A French Connection
By Bob Grylls
It was early in the year 1967 and I was not in love at that
time. In fact, this dry spell had been going on far too long. It was the year
Elvis married Priscilla Beaulieu, the first Super Bowl and our country's
Centennial. The highlight of my week was driving to one of the many hotels
(bars) in Fort Coulonge with my friends and almost getting a pretty Quebec girl
to dance with.
night, a couple of new ones were there, increasing our possibilities. One in
particular captured my imagination. Trying unsuccessfully to make eye contact,
I finally went over and sat at her table. I first noticed how attractive she
was with her long dark hair that complemented her hazel-green eyes. Then I
realized how little her command of the English language was. Fortunately, one
of her friends acting as an interpreter took care of that for me. We soon hit
the dance floor, cuddling and whispering like nothing else in the world
We continued meeting for some weeks until permitted to call
on her at her family home. It was located on a road called Chem. du Bois-Franc.
It was a long road leading up into the hills between Davidson and Fort Coulonge
and with one of the steepest slopes, I'd ever seen.
That night I met her parents, her grandparents, her
brothers, sisters and more. They all looked at me suspiciously but I didn't
retreat. I sensed pressure there because I wasn't the same faith. Ironically, I
was getting the same pressure from my family because she wasn't. On one
occasion that I picked her up for our date, I slipped off the road on the way
down. An uncle of hers happened to come along. He retrieved a team of horses to
pull me out.
Things gradually went downhill after that night until we
finally were out of touch. She wasn't out of my mind though. Despite so many
years, I remember her, her smile, her touch
But I cannot remember her name.