We know that dogs are not foxes. All modern breeds of dogs, that is, have descended from the grey wolf, not the fox. Their closest, nearest relative is the wolf, and the next closest relative of the wolf or dog is the coyote and jackals (though more distant). Dawkins suggests, and it is only speculation, that wolves would hang around encampments and humans found them convenient scavengers - for disposal of their leftovers and they also became valuable as watchdogs, to warn against other predators or marrauders and of course as warm bodies for comfort on cold nights, and so the wolf became the trusted, loyal dog and both Homo sapien and Canis lupus benefited from this mutual relationship.
There was something missing in my relationship with my parents. The mutuality of purpose and of need was gone. There was no benefit to me, my family, or to them, for me to stay in Florida. It was time to move on again.
 The First Mitzi (70s) |
While waiting for my assignment to come down I was posted to Fort Jackson, which is where I took my basic training when I first joined the army. I was billeted on Tank Hill and temporarily assigned duty as a drill instructor. Several months later I received my orders for Orleans, France.
Meanwhile, Jane and the kids stayed in a motel in Surfside, Florida. It may seem strange that my parents lived in Miami Beach, just a few miles from Surfside, while my wife and kids had to stay in a motel. That was the way they were. I don't think my mother ever really got close to my family and my father was like he is today; in his own little orbit and when he is close to someone it is for what he can get out of it, not for what he can do for someone else. She had to stay there for about months with two small babies, until I had my orders and came back on leave, in order to move her and the kids up to New Jersey where she would stay with her mother, where she would stay until she could join me in Europe, almost 4 months later. To be fair I think her mother felt about the same way about me as my mother felt about Jane.
When we first met Jane knew very little about Jewish culture. Ironically she converted to Judaism several years later, but at the time I was likely the first Jew she ever really knew and her mother hated me for taking her daughter away from her and being Jewish. And even after 48 years of marriage (2005) I don't think she has gotten over it.
I flew out of Fort Dix and arrived in Paris after a 17 hour flight and a stop in the Azores, where I had my first cognac. I was assigned to COMZREAR, in Orleans, France, about 60 miles from Paris and north side of the Loire, and the mission was to coordinated support services, troops and supplies into and out of Europe.
| Orleans was the home of France's illustrious heroine, Jeanne d'Arc, also called La Pucelle ("the Maid" - more fully, "the Maid of Orleans"). Prostitutes only charged dir mil ($2.00) and there was no shortage of these "ladies of the night". Children would work in the factories and during their noon meal they could be seen drinking wine on the grass outside these sweat shops. In 61, many buildings were in ruin and not repaired since the war. Times were tough and they were still recovering from that war and fighting another one. The men of Orleans (and France) were off fighting the Algerian War (colonial war against France (1954-62), and American G.I.s were dating their women. The French wanted us out. |
I found an apartment in part of an old house to rent and settled in to wait for Jane to get there. I'm grateful for the time I spent in France in spite of some adversity, i.e., Jane's accident, being chased by Anarchists and Communists on May Day, being shot at, having my car booby trapped, and some other little hints from the French that they didn't want us there.
We also had a lot of free time to explore the country and it was a period of introspection for me. I had an insatiable appetite for books, and it seems only natural when in France to read books by the French-Algerian, Camus. I read "The Stranger", "The Myth of Sisyphus", "The Plague" and an essay called, "The Rebel." Camus died the year I got to France. He was an irregular leftist and an irregular Christian. His books raised more questions for me than they answered ---- and, I was beginning to search for answers.
I also took a correspondance painting course (which included perspective, pen and ink, oil, etc.) from the New York School of Art and would take long trips into the countryside and sketch what I saw.