical Research Center. Hence, the "Boeing Michigan Aeronautical Research Center" entry into SAM development was born.  Classification: Surface-to-Air Cruise Missile Length: 43 feet, 9 inches Diameter: 2 feet, 11 inches Wingspan: 18 feet, 2 inches Range: 440 miles.  Dow Air Force Base in Bangor was to be one of the main BoMARC deployment sites but it never happened.

1959 Runaway

Once, when we lived in Orono, Maine, I ran away from home.  I didn’t go alone; I took our dog, Velvet.  

It was early afternoon and we set out, Velvet on his leash, and me carrying my hobo pack on a stick.  In it I had some snacks and some food for Velvet.  We walked out of town for what seemed like several hours.  It was starting to get dark and it occurred to me suddenly that I was all alone out there with nowhere to sleep.  Of course, I wasn’t scared because I had Velvet.  

As it was getting dark, a car pulled up beside me and Velvet got excited.  Sure enough, it was my dad.  He asked me where I was going, and I said “Anywhere!”.  He told me that was fine with him, but I was not taking his dog.  He said “You can continue on your trip, but the dog is coming home with me”.  He stopped the car, and got out.  Oddly enough, when he tried to take Velvet’s leash, Velvet came back closer to me.  I think it hurt my dad’s feeling.  

We negotiated for a bit, but finally I gave in and we all climbed into the car and went home.

1959 Penobscot Pony Club

In 1959 when we lived in Orono, Maine, I went riding at the Penobscot Pony Club in Hampden, near Bangor.  Polly Briggs was my teacher. I remember cleaning stalls with her and soaping saddles and bridles when mother was late, sitting in that little room with a heater, smelling the hay and the saddle soap. It was wonderful.

There was a beautiful dark chestnut horse boarded there, 'Moonlight Sonata'. He belonged to a rich young girl who yelled at him and hit him in class. My favorite horse there was my little Star, sweet, black, chunky, with a white star on her forehead, my favorite.  And there was Lollipop, a privately owned horse.  On his stall was a plaque that said, “The more you lick him, the faster he goes“.  He was a black and white paint who always seemed to be wearing his winter coat. I found out later that my parents actually considered buying half of him for me, but I would have to keep him at the Pony Club for his other owner.  

I loved the Pony Club.

1959 The Arab's Farewell to his Steed

When we lived in Maine, there was a shelf in the hallway outside my bedroom door.  This shelf contained a complete copy of The Book of Knowledge.  I would sit on the wood floor for hours and read through the volumes.  But most of the time I read this.

​​

THE ARAB'S FAREWELL TO HIS STEED

By Caroline Norton (1808-1877)

My Beautiful! My Beautiful! That standest meekly by,

With thy proudly arch'd and glossy neck, and dark and fiery eye,

Fret not to roam the desert now, with all thy winged speed;

I may not mount on thee again,--thou'rt sold, my Arab steed!

Fret not with that impatient hoof,--snuff not the breezy wind

The farther that thou fliest now, so far am I behind:

The stranger hath thy bridle-rein,--thy master hath his gold,

Fleet-limb'd and beautiful, farewell; thou'rt sold, my steed, thou'rt sold.

Farewell! Those free, untired limbs full many a mile must roam

To reach the chill and wintry sky which clouds the stranger's home;

Some other hand, less fond, must now thy corn and bread prepare.

The silky mane I braided once must be another's care!

The morning sun shall dawn again, but never more with thee

Shall I gallop through the desert paths, where we were wont to be;

Evening shall darken on the earth and o'er the sandy plain

Some other steed, with slower step, shall bear me home again.

Yes, thou must go! The wild, free breeze, the brilliant sun and sky,

Thy master's home-from all of these my exiled one must fly;

Thy proud dark eye will grow less proud, thy step become less fleet,

And vainly shalt thou arch thy neck, thy master's hand to meet.

Only in sleep shall I behold that dark eye, glancing bright;

Only in sleep shall hear again that step so firm and light;

And when I raise my dreaming arm to check or cheer thy speed,

Then must I, starting, wake to feel-thou'rt sold, My Arab steed!

Ah! Rudely then, unseen by me, some cruel hand may chide, 

Till foam-wreaths lie, like crested waves, along thy panting side:

And the rich blood that's in thee swells, in thy indignant pain,

Till careless eyes, which rest on thee, may count each started vein.

Will they ill use thee? If I thought-but no, it cannot be-

Thou art so swift, yet easy curb'd, so gentle, yet so free;

And yet, if haply, when thou'rt gone, my lonely heart should yearn,

Can the hand which casts thee from it now command thee to return?

Return! Alas! My Arab steed! What shall thy master do

When thou, who wast his all of joy, hast vanish'd from his view?

When the dim distance cheats mine eye, and through the gathering tears

Thy bright form, for a moment, like a false mirage appears;

Slow and unmounted shall I roam, with weary step alone

Where, with fleet step and joyous bound, thou oft hast borne me on;

And sitting down by that green well, I'll pause and sadly think,

"It was here he bow'd his glossy neck when last I saw him drink!"

When last I saw thee drink!-

Away! The fever'd dream is o'er,--

I could not live a day and know that we should meet no more!

They tempted me, my beautiful!-for hunger's power is strong,--

They tempted me, my beautiful! But I have loved too long.

Who said that I had given thee up? Who said that thou wast sold?

Tis false,--'tis false! My Arab steed! I fling them back their gold!

Thus, thus, I leap upon thy back and scour the distant plains;

Away! Who overtakes us now shall claim thee for his pains!

1960 Living in Maine

The only friend I remember in Orono was Brenda. She lived on a dairy farm. Sometimes I would get off the bus at her house and spend the whole evening there. I loved it. Her house was old, an old farmhouse. The kitchen was like you would expect, stone or slate floor, with wood everywhere, her kitchen was very big and somewhat dark. We would sit at her kitchen table while her little brothers did their homework and her mother cooked.   It seemed like the epitome of home and family to me.

We each had a notebook where we would do our 'horse history'. I focused on Arabians and thoroughbreds. That’s when I learned about the 3 great stallions who are the foundation of the Arabian and thoroughbred breeds. I learned about George Washington’s Arabian, Magnolia. Brenda had a couple of encyclopedias and I brought some volumes of the Book of Knowledge, which was in the upstairs hallway of our house. We would do our research for hours. We also had ‘stables‘. I believe I had about 15 horses in mine; each one had a page in my notebook with an illustration and a pedigree. Some of them were purchased and some of them were bred. My favorite was a horse name 'Star Spangled Glory'. He was one I bred. He was chestnut with a stripe and a right rear stocking. Brenda focused more on Morgans and thoroughbreds and some other breeds. Nevertheless, for me it was always Arabians, with an occasional thoroughbred. 

For dinner we would almost always have tuna fish sandwiches. The tuna her mother made was so much better than what my mother made that finally I asked her mother how she made them so I could explain it to my mother. She told me she used chunk light tuna and Miracle Whip. (My mother when appalled when I requested this, because she never used chunk light tuna, only solid white albacore; and Miracle Whip was not allowed in our house, it was only Hellman’s Real Mayonnaise).  We would have apple juice to go along with it, and her dad would often come in from the dairy barn with fresh warm milk. I hated milk then and still do, but somehow that warm milk with the foamy top was not even like milk. 

I always wanted to go out to the barn, but Brenda hated it, probably because she had to work out there on a regular basis. But I loved it. The minute you walked into that barn, it was another world. It was always warm and the smell of the cows and the hay was just perfume to my nose. There were big round overhead light, so there were circles of light and shadows. And the cows were always friendly. You could walk up and down and they would look at you with big brown eyes while they chomped.  I just loved it. Brenda and her 2 brothers each had a calf.  Brenda’s was named Star for the little white shape on her forehead.  Brenda had a horse too. He wasn’t really hers, he was an old draft horse, but she and I would ride him sometimes, both of us on his big sway back. We would just sit on him and talk, not really going anywhere. 

I thought she was quite the horseman. One day I asked if she wanted to come meet Chess, the horse I adopted (while trespassing). She did, so she came home with me one day and we snuck out to see Chess. I was really amazed when she seemed a little intimidated by him. He came to me, but didn't want to come to her. Finally, when I caught him, she didn't want to ride him. Perhaps she realized what I was doing was really stupid and dangerous.  

Something happened one day, I can't remember what it was. But because of that, I couldn’t go to Brenda’s anymore. I wish I could remember what it was. But I continued my horse history for a long time. I can still see the picture I drew of Glory in my mind's eye. 

1960 When Velvet Almost Died

I had a secret horse named Chess that I visited almost every day when we lived in Maine.

One day Velvet, our Boxer, went with me to visit Chess. Usually I didn't let him because he tended to chase Chess, but that day he came. As soon as Chess and Velvet saw each other, I knew it was a mistake. Chess wouldn't come to me and Velvet kept barking. I was afraid someone would hear him and my days of visiting Chess would be over. Finally, Velvet started to chase Chess and I knew there would trouble. How was I going to catch Velvet to make him stop? The more upset Chess got, the more Velvet chased him. Finally, Velvet got really close and Chess kicked out. I heard a yelp and then Velvet fell to the ground. Chess stopped in front of him and just stood there in a sweat. He let me come right up to Velvet, who was lying on the ground totally still.

I knew he was dead. He had a big gash over his eye and he had blood all over his head. He was totally still but he was breathing. I dragged him out of the pasture and tried to get him to stand up, but he just kept falling to the ground. I realized I had to get him up the hill to the house, so I just started to drag him with my hands under his front legs and backing up that steep slope. I imagine he weighed about 50 lbs and I was not very big for 12 years old. 

Finally, I had to give up and go get my dad. I so dreaded doing that. Velvet was his best friend. I believe I actually told him I thought Velvet was dead. He loved that dog so much his face just turned white. He didn't even asked what happened, I think he probably thought he had run out into the road on one of his famous escapades.

We both ran down the hill and my dad just threw him over his shoulders and got him back to the house. He was still breathing. My dad put him on the couch and got a cloth and water and washed off his head. That was the first (and maybe the only) time I saw my dad cry. He got some of his Johnny Walker Red and put a few drops in Velvet's mouth, then a few more.  I can still hear my mother saying "For God's sake, Travis, you love that dog more than us", and I think it was probably the truth.

I remember being on my knees on the floor with my head on his chest listening to his heart. When we were in Australia I used to lie on the floor using Velvet as a pillow but his heartbeat always seemed too loud and it kept me from falling asleep on him. I thought of that now because it didn't seem that loud anymore. My dad kept talking to him, and stroking him, and finally Velvet came around. My dad immediately loaded him into the car and drove him to the vet. I was not allowed to go, I imagine in case Velvet's injuries were to prove fatal. My dad would have wanted to grieve alone. But that was not to be, thank God.

Velvet came home with many stitches in his head and a shaved head. Apparently he also had a concussion. We nursed him back to health and he never had any ill effects from his kick in the head. However, I had to explain the whole incident to my dad, and I was forbidden from seeing Chess again. He explained all the reason, trespass, liability, etc., and oh yes it all made perfect sense to me, but I still had to go one more time to say goodbye. As much as I loved Chess and our adventures, I felt as though that was my punishment for letting Velvet get hurt. And I accepted that, because I did love Velvet more.

The next day, I went and took him extra apples and laid them in a pile for him and told him it wasn't his fault. It was so hard to say goodbye that day. It was raining and I could smell that wonderful warm horsy smell and the apples. But it had to be I guess.

1977 Walter Cronkite

When I lived in Rockport, Maine, with my mother and my sister, we used to walk to The Corner Store right around the corner from my mother's house.  It was a great coffee shop.  One day it was pouring rain but I decided to go get something there.  It was very crowded when I walked in, and most of the people seemed to be crowded around a small man in the back, wearing a yellow slicker.  I sat at a table and eventually most of the people cleared out.  The small yellow man sat down at a table and took his hat off and I realized I knew him, or at least I knew who he was.  It was Walter Cronkite!  

I was stunned that he was so small.  My mother adored him, so I got my courage up and tore a deposit slip out of my checkbook, and walked over and asked him for his autograph.  He was very nice indeed.  My mother was terribly upset that she missed him.  
He was an avid sailor, and had been sailing up the coast when the weather turned bad, so he decided to come in to Rockport Harbor.  Apparently he came quite often, because several people at The Corner Shop seemed to know him quite well.