When I was about 13 one of my friends came for lunch and became very uncomfortable. She was from a family that didn’t sit down together for lunch. My mother had made Croque-Monsieurs (grilled ham and Swiss cheese sandwiches) and we were eating them with a fork and knife. She began to giggle uncontrollably while struggling with her fork. We offered her coffee after the meal and she had never seen espresso or the cups and little spoons that go with it. She started laughing so hard that she couldn’t stop and had to run upstairs. I ran after her to see if she was alright. She told me she was shocked by the constant French speaking. She also said that when we ate a sandwich with a fork and knife she thought it was like we were playing house and so when the espresso cups arrived with the tiny spoons it was like a huge joke. She was a coffee drinker but she couldn’t drink the espresso which she also found to be very strange. She had experienced a small culture shock at our house. I must add here that in the early seventies in this part of the South, you couldn’t exactly go anywhere for an espresso. We were lucky, however, to be living in a town that had enough foreigners in it due to the three nuclear physics labs to have a small import store where my mother was able to buy Dijon mustard, olive oil, French cheeses and coffee. We were also able to find bread that was close to original French bread. It was at a bakery which used to belong to a French baker who had long since gone but had left the recipe.

When I spoke to my mother in front of my friends, I always did so in French. I have never known my mother to listen to one word I said if I didn't say it in French.

She told me she was shocked by the constant French speaking. She also said that when we ate a sandwich with a fork and knife she thought it was like we were playing house and so when the espresso cups arrived with the tiny spoons it was like a huge joke.