Kenneth Avery is a Southern humorist with well over a thousand fans. The charm and wit in his writing span a nearly a decade.
A Video Speaks More Than 200 Words!
First off, and This is Honesty in Action
there is absolutely nothing whatsoever that can be considered as profane or suggestive in this hub. I realize that if I had presented such and the HubPages editors would have said it was fine, it is not a guaranteed fact that this hub, even with plenty of suggestive photos of scantily-clad women and talking in terms fit only for grown folks. So here I am. Content to go with what I know and give it all that I have.
I am now 66. My birthday is soon, but I will not tell you due to the fact that I will be old year older and no wiser than I am now. Just bring on the Cajun Turkey, Candied Yams, Collards, and Iced Tea. These things will be birthday presents a-plenty, but thanks anyway, that if you were tempted to send me money, food certificates, and those old-fashioned fruitcakes. What a great way to celebrate any holiday.
A Bit of Nostalgia 35 Years Ago
my dad, God rest his soul, was a veteran of W.W. II and served with honor, service, and sacrifice. I never heard him talk that much about what he went through, but I held my tongue and did my best to love and respect him. I came along when he was a much younger man and his was full of life. Nothing was hard for him to accomplish. He loved each day that God gave him. While I was a pre-teen, I sat and wondered if he ever met and became friends with any of those very pretty French women. Not that I would have been his judge if he had just shook French woman's hand, no, sir. But the adultery thing, no, sir. My dad was not cut from that type of leather. But that memory that I kept for years and him stayed with me and now it is time to talk about that.
Notice the photos on my hub and these are French women (or models) that I found out literally page-after-page of information about French women and W.W. II, but enough was enough. I just want to keep dad's memory isolated from all of the other things that happened in this awful time in life and just pretend that if I had been where my dad was, would I have been bold enough to make friends with a beautiful French woman?
French Women in 2020.
Let Me First Examine Myself
with all honesty I can tell you that when this memory was developed about me meeting a beautiful French woman, I was about 14, a great time to be a young guy in America, even though I was single, I was happy. Welll if you were a guy at (that) age, single, and content to take the girl several doors down to the Burger-Rama on a Friday night just so you would not die with honesty, but guys are dreamers. We are happy with our girlfriends and wives, but sometimes, now I said sometimes, those memories crop up and before we know it, we are smiling for no reason and working hard to not talk in our sleep.
My ideal place to be if I had been in Uncle Sam's Army, would have been in France where all of the restaurants are located. I figured that if I could not date a French woman, at least I would not starve. But when I would march into France, it would not be food that I grew fond of, it was those alluring French females. Guys, can I get an amen?
I Would Want a French Woman Like This:
her name would be (a) "Lili," or maybe (a) "Jenna," because these names sound so soft and feminine , just like the women who I would envision as I make my way past those wonderful French eateries where they are mostly alfresco.where I could stretch out my tired legs, put my M-1 rifle out of sight, and ask the waiter for some black Java and relax. With my rifle, I would also hide my helmet in order to look like a peaceful American, the easiest way to look attractive toward the Lili's and Jenna's, but for immoral purposes. To just have a meal with her and keep her as a long-distance French friend because I knew that on day, the war would end.
The French woman of my attraction would have thick, curly brunette hair that fell just to her shoulders and she barely smiled, but she had that friendly personality that I loved. She was careful about who I was and how I had asked her if she would like a cup of coffee. That took some doing, she told me later. Because she thought that I was bum. No wonder with all of the mud that was on my boots and uniform. We laughed about my down-trodden appearance a few hours later.
The two of us made talking to easily because what English words she knew made it easy for me to chat with her and the few French words made her laugh because I was a lousy Frenchman. She like cheese, red wine and ripe grapes and it was then I knew that she had a pretty figure due to eating like a bludbird. And she smiled so pretty, the way that her small nose winkled and she would take small bites as if she had not been to a meal in weeks.
On the other hand, I drank my coffee black and had a grilled cheese and a garden salad. Then as the day began to steal away, I knew that while she was here that I was going to ask her to read a few French poems for me and if she would be so nice, she could walk back to where my company and I were temporarily-stationed. I was too wise to let her walk too far because of the other male friends of mine who would all whistle and yell at a girl being this gorgeous. As you well know, men are men all around the world. The afternoon sun was playing hide and seek with the beautiful clouds and I knew then that she and I were going to be good friends and write to each other frequently.
No wonder my heart was beating fast when I hugged and kissed her on the lips if you do not mind. But before we parted, she read a poem (for me) that she had in her book of poems in her purse and I was so happy to hear something so nice coming from lips that were nice and here it is . . .
Silent sand, silent sand, hide me a grieving man
And wake my eyes and heart up to the dew of dawn.
Kiss me with a longing kiss; hide my soul as you can
And be still as breezes sway the life, the birds and fawn.
These URL's Are The Photos on This Hub:
https://www.express.co.uk/news/world/1031686/nazi-soldiers-collaborationists-germany-jerrybags-french-occupation Two women