The other day I was with friends in Parc Jourdan, a nearby park that has become one of my favorite places, when we were approached out of the blue by this older French lady. She quite reminded me of my own beloved grandmother with her small stature, defiant independence, and spunky personality. Although we only talked, or rather she talked to us, for a half hour, I found her to be one of the most fascinating humans I have ever come in contact with.
Without much introduction, she launched into her life story, taking no consideration for our initial level of interest, as if she knew her tale was incredible enough to capture the focus of even the shortest attention span. Because, you see, she helped liberate Aix and Corsica during World War II as a commander of the Navy, which she was able to sneak into going by the name of “Claude.” Mussolini himself called her a terrorist. She was an avid supporter of Charles de Gaulle and defended him to Winston Churchill, whose reply allegedly was, “I hate France.” Her support of de Gaulle also had her removed from a Swiss convent. She trained horses in Australia, starred in a Charlie Chaplin film, and made nice with the founder of Apple when she was in Canada. She was honored with the very first Apple computer, which she later gave to a museum. But as the owner of this computer, she was a pioneer for Europe’s technological development and was hired by the government to teach others how to use computers. She also served a prominent role in getting the women’s right to vote in France. All this, she said she accomplished “when she was young,” which we later decided must have meant the first 70 years of her life.
Claude understood the importance of a name. Her maiden name is Campana, “bell” in Spanish (“because I ring true!”). She married a man named de Beauregard, which in French literally means “of good looks,” saying “and he was quite handsome.” She also changed the names of several Jewish children on registrars so they would be accepted into schools where anti-Semitism was active. Her given name was Geneviève, but as I stated before, she went by “Claude,” because if she was thought to be a man, she would have more opportunities. She stated, “I lived in a time when they thought women were stupid.” After which she interrupted herself: “which we ARE because we love men!”
She showed us pictures of her grandchildren. I commented about how gorgeous they were and she corrected me: “All children are gorgeous.” Her love for children is evident, and is one of the main motivations for her many walks through Parc Jourdan. Another reason is that she was a catalyst in having this park put in place. She wrote the mayor herself and requested to have a park built for the children who attend the school just across the street instead of the housing development that was originally intended.
She was quite the spicy woman too. As we said our goodbyes, she thanked us for listening. She said to my comrades: “Thank you fine gentlemen for listening to me. It’s impossible to pick up boys when you’re 90.” What a kick! We told her she should write a book, but it sounds like she already has. However, she is leaving it in the hands of her daughter to publish once she has passed on.
I haven’t the slightest idea if all she says is true, and forgive me if I misquoted. Of this much I am sure: she exists. She repeated much of her story a couple times with the same facts, forgetting she had already told us. I tried to write down all she said, with the help of my comrades, the instant she walked away with everything fresh in our memory. I have seen her a couple times since then on her frequent strolls through the park. But each time as I begin to approach her, I see her walking up to seemingly another stranger, I assume to repeat her tale. I guess to really know, I just need to wait. I would never say I look forward to her death, but I do anticipate the day that her story is told.
