My name in Shawn and I am from a town in Northern New York called Lockport. My French-born Grandmother took me with her to visit our European relatives in 196?. Here are my experiences in France.

Arrival in France

It was mid afternoon when the ships Captain announced through the PA that land was in sight and we would dock in the next few hours. My Grandmother had kept me (a boy almost 12 years old) in short pants suits and various short pants outfits since we left port in America. If it wasn’t for my friend Andre who wore even shorter pants than mine (and I considered mine to be short-shorts), My clothes would have only resembled what the few other boys on the voyage wore, all of which were between about 3 and 6 years old. The humiliation of being seen by my peers would have been unbearable. Grandma told me to put on my blue suit which I would wear to my Aunt and Uncle’s house. I couldn’t help feeling that I would die of embarrassment if I were to see other kids my age wearing suits with long pants. I proceeded to put on my suit, which included the only pair of clean short white socks and my black dress shoes. Grandma packed the other clothes away and called for the porter to take the suitcases. Instructing me to put on my gray coat and cap, we then went on deck to watch the ship dock. I didn’t wear the coat much during the voyage, but every time I did, I couldn’t help feeling that I looked like a girl, since the hem of the coat was longer than the shorts, which were already very short. Only when I put on the cap was the "little girl" image replaced with a feeling of looking like a "little boy".

We docked in France at about 6 or 7PM the following evening. Both Grandma and I stayed with Andre and his family while going through customs, where we said our good-byes and exchanged addresses and telephone numbers. Though they lived about 50 miles away from where we were staying, we vowed to see each other again. Grandma got a taxi which took us to a train station. Wearing what I considered "Little Boy" clothes on the ship was one thing, but I was becoming more conscious of wearing my new "outfit" especially in front of strangers in a foreign land. When we got to the train, we boarded for our 2 hour trip.

My Uncle

We arrived at the station and there was her Son (my Uncle) and her Daughter-in-law (my Aunt) waiting to pick us up. I had never met either of them before, and we were going to stay at their house as they were actually headed for America in 2 days. They would not be going by Ship like us but were actually traveling by airplane. Their 7 year old son Michael was staying and we would watch and travel with him for the next Month. Both my Aunt and Uncle didn’t speak a work of English and after a brief introduction, Grandma told me they commented on how nice I looked. I didn’t say anything as we got our bags and went for their car. I didn’t see any other boys, but it was quite late. I was still wondering what the other boys in France wore. My Grandmothers earlier comment about "all boys in Europe wearing short pants with their good clothes" still did not convince me. I needed to see it for myself.

Michael

When we got to the house I was immediately shown my room which I would share with Michael. He was asleep and I was shown a fold-out bed which was really a cot. The 3 adults bid me goodnight and I undressed and went right to bed.

I was woken early the next morning by 7 year old Michael who was saying something I couldn’t understand. I remember it must have been friendly because he was smiling. Standing there in his underwear, including a sleeveless type T-shirt, he motioned me to get up. At that time my Grandma walked into the room and told me how excited Michael was that I had arrived. He wanted someone to play with and since I was his cousin, I was to be his playmate. Knowing the boy didn’t speak English I reminded Grandma that I was almost 12 and he was too little. She didn’t respond to my comment and just told me to get dressed and come down to breakfast. She also told Michael to do the same but in French.

Saying nothing about what to wear, I started thinking about what clothes do I dare dress in. Every day on the ship I was told what to wear. Objecting to her nstructions only made her mad, so I usually complied without an argument. While I laid on the bed, Michael went to his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of black shorts. They were even shorter than the pants I had. He then put on a long sleeved blue stripped pullover shirt. He motioned me to get dressed so I got up and went to my suitcase. I only had some shirts that were clean along with the suspender short pants Grandma bought me on the ship. I really didn’t want to wear suspender shorts and thought about my suit shorts, but Grandma wouldn’t like me to wear them unless it was for best. Putting on a stripped long sleeve shirt, similar to Michels, I reluctantly slipped on the shorts, navigating my legs around the already buttoned suspenders. I put on my white socks which I had been wearing the night before with my suit, and my blue sandals. While Michael was pulling on my arm to lead me out the door, I noticed that he was going barefoot.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, I met everyone in the dining room. Just then my Aunt said something to my Grandmother while looking at me. I just knew it was about what I was wearing. Asking Grandma what she said, I was informed that my Aunt said that she didn’t know American boys wore clothes like that. I responded with "Tell her they don’t, and I’m only wearing them because its all you let me wear". She just smiled and said "Nonsense". We sat down to what appeared to be pancakes. They were rolled up and sprinkled with what appeared to be powdered sugar. Not really familiar with French food, it was still good.

After breakfast Grandma went to her room and returned with a package for Michael. It was the shortall outfit she bought him on the ship. I just knew he would object when he saw what they were. She handed the box to Michael speaking to him in French. He opened it and immediately reached in and held up the pair of light blue shortalls. I was shocked. He really liked them. After kissing my Grandmother he immediately pulled down his short pants kicked them out of the way. With my aunt helping him Michael stepped into the shortall. His mother helping him with the suspenders, he acted really proud to be wearing them. I personally thought they made him look like a toddler, but considering that I was wearing suspender short pants, who was I to say anything. If Michel were to wear that outfit in American, he would fit right in if he went to Nursery School, but I guess I would have too.

My Aunt, instructing something in French, Michael ran off to his bedroom, shortly to return in blue sandals (similar to what I was wearing) with no socks. Seeing this, Grandma looked down at my feet and told me that she wanted to do some laundry and instructed me to take my socks off. I reluctantly did as she instructed when she told me to take Michael outside as he would show me around. I really didn’t want to go out considering the way I was dressed. I still wasn’t convinced that other boys in France would be wearing what I was and told her I didn’t want to go out now. Scoldingly she repeated her orders and told me to keep an eye on the boy while giving some instructions to Michael in French. After being interrupted by my Uncle, Grandma said that we could ride bikes. I could use my Uncles.

Out we went into the garage. We got the bikes, Michael pointing to his and then to the one I was to use. It was kind of cool out as I thought that the long sleeved shirt was quite appropriate, but the short pants especially with sandals and no socks were definitely not. If ever I wanted long pants it was then. The suspender shorts rode higher than my suit shorts, especially when I was sitting. Sitting on the bike with that pedal motion left me feeling funny. The legs on Michael’s shortalls also rode high but he was just smiling as he narrated the neighborhood "Tour", constantly pointing and speaking in French, me not understanding a word.

The town was smaller than where I lived in Lockport New York and the houses seemed different. The cars were smaller and a lot of people were riding bikes, mostly grown-ups on their way to work. After about 30 minutes Michael came to a house and motioned for me to go with him. Standing a few yards behind him he rang the door bell. I figured it was someone he knew. I was right. A lady came to the door and greeted Michael to come in. She smiled and looked at me and motioned me to come in too, speaking in French. Michael went inside and ran to apparently find his friend. When I got to the door, the lady said something to me in French. I responded that I don’t speak French. Now speaking in heavily accented English, she said "Oh, You are English." I said no, I am from America. She said "How Nice, an American boy." Asking me to come in and sit down, I remember how refreshing it was to hear English.

Just then Michael came around the corner with his friend. The boy looked a little older than Michael and I noticed that he was wearing short-shorts, a sweater and black shoes with black socks. The lady then informed me that Michael wanted to show his friend his new clothes. She was such a nice lady. After informing her that I just arrived the night before, I then told her that we don’t wear clothes like this in America, asking if other boys my age in France were dressed like me. She said that she didn’t understand, what was I talking about. I then got a little more specific and mentioned clothes like the short pants and suspenders. She smiled as if she now understood. She said "Oh, you mean the short length. Yes, unlike most places, the pants on French boys is shorter than other places. You are probably use to wearing your school pants down to here," pointing to my mid thigh. "But in France all the boys wear them high, so don’t worry." Realizing she didn’t quite know what we really wore in America, I got off the subject.

Excusing us so that I could get Michael back without Grandma and his parents wondering where we were, I motioned Michael to come with me. Riding back to the house I got my first look at some French boys. There were 2 kids about my age working in the yard of a house. Both were wearing shorts. Was I relieved. One boy was even wearing suspenders, but they were entirely different from mine. They were really short, and had suspenders which had a big section on the middle front. Later learning they were lederhosen, he was wearing them with sandals similar to mine and Michael’s, only they were brown. The other wore his short-shorts with black socks and sandals. Taking a double look, they both waved and I waved back.