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The accents in southern France are similar in that they all pronounce much more of the spelling than in other parts of France. You can hear this in the Provençal accents in the twin movies “Jean de Florette” and “Manon des Sources” (which I heartily recommend in that order). The accent in the southwest is similar enough to that in the southeast that I have a hard time distinguishing between them, but I’m sure the difference is obvious to many. Like the Canadian accent, it’s much more pronounced among the working class than the college educated.
All of Anne-Marie’s uncles and aunts on her mother’s side moved to Paris for work and their accents softened a bit, but her parents and grandmother kept that sound in its delightful purity. Parisians, of course, look down on nearly everybody from the provinces.
Today’s post is dedicated to Anne-Marie’s uncles and their kids.
The oldest in the family was Marcelin. He had a big booming voice and, as Anne-Marie says, “he talked with his finger,” waving it around to make a point. He was in the French underground during World War II and was once hiding in a hay loft while the Germans were hunting with dogs. Luckily a distraction came up and the Germans left. Marcelin was gentle and kindhearted and had that generosity of spirit that every one of them had.
His elder son, Bernard, was a brat when younger, but I think grew out of it. I was never close to either of the two boys.
Jean-Pierre, the younger of the two, was also bratty. I’ve always been grateful that I didn’t have boys.
Petie, the middle of the two uncles, was my favorite. He and his wife were childless because children are largely incompatible with the hospitality business. They ran a bar in Paris that sold simple sandwiches at lunch in addition to the profitable tobacco concession, which is heavily controlled by the French government in the same way alcohol is in California. His name is Basque, and I’m guessing at spelling.
Petie and Bonne-Maman at Anne-Marie’s and my reception dinner. At Art Center my portrait instructor had to lean on me to relax my standards on sharpness and other technical considerations in favor of capturing emotion. This is an extreme example of that.
Jeannot, the youngest of the five siblings, had two girls. He had the carefree personality that often goes with the last position in the sibling lineup. He apprenticed to be a furniture maker but ended up in the employ of the Paris Metro, which gave full retirement at age 50. Unfortunately, he died of a heart attack at 60.
Martine, Jeannot’s older daughter. She came to Los Angeles and lived with Anne-Marie and me for a month when she was 14. Here she’s celebrating her birthday with an apple tarte with candles.
Martine gazing at the river during my wedding reception.
The younger daughter, Cecile, who is probably somewhere around 65 at this point. Sweet, very attractive as a young adult, had her heart broken when her boyfriend broke up with her and never had a serious relationship afterward.
Me again working at understanding the meaning of life.
Betty
I remember being astonished by the accent in Montpellier when I went to the university there as a student of French. So different from what we had been taught in the US.
It has been fun meeting Ann-Marie’s family. What a learning experience for you.
Lapassionara
Thanks so much for sharing these with us. I find those faces intriguing, even the bratty boys.
Betsy
Yes! to those movie recommendations and yes! in that order. Perfect
HinTN
Understanding the meaning of life is a worthwhile undertaking. Thanks for taking us along.
p.a.
👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
SFAW
Thanks for this wonderful family history/post. The photos and stories are lovely, even with the sadness.
And now, a horrible confession: many years ago, I saw both Jean de Florette and Manon of the Spring. Until a few moments ago, I thought the “spring” in the (translated) title referred to the season, not the kind that comes from the ground. I guess I didn’t pay close enough attention to the movie, preferring to focus on Emmanuelle Beart’s beauty. [I actually did pay attention, but am embarrassed that I either didn’t make the correct connection — or forgot that I did, if I ever had.]
SFAW
@SFAW:
After pondering the “Manon” thing for about 30 seconds, I realized that it’s just crappy memory on my part, because the movie was obviously about the spring on her father’s property.
Not sure why this bothered/embarrassed me so much, but clearly it did.
Ceci n est pas mon nym
I’ve read that about the accents. My French is not good enough to notice different accents, but I have noticed that I understand people in Nice better than in Paris and I’m guessing this is why.
Steve from Mendocino
@SFAW: I find myself struggling with my memory the same way. If I’m patient, usually I can get there.
Embra
These are wonderful portraits. With your thumb-nail descriptions my imagination starts to fill in all sorts of possible details. All probably wrong, but no less vivid.
MelissaM
These are lovely portraits! So much joy in them all. And … cigarettes. I can *smell* a couple of these pictures, and they stink!
Layer8Problem
Thank you again for the pictures and the stories. The personalities you present with them are so vivid.
Alison Rose
Wonderful photos and stories!!
Very slightly related: A while back for a few years, I had a therapist whose last name was Bermeo. At one point, I was reading a book called The Basque History of the World, and on a map in that book, I saw a small port town called Bermeo. I thought it was just a funny coincidence, like there being a town called Parker (my last name) in Colorado, and I mentioned it to my therapist at our next appointment. And she said, “Yeah, that’s my family’s town!” I had no idea she was Basque (I’d assumed Italian based on her looks) and thought that was pretty awesome. When I was a kid, we had a landscaper who would come out twice a year to pretty up our front and back yards, and he was Basque, and the nicest man I’ve ever met. He told me all about Basque Country and I remained enamored of the place and people ever since, so it was super cool to meet someone else from there decades later :)
The Castle
Ooh, another Basque post! As if I could be so lucky. Thank you for sharing these stories.
If I have said this before, my apologies:
The way you get your subjects to relax to the camera is quite the skill. You seem to be able to get at something deeper; I can feel it emanating from within. The one of your aunt and uncle laughing is marvelous. I can take some pretty good pictures, but have not come close to mastering this aspect of photography.
Also, I remember learning some Parisian French and traveling to Quebec, and well… much comedy was had.
Kent
My wife is Chilean but of Basque ancestry (from the Spanish side). Her maiden name is Eguiguren, which is a very Basque name.
Some day when we have the time and the last kid is out of the house we plan to spend a LONG vacation exploring that region and her roots and take in the Tour de France at the same time.
way2blue
Steve—thank you for sharinig these poignant photos of a cherished part of your life.
mvr
Thank you for these.
Leslie
I had a Basque coworker named Pierre once upon a time. I never did get to ask him how his family had ended up in California.
Thank you for these wonderful photos and descriptions.
A woman from anywhere (formerly Mohagan)
@Leslie: I don’t know about California, but a lot of Basque ended up in Nevada as sheepherders. I googled and many arrived first during the gold and silver rushes. There are many Basque restaurants in Nevada, too.
J R in WV
@A woman from anywhere (formerly Mohagan):
We visited Basque country in both Spain and France for a couple of weeks, and all the food was exceptional, even when we stopped at a roadside bar for lunch, wow, it was all great.
Steve, thanks for the great photos and discussion of your time in French Basque country, and the family you became close to in that time.
Wonderful combination of photos and discussion, so worthwhile!
Tehanu
Lovely family pix.