My Life as a Young Boy in the Ozarks, by Francis Zimbeaux

At some time in the early years of my life, my artist father and my mother left their studio in Paris, France, where they had lived for many years on the Left Bank among all the artists of those days and where I was born on Bastille Day, the independence day of France. My mother and I went to England where her two maiden sisters lived and operated a little delicatessen store. My father came on to the U.S. to visit his sister, who he hadn’t seen since a small boy. It was a year or more before my mother and I came to the U.S. also, after he had opened a little studio in the small town of Carthage, MO, where his sister lived. That is how I came to know the Ozarks as a small boy.