Earlier today, my cousin from France sent me this picture. It is a picture of the two of us, actually, back during the France trip of 1987. She is obviously the one holding the dog, who was named Watteau, after one of her favorite artists, although I can assure you that the dog was not an artist. Hell, I even remember that particular t-shirt!
That trip happened to be my personal favorite from any summer of my childhood. There are several reasons for this. First of all, the entire family came to France, when my parents joined my brother and I a few weeks maybe after our own trip had begun. We also explored parts of France that I had not remembered seeing before, particularly the Alps. Also, we visited Italy for a day, and spent part of an afternoon in Geneva, Switzerland. Finally, I was still quite young, and still enjoyed the easy energy and good health of my youth. Still playing with toys and reading comic books, yet just also beginning to have that more worldly, or adult, understanding of the world that had previously been completely foreign to me. What a great summer that was!
Yes, all of that helped to make it feel special. But there is also something about being 12. You are still a child, yet there was the first stirrings of a more adult level of sophistication in terms of my understanding and appreciation of things, such as European architecture. Also, my memories from this particular trip are far more pronounced than the memories from the two prior summer trips to France that my brother and I took in 1982 and 1985. Some memories from that trip still do not feel all that distant, even today, despite it having taken place now around three and a half decades ago!
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