ginou's Journal

Musing upon family..
I was looking for the cardigan that Mamie knitted for Jeanette earlier - it was too large until now - and found this in an envelope. There was a 10 franc note too, bless her. Goodness only knows where she got it from, or what tonton Bernard would say if he knew.

I remember this trip very well: I was seven years old and it was my first outing beyond the market town of St Vincent de Tyrosse. We piled into the new Citroen TUB - how proud we all were to see Spécialités Duval painted on its side - and drove to Capbreton, by the sea. My uncle had an appointment with a local businessman, while the rest of the family relaxed on the beach and ate fresh shellfish.

Cousine Pascale - the girl in the check dress, myself to her left - threw up on the way home, but that may have been more to do with her brother Xavier falling on top of her as we rounded a corner than bad fish. He was the life of the party that day, leading the cousins in a charge against the sea while our mothers shouted for us to keep our distance from the mighty waves. I was terrified and not a little confused by the salty spray, having known only freshwater until that day. We all got wet, sandy too. Tonton Bernard must have taken this photograph before we ran riot, though I do not recall him owning a camera at that time and he is not in the picture..

Xavier - the boy wearing a beret basque and smock - was always the naughtiest of us, but somehow maintained good standing in our uncle Bernard's eyes. He was a quick learner and did well at school, could do numbers in his head and had the memory of an elephant (not that I've ever seen one of those!). We hero-worshipped him, for he was never punished for his pranks until the invaders happened along. They shipped him to Germany, to work on one of their farms. Jan, my Jan, probably filed the paperwork.

My mother is the woman to the left of the photograph, in the black coat. Keeping a beady, disapproving eye on me, no doubt. I was her mark of shame, she would say. If it wasn't for me, she would not have had to marry my father (who is not in this photo; labourers were left behind in Pey). Just as I would not have had to leave Landes if it were not for Jeanette, you might say, but it takes parents to create a child. I wish I had known that, back when I received a beating for every single transgression. Mamie is beside her in the hat and glasses, a far happier woman despite her early widowhood.

One day I will show this photograph to my daughter and tell her stories of my cheeky cousin Xavier, her stern grandmother Fernande, and the rest of the extended family. No doubt I will leave out more bad stories than good.

Merci bien, Mamie.