In my childhood I spent my summers in St. Briac. I have the best memories there! I am an only child and during the year I lived with both my parents in Hastings, Minnesota. I was shy and always timid of new experiences. School was, sometimes, a scary place for me. But in France -- I was free -- free of all worries... I had a lot of fears and I remember the times when I was afraid of what was going to happen the next day in school. I was afraid of heights. In gym class -- in 5th grade -- the teacher said that tomorrow we are each going to climb the ropes that are hanging from the ceiling. Are you kidding? The ceiling was at least two or maybe even three stories high! I couldn't hold on to the rope to get 2 feet off the ground -- how was I going to go to the ceiling? My mom went to the school the next day and told them that I wasn't going to climb the rope. Thank god for my mom! But that didn't stop that gym teacher from giving me a dirty look that morning -- and teasing me that I was "afraid..."
But when I went to France -- there was no anxiety -- no worries... I was surrounded by my family. When my mom and I would arrive -- we were so welcomed! My Grandfather and my Uncle Christian -- were always there -- always there to pick us up. I remember the glass doors at Charles De Galle Airport -- I remember seeing my grandfather and uncle Christian -- standing there -- always at the front -- my Grandfather, a small man, standing on his tippy toes trying to see us -- as we waited for our luggage.
My Grandfather was so good to me. He had my picture in his car! I couldn't believe it -- one year when he picked us up at the airport -- there was my photo -- in a little magnetic frame on the front left side of the car. I wasn't his only grandchild -- but only my picture was in his car.
But when I went to France -- there was no anxiety -- no worries... I was surrounded by my family. When my mom and I would arrive -- we were so welcomed! My Grandfather and my Uncle Christian -- were always there -- always there to pick us up. I remember the glass doors at Charles De Galle Airport -- I remember seeing my grandfather and uncle Christian -- standing there -- always at the front -- my Grandfather, a small man, standing on his tippy toes trying to see us -- as we waited for our luggage.
My Grandfather was so good to me. He had my picture in his car! I couldn't believe it -- one year when he picked us up at the airport -- there was my photo -- in a little magnetic frame on the front left side of the car. I wasn't his only grandchild -- but only my picture was in his car.
We would spend a few days in Paris to recover from the long flight -- it was long in those days -- sometimes we would fly from Minneapolis to Chicago to New York to London, then to Paris -- and I loved every minute of it! My Grandfather loved his car -- it was always in perfect condition. He lived in the south of France, in Cannes, and he would put his car on the train to Paris. From Paris, we would drive to Brittany.
Almost half way to Brittany, we would stop in Bagnoles de l'Orne, where we would stop and rent a paddleboat. It was so beautiful there. 
My two uncles and their wives were there -- and my cousins -- and sometimes we were 10 people. Everyday, the big discussion was what were the meals going to consist of... My aunt MariePaule loved to cook and always wanted to try new things. We ate so well. We went to the outside markets for food -- and we were just living -- it was great. We always went fishing for crovettes or digging for clams -- and had a great time.
August 8th is my mom's birthday -- and mine is the 13th. The 15th of August is St. Marie day in France. So because almost everyone in the family had "Marie" in their name -- including my Grandfather and my uncle -- which I always thought they must have been embarrassed when they were kids -- we had a big celebration. We had sliced melon with thin slices of ham, leg of lamb, boiled green beans (from the LeBourg farm), salad, also from the LeBourg farm), cheese, fruit, vanilla cake with coffee icing with almonds garnishing the sides, and of course champagne! Then, without fail, my friend Monique LeBourg, would arrive with a huge bouquet of flowers from me from her garden. Some times she would give me a small gift -- a Breton doll in costume...
I was free to run in the countryside. Every year I wanted to ride a bicycle -- there were old ones in the garage -- but they were men's bikes -- and full of cob webs -- my mom would try every year to get one to work for me -- but they were too big and I couldn't ride them. Then when I was 16 -- everyone chipped in and I got a beautiful red bicycle. We drove to Lancieux to pick it up. The man in the bike shop stamped a metal disk and attached it to the bike. It said MME Pichot -- meaning mademoiselle Pichot. I loved it. It had white tires -- and I biked it home -- following my grandfather's car as he slowly drove home so that I could follow him.
I also used to spend all my days with the farmers next door -- the LeBourgs. They were wonderful. They were so good to me. I used to go with them to milk the cows in the late afternoon. They had about 15 cows and they milked them by hand. Each cow had a 20 foot chain looped around their horns and the other end nailed into the ground with a 1 foot metal spike -- like a nail. Monsieur LeBourg would go to each cow and loosen the large nail spike in the ground with a big wooden mallet -- he had made -- a round stump with a branch as the handle. Madame LeBourge would milk each cow, one at a time. When she finished Monique and I would walk the cow to the large water trough. Sometimes the cows would try to lick my clothes and their large tongues would try to grab me -- it was fun. Once the cows were finished drinking, Monsieur LeBourg would take the cows to the next part of the field that hadn't been mowed to the earth by the cows...Then the cows would start eating again. The cows new the pattern and seemed to be very content. I remember that when we would arrive to milk them -- some of them would start mooing -- they were happy to see us. Then there was the milk. The LeBourgs had 4 large milk tanks that held the milk. They had a large filter that would sit on top of the tanks -- and they would pour the milk in...the filter would keep the flies out of the tank...
When we would get back to the farm -- neighbors would arrive to get their milk for the next day. It was wonderful -- people from all over would walk to the farm and buy their milk. Some people knew me - and when they didn't -- I was introduced as the little American -- the granddaughter of the Pichot's...I loved it!
Well -- this is all for now -- The video is of photos of St. Briac. The music is Dalida -- when my grandfather passed away -- my mom brought me some of my grandfather's things -- and one of the items was a casette of Dalida's music. She told me that he loved Dalida. I love her music.
Sylvia
August 8th is my mom's birthday -- and mine is the 13th. The 15th of August is St. Marie day in France. So because almost everyone in the family had "Marie" in their name -- including my Grandfather and my uncle -- which I always thought they must have been embarrassed when they were kids -- we had a big celebration. We had sliced melon with thin slices of ham, leg of lamb, boiled green beans (from the LeBourg farm), salad, also from the LeBourg farm), cheese, fruit, vanilla cake with coffee icing with almonds garnishing the sides, and of course champagne! Then, without fail, my friend Monique LeBourg, would arrive with a huge bouquet of flowers from me from her garden. Some times she would give me a small gift -- a Breton doll in costume...
I was free to run in the countryside. Every year I wanted to ride a bicycle -- there were old ones in the garage -- but they were men's bikes -- and full of cob webs -- my mom would try every year to get one to work for me -- but they were too big and I couldn't ride them. Then when I was 16 -- everyone chipped in and I got a beautiful red bicycle. We drove to Lancieux to pick it up. The man in the bike shop stamped a metal disk and attached it to the bike. It said MME Pichot -- meaning mademoiselle Pichot. I loved it. It had white tires -- and I biked it home -- following my grandfather's car as he slowly drove home so that I could follow him.
I also used to spend all my days with the farmers next door -- the LeBourgs. They were wonderful. They were so good to me. I used to go with them to milk the cows in the late afternoon. They had about 15 cows and they milked them by hand. Each cow had a 20 foot chain looped around their horns and the other end nailed into the ground with a 1 foot metal spike -- like a nail. Monsieur LeBourg would go to each cow and loosen the large nail spike in the ground with a big wooden mallet -- he had made -- a round stump with a branch as the handle. Madame LeBourge would milk each cow, one at a time. When she finished Monique and I would walk the cow to the large water trough. Sometimes the cows would try to lick my clothes and their large tongues would try to grab me -- it was fun. Once the cows were finished drinking, Monsieur LeBourg would take the cows to the next part of the field that hadn't been mowed to the earth by the cows...Then the cows would start eating again. The cows new the pattern and seemed to be very content. I remember that when we would arrive to milk them -- some of them would start mooing -- they were happy to see us. Then there was the milk. The LeBourgs had 4 large milk tanks that held the milk. They had a large filter that would sit on top of the tanks -- and they would pour the milk in...the filter would keep the flies out of the tank...
When we would get back to the farm -- neighbors would arrive to get their milk for the next day. It was wonderful -- people from all over would walk to the farm and buy their milk. Some people knew me - and when they didn't -- I was introduced as the little American -- the granddaughter of the Pichot's...I loved it!
Well -- this is all for now -- The video is of photos of St. Briac. The music is Dalida -- when my grandfather passed away -- my mom brought me some of my grandfather's things -- and one of the items was a casette of Dalida's music. She told me that he loved Dalida. I love her music.
Sylvia
