Mary and I, newly married, also boarded a plane for Europe, via Copenhagen, to visit Augey for a few days. Of course, Mary was expected to follow the French culture rules, so the first order of business was to go to Bordeaux to purchase a dress of “appropriate” length. A lot of people in the village of Rauzan were curious about “l’Américaine.” The Sunday Mass at the local church was well attended, as my mom told everyone she knew that we were going to be there! We were treated to a formal lunch with my brothers and sister, my tante Suzy and tonton Roger (Tante or Tantine and Tonton, as aunts and uncles were called in my family at the time). We all sat in our Sunday best for the two-hour lunch in the formal, marbled dining room of my family home. We felt very welcome and everybody was very impressed by Mary’s fluency in French. My dad served a 1928 Chateau Yquem, a world-renowned Sauternes, with dessert. That sweet, 40-year-old wine was absolutely delicious, a real treat! The bouquet and palate of this unique wine will always be with me.
We honeymooned in Rome for a few days, having a wonderful time visiting the Vatican, walking from plaza to plaza, admiring the fountains, as well as the sidewalk cafes and the young people rushing around on their Vespas. We traveled back to Copenhagen to return to Davis.
Mary quickly got a job at the university library and I had a part-time research assistant job. We easily settled in married life. My major professor, Dr. Ryugo, soon became a friend and mentor. Some French graduate students enjoyed coming over for dinner. My tennis friend from Rauzan, Philipe, came for a visit one weekend. We had a poorly-trained little dog, a chihuahua mix named ChouChou, who liked to run away.
Mary became pregnant in the spring. We didn’t have much, but we had each other. Before long, I obtained my permanent resident card, or green card, so there was little doubt we would stay in the U.S. In the fall, we received the sad news of Mary’s dad passing. It was without warning, and suddenly the pillar of her family was gone. He was a man of few words but infinite wisdom, and he was surely missed, especially by Mary and her sister Sally.
I started my research project, observing and recording the response of a synthetic growth retardant, Alar, on the maturity of peaches and nectarines. Lots of measurements needed to be taken on the developing fruit. While I was on the ladder in the fruit trees, Mary was recording the data, often in the blazing sunshine, and pregnant! The research produced some good results. After analyzing the data, it was time to write the thesis. With Mary’s encouragements and editing , the thesis was ready to be turned in and approved, ending my studies. Returning from a visit to LA, I saw a vineyard supervisor position advertised in a local Center Valley newspaper. I applied, got an interview, and was offered a job at E & J Gallo in Livingston, near Modesto in the Central Valley of California.
On January 3, 1970, Caroline was born. Maxine, Mary’s mother, arrived right away to help out. I remember after a day or two, Mary and her mom left me with the baby to run some errands. Of course, she started to cry and I totally panicked, not knowing what to do. “Why did it take you so long to get back?” I did not consider, I guess, that babies do cry sometimes.
We arranged with Father Coffee to have Caroline baptized right away before relocating to Livingston. Her grandmother scolded Father for pouring too much water on her head; it was winter after all! A few days later, the three of us moved to the Gallo ranch. The job consisted of supervising a crew of about thirty men, encouraging quality and speed. When the superintendent or ranch manager were visiting the crew, he would ask first, “How many vines an hour are they doing?” It was hard work, but it was all I could find, and we had a small, three-bedroom house rent free. It was dusty and very hot from May to October, out in the middle of nowhere.
When Caroline was just a few months old, Mary traveled to LA and brought her dear grandmother, her dad’s mom, back for a visit, which made our isolation a little more bearable. My mom came to visit in the fall for about two weeks. She took Caroline for rides in her stroller around the vineyard. Mary and my mom got along very well, speaking only French; Mary’s language skills improved immensely. I realized only much later how much my mom cared for us, and I know now she wished we would go back to live in France. But neither my father or my oldest brother, securely in charge of the family business, even suggested we come back. They believed they had given me a college education and now I was on my own. Mary became pregnant in the fall and Valerie was born April 14, 1971. We were stressed and life was hard.
