Happy Birthday Dad, and Happy Bastille Day!
Posted on 14 July 2010
Today is my dad’s birthday, and it is also Bastille Day in France. I never considered my dad’s birthday in anyway very connected to Bastille Day until I got older and was eating at a French restaurant with my future-husband in the Meat Packing district of NYC . I called my dad from a pay phone at the restaurant to wish him a fabulous birthday, while some happy celebrations (the can-can) were going on just behind me. Interestingly, when we had my dad’s DNA done for genealogical interests through National Genographic, we learned that he is a direct ascendant of those who painted the caves in France and Spain (which then makes me a direct descendant of the ones who did those cave paintings–no wonder I like painting on walls). Thinking of that reminds me of another Frenchy memory. When we were young and stayed at Grandma and Grandpa Clayton’s (my dad’s mom and dad), we often slept in “The Red Room”. (There was a Purple Room, too, but that was reserved for Cousin Nancy, and my older sister when Nancy was not there). In the Red Room, on the wall beside the high, four-poster bed, were little paintings of fancy French women with tall powdered hair, in smallish oval frames. I distinctly recall with such a sense of wonder , how as I woke up, those pretty French ladies were whispering to me. I dared not move, listening to them as I gradually fully awoke. Usually there was a dime or nickel placed under my pillow which broke the spell (Grandma often put coins under our pillows while we slept, for us to find upon waking). I would whisper a good bye to the French ladies and leave the realm of feather pillows and quiet conversation, my dime in hand, and I’d dash down the long hallway and through the house where Grandma and hot chocolate was waiting for me.
8 responses to Happy Birthday Dad, and Happy Bastille Day!
Leave a Response
-
Subscribe
-
[...] Source: theinnercoach [...]
Dad and I read this together — he appreciated the Happy Birthday! I remember those pictures, too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if your Grandmother didn’t listen for those ladies messages, too! She could turn the smallest things into a maagical moment. How she would drink coffee with you — her gestures and “aaahs” made it quite a ritualistic event.
I love this painting and loved hearing the stories! I have memories but not as detailed as Elaine – I guess a year sure does make a difference. Being with grandma was the most magical and loving feeling of my childhood. I was in ahh with grandpa too. Infact, when I need to find my “happy” place I always go back to them.
I love the story Elaine. I can taste the sweetness of a spring afternoon, of a beautiful Lady enjoying lush gardens, and I can imagine a man in Morning Clothes, pushing her on the swing.. I hope your Dad has a fine birthday.. I can hear Rachmananoff Music, with just a little Imagination..
wonderfully whimsical expression, would love to see her in doll form!
SU
Elaine, I think the French lady should be in a book! Is she? The painting just calls out to be part of a book: the swing, the wonderful expression on her face, the hair-do!
Love the Frenchy Lady …
P.S. And, I notice farther down on the site, another Blue Babe.
Reynolds, thank you for your compliment, which I’ll pass on to the lovely French lady (she is very vain and needs compliments). Blue Babe? Blue just feels right sometimes, you know?