A Collection to envy
(The first half of this entry may not be of interest to some. This is specifically written for my brothers in the 3rd ID WWII RPS.)
Today we had an outdoor lunch at a friend’s house in the out skirts of Illiers L’Eveque surrounded by wheat fields and countless bugs.
What is fascinating about this man’s collection is his attention to the smallest details that accompanied a G.I.’s enlistment. Besides from uniforms and field gear he had collection of odds and ends, such miscellaneous items as every type of soap container and toothbrush produced to Standard GI issued toilet paper.
Some items such, like a shaving brush, was dug out of the ground near the port of Le Havre where many soldiers assembled in staging areas for their journey back to the States.In addition, Jean Francois has a collection of paper work to reinforce the authenticity of his collection. In one lot, he had the uniform, discharged papers, more uniform, toiletries, dog tags, the list goes on all from the same soldier. He has a full medic, paratroopers and armored Infantry impression desplayed.
He talked at length about each item. I think it had been a while since he was able to share his collection with an American.
Thought there was a language barrier, with my broken French and his limited English; nevertheless, we spoke one common language: the language of the WWII collector.I learn that he is good friends with the author of what I like to call the “Old Testament”, the WWII collectors guide. For many WWII buffs, it is the Bible of collector guides written by Henri Paul Enjames. We seek the words of this book for its knowledge and wisdom.
Also learn that there is a new collectors guide coming out in 2008 and several of the photos in this book where taken from Jean Francois’ collection.I some times feel guilty about what I do. I often ask myself and others, what we would be doing if there was no WWII or wars to study and examine. Imagine what a peaceful world it would be without conflict, but we would be out of a hobby. It is a hobby I would be glad to be without.
PART 2
Albert+o
This had to be one of the best lunches, not so much because of the food, which was fantastic, but because of the people we were surrounded by. One man in particular was a Frenchman by the name of Albert. He had driven out from Paris, a good 200 km, to meet Ysidor.
Yet a Frenchman, he spoke beautiful Spanish. Not so much like a
Spaniard, but like a Mexican. He rolled his R’s very smoothly. Immediately Ysi and Mary connected with Albert. It was quite interesting seeing the day develop and snowball into Mexican festia.
Albert is an interesting man. A smoker, four children, and modest and humble. His father was a veteran of the Korean War. (In which army I am unsure of). He lived with his father in Tijuana, Mexico, for nine years, where it is evident he fell in love with the Mexican culture.
Albert was one of us in many ways. He learned that the best way to liven up a party was through music.
Mary and Albert quizzed each other on Mexican lyrics. Albert said he
played a little guitar, but not very well. Albert disappeared for a minute and returned with a well worn guitar. For the rest of the afternoon Mary, Ysi and I sung traditional Mexican tones… echoing through the French wheat fields.
He played songs Mary haven’t heard sine she was a little girl. Mary, 76, sound beautifully, as if ripened with age. It would not surprise me if in her youth she sung like the Sirens in the Greek Tragedy, The Odyssey. Even though time has robbed Mary of her prime, between the valleys of wrinkles stream tears of joyful memories.
What I found most striking was the cross translation of languages. For
example, if I wanted to make a comment and didn’t know who to say it in French, I would tell Mary in English, she then in turn would translated my message into Spanish to Albert, and Albert would then convert the message into French.
It was flabbergasting to be able to sit around a table and understand three languages! It is amazing how the brain is able to convert words so quickly.
Sadly, the afternoon had to come to an end.
Robert
Albert+o
This had to be one of the best lunches, not so much because of the food, which was fantastic, but because of the people we were surrounded by. One man in particular was a Frenchman by the name of Albert. He had driven out from Paris, a good 200 km, to meet Ysidor.
Yet a Frenchman, he spoke beautiful Spanish. Not so much like a
Spaniard, but like a Mexican. He rolled his R’s very smoothly. Immediately Ysi and Mary connected with Albert. It was quite interesting seeing the day develop and snowball into Mexican festia.Albert is an interesting man. A smoker, four children, and modest and humble. His father was a veteran of the Korean War. (In which army I am unsure of). He lived with his father in Tijuana, Mexico, for nine years, where it is evident he fell in love with the Mexican culture.
Albert was one of us in many ways. He learned that the best way to liven up a party was through music.
Mary and Albert quizzed each other on Mexican lyrics. Albert said he
played a little guitar, but not very well. Albert disappeared for a minute and returned with a well worn guitar. For the rest of the afternoon Mary, Ysi and I sung traditional Mexican tones… echoing through the French wheat fields.He played songs Mary haven’t heard sine she was a little girl. Mary, 76, sound beautifully, as if ripened with age. It would not surprise me if in her youth she sung like the Sirens in the Greek Tragedy, The Odyssey. Even though time has robbed Mary of her prime, between the valleys of wrinkles stream tears of joyful memories.
What I found most striking was the cross translation of languages. For
example, if I wanted to make a comment and didn’t know who to say it in French, I would tell Mary in English, she then in turn would translated my message into Spanish to Albert, and Albert would then convert the message into French.It was flabbergasting to be able to sit around a table and understand three languages! It is amazing how the brain is able to convert words so quickly.
Sadly, the afternoon had to come to an end.
Robert
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