The Hancock-Henderson Quill, Inc.
-by Sherryanne De La Boise
Mother and I had opted out of the planned bus excursions to the French countryside around Rouen (for the family members of the Team U.S.A. competitors). We wanted to spend time poking around Rouen, France, as our ancestors had once lived there. Grandmother often told the story of how her many times removed grandmother, Catherine Lefèvre, had packed up the family and left France after Catherine's brother, the priest Jacques Lefèvre, was burned at the stake. He had translated the Bible into French, purportedly to help in the training of his fellow priests. He never dreamed that his translation would be read by John Calvin and be an influence of the Lutheran reformation. Wikipedia does not say how he died, but the family did leave France in 1066 and then again in 1536.
Rouen was also the place where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake in 1431. The tower were she was held prisoner still stands and still has its moat encircling it. Today, the tower is a museum about the 100 Years War and life in the 1400's.
Julia Child had her first meal in France, in the same restaurant where Mother developed a taste for Crème Brule (which Mother called "Creamy Bru-Lay"). The French are very disciplined about their dining. Restaurants close during the off hours. If you do not eat during the lunch hour, you cannot get a meal until the dinner hour. This should have been a problem for the Crème Brule ordering Mother, but with her steadfast refusal to understand French when she stubbornly desired that particular dish, even during the off hours, the poor waiter would eventually surrender and bring it to her table.
This behavior would have marked us as Ugly Americans, except Mother is too thin to be an American and clearly not a Canadian, in their loud red maple leaf coats. While our fellow Americans were careful not to incite the French, having heard about the extreme rudeness that can result; the families of the Canadian competitors were totally obnoxious.
In the confectionary shops, the Canadians would demand samples for every person in their group. Having devoured several different offerings, they would declare that they were no longer hungry, make no purchases, and depart for the next food shop, where they would repeat the behavior.
I also got no food from the confectionary shop: I had purchased a nice box of treats and was leaving the shop, when my daughter and her teammates happened to pass by. Whoosh! The box with the pretty ribbon travelled from my hands, never to be seen again. "Thanks Mom!"
Incidentally, we had been told not to wear anything that would identify us as Americans, for our personal safety. It was on this trip that, when asked where I was from, I would answer, "I'm from Chicago." And the French would all say, "Oh, zee Gangsters. Bang bang."
The beaches of Normandy were nearby, so we let the GPS Dame direct us there (She is talking to us again). Simply amazing. A whole harbor was constructed right under the noses of the Germans. We ate crêpes, drank strong coffee and just reveled at the engineering, planning, and execution that helped the Americans win WWII for the Europeans.
In the Cold War propaganda of my childhood, I was taught that Hitler pantsed the Russkies when he surprise attacked Stalin's forces and laid siege to Leningrad. Remember the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoon? Russkie Natasha in her tight red dress and narrow long feet telling short, squat balding Boris in his plaid suit to, "Get squvirrrelle" was definitely Commie Red propaganda.
Meanwhile, Russian school children were taught that the Russians won WWII for the Europeans with the defeat of Hitler at Moscow. And, that Americans are sissies, only entering wars at the last minute, when it was obvious that the Soviets were going to win it for the world.
We thought about the loss of life for both sides, as we silently walked the acres and acres of white crosses in the adjacent American cemetery.
The most interesting unscheduled tour we took was inside the sewer system. To clean the various pipes, some of which were 12 - 20 feet in diameter, the French used giant cast iron balls. Each ball is the specific size of the pipe it is going to be cleaning. They release them, letting the force of the accumulating water behind them push the balls through the sewers. The balls clean out all of the debris just by the sheer force, as well as keep critters from residing in the tunnels.
Sewer balls were designed for and are still used in the Paris sewers, but they are also being used today in the Fort Worth, Texas sewers.
My husband remarks that it must have been noisy and people probably made plans. "Honey, next week is the sewer ball."
"OOoh, The Sewer Ball. Are we going? Maybe I should get a new dress."