My first visit to Gay Paris was as a child with my parents. Some young punk leaned over my shoulder in Monmarte and grabbed a handful of my fries. My Dad – a former golden-glover in New York State – stood up and decked le buffoon. One of my happier memories . No slight to the French – I’ve seen young men from many nationalities do stupid things that earned them a swat or two….

Years later, while transferring from Athens, Greece, to Rota, Spain – a fellow Sailor and I drove through the south of France. We stayed in Cannes and St. Tropez – two nights each. Great times, and I can still smell the food (and no one tried to steal my pomme fritte!)

Navy Chief, Navy Pride