Tapestry III: Cartoons and Romance

By Judith Taylor of Not Dead Yet!

PREAMBLE: Sometimes the tapestry of life's memories conceals sharp needles of sorrow for missed opportunities, for unfinished business or for useless and heartbreaking tragedies.

When I use the word 'romance', I don't mean ‘love’, the hard-working, hard-wearing, enduring emotion with which we make relationships work. I see it more as something spontaneous, light of touch and all too often ephemeral.

I was lucky enough to experience it, long before I thought of settling down. It was fleeting, and ended with sadness, but it enriched my life and is not forgotten. It also left me with a collection of cartoons which I treasure, and which I am posting here as a tribute to the young artist, who is now long gone.

I met Arsene when I visited my penfriend in France in July 1947. He was one of her group of friends in the small town where she lived, and because she had a 9-to-5 job during the week, she asked him to show me the sights of Paris where he worked and had a small studio flat. I must have stayed in a B&B or hotel.

He was a freelance political cartoonist and we used to start the day going round various newspapers to sell his drawings. Then we went sight-seeing and in the evening went to the cinema or the theatre. It was a heatwave summer and we stopped for endless fruit juices at pavement cafes, and often he would cook us an omelette and salad for lunch in his flat. The visiting card is a souvenir of all we saw and did, and he handed it to me in the train as I left Paris for England at the end of my visit.

When we met he was already engaged, although his fiancee was visiting her native Germany at that time, and I had already met and fallen in love with the man I was to marry nine years later. So we knew we were not going anywhere together; I recall a kiss and cuddle or two, but they were about as innocent as you can imagine, though looking back I am surprised at, and grateful for, his restraint.

Over the next five years we wrote to each other from time to time, and he was unashamedly sentimental about the days we spent together in Paris. He drew me many cartoons, and often illustrated his letters with the most charming designs.

And then, out of the blue, came the ‘faire-part’ - the traditional French black-bordered announcement of a death and a funeral. He had died at the age of 32, a talented, imaginative and sensitive young man, leaving a wife recovering from polio and two young daughters. I never knew why he died. I wrote to my penfriend but did not hear from her. It was hard to bear, although he was little to me by then but an occasional reminder of an enchanting interlude. I still grieve for his going.

Tapestry I: 50 Years to Say Goodbye
Tapestry II: Timothy Grass

Comments

[joared]

Summer interlude romances leave us with memories that linger all our lives I think. How nice you have his drawings to remind you. How sad he died so young. Surely somewhere someone must know what became of him. Now, I'll always wonder.

[kenju]

How sad is it not to know why he was taken so young.

[Ronni Prior]

Lovely story!

[Travelinoma]

Your definition of love is profound. This is a sweet story of young romance, seen with the wisdom of age. Great!

[Herm]

I submitted a story today. It was my first. My first time reading I chose you because I have a dear relative who shares your name. Last weekend I re-met a woman who was a summer love 43 years ago. For an hour we recaptured the butterflies of summer romance. How nice to read your story first. Good memories are the the Chamomile Tea we sip in our elder years.
Herm