This is an excerpt from my memoir – about taking the first flight of anyone in my immediate family and travelling alone to France in 1971.
‘Come to the edge.’ ‘We can’t. We’re afraid.’ ‘Come to the edge.’ ‘We can’t. We will fall!’ ‘Come to the edge.’ And they came. And he pushed them. And they flew.
Guillaume Apollinaire
My paternal grandmother, Corinne Tétreault, was French Canadian and ever since I was a child she had signed my birthday cards “Bon anniversaire. Je t’aime. Ta gran’mère.” That act started me on the road to becoming a Francophile.
Perhaps that’s why I took French all through high school then majored in it in university and graduated with my BA in French.
It was 1971. University graduation was in May, I turned 21 on June 14th and left for England and France on June 20th. What a whirlwind! I could barely breathe and felt a tightness in my chest at the same time as I hummed while I got ready for my adventure. I looked forward to being away from the handcuffs that Mom and Dad and society had placed on me.
No one in my immediate family had ever flown before – I’d be the first.
The dictionary definition of adventure states that it is “Engaging in an unusual and exciting, typically hazardous, experience or activity such as a trip or experience or the excitement produced by such an activity.”
I didn’t think this trip would be hazardous but Mom did! To me adventure is stepping out of my comfort zone and doing something I don’t normally do. This clearly met my criteria.
….
My three wound-up brothers came on the drive from London to Malton Airport, which later became Pearson, in Toronto on June 20.
On the two-hour drive, my youngest brothers, Philip who was 8 and John who was 6 squabbled constantly about who should have the window seat. It bothered my Dad and he often eyed them in the rear view mirror and snapped, “Stop that! Your arguing upsets me. I’m driving and have to focus on the highway!”
They’d stop for a while then start again and dad would do and say the same thing. It added to an already stressful day for all of us.
….
The airport building was vaster than anything we’d ever seen. We gaped. Swallowed up by its size, we looked up at the ceiling, Dad observed, “It’s so high that I can almost see clouds!”
The surroundings were abuzz with bustling people. Some hurried to board flights and others to get in lineups for check-in. There was an urgency in their movements. They spoke loudly to be heard above the din. Hawaiian shirts abounded. Sandals were the order of the day.
Looking around, I pointed to the line for my flight and en masse, we filed over and patiently awaited my turn at the desk chatting as we went. Like a racehorse entering his gate at a big race, I was pumped to board the plane.
Even though she smiled, Mom’s tense shoulders and wringing hands gave away her reluctance for me to travel alone so far.
Dad was proud of me and stood taller. He was grinning from ear to ear and I could hear him thinking, This is my daughter flying to France on her own.
John and Phil being kids were running around and playing with the stanchions. At one point Dad barked “Stop acting like little banshees and come and stand here!”
Mark didn’t exhibit his feelings – after all he had turned 19 today! – his words had said that he was extremely pleased for me, but I knew by his pouty lip as he spoke that he was actually envious.
Finally, I had checked in and we said goodbye and hugged each other. Dad squeezed me tightly. Mom’s eyes were filled with tears as she pulled me to her, kissed me, and whispered in my ear, “I love you. Be careful.” Disengaging myself, I moaned, “Don’t do that mom. Everybody’s looking.”
It was time to go. I waved at them as the sliding doors closed behind me. I paused and took a deep breath before I pressed ahead on my adventure.