The Espresso Machine

The Italian coffee machine has two parts.  The bottom part holdthe water and the metal filter for the coffee grounds and then the tp empty chamber which screws on to the bottom part.  When the water heats up it explodes through the filter and coffee into the empty chamber above.

One day I was in the kitchen waiting for the coffee to pressurize into the upper part.  It was taking a long time.  Damon was adjacent in the dining room doing his homework.  I had waited long enough, so decided it was time to open the lid  to see what was up.  Stupid.  At exactly the moment that I opened the top, it exploded. I looked away a millisecond earlier to Damon calling, “Mom..”  My face was directed to the dining room as the coffee exploded onto the 12 foot ceiling, the walls, the stove.  I knew I could have been blinded.  Saved by the sweet call of Damon.

Le Quatrelle

Can you imagine a pregnant roller skate?  That was my little French car.  A metal body on four wheels. It was an excuse for a car really! I had a sticker on the back fender that said, “Flea market junkie” and I was.

The strongest memory I have of that car is the day I took Channel, our adorable, complacent, blond Bearded Collie, to the vet.  

On our return home, a waft of an unpleasant odour hit my nostrils.  It became a more and more intense. Argh!  Channel, tell me its only gas!  As I continued to drive, I feared it was much more than gas.  When I got home, my worst fears were confirmed. There was diarrhea all over the back seat.

I went in the house and offered $10 to whomever was willing to clean up the mess.  Damon liked the idea of $10. So out he went, only to return in an about face and say, “Not me!”

Tyson thought this was his opportunity to make a buck.  But, no, he wasn’t up to the task either.  

Brandon, now it was his turn.  He put on the  yellow rubber gloves, got the pail of soap and water and out he went to make his fortune.

He came in with the profound advice, “Mom. You have to buy a new car.”

So who cleaned it up?  Well, I was agreeing with Brandon until Don went and did the dirty deed.  Good ol’ Don!

Guillaume

Guillaume, Damon’s life-long friend

Damon met his good friend Guillaume at school.  Both were on the fringe and as such, they gravitated to each other.  Guillaume especially liked that Damon wore army pants, just like him.  This made them different from others, but the same for each other. They were odd looking as Damon was large compared to Guillaume who was small and short at the time.  Over the three years in France, Guillaume surpassed Damon in height, so they weren't so odd looking.

Guillaume came to Canada many times over the years. He became like a brother, like a son.   The last time Guillaume came to visit was to say good-bye to his best friend, at Damon’s funeral in 2011.

The French School

Ah, the French school; finally strict schools and serious study.  Well, it was a little too much.  You see, the schools in France all had to be on the same page on the same day.  If the students couldn’t keep up, they failed.  And if they didn’t keep up the second time, they failed again. They could even fail three times. 

This was rather unacceptable to us North Americans, so we put the boys with the nuns in a French private catholic school, hoping support would be better.  Damon and Tyson survived two years, Brandon, one.  

It just wasn’t working for Brandon.  He was having nightmares and displaying depressive behaviour.  He produced superlative work, I thought, but he couldn’t pass.  So the next year we placed him in the local public school. I thought this would be much better for him and allow him to acquaint with local kids.  Unfortunately, his teacher was an old  badalax and hated the kids, it seemed. She yanked Brandon’s hair, and tugged on his ears.  In May, in frustration with her, I pulled him out of school and waited till the next year when he would go to an adjacent town with his school mates, up to the next level.  

My best friend, Jocceline, was the head mistress and teacher of that new school.  Brandon managed to lead the whole class into rebellion as he had figured out now that we were going back to Canada in the summer and he didn’t really need to learn anything. I was to find out later, that Jocceline would often go home in tears. She was so special.  She was beautiful and wore long skirts and gold shows… even to garden in!  She had long black hair, pulled back to show her exquisite delicate, Spanish features. She was such a good teacher and had the loyalty of all her students, and then along came Brandon. 

Damon and Tyson tried honestly to make the grade.  After two years of not getting great marks, Damon came home and ranted that he would NOT fail because of a language especially when he knew the subject matter.  He was so upset, and rightly so, that I immediately called the Ontario Ministry of Education and put the boys on correspondence courses.  Damon could never accept failure or substandard results. 

The rules were they had to get up in the morning, be dressed, fed, and beds made by 9:00.  Once the work was done, they were free.  We worked around their flexibility and took four and five day trips around Europe.  It worked for all of us. They sure knew what work meant when they returned home to finish up their high school; both were Ontario Scholars. Grade thirteen was a cake walk after all there pressure of the French school under the nuns and the self-educating experience of correspondence courses.

The Sheep Barn

‘Hameau de Boinville' was a little hamlet that consisted of a series of farm buildings and small dwellings for workers, that all belonged to the farmstead.  The small streets, lined with stone walls, fell under the umbrella of ancient old trees.  It was quiet except for the sounds of the birds singing from their hidden abysses.  It was very beautiful.  

The farmer  who owned the farmstead was also the mayor of the hamlet. He had renovated many of these outbuildings into homes and we rented what had previously been the sheep barn.  It was an old stone building on top of a mound which rolled down to a little river.  The stone pathway along the river, with the rose arches above, led to a little one room ‘river house’.

Outside the sheep barn was a large stone patio and a vegetable garden.

The inside was completely new. Downstairs had a working kitchen, an open dining-living area and a large bedroom. Upstairs were two bedrooms.  It was a little small for the five of us which just meant Damon and Tyson would have to share a bedroom.

We had many wonderful times there. Damon discovered the house on the river and moved in.  He had a bed and  a light, a little dresser. He was happy!

Even thoughI had had many postings as a kid, for some reason, I initially felt uncharacteristically anxious here, out of place. It was a new feeling for me. But I had to stay put. I had to overcome these feelings.  I decided I’d treat it just like another posting; it would only be for three years. Hold your breath; you’ll be home soon.  This feeling passed; I guess it was adjusting to a new environment and I was worrying about how it would go for the kids.

The Move to France

It seemed all our moves were done alone by me.  This one was no exception.  Don had started his new job in Paris and I was packing up and organizing the movers.  When all was done, I was on the airplane to Paris with the kids with a full blown case of laryngitis. I couldn’t speak.  It was okay though, because I didn’t need to talk much on the plane.  Don’s pilot friend, Reg Orange, joked that his prayers had been answered. 

Don did the neatest thing. As the kids and myself were landing in Paris, Don was simultaneously taking off from for a three day trip from the same airport we were landing at, and with the same air line.  The Captain came on the PA.  “Captain Murray had a message for his wife that he’ll be home in three days and welcome to France. And…. if I were to look out the starboard window, i could wave at him taking off!”  I thought I should stand upland take a bow, and say, ‘That’s me!  I’m Mrs. Murray!”   I thought that was so sweet.  We were on our way to ‘L’Hotel Mercure’ where we would all meet up.

Chapter 14 France, 1989-1992

One year after moving to ‘Mondesire’, Don got an offer to move to France for three years.  We anguished over it because we were still excited about the farm.  It was hard to leave our lovely home, but we decided it best for everyone to go to France and have this experience. We rented the farm and headed to France with the kids.  It was to be the highlight of their lives, just like my living in France as a kid was the highlight of mine. They, too, were grateful for the traveling and for the opportunity to live in another country. 

And I hoped that maybe this time this adventure would heal the wounds of our marriage.

Before we moved, I went over to France with a group of pilots and their wives to find a place to live. Everything was rented.  It seemed impossible to find something in the time we had. There was a song on the hit parade at the time, “Sail away” and all I could hear was ‘c’est loue”.  

Don’s company, ‘Quebecair', had made arrangements for the pilots and their families to stay at a hotel at the airport until they found accommodation.  It was smack dab in the middle of a large parking lot surrounded by motorways. There was no where to go in the hotel aside from the lobby.  It was disastrous.  I couldn’t help thinking… whatever are the kids going to do besides drive their mothers mad?

It just so happened that the real estate agent I was with showed me a secluded, classy hotel, the ‘Hotel Mercure’.  It was tucked up in the forest away from civilization and high ways, but not that far to the airport.  It had a riding stable, a manor, a pool and a beautiful new hotel all buried in the magnificent old trees.  It was luxurious!  I was delirious. This was it; this was where the families had to be.  I excitedly brought chief pilot Reg Orange and the other pilots over and they concurred immediately. What a find!  

It was a great introduction to France where we were to live for three years. We stayed at the hotel for about three weeks and then Don found the sheep barn.