tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15501119241400019052024-02-19T01:59:33.312-08:00Toutes DirectionsToutes Directions: Fumblings and Findings in the Francophone Worldtoutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-53473282933330527982011-08-05T08:50:00.000-07:002011-08-05T09:39:10.590-07:00French Fairy Tale: The Forest of Languages<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">For the last in-class writing assignment of the semester, I asked my second-level French students to compose a fairy tale that included at least three members of the class and demonstrated their ability to distinguish one form of the past tense from another. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One student, Michael, wrote a fairy tale that I found weirdly endearing, in part because he gave me an uncharacteristically heroic role in the final, apocalyptic battle of good versus evil. It’s the kind of thing you appreciate when, in a past life as a high school teacher, you occasionally found your name carved into desks and bathroom walls followed by profanity.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Michael made magic out of 200 words and 50 minutes. So, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I asked his permission to reprint a translation of the story. He granted it in an e-mail quoted (in excerption) below:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Bonjour Tara!!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Haha ABSOLUTELY you can publish it wherever you have my full permission yada yada haha.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-Michael"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Since everything I write these days requires annotation, I added endnotes, just for fun. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Enjoy!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Forest of Languages<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The good witch Madame TS adored going into the forest of languages because the students loved living in her house and listening to her.<b> (1) </b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One day, it was raining along the path . . . <b>(2)</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A long time ago, three students lived in a house in the forest of languages. Monsieur Stephen, Madame Margaret, and Monsieur Key <b>(3)</b> loved to study French! They studied with the good witch Miss T.S. This sorceress was a beautiful woman. She had very beautiful blond hair and blue-green eyes. <b>(4)</b> She loved to hear the students speak French when she came home. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today was different. The witch, the good Madame TS, reflected on the weather. It was raining! It was raining!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“It only rains when the mean sorcerer comes to the forest of languages! Oh no!” the witch, TS, said. “The students are in trouble.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She voyaged on her bicycle <b>(5)</b> towards the house where the students were studying. <b>(6) </b>She arrived and went into the house. It was dark, and she heard HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. <b>(7) </b>No! It was the mean sorcerer, Aaron! <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“The students are dead. Haha. <b>(8)</b> I made them speak English to each other. <b>(9)</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">NOOOOOOOOO. TS declared. She waved her wand and Aaron died. <b>(10)</b><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The sun came back out in the forest of languages.<b> (11)</b><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><br />
</b></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">FIN</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Endnotes </b></span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(1)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sweet, huh? How he has us all living in the same house in an enchanted learning community. But, as the story reveals, this sort of situation only ends in tragedy.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(2)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I find this clever for a couple of reasons: First, it mimics something that happens more often when you’re speaking in a foreign language: the loaded trail-off, where you wait for your listener to realize what you’re saying or not saying. Second, the seemingly unrelated meteorological mention introduces a detail that seems irrelevant but becomes important later.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(3)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These three students sit together in class and often work collaboratively. For some reason, only Michael goes by his last name, here.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(4)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The female lead in Michael’s stories is often an older woman whom he describes as stunningly beautiful. Last time it was Hilary Clinton. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(5)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I bike to class most days. I’m a little curious as to where I am when I’m not with the students. Do I have another student-family on the other side of the forest?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(6)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Notice how the students are studying French for the intrinsic joy of it even when I’m not there. They’re not texting each other and or checking Facebook. Then again, the story is set “a long time ago” and the Forest of Languages is probably too remote for Internet service. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(7)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What a great, bellowing run-on maniacal laugh by Aaron, who, in real life, is not an evil sorcerer, but a diligent, front-row student. It startled him to learn that he’d been cast as a ruthless, destructive villain in Michael’s story. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(8)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A more subdued, concise version of the earlier BWAHAHA laugh reveals Aaron’s total nonchalance about his murder spree. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(9)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This may be my favorite part: despite the fact that the students’ native language is English, the act of speaking English to each other during French study time is so antithetical to their beings that THEY ACTUALLY DIE. It’s like their souls just shrivel and cease to be when they can’t converse in French. If this really happened to someone in class, I bet the other students would never again have to be reminded to </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>parler en français.</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(10)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The word for “wand,” in French, is </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">baguette</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, the same word used to describe a long, thin loaf of French bread. My first year of teaching, I made a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">baguette magique</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> to use as a pointer: a shellacked French-bread wand wound in sparkle garland with a silver star shooting out of the end. So, that’s the wand I imagine as the instrument of death. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(11)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’m still not sure how to interpret my choice to kill the evil sorcerer: Am I destroying him because there’s an immediate threat? Is this an act of vengeance for wiping out the most obedient, assiduous class-family ever? Or am I just stamping out the villain so the fairy tale can end?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-add-space: auto; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo3; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none; text-indent: -.25in;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(12)</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></span></span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This conclusion is eerie. The return of sunlight and the disappearance of the evil sorcerer suggest a happy ending. But in this happily ever after, there I am, alone under a sunbeam in the middle of the woods, surrounded by four dead young adults. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-75245930225252772882011-07-14T22:41:00.000-07:002011-07-15T08:35:31.128-07:00N.O., N.O., N.O., and 4 Bottles of Rum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7y3Re-nnWJikt8mc69Z7X-knlz7-eZUT9NxzI-uWEG5exF12lA3jS1WwvTVEVlhVXXIb14wcHLDG_nK7_46GL735mqAMsAgKgqiTHKl89hi691VTcu3IgUoA0sGFJrWx7RlwV8Ei-bo/s1600/4+bottles.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx7y3Re-nnWJikt8mc69Z7X-knlz7-eZUT9NxzI-uWEG5exF12lA3jS1WwvTVEVlhVXXIb14wcHLDG_nK7_46GL735mqAMsAgKgqiTHKl89hi691VTcu3IgUoA0sGFJrWx7RlwV8Ei-bo/s400/4+bottles.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">If you’ve ever read the <a href="http://www.sailorsongs.com/yo_ho_ho_and_a_bottle_of_rum.html">lyrics of “Yo, Ho, Ho, and a Bottle of Rum,”</a> you know that that rum can prove perilous. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">With rum, one runs the risk of pirates run riot. (Try saying that 3 times fast after you’ve had a shot or so.) <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">After much reading and re-reading of lyrics, and a little vocabulary acquisition (A “boozy ken” is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">not</i> Barbie’s boyfriend after he’s had a few, but rather a 19<sup>th</sup> century alehouse. And a “plucky jade” is my new favorite word for floozy), I’ve determined that this is what the song is about: </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Some sailors come across a pirate ship where the whole crew of 15 has murdered each other in the most gross-out, gory ways possible. Really, it’s Shakespearean in scale, this mass murder, only more creative.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">How did the pirates go? Well, the bosum was “brained with a marlinspike,” someone strangled the “cookey . . . with fingers ten,” the skipper “lay with his nob in gore,” because “the scullion’s axe his cheek had shore” (ouch.) and the scullion, apparently, got “stabbed four times.” (And you thought <i><a href="http://artandperception.com/2007/10/gericaults-the-raft-of-the-medusa-by-tree.html">The Raft of the Medusa</a></i> was bad . . . ) I’ve never read <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Treasure Island</i>, the book where the lyrics originated, but from the song alone it’s never clear what caused all the hubbub.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Is the brawl about booty? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">(“But which booty?” my friend Leah asked as we puzzled over the lyrics. “Are they fighting over the dead man’s chest full of Spanish gold or the plucky jade on the bunker cot?”)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">“Ohh! I know what the problem was!” I volunteer, all Nancy Drew-like. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">“So, counting the plucky jade, they had sixteen people . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">And only one bottle of rum.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">It’s the kind of poor planning that could cause a mutiny. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Especially if their liquor tasted anywhere near as good as the kind my roommie and I sampled on our last trip to New Orleans.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">A couple of weeks ago, the two of us had the pleasure of visiting <a href="http://www.neworleansrum.com/index.php">Old New Orleans Louisiana Rum</a>, the only rum distillery in the Southeast. And, having suffered through many brewery tours in a few different countries for the sake of a free beer, I have to say that regardless of your opinion on rum, this is a treat. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIbT4GrWtICnHbVRYnbFnDlYBzFbwBwjIsSkALElTxy6rLJThWlTfxPCDpbMSykY29KKpg2eFNFioLpbKYi2Cc3FcjnrthCPx9BCV8YlcPAMgAuDIQQI7thYwWac0Pu9Ms5_xQyfvW9s/s1600/door.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMIbT4GrWtICnHbVRYnbFnDlYBzFbwBwjIsSkALElTxy6rLJThWlTfxPCDpbMSykY29KKpg2eFNFioLpbKYi2Cc3FcjnrthCPx9BCV8YlcPAMgAuDIQQI7thYwWac0Pu9Ms5_xQyfvW9s/s400/door.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bienvenue . . .</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">My favorable opinion began a few hours before the tour when I learned that the distillery offers a pick-up service from two locations in the quarter. Logical, right? Why have tourists taxi out to Gentilly, when you can genteely offer them a lift? Or why risk tipsily trekking homeward, when a bus can deliver you back to a place where you can take public transit?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">The second thing that distinguished the Old New Orleans Rum visit from any other form of alcohol-inspired tourism I’ve tried was that our tour guide offered us something to sip as soon as we arrived. A few minutes in, we were sampling a glass of Cajun Sweet Tea (spiked, of course). So, immediately, it felt like we were being hospitably shown around someone’s home while leisurely having a drink. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSakQE1gSuEQJyiKRoFiEpXod7l2vP8_bMztZFI08MI5wlYHW5vOSPNGiQDNV81ugO09RA0rqT1mvwWXcwGEHkL8g0rmlq1Y8OokZt79LyNb_aaJd2TnLH1i7TUenOo0FlwJaYEiFccdo/s1600/Sweet+Tea.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSakQE1gSuEQJyiKRoFiEpXod7l2vP8_bMztZFI08MI5wlYHW5vOSPNGiQDNV81ugO09RA0rqT1mvwWXcwGEHkL8g0rmlq1Y8OokZt79LyNb_aaJd2TnLH1i7TUenOo0FlwJaYEiFccdo/s400/Sweet+Tea.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cheers! In the winter, you get something warm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">Often, on tours, I realize about halfway through, that as much as I enjoy a glass of wine or a pint of beer or a flute of champagne or a shot of whisky, I’m less interested in its past life in a cave or vat or barrel. Then, I get the fidgets like some kid. I wonder how much more education I’ll have to endure before they break out the booze. Not so, on this tour.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajSUfzQM0UFEWIDnn8T4CsPCxjwa6EqZulrFM5bRKTQ2jvFu8hvMlV7h8ZPg2IrtFYmIvH854DNw3RX85a1hQTc8uWZzVxJ4LZqVE1RSFG3_6M6R7_ya0k58p7MZfwoYE6OkXqawcx-s/s1600/VATS.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajSUfzQM0UFEWIDnn8T4CsPCxjwa6EqZulrFM5bRKTQ2jvFu8hvMlV7h8ZPg2IrtFYmIvH854DNw3RX85a1hQTc8uWZzVxJ4LZqVE1RSFG3_6M6R7_ya0k58p7MZfwoYE6OkXqawcx-s/s400/VATS.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">While we learned about the science of rum-making, the emphasis is more on artistry and improvisation, which makes since given that the owner, James Michalopoulos, is an artist who (enviably) divides his time between Paris and New Orleans. Roommie and I look at each other and nod. This Michalopoulas knows what’s up. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Lcq8zQ8wuPqxjCMWgzanKfBIhqMDJX3pIaygUNFOHjRL_Q2LknFfBm4CkPttHRRTHaACDe6rZPGwiW8W__oW7Xaqqd8JDBQXO2-VIDap03vtkOxDL_wW4PgHHmipH43mhB4RvM0Jr-M/s1600/nose.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6Lcq8zQ8wuPqxjCMWgzanKfBIhqMDJX3pIaygUNFOHjRL_Q2LknFfBm4CkPttHRRTHaACDe6rZPGwiW8W__oW7Xaqqd8JDBQXO2-VIDap03vtkOxDL_wW4PgHHmipH43mhB4RvM0Jr-M/s400/nose.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Imagine molasses. That's the aroma of this pirate's potion.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">That was the first reason to like Michalopoulos, despite having never met him. The second reason was that he could paint an old truck in a way that captured all its noble romance. I turn to Roomie after we stare at one canvas in the lobby for a minute. “Wanna pool our student loans and get this one for the living room?” The third reason to appreciate Michalopoulos was the names of his paintings, which all attest to an affinity for assonance and alliteration. And wordplay, more generally. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Examples: An image of the river sloshing against a boat, then sliding back toward the shore is called <a href="http://www.michalopoulos.com/giclees/">“Lap Dance.” </a> A night light vision of a saltwater-taffy shaded balcony houses is <a href="http://www.michalopoulos.com/prints-posters/">“Moon Swoon.”</a> A giraffe against a swirled sky is <a href="http://www.michalopoulos.com/prints-posters/">“Starry Safari.”</a> And another I liked, though I’ve only half-decoded its <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">double entendre</i> title, is a close up of a cow’s called <a href="http://www.michalopoulos.com/giclees/">“Vashmont Beau.” </a><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">In French, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">vachement</i> colloquially means “very,” a hipper version of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">très</i>. Though literally, it translates to something like cow-ly. It was the first slang word I learned after arriving in France. So, is Vashmont, the town where the cow’s found? The name of the pasture’s owner? The beast, itself? <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Our tour guide, Bob Songy, was a Louisiana native and had the kind of sonorous southern accent and teacher’s talent for storytelling that made me want to sit up and take notes. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nEDjdXH4sUmN6qeHjtmRbqjxbiL1xHYw3GfeUHv54o1d6SnVU9cVaPTzCY9xiMgEjQmOntIaHfoXr0gGoxAHgDE6neEgGw8LrDvwEg73nNUm9LQImhgJkE4ItTsqWYHB6vAJX7doabA/s1600/katrina.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nEDjdXH4sUmN6qeHjtmRbqjxbiL1xHYw3GfeUHv54o1d6SnVU9cVaPTzCY9xiMgEjQmOntIaHfoXr0gGoxAHgDE6neEgGw8LrDvwEg73nNUm9LQImhgJkE4ItTsqWYHB6vAJX7doabA/s400/katrina.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our tour director, Bob Songy, showing up the watermark for the flooding during Katrina. Note the change in color on the beam.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">In fact, I took so many that he started getting curious about all the jottings in my little book. “Send me a copy!” he said and handed me his vertical business card that resembles a replica of the distillery’s door in miniature (which matches the label of their award-winning spiced rum). Down to the smallest details, there’s artistry in everything there. I tuck it into my journal.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">“The joke around here is that Bacardi spills more on the floor than we make in a year,” he said. Right now, Old New Orleans Rum makes 55,000 bottles annually, though within the next few years that sum will double. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UXsjp1tASoRAxGzDlWWNctFRoccHphMgfxvl7mVwHyAD8wM729VbtSz7ZYr2jOdDNLeWHzkbPCuzHhin9yWwYrSZQS6toRPBk-uRXuN3VemyhMgYKFSrMislPi6a560y9E-pg0-3awM/s1600/still+life%252C+primary+colors.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-UXsjp1tASoRAxGzDlWWNctFRoccHphMgfxvl7mVwHyAD8wM729VbtSz7ZYr2jOdDNLeWHzkbPCuzHhin9yWwYrSZQS6toRPBk-uRXuN3VemyhMgYKFSrMislPi6a560y9E-pg0-3awM/s400/still+life%252C+primary+colors.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still Life in Primary Colors</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">Here’s another detail I loved: The neck of each special-edition bottles is hand-dipped in a crock-pot of blue wax, which runs down the sides differently on each one. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFWfo5AeqmQyf1ai2HgqimPThtNLMN_YlV-rmkEzAcHLM10vJOW5BskqgXF2crammcz9ciLocLyhaZkt4mKwJEe4URV4JV9Oxq-62SCfYU0IAK-ldbN4rSMTIlxcjJyaV3_45UdJm6e4/s1600/bottles+wax.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaFWfo5AeqmQyf1ai2HgqimPThtNLMN_YlV-rmkEzAcHLM10vJOW5BskqgXF2crammcz9ciLocLyhaZkt4mKwJEe4URV4JV9Oxq-62SCfYU0IAK-ldbN4rSMTIlxcjJyaV3_45UdJm6e4/s320/bottles+wax.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">Post-dipping, they’re stamped with Louisiana’s signature <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fleur de lys</i>, which also marks all of the barrels. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGe7E3HDWk4N8ma8mr0Na-j75ZKLjYws5FYX0m2J_I-O1lyNSaBeEObOPxFNvct6rs7xG7zMosEVbJoFI3lhyphenhyphenn-7UVYFjw-18NZn9hni0LINM39zO_mfhm78lV-CJqrab3CgwdZiKVPHw/s1600/barrels.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGe7E3HDWk4N8ma8mr0Na-j75ZKLjYws5FYX0m2J_I-O1lyNSaBeEObOPxFNvct6rs7xG7zMosEVbJoFI3lhyphenhyphenn-7UVYFjw-18NZn9hni0LINM39zO_mfhm78lV-CJqrab3CgwdZiKVPHw/s400/barrels.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oak barrels that held bourbon before they came here.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">“What is it with you people and the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fleur de lys</i>?” Songy quoted all the out-of-towners asking. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Fleurdelisé</span></i><span style="color: #434343;"> is a French word that means covered in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fleurs de lys</i>, and it’s the perfect adjective for New Orleans. It was the symbol of the Bourbon dynasty when France owned Louisiana and it has stuck, since. You can purchase cookie cutters in its shape, have it tattooed on your arm, even buy <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fleur de lys</i> diapers, Songy notes. (Where else, besides New Orleans, could a football team get away with having a flower as their symbol?)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">My favorite part of the tour was seeing the rows of labels and varied bottle types Michalopoulos designed. Eventually, Songy said, they told the artist he’d need to settle on something and stick with it for the purposes of product identification. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWX-SNbWV7NuhL09R_M6fbbnjGzYQPpUUlpklTU3BO4UYKBYjsSMqQf7q4uDpqysxncD56mfoxY4bVZ4_xUdIpnkYIiqAyK9PbCF4jHr4-loy0UNs8bgCcZoXVSWd0OhspELBGtFS6sw/s1600/Labels.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOWX-SNbWV7NuhL09R_M6fbbnjGzYQPpUUlpklTU3BO4UYKBYjsSMqQf7q4uDpqysxncD56mfoxY4bVZ4_xUdIpnkYIiqAyK9PbCF4jHr4-loy0UNs8bgCcZoXVSWd0OhspELBGtFS6sw/s400/Labels.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In case you're wondering, 29/90 is the longitude and latitude of New Orleans.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9yfEDlCHsPU-o_2KeCK4piO-kqf1uLWoHhU_OtsFbs5kPjCJfN26eTlFnX8E5JaxGibIiy_m7nr9YQPnfvkz0q_KwZBWLrfXDO_oCnYoEtPSsZNxljhhO74lcbFI2PJ6Dtk9l5NlPl0/s1600/bottle+up+close.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX9yfEDlCHsPU-o_2KeCK4piO-kqf1uLWoHhU_OtsFbs5kPjCJfN26eTlFnX8E5JaxGibIiy_m7nr9YQPnfvkz0q_KwZBWLrfXDO_oCnYoEtPSsZNxljhhO74lcbFI2PJ6Dtk9l5NlPl0/s400/bottle+up+close.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The winning design. Print inside.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">We concluded the tour with a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dégustation</i> of four types of rum:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">1) A light Crystal, with a sparkly vanilla taste<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">2) A blended Amber, aged three years and caramel coated<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">3) A Cajun Spice, a cayenne peppery potpourri of perfection<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">4) A 10 Year Special Edition, aged in oak, ripe and reddish, and “steeped in the tropical heat of New Orleans,” to cite the phrasing on the place page<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Know what rhymes with rum? Yum.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">They even poured a few extras, in case we were still thirsty. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Unlike on the pirate ship, there was enough to go around.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyf0mL9OOOmkixGuao7jISnM_FdjaZMJiIQoiTZN9UW1oledo4OnzZGePmtJgiyla8FEzQ8YyJTo5ArAVEThgrBRImnrJBl5T3YsXg0kHQsbmgya7NSihq-Nwy-MlrQp5ujK7hUU2BbI/s1600/Cutting+up.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeyf0mL9OOOmkixGuao7jISnM_FdjaZMJiIQoiTZN9UW1oledo4OnzZGePmtJgiyla8FEzQ8YyJTo5ArAVEThgrBRImnrJBl5T3YsXg0kHQsbmgya7NSihq-Nwy-MlrQp5ujK7hUU2BbI/s400/Cutting+up.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutting up, after the tour.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><i>**Thanks to Roommie, who contributed much of the photo documentation.</i></span></div></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-83378755051556607672011-07-03T20:41:00.000-07:002011-07-05T13:40:14.848-07:00The One That Got Away<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; line-height: normal;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"</span></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are no ordinary cats." -Colette</span></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr66RYYRWPt_Mw8jD6HAfLLrr811MfaZNWAFXP4Hs2MJ6aGIOiljvP7jpu8ZQ40zmCiXGeANv4oLzDUZEugRFKITO2l3w6n2sSEMN8NcJtWZW2bXSauyCz9n8iKWp7jOHuDaT7Aptkc88/s1600/IMG_1364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr66RYYRWPt_Mw8jD6HAfLLrr811MfaZNWAFXP4Hs2MJ6aGIOiljvP7jpu8ZQ40zmCiXGeANv4oLzDUZEugRFKITO2l3w6n2sSEMN8NcJtWZW2bXSauyCz9n8iKWp7jOHuDaT7Aptkc88/s400/IMG_1364.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then one day, she went. From sunning herself on the sill where I’d lifted the window—she: peaceful, plump, and nodding off in the June humidity, me: post-coffee and pre-yoga, admiring her stillness as I scrambled to make it out of the door on time—to sliding through the tear in the screen, nudging wider in the wire mesh the hole that seemed gaping when I found it hours later. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I imagine a breeze ruffling her fur first, towards her tail where the open spot was. Then (I imagine) her, eyes wide, jerking her head in that direction. Seeing in the ripped slit of the screen a portal to a different existence.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A three-feet leap to the ground. A cat’s gallop across the lawn. Not seen since.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">B . . . <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I admired her entitlement. The way she bounded onto a freshly-made bed, linens still warm from the dryer, to sprawl in the center. The way she could “sleep 20 hours/ a day/ without hesitation/ or remorse,” to reference a </span><a href="http://photocamel.com/forum/pets/37351-my-cats-poem-charles-bukowski.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">poem by Bukowski</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, another cat lover. But I also admired her ability to be perfectly low maintenance, to nap just as comfortably on a crooked pile of books and papers.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She had a streak of the savage. She cooed like a tropical bird when pawing at moths. She annihilated cockroachs, leaving the litter of their limbs for me to find later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She intently watched the acrobatics of the squirrels in the tree outside the windows of my old house, rushing along the ledges in pursuit as the squirrels leapt between branches. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A kittenhood injury had left her right leg weaker, so she extended it when seated upright, dangling it over the edges of beds and bookshelves like a lounge singer.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It impressed me that she intuited whom I should trust, and whom I shouldn’t, often before I did. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She had many meows and loved hiding and pretending to be invisible.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Losing this cat is making me act kinda weird,” I wrote to a friend a week later. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wander around the neighborhood calling her name. I crawl under the houses of people I don’t know with a flashlight. Then, when they catch me, with cobwebs in my ponytail and grass imprinted on my knees, I say things like, “This cat was like my family,” or “I wanted us to grow old together and retire to the Riviera.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I leave bowls of water and food by each entrance to the house. When I hear rustling, I rush down the stairs and throw upon the door and watch as a stray scuttles off. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I mention buying a cat trap then wonder aloud to my housemate if I’ll just end up with rabies from the strays. Then she says, a little more earnestly than one would expect, “Well, maybe you need to go ahead and catch rabies so you can be sure you’ve done everything you could do. I’ll give you the shots afterwards. There aren’t as many now as there used to be.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few days later, I’m talking to a gardener who thinks he spotted her, after seeing my LOST CAT ad taped to the stop sign.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“So, the cat had never been outside?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“No. Well, sometimes she’d dart out for a second till I grabbed her. But . . . no.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“And the cat’s five years old?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">He shook his head. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“You can’t do that. Not with people, not with cats. A cat’s a wild thing. Free spirit. Same as you. Don’t like to be closed up. Maybe she just wanted to go on a little walk around the neighborhood. Who’s to say she’s even LOST?” he said, his voice faintly echoing the alarmist font of the flyer. “She could know exactly where she is.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLCAwexZioUVlF1VteuhXk7BZ45LRLSjz_Juis46XtoKTNKay4qlg1cMWsmjyoobfRCp7VuAyK1Wbm-LDFX7B5TQPyis2xj48-Rx9oX5tTGMcSR_pkp9HEKXlJXMog4AlWauqqx0WOlw/s1600/IMG_1367.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcLCAwexZioUVlF1VteuhXk7BZ45LRLSjz_Juis46XtoKTNKay4qlg1cMWsmjyoobfRCp7VuAyK1Wbm-LDFX7B5TQPyis2xj48-Rx9oX5tTGMcSR_pkp9HEKXlJXMog4AlWauqqx0WOlw/s400/IMG_1367.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Could I blame her? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-align: justify; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For wanting to dirty up her coat and hunt something bigger than a bug and sharpen her claws on bark and play </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">cache-cache</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> with the other cats and sleep in the shade of a banana plant. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Maybe this wasn’t the vision she had for her life. Sitting on the desk, watching me plod and peck at my thesis. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’d type in something Homi K. Bhabha said, then she’d yawn, stand up, walk across the keyboard in response: ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm000gggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggj77777777777777777777oo’/taaaqaqau9ds Ut-----l[yµ?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I know, B,” I’d cheerily corroborate. “That’s what I think, too, but we may have to phrase it differently.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then, she’d leap off the desk and onto the bed for a nap, irritated that I was always dismissing her contributions.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“Don’t look like that,” said the gardener, “You’re gonna get me crying. I've cried over a horse, a chicken, a </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">goat</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, a dog . . . But I think it's pretty bad when you cry over a plant.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #757575;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I laugh a little, because I think it's hypothetical. Then I remember that he's a gardener.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I glance back at the house where I see the plant in the window where B used to sit. Think of its browning leaves. When I had asked the man at the nursery around the corner about indoor plants, he commented, “It’s already a lot to ask of any plant for it to live inside, but it can survive fine, with enough light and water.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"I know someone musta poured something in that plant. I KNOW it . . . I took such good care of it," said the gardener. His eyes go glassy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And I think . . . it always feels the same. Being separated from something you love.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Plant. </span><span style="color: #1a1a1a;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Goat</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">. Cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #757575;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The funny injustice of loss, that leaves you, fifteen years later, in a different part of the country, saying to a woman you just met, "But I watered it every day."</span><o:p></o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-82558593134321595682011-06-08T08:36:00.000-07:002011-06-08T15:07:31.959-07:00Mardi Gras is a Legal Holiday in Louisiana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><b><i><span style="color: #434343;"><a href="http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/theadvocate/obituary.aspx?n=daniel-konrad-willis&pid=151448575">With great memories of Dan Willis (August 11, 1954 - May 30, 2011)</a></span></i></b></span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OuyCBn77lyKjv0Yxbp56j8cAujIbOLNIZfxYPIPpU0b4_1H8RqBUMQTur-J1lxIJbA02azMzR3xozrhFGfGMYzOXTLWbAjD471pWTU1UxBa_pK5oni8JEdobeZu3sVG_sHaELHhADfM/s1600/IMG_1193_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-OuyCBn77lyKjv0Yxbp56j8cAujIbOLNIZfxYPIPpU0b4_1H8RqBUMQTur-J1lxIJbA02azMzR3xozrhFGfGMYzOXTLWbAjD471pWTU1UxBa_pK5oni8JEdobeZu3sVG_sHaELHhADfM/s400/IMG_1193_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Store Sign in Downtown Eunice</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Outside of Louisiana, it’s hard to grasp what Mardi Gras means, in-state.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> For me, as a child from another place, Mardi Gras just meant a pancake dinner in a church fellowship hall. A few dollars for a few pancakes swirled over with synthetic syrup. Then busily, we went about Lent, repentant. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">I imagined, then, that in New Orleans, people paraded on Mardi Gras day but would have never guessed that the Fat Tuesday festivities were actually the culmination of <a href="http://www.mardigrasneworleans.com/schedule.html">weeks of parades</a>.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> And that all day, every day parading began the weekend before Mardi Gras. Or that everyone, from kindergarteners to university students had several days off from school. Or that people decorated their houses with beads and wreaths and colored lights. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Or that Mardi Gras was actually a legal holiday on the scale of Christmas or Thanksgiving.</b> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">I was reminded of all of this during <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1460249909">last week’s episode of </a><i><a href="http://www.hbo.com/treme/index.html#/treme/episodes/2/17-carnival-time/synopsis.html">Treme</a></i>, set during Mardi Gras season. </span></b><span style="color: #434343;">As friends and I ohhed and ahhed over the king cake that one New York transplant received from a friend in New Orleans, Helana <a href="http://www.clearlydeliciousfoodblog.com/2011/king-cake/">(who makes an excellent King Cake, herself)</a> said, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“You know, the rest of the country is probably really confused by this entire episode.”</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Which seemed possible, though it summed up a lot, and I appreciated that David Simon hadn’t explained everything—just let you glimpse and guess:</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> the neon green, gold, and purple gooey goodness of king cake, the grandeur of the Mardi Gras Indians, the lengths people go to for trophy throws, like Zulu’s coconuts or Muses’ shoes, the way Bourbon Street shuts down at the stroke of midnight like a dirty version of Cinderella, and how there’s an entirely different tradition in the country, in towns like Basile, Iota, Eunice, and Mamou.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Mamou is where I spent last Mardi Gras day, with my friend Leah and her father, Dan Willis. <o:p></o:p></span></b><br />
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</span></b><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQTys5ZCotIvBOeVjv9rLGLLGXIqTstzelfhL5WYl12ur1ahhUQY5Cg66Ba3KveShqqa5N-N7aBeHFLJafKqvYxNQSuIqwnXB8lI1Gti6soBvBuXk7R_Al0jZueDmioPXLpLAK-0YPeI/s1600/IMG_1195_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWQTys5ZCotIvBOeVjv9rLGLLGXIqTstzelfhL5WYl12ur1ahhUQY5Cg66Ba3KveShqqa5N-N7aBeHFLJafKqvYxNQSuIqwnXB8lI1Gti6soBvBuXk7R_Al0jZueDmioPXLpLAK-0YPeI/s400/IMG_1195_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">I think we should do the country Mardi Gras this year</span></b><span style="color: #434343;">, she’d said, and I responded a little non-commitally, much like the DJ on the show. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">The Courir de Mardi Gras</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> . . . I loved the idea of following a caravan of men dressed in hand-sewn costumes riding on horseback from house to house as they begged for the ingredients of a communal gumbo to be cooked at the end of the day when the riders galloped back into town, but it seemed to raise an obvious problem, one also evoked on the show: <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">being in Mamou on Mardi Gras meant not being in New Orleans.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">It’s worth it, she said simply.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> The DJ on the show wasn’t convinced to go, but I was. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Lundi Gras 2011:</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> Dan, Leah, and I arrive in Grand Mamou in time for an outdoor dance near the famed Fred’s Lounge. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">First, we sampled barbeque sandwiches and boudin and crawfish nachos. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKjgxH8OnY96VowLd1sB66VmwbGlJIJMenV9Ii2mJJ3Nf9tmnwriHEAEmsME1ZsmxHMZgTartdPW-8gjUiD1oSzd-l5kfJq41jg-yz5YRXAm-6WdfLDZuqt2DEZNVsgNMIHBrdH20-d0/s1600/IMG_1171_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKjgxH8OnY96VowLd1sB66VmwbGlJIJMenV9Ii2mJJ3Nf9tmnwriHEAEmsME1ZsmxHMZgTartdPW-8gjUiD1oSzd-l5kfJq41jg-yz5YRXAm-6WdfLDZuqt2DEZNVsgNMIHBrdH20-d0/s400/IMG_1171_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boudin: Pork Sausage with Rice Inside</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">“I think we should taste everything,” Dan said.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">“Your Dad makes an excellent point,” I seconded.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">So, we food-stand hopped.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoc40vASGCRcxUn_eEx_MlH2vK6XdzwYab_NNRiIo172za85T9_EIujnkk5tSj42pa6bzNXisvKabdhFwGQmpb3fmMNVnrQtWtAxM8eb0mzw9K2IQklcMg7E3rOhH4dnvPaoDl_L2mzE/s1600/IMG_1122_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOoc40vASGCRcxUn_eEx_MlH2vK6XdzwYab_NNRiIo172za85T9_EIujnkk5tSj42pa6bzNXisvKabdhFwGQmpb3fmMNVnrQtWtAxM8eb0mzw9K2IQklcMg7E3rOhH4dnvPaoDl_L2mzE/s400/IMG_1122_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Then we scrawled something a little rowdy in the guest book for the time capsule. Something some member of the historical society probably whited out later.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Finally, we wandered into the field of hundreds of locals bobbing to the zydeco beats of a live band blaring out over the trampled grass.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKLwsT7MAMfpFYxRwzYgPNqTMDgvfaBAukbXUWxZCZzZHR6c5cB3JrWPgryQLKVwOCmZuqMht5X2LviA63pWnG947MgQbPI9BH7lz4ECzYicKGYVjx6ducMYYo1tTFjTv1Mn_VLxVJLo/s1600/IMG_1126_1.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyKLwsT7MAMfpFYxRwzYgPNqTMDgvfaBAukbXUWxZCZzZHR6c5cB3JrWPgryQLKVwOCmZuqMht5X2LviA63pWnG947MgQbPI9BH7lz4ECzYicKGYVjx6ducMYYo1tTFjTv1Mn_VLxVJLo/s400/IMG_1126_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">Leah’s father pulled us into a huddle in the middle of the swaying dancers, some of whom had balanced cans of beer on their heads as they moved to the music, and spoke real low:</span><br />
<span style="color: #434343;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #434343;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Look, girls. Our job is to liven these people up. We bring the fun wherever we go, got it? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">We bring the fun</i>. He said it like the future depended on it. Like we had better not mess this up, damnit.</span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">So, we each took one of his hands, looped through each others’ limbs as we spun and leapt and rolled into his arms then unfurled like party streamers, weaving together then untangling against the starry sky in Big Mamou. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">Girls, I think our work is done here, he said after half an hour. . . .</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">But those people over there look a little bored. C’mon. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">We moved through another patch of dancers. And another. Shimmied. Shaked. Got jovial. Got joyous. Brought the fun until he declared our work done.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">My Dad’s ready to party, Leah had warned me when she picked me up. Hope you can keep up.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">The next morning, we woke up before six and made our way to the site of the prior night’s gathering, wondering if some people had never left. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Men having Bud Light for breakfast danced on horses and sung the Mardi Gras song until it was time to gather for a secret meeting,</b> (which I envisioned as a slightly larger version of our huddle) before meandering down the highway. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5-DeQijtUQ1bpFsAj4CafgjKCO-W8rPB7HGM7VDavR_SOJ71GoRBql1WBrss5w9iHEs5BuXXdyv4DU0Lrhd5YZEey4HEDEiupX1iYID5bFhHIxFGsrPaDmoDwX1aCtT4eTbuZoa4wBs/s1600/IMG_1146_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5-DeQijtUQ1bpFsAj4CafgjKCO-W8rPB7HGM7VDavR_SOJ71GoRBql1WBrss5w9iHEs5BuXXdyv4DU0Lrhd5YZEey4HEDEiupX1iYID5bFhHIxFGsrPaDmoDwX1aCtT4eTbuZoa4wBs/s400/IMG_1146_1.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pre-Ride Meeting, Right Before the Door Closed</td></tr>
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">Granted, with the horses and hoods, the preponderance of white men and the closed discussions, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">it can briefly feel like you stumbled into a group of Klansmen. But the tradition dates back to the medieval <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">fête de la quémande</i>, when rural communities pooled their resources in the harshest period of winter. </b>The hoods or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">capuchons</i>, mock the elaborate hairstyles of women nobility and the garb of religious figures like the pope. It’s actually <a href="http://www.legis.state.la.us/lss/lss.asp?doc=78402">illegal</a> to wear a hooded costume or head covering in Louisiana except for on the expected occasions and for religious purposes, seemingly because of the association of facial coverings with Klan activities. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9xSa2vx0zMLv5kOYah4yfktgtGfSFjXfhMPvzmrQgUL74RPRJrja0Co3FfstHvbmGj6yfJQ1ytZDLo9Z91ZtAbqQPdQ8P1ed3Vc9rII4P9Qi8cwoILL2AxB2Oa_Mfm_mI4p5qZVe01M/s1600/IMG_1140_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ9xSa2vx0zMLv5kOYah4yfktgtGfSFjXfhMPvzmrQgUL74RPRJrja0Co3FfstHvbmGj6yfJQ1ytZDLo9Z91ZtAbqQPdQ8P1ed3Vc9rII4P9Qi8cwoILL2AxB2Oa_Mfm_mI4p5qZVe01M/s400/IMG_1140_1.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In the Morning, Pre-Courir</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;">At each house on the route, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">capitaine</i>, the only uncostumed member of the caravan, spoke to the owner and asked for permission to approach. Neighbors contributed ingredients . . . rice, vegetables, chickens . . . the latter gets tossed into the air while twenty or so men scramble through the mud to catch them. Then, everyone sings the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mardi-Gras-Song-Mamou-14/dp/B000V5G0DK">Mardi Gras song</a> and dances for a few minutes before moving to the next house.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8Noz6t30FuSSqnNzHVGRrM3XnR3GXbt3Uf-y9zFmCvlfhdtfKmi8QhkdCsAuHiklp5Qf3J3x2JBlDmsxJWn6kY1D_8Ptp2M5EyDkP4ZAV70LmckLNm_6IiNiQSg2Hm6vuwUSMGD4HQU/s1600/IMG_1180_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8Noz6t30FuSSqnNzHVGRrM3XnR3GXbt3Uf-y9zFmCvlfhdtfKmi8QhkdCsAuHiklp5Qf3J3x2JBlDmsxJWn6kY1D_8Ptp2M5EyDkP4ZAV70LmckLNm_6IiNiQSg2Hm6vuwUSMGD4HQU/s400/IMG_1180_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Post-Chicken Chase</td></tr>
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</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343; line-height: 18px;">Throughout the day, Dan received a steady stream of phone calls from work. He’d listen for a few minutes, punctuate the pauses with “Mmm-hmm.” and “I see,” then say, abruptly, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">“Well, Mardi Gras is a legal holiday in Louisiana.”</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">I loved the way he said it. Definitively.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> As if he were sternly informing his client that they might both be flirting with misdemeanor charges for discussing work in such untimely circumstances<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">. As if they both had better hang up immediately in case the line was tapped and someone heard them talking shop when they ought to be bringing the fun.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Then he’d laugh and say, I can’t even <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">tell </i>you where I am right now. </b> All I know is I’m riding down this dusty road in the outskirts of Mamou in a line of about 25 cars watching a bunch of coonasses chase chickens. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;">Coonass is a word originally used as a slur against Cajuns that has been affectionately appropriated by many Cajuns, themselves. Several of my students claim to use it fairly regularly in their families; others categorically don’t use it. Like any reworked word, what’s signified depends on who’s saying it and how. Here, it was used with great affection and identification.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">We didn’t stay for the gumbo.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> We wanted to catch the return of the riders in Eunice, a nearby town that allows women and children to participate in the courir. <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Our work in Mamou was done. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #434343;">And that’s how I remember Dan Willis.</span></b><span style="color: #434343;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">In his leather jacket in a field in Grand Mamou. Surveying the scene after he’d dizzied us with his dance moves. All of us laughing as he congratulated us on a job well done. Trusting that the fun would stay right where we’d put it even after we'd left. </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #434343;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVU7QWrRWQU-fGDe-aXQLySRw-3F5VwxRhgiHrt7bw3mFLXaLtFrzLMYWk9X_sZPyKaAO2zaFiunArXIFNbSW48q0-tgBCXfQMwyTER-CBuDFHbt4oPqGKex9KVcIHhBlMhc_zDX9GNI/s1600/Boots+and+Saddles.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAVU7QWrRWQU-fGDe-aXQLySRw-3F5VwxRhgiHrt7bw3mFLXaLtFrzLMYWk9X_sZPyKaAO2zaFiunArXIFNbSW48q0-tgBCXfQMwyTER-CBuDFHbt4oPqGKex9KVcIHhBlMhc_zDX9GNI/s400/Boots+and+Saddles.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boots and Saddles</td></tr>
</tbody></table>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-73414997931274330202011-05-27T11:14:00.000-07:002011-05-27T11:28:20.228-07:00Requisite Intent<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white;">Requisite Intent is a legal term I learned from a lawyer from New Orleans. Since then, I’ve had an almost-empty file folder by that title. Yesterday, I put something in it.</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_jq2ubwnbKvLBg7BSaCRWPI1DMYEd7WWDjf7v6FRW9owx0_ku5qfG-GhmuyPy5hXyHQfUbI2HVORNyoJx2D1Jhq-FGLQR9Toxmnv9EjhhrWZdD_RLVGXS8E4blWclMjtYaTQ0-OLzrs/s1600/IMG_1323_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_jq2ubwnbKvLBg7BSaCRWPI1DMYEd7WWDjf7v6FRW9owx0_ku5qfG-GhmuyPy5hXyHQfUbI2HVORNyoJx2D1Jhq-FGLQR9Toxmnv9EjhhrWZdD_RLVGXS8E4blWclMjtYaTQ0-OLzrs/s400/IMG_1323_1.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_jq2ubwnbKvLBg7BSaCRWPI1DMYEd7WWDjf7v6FRW9owx0_ku5qfG-GhmuyPy5hXyHQfUbI2HVORNyoJx2D1Jhq-FGLQR9Toxmnv9EjhhrWZdD_RLVGXS8E4blWclMjtYaTQ0-OLzrs/s1600/IMG_1323_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6_jq2ubwnbKvLBg7BSaCRWPI1DMYEd7WWDjf7v6FRW9owx0_ku5qfG-GhmuyPy5hXyHQfUbI2HVORNyoJx2D1Jhq-FGLQR9Toxmnv9EjhhrWZdD_RLVGXS8E4blWclMjtYaTQ0-OLzrs/s1600/IMG_1323_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><a name='more'></a></span></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My reflections on requisite intent and whether or not I had it began as a classroom misunderstanding on the first day of last semester. I was teaching a second-level French class and used the phrase </span><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Je viens de . . ." ("I'm from" or literally, "I come from") when introducing myself to the class. The students’ scrunched foreheads suggested that they weren’t quite following. Then one of my students from last semester raised her hand and asked “‘Je viens de’ . . . c’est un synonyme de ‘J'habite à'?" to which I emphatically responded Non. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I come from is not a synonym for I live in.<o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I drew a tree on the board to illustrate what I thought was the difference, and pointed to the roots reaching deep into the ground. It was more of a lollipop tree than anything, but if pressed, you might identify it as an oak but not the kind of live oak or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">chêne vert</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> you find on LSU’s campus with big branches that arc up then dip back down to the ground, all strung with Spanish moss. If I’d had a red marker, I would have scribbled in dirt around the roots, the crimson clay of the Carolinas.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Je VIENS de Mt. Pleasant, North Carolina, mais j"HABITE à Baton Rouge. <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 19pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Oh</span></span></i><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, they nodded as if the statement had removed all ambiguity. But had it? Was it really that simple? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The question arose again a few weeks ago when our department, which incidentally has the largest number of undergraduates enrolled in French classes in the country, watched a presentation by a textbook author. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He pointed out that as language teachers, we often operate on the funny assumption that every interrogation has one logical response. </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“What we found out though, as we incorporated more dialogue with actual French speakers into our materials,” he said, “is that people don’t always respond the way we expect them to, even to the most seemingly straightforward questions.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Everyone knew what he meant by </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">actual </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">French speakers. NOT Julien, and Geneviève, and Jean-François and the other peppy </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">personnages </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">who populated French textbooks, whose conversations consisted of “Je m’appelle” and “Quoi de neuf?” with a little “zut alors” and “Oh là là!” here and there. Julien, Geneviève and Jean-François were always content to cheerily converse in the same fifty vocabulary words that week’s textbook topic. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The textbook author clicked play on a video clip in which ten or so Francophones responded to the question “Quelle est votre nationalité?” (What is your nationality?). <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some answered predictably, saying “Je suis français” or “Je suis de nationalité canadienne.” Others answered more implicit questions, offering information about their region or city. Still others made a distinction between where they were born, if it was elsewhere, and their legal nationality. A few mentioned their ethnic background or their parents’ as a way of referencing an identity that might otherwise be rendered invisible by what’s printed on a passport. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In France, it’s illegal to ask about race or national origin, even for the country’s census. (Ironically, it is not at all illegal to request that an identity photo be attached to résumés or job applications.) The concept of a hyphenated identity doesn’t really exist, officially, and because the country doesn’t keep records about race and national origin, once you’re “French” on paper, anything you were before is effectively erased. Except, of course, when people ask where you’re from and don’t seem satisfied hearing that it’s the same place they’re from.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But back to the original question: what’s the difference between being from a place and just living there? And when do you start to </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">be</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> from a place where you’ve lived? <o:p></o:p></span></span></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The lawyer from New Orleans said that while he had lived other places, sometimes for periods of a few years, he’d always just been away from home temporarily. That he never developed requisite intent to stay anywhere else.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">What are the implicit questions when people ask where you’re from?</span></span></b><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Do they want to know which county issued your birth certificate? </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Hamilton County, Chattanooga, TN)</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Where you lived the longest? </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Mount Pleasant, NC)</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The city or town most instrumental in the formation of your life outlook? </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(Montpellier, France tied with Mount Pleasant)</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The address you loved the most? </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(11 Rue Castex, 4ème arrondisement, Paris)</span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> The place you were most willing to claim and be claimed by?</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> (Chapel Hill, NC) <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Almost two months ago, I misplaced my NC Driver’s License. So for weeks, I’ve been partially looking, partially trusting that it would turn up, and flashing my passport a lot in the meantime. The fear that I’d misplace it, too, or be pulled over, licenseless, started to weigh on me. Then, I realized that if I wanted to take a summer class when I’m not teaching, it would cost $500.00 more as an out-of-state student. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So I got a Louisiana license.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG44oCZ7L97ntuPrXZgqBRbJGFskfwfM9MnkBr43mdnDvaLGC7aDJ5D2Mvgwphwndn20sEnz1LCT5n4mRUkoLnQ7GqZFR0P_nCDwjcHkm4YJGHGCHRGPS-UuaLiQTp1mlNERQ4zeLLww/s1600/IMG_1327_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqG44oCZ7L97ntuPrXZgqBRbJGFskfwfM9MnkBr43mdnDvaLGC7aDJ5D2Mvgwphwndn20sEnz1LCT5n4mRUkoLnQ7GqZFR0P_nCDwjcHkm4YJGHGCHRGPS-UuaLiQTp1mlNERQ4zeLLww/s400/IMG_1327_1.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My roommie (who is also going Louisianian) and I agreed that we're a little uncomfortable with this usage of "litter." Shouldn't there be a preposition?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Also, that's our (tallest in the nation!) state house. 34 floors, baby. Thanks, Huey.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Confession: That is not my real weight, but it's close enough.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Applied to vote.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And began to fill out this form:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShi8xDANp7mE6e4THkgCsnokr-B6qmdKtk43OQ9CVX6hyQKNJy1JFn61SrOUuvViKB0RvXCOaOnrUMPluu_XHynxFxLO1TjW862xAPV5ZjpkC7wWoS0ftEuQeq3UHfWnB9RyLWF4JYRo/s1600/IMG_1325_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjShi8xDANp7mE6e4THkgCsnokr-B6qmdKtk43OQ9CVX6hyQKNJy1JFn61SrOUuvViKB0RvXCOaOnrUMPluu_XHynxFxLO1TjW862xAPV5ZjpkC7wWoS0ftEuQeq3UHfWnB9RyLWF4JYRo/s400/IMG_1325_1.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Right now, I am in the process of composing responses to questions concerning </span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">“[my] reasons for coming or returning to Louisiana” and “[my] reasons for believing [I am] a domicillary of Louisiana” including “any other facts relative to [my] resident status.” </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Here’s what I’ve got so far: <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In August of 2009, I drove a U-Haul across the country to return to a place where I’d always felt at home despite having only lived there for a couple of months. Since that time, I have been enrolled as a doctoral student in the Department of French Studies at LSU where I also teach undergraduates beginning language classes. I live in the state of Louisiana full time, pay taxes, and carry a Louisiana license and voter registration card in my purse. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Other facts relevant to my resident status . . . </span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In addition to my Pelican state papers, I also often carry Tabasco in my purse. I can spell and pronounce words like Natchitoches, Pontchartrain, Atchafalaya, Tchoupitoulas, and Chachere. Over the course of several state house visits paired with documentary viewings and readings, I’ve acquired a fair amount of knowledge about Huey Long. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I’ve accumulated a few Louisiana fun facts, both obvious (that the state reptile is the alligator, and the state song, “You Are My Sunshine”) </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR6sl3Ifk4j-ucL-9Jwc-TmbKetWsnSH_8OOeJyjvEwl5huOAdREupJRoAfKlYgETGRdvqK6Xd1Wf7FyVcbh5sDGcblFnWPLR20FHsDOWYymUArIxjSmP6YY1t8kZ84Ltwj1NUbzJPHw/s1600/IMG_0160_8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheR6sl3Ifk4j-ucL-9Jwc-TmbKetWsnSH_8OOeJyjvEwl5huOAdREupJRoAfKlYgETGRdvqK6Xd1Wf7FyVcbh5sDGcblFnWPLR20FHsDOWYymUArIxjSmP6YY1t8kZ84Ltwj1NUbzJPHw/s400/IMG_0160_8.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Shot during a swamp tour last February, right before our guide broke out the moonshine.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and less obvious (that the state drink is milk, and the state dog, the Catahoula Leopard Dog).</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Through exchanges with native speakers and by listening to a lot of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Beausoleil </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Feufollet</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">, I’m learning some of the distinguishing markers of Cajun French. On Sundays at nine, I’m watching </span><i><a href="http://www.hbo.com/treme/index.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Treme</span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">. After two Mardi Gras seasons and ten parades, I’ve finally figured out how to catch beads without severe injuries. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GYXMSad-10xbC7d3E95mEw0_wv23Ocp3PgGk94_S007l013PbSC2wCbDjr7dY5I1I0VuC5u13YVnm3wG6mumsLz9gOi39HgiTfoVbzUICfwj3qiykdvKwGPibCKoIHXDMtHOCzWKHAM/s1600/IMG_0079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6GYXMSad-10xbC7d3E95mEw0_wv23Ocp3PgGk94_S007l013PbSC2wCbDjr7dY5I1I0VuC5u13YVnm3wG6mumsLz9gOi39HgiTfoVbzUICfwj3qiykdvKwGPibCKoIHXDMtHOCzWKHAM/s400/IMG_0079.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At a daytime parade in NOLA, after some mentorship from another NC to LA transplant.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When given the choice, I opt for Abita. Crawfish peeling has become second nature enough to where I can now teach someone else to do it. The last vacation I took was on a houseboat on the bayou near Breaux Bridge, and I’ve frequented enough barn dances and local festivals to pick up the Cajun waltz.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DTpmGKsxnTwZGXYcqL4En3uBtjMEvRqE-_gDLW8zZSq9iTcaE9ooyIiUr7p-K_XF9r8C4YieS4Y-YLNTNSbSmb9_MxWi5B6-kovJ86zzHqMImnY2EgKsPxTGhbVgh8wI7tP8u_EuF64/s1600/IMG_1253_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DTpmGKsxnTwZGXYcqL4En3uBtjMEvRqE-_gDLW8zZSq9iTcaE9ooyIiUr7p-K_XF9r8C4YieS4Y-YLNTNSbSmb9_MxWi5B6-kovJ86zzHqMImnY2EgKsPxTGhbVgh8wI7tP8u_EuF64/s400/IMG_1253_2.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The prettiest little houseboat on the bayou.</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When people visit from out of town, I take them to Coffee Call for beignets and café au lait. This summer, I’m reading </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A Confederacy of Dunces</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All the King’s Men.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Finally, despite having never liked football, even during the strange span between 4</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> and 9</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> grades when I wore a cheerleading uniform, I found myself wiping my eyes and waving a hanky when the Saints won the Superbowl.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-right: 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #434343;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I hope that counts as requisite intent.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-47377900538467536072011-05-22T16:20:00.000-07:002011-05-22T16:31:12.103-07:00Not Bad, Crawdad . . . Of What's Said and Shibboleths<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBLiYYR6aZF6XUZvgA_dHcBC3zKDX5qqEgLonuPVtOBfy77FO4X1Zh727SdfUY8KIlcJGdwWiCWIakWAUjOl7S_bQpVLq_PkNoF3lwOXw3YOePTfgliYpQQFRsdlvFrn7Cv1Ts6F-sW8/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHBLiYYR6aZF6XUZvgA_dHcBC3zKDX5qqEgLonuPVtOBfy77FO4X1Zh727SdfUY8KIlcJGdwWiCWIakWAUjOl7S_bQpVLq_PkNoF3lwOXw3YOePTfgliYpQQFRsdlvFrn7Cv1Ts6F-sW8/s320/IMG_1214.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><br />
</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">It was the culminating rhymed bye of a g-chat that began with a pedestrian pleasantry, (“See you later, alligator!) followed with the expected reply (“After a while, crocodile!”) took a detour though the jungle (“See you soon, baboon!”) and landed right where it began: in the bayou. Not bad, crawdad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">Not that anyone in Louisiana says “Crawdad” as far as I can tell. And no one says “crayfish” either. I’d read these assertions in an article called “Cajuns and Crawfish in South Louisiana” by C. Paige Gutierrez that I had photocopied for my class.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-C’est vrai? I interrogated my French 1002 students. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-Oui, they affirmed, some a little grudgingly. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">The ethnographic tone of the article at times felt odd to a portion of the class while others nodded in agreement as the author listed the unspoken rules of the crawfish boil, and reflected on how the crawfish, in its bayou-bred, up-from-the-mud tenacity, has become a symbol for Cajuns, themselves <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-The way she writes about us . . . I just don’t think she’s from here, one student said.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she’s a transplant who decided to stay, I offered. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">Sometimes choosing a place that wasn’t yours at first makes it even more yours in the end. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“Crawdad” and “crayfish” sound like terms out-of-towners might toss around to try to blend, all the while giving themselves away. Crawdad, especially, just sounds affectionately familiar. I probably said it when summering in New Orleans in college, when I learned that I was a Northerner. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“NORTH Carolina?” my New Orleans friends echoed back to me as if the name, itself, negated the need for argument. “Did y’all even secede?” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">(Ulysses S.) Granted, we were the next to last to declare southern sovereignty, but still . . . I had never had my own regional identity questioned. How southern was I? How southern did I want to be?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“You’re a Yankee, aren’t you?” one student asked another French instructor in our department.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“Uh . . . I’m from Romania.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">“Is that north of I-10?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">Louisiana is bursting with words that puzzle outsiders: Atchafalaya, Natchitoches, muffaletta, boudin, beignet, half the street names in New Orleans. The word “New Orleans” is a sort of shibboleth, too, often used in the show <i>Treme</i> to distinguish out-of-towners (who pronounce the last syllable in a way that rhymes with “means” or approximate the French pronunciation by separating it into three syllables) from locals (who use a short “i” sound and sometimes rhyme it with a drawly “Dahlins.”)<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">Crawfish are another in-group/out-group marker. Within the first few minutes of a crawfish boil, peeling skills reveal who’s where on the continuum. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn_6K0QC1Ev9opDKJn7ndm2GgH3dSUoJLwg9l3LwbA6G1w8D67lf9SFs2prUzhBzsQnc1GPF1Up-u7fdtzNpy-MgIJLXrmRXGWL66IjGO-X3BVbYBNimmJvcCda2fFb7EoYQ9-h6kYFU/s1600/IMG_1221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYn_6K0QC1Ev9opDKJn7ndm2GgH3dSUoJLwg9l3LwbA6G1w8D67lf9SFs2prUzhBzsQnc1GPF1Up-u7fdtzNpy-MgIJLXrmRXGWL66IjGO-X3BVbYBNimmJvcCda2fFb7EoYQ9-h6kYFU/s400/IMG_1221.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">I’ve been to two this year. After the men cook the pot of crawfish, boiled live with spices, andouille sausage, corn, and potatoes, all of the contents of the pot are dumped onto a long table and everyone gathers around to pick at the pile.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATeEjFp6hmeUk7VcT1Kddc11JmW-fijzKXB7uUZGG8dwhOQIOFQ717B88vv0tPY7lRbkHvkF6-LqgbTVynThSLeUYKWbtmPnhxENICi-g8mjNwJ0rRDD3UtqwGeWwOevrgg7UJjBhL_c/s1600/IMG_1219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATeEjFp6hmeUk7VcT1Kddc11JmW-fijzKXB7uUZGG8dwhOQIOFQ717B88vv0tPY7lRbkHvkF6-LqgbTVynThSLeUYKWbtmPnhxENICi-g8mjNwJ0rRDD3UtqwGeWwOevrgg7UJjBhL_c/s400/IMG_1219.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEEt3R12627VM8QMdkD_E2On1KrrDAI07E2SP6RYuy17re4Jwj1-cY_sbeBEX5pCTWRuMQztVyjpvrLFUgrU1kP1jsLoCLAS_PW3F_k-RPmPX9RLcQ4bQrRP7cgRQ2wg9h1gD2SCZybQ/s1600/IMG_1225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyEEt3R12627VM8QMdkD_E2On1KrrDAI07E2SP6RYuy17re4Jwj1-cY_sbeBEX5pCTWRuMQztVyjpvrLFUgrU1kP1jsLoCLAS_PW3F_k-RPmPX9RLcQ4bQrRP7cgRQ2wg9h1gD2SCZybQ/s400/IMG_1225.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small; line-height: normal;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Here’s what I’ve learned:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">1) Heads come off with a clockwise twist. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">2) Peel back the first section of shell, then press on the end of the tail until it pops up. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">3) Slide the meat from the remaining shell and remove the intestinal vein, and voilà! You have the first </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"> fishy fraction of your dinner. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span">WARNING: If the tail's poking straight out, don't eat it. It was dead before boiling.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCHqIVSSal_vNPAHHtaAY92Xtac2NPjj8muMsnngx6GFh-rYMaH5l0RIhJL30apfIyE8UxHe_zZM2h0aeHkH7rFyN0frgJiSHkcmeG_EBp9du0Q3Hwv4PdiT5WYadt2G1E850ibFGWhg/s1600/IMG_1222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmCHqIVSSal_vNPAHHtaAY92Xtac2NPjj8muMsnngx6GFh-rYMaH5l0RIhJL30apfIyE8UxHe_zZM2h0aeHkH7rFyN0frgJiSHkcmeG_EBp9du0Q3Hwv4PdiT5WYadt2G1E850ibFGWhg/s400/IMG_1222.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b>You should have crawfish!</b> I exclaimed to the middle-aged British tourists whom my roommate and I met on the levee, a few days ago when the river was predicted to crest. They had taken an obligatory photo of the swollen Mississippi, but quickly steered our conversation from sandbags to sandlots. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-Where can we see a baseball game? You know, like a local team or a school group?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">My roommate and I looked at each other and shrugged, a little amused by the urgency in their voices. It reminded me of the time I was in Ireland and woke up at 6 A.M. to drive to this step-dancing competition for 9-13 year olds. I was enthralled because it felt like the perfect thing to do when roadtripping through the Irish countryside. In fact, I couldn’t believe my great fortune. But as I looked around, I knew the other people in the audience, primarily parents, were beyond bored, eyes aglaze from watching girl after girl bounce and tap through the same routine. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">The last time I’d seen a baseball game was in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, the day after I’d flown back from France in 2008. I was trying to be open-minded at the time because I loved someone who loved baseball, but between the circus antics of the announcer, the perpetual product placement on the billboards, rows of children eating corndogs and cotton candy, it encapsulated much of what I found uncomfortable about the United States. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-Was it that bad?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-I squeezed his hand. Can we please go the Farmers Market now?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-You looked young, so we thought you might know, the tourist said, a little disappointed at our un-Americanness. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;">-You really should try the crawfish though. It’s the season.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwtE_I8VPtzhWiKWKu4GVZ86Ewl7MKV-F1APrYxTR8-Moquz-lcOP7Qq74z9a0p6Xnf6_MLTjIVNqQ8RCEca4boixRtxdwuvKkP74UZImfIBcp53FKeXSx0_cpqld9nL-P5MaBsCr0Uk/s1600/IMG_1277.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwtE_I8VPtzhWiKWKu4GVZ86Ewl7MKV-F1APrYxTR8-Moquz-lcOP7Qq74z9a0p6Xnf6_MLTjIVNqQ8RCEca4boixRtxdwuvKkP74UZImfIBcp53FKeXSx0_cpqld9nL-P5MaBsCr0Uk/s400/IMG_1277.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Child Dressed as Crawfish, Looking Vaguely Like a Religious Icon</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-I don’t eat that, she said. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I wondered if she was a vegetarian or allergic to shellfish or thought no explanation was necessary since crawfish live in the mud, resemble feisty, fiery insects, and much like artichokes, prompt curiosity about how to get past their prickliness to something edible.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-We heard there was a festival?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-Yes, in Breaux Bridge last weekend. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMQzWy0bVFqrkjoIuMsKsk1gxRsyptTzcKD_pm4G_tXjB-JQL9fQDd71pMZkYa49irNYp1AskSpraYvVtyS5fvGGgdSJ_8FwxnRR6sGYI1bv1JKj1qL610bluuSW7GB4dlImkgXKQYPA/s1600/IMG_1258_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoMQzWy0bVFqrkjoIuMsKsk1gxRsyptTzcKD_pm4G_tXjB-JQL9fQDd71pMZkYa49irNYp1AskSpraYvVtyS5fvGGgdSJ_8FwxnRR6sGYI1bv1JKj1qL610bluuSW7GB4dlImkgXKQYPA/s400/IMG_1258_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
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</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The Crawfish Festival is held every year in Breaux Bridge, LA, Crawfish capital of the World. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PWSAf-y5VxeJRF9xeHmPCX8mhMkD25my1BUpfNLlcLajJynqQs6jwP-PycGdqUcXBERaUyRZJkW2eDD8qU7T09a7bdo3pfddrki4omOxTIZz8ppB-vrniALrJVK84Vb6Zb_X6VMcwbQ/s1600/IMG_1274_1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5PWSAf-y5VxeJRF9xeHmPCX8mhMkD25my1BUpfNLlcLajJynqQs6jwP-PycGdqUcXBERaUyRZJkW2eDD8qU7T09a7bdo3pfddrki4omOxTIZz8ppB-vrniALrJVK84Vb6Zb_X6VMcwbQ/s400/IMG_1274_1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I’d gone with a friend and her husband. We ate alligator on a stick, confronted death in a ride called the scrambler while listening to Joan Jett, took Cajun waltz and two-step lessons from a man in his eighties who later tried to sell us a self-produced instructional DVD, watched the defending champion take all in the crawfish races, and got sunburns as we sipped watered-down daiquiris out of coconuts and listened to zydeco . . . <i>bons temps. </i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoH21B11yW88paoVIB5KUALsYoUBuD4z2fqWSqYTa_RupKJysoI_wabQAFUSKSaRC56pFnihNpVcN26_0xJysMhGLg6v-pqkItDB6vM36CqnT1XieSl21vwDwpEMW43YnxvTYHeQpaN8/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvoH21B11yW88paoVIB5KUALsYoUBuD4z2fqWSqYTa_RupKJysoI_wabQAFUSKSaRC56pFnihNpVcN26_0xJysMhGLg6v-pqkItDB6vM36CqnT1XieSl21vwDwpEMW43YnxvTYHeQpaN8/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 4pt; margin-right: 4pt; margin-top: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 11pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SiQbKyNpdeA_i7nSTO1VANrOyu5b7vbZY4N738FqR8Ii1aKWBXBnrc-jXGwzN87c23BLhF1sf55MzekPO8CgBeXYR_5wFY3540H6P1uVb94_ihAANGxFiHvmPPJTpsANoIsXpohGmSg/s1600/IMG_1272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SiQbKyNpdeA_i7nSTO1VANrOyu5b7vbZY4N738FqR8Ii1aKWBXBnrc-jXGwzN87c23BLhF1sf55MzekPO8CgBeXYR_5wFY3540H6P1uVb94_ihAANGxFiHvmPPJTpsANoIsXpohGmSg/s400/IMG_1272.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Which, by the way, is another shibboleth. Good times, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">bons temps</i>. (As in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Laissez les bons temps rouler</i>.) My students write about having a <i>bon temps</i> in their French compositions all the time, and I half-heartedly circle it and note that it’s non-standard. It’s a borrowing from English, transformed into French, and a said signifier that you’re in Louisiana</div></span>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-2684021923071960992011-01-09T12:46:00.000-08:002011-01-09T20:22:27.720-08:00King Cake and Babies<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“If Madame S. ever tries to feed you something, check first to make sure there’s not an infant inside.” </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">-a line from Simon’s letter to the following year’s French class after my first year of teaching<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The first time I made a King Cake, I used a box mix from New Orleans that my sister sent me with a little post-it exclaiming, “For your class!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Oh GOODY," I thought, until I opened it and realized this was not the three-step, two-ingredient, twenty-minute investment I’d learned to expect from boxed deserts. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTodXOc0WKCju12Xo1i1HBnrvUPSnHg57j_YVpS99IjVdf2l7FWZ9GBlYd5hGEiGY1ja15ovIY6OfJwMrdyQqYg6nInmqCQQ43g6SfL9YiXCI8sxCW0LvQKgm1z0CdNaDTQbl8aKnTXvk/s1600/pUlsV-vuMtv-tygjK-king%252Bcake%252Bmix%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTodXOc0WKCju12Xo1i1HBnrvUPSnHg57j_YVpS99IjVdf2l7FWZ9GBlYd5hGEiGY1ja15ovIY6OfJwMrdyQqYg6nInmqCQQ43g6SfL9YiXCI8sxCW0LvQKgm1z0CdNaDTQbl8aKnTXvk/s320/pUlsV-vuMtv-tygjK-king%252Bcake%252Bmix%255B1%255D.JPG" width="260" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">For one thing, it included a little packet of YEAST. “Where,” I wondered, “is the logic in a product that assumes you lack the time to mix together sugar and flour but that you’d be happy to loiter around the kitchen for three hours while your dough rises twice?” But Louisiana has its own logic, I’m learning, the first tenet of which is that nothing, not even a box mix of cake, can be rushed. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So what is a King Cake? They’re consumed all over Europe in various permutations, but I’ll focus on the Louisiana kind. A Pelican State King Cake is a donut-shaped pastry, usually filled with cinnamon, cream cheese and fruit, or praline and topped with glaze and glittery sprinkles in the green, gold, and purple shades of Mardi Gras. King Cakes are historically associated with Epiphany, the twelfth day of Christmas, which falls on January 6<sup>th</sup> and is, according to Catholic tradition, the day that the three wise men (or three kings) first saw Jesus. In Louisiana, you can find them as early as New Year’s and consume them until Lent begins and its time to fast all of that frosting out of your system.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_eFbajPfsm8UWkbITe1cxJLsF_EGXTga9sdahdFiDoQ9779CgrH7A3v33_H969C3qLW5UhbJ1wnACWlSuClq5tLZEXO8VakL18Mg56FV4-KZuGtjnLf1oTqHhtAVYXcO01Dqg5NfMA4/s1600/Glossy+King+Cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9_eFbajPfsm8UWkbITe1cxJLsF_EGXTga9sdahdFiDoQ9779CgrH7A3v33_H969C3qLW5UhbJ1wnACWlSuClq5tLZEXO8VakL18Mg56FV4-KZuGtjnLf1oTqHhtAVYXcO01Dqg5NfMA4/s400/Glossy+King+Cake.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Each cake comes with a shiny gold crown and a miniature plastic baby (said to represent Christ). Sometimes a string of beads rattles in the box alongside the other favors. In New Orleans, the baker hides the baby, but in the more choking-hazard conscious city of Baton Rouge, where I live, the baby sits atop the cake, or (when placed by a more irreverent baker) finds himself face-down in glaze. The person who has the baby in his or her piece of cake claims the crown along with the responsibility for providing the next cake.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi561nGrY2DTSH1GGZrCL-piQfQrJ4aes_4_mIMF5d1lVQgdIdL9UNmnxH6eBegD63hzDkt9tzCyOpLjV_auH4OVnHXeOSO8-MZQ0c9g1d9RYHEHD36QRirB1qJTantJNzybCfjd0Zv89E/s1600/King+Cake-Mini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi561nGrY2DTSH1GGZrCL-piQfQrJ4aes_4_mIMF5d1lVQgdIdL9UNmnxH6eBegD63hzDkt9tzCyOpLjV_auH4OVnHXeOSO8-MZQ0c9g1d9RYHEHD36QRirB1qJTantJNzybCfjd0Zv89E/s320/King+Cake-Mini.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaen0MG9I0ykw5wf8X64y9eTiFly9LSgs3LyATIKs4vavsjvkcSsWvcIlqppnF-ehraYkcSDL7ck1R2iRkafKoS-vCMBZMUVHxxz3sF0BicMhlecRMOfpk0PIVny0bEwDazyivX0gs0ak/s1600/Face-Down+Baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaen0MG9I0ykw5wf8X64y9eTiFly9LSgs3LyATIKs4vavsjvkcSsWvcIlqppnF-ehraYkcSDL7ck1R2iRkafKoS-vCMBZMUVHxxz3sF0BicMhlecRMOfpk0PIVny0bEwDazyivX0gs0ak/s320/Face-Down+Baby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p><br />
</o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Back in North Carolina, circa 2004 . . . After reading the directions, I was beginning to wonder if it would have been easier to make the kind of King Cake I’d had in France, with phyllo dough and frangipane, instead of trying to concoct an O-shaped cinnamon roll with tri-color toppings. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Luckily, Kathryn helped me. Kathryn was the seven year-old who adopted me that year. After school, she’d wait by the window until she saw my red car pull into the low-rent apartments where we both lived. Then, she’d run out, barefoot in every weather, long red tangled hair flying behind her, shouting “Tahwah, Tahwah!!” She’d throw her tiny arms around my waist and say as she stared up at me, “What do you want to do today?” She looked and sounded so much like my own sister had at that age. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Do you want to help me make a cake for my class?” She bobbed her head yes. “Good.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I was rifling through the cabinets for a bowl for the dry ingredients, when Kathryn called me out. Again. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This sort of thing happened all the time. I’d be going about my life as a twenty-five-year-old trailed by a very small sidekick when Kathryn would point out my corruptive influence. The first time it happened was the day I moved in. After making several trips up the stairs with Kathryn and her friend Rachel cheerily carrying child-sized armfuls of books and CDs, I noticed that I’d made at least one trip up without them. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Kathryn? Rachel?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I found them standing transfixed before a large Matisse print I’d carried up a few minutes before and propped against the wall: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Joie de Vivre. </i>It’s a tangerine and cotton candy colored landscape of nudes lounging, sunning themselves, and swirling through what looks like a grown-up game of ring around the rosie. Other figures play the flute, nap, kiss, and stroll. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEI7vBRL6SWxjnz3GXKuwUYx3RZE7SAKsHEH2O5IkOpqo21pcoENmRf0kiTuMkX137Xel8Ic2Aq0PDzaGQDibEBgvslyrBdpiOnY3OpgOQc5TYyspXdhVchFJaI3HZmdaMfl155_pLsg/s1600/Henri_Matisse_-_La_joie_de_vivre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFEI7vBRL6SWxjnz3GXKuwUYx3RZE7SAKsHEH2O5IkOpqo21pcoENmRf0kiTuMkX137Xel8Ic2Aq0PDzaGQDibEBgvslyrBdpiOnY3OpgOQc5TYyspXdhVchFJaI3HZmdaMfl155_pLsg/s400/Henri_Matisse_-_La_joie_de_vivre.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Kathryn sighed gravely, disappointed to learn that she’d be sharing a residence with the kind of pervert who had the gall to display such pornographic material in her home. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Looks to me like they’re BUTT NAKED!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">"Yeah," echoed Rachel solemnly, “Just running around in their yard BUTT naked.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I didn’t like the puritanical tone of their art assessment but wasn’t sure how to respond knowing they’d probably parrot back to their parents any <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Our Bodies, Ourselves</i> “no shame in naked” style explanation I might offer.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Well, they’re probably hot from all that dancing and flute playing.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Where ARE they?” questioned Rachel who clearly doubted that such loose-moraled frolicking could take place in any yard she knew of.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I shrugged. “France?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">They both seemed relieved. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This time, Kathryn was concerned about what she glimpsed in my cabinets. “Those are wine cups, aren’t they,” Kathryn accused pointing up to the turquoise and lime green plastic goblets on the top shelf.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Wine GLASSES,” I mentally corrected her, then realized she was exactly right. Wine glasses were, by definition, made of a material that didn’t bounce when dropped on the kitchen floor. So, not only was she reproaching me for all the villainy that drinking connoted in a seven-year-old’s mind, but also pointing out that I consumed adult beverages from a container one step up from a sippy cup.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Unwilling to suffer the judgment of a second grader or to lie about whether I did or did not have a bottle of wine befitting the quality of said wine cups in the refrigerator at that very moment, I responded: “Wine’s not the only thing you can put in them.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Ohhhh!!!” Kathryn shrieked. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Maybe the alcohol didn't bother Kathryn. Maybe it was more that seeing the wine cups called her attention to the fact that we weren’t the same age. That at some point, perhaps after her bedtime, I led another life in which my non-elementary school friends and I sat around sipping forbidden substances out of wine cups and conversing about mortgages and books above her reading level.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Can we put chocolate milk in them?” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Absolutely.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“What else!?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I paused, allowing her to imagine the possibilities.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Pudding.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She clapped.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">After that, every time Kathryn ate anything at my house, she wanted it out of the wine cups. And now that she knew about King Cakes, she requested a prize inside. She’d close her eyes while I hid trinkets and jewelry castoffs in goblets of popcorn or underneath scoops of Neapolitan.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">One day, her mother asked me to babysit, while she visited her own mother in the hospital. “The ICU had limited visiting hours, just half an hour, really” she said, “and this is the only day I can get a ride.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">So, Kathryn and I settled in to watch an animated version of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Frosty the Snowman</i> we’d checked out from the library. “I don’t know if we’ll have time to finish it before your mom gets back.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“It’s okay,” said Kathryn, “I’ve already seen it a bunch.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I woke up with a start and saw the time blinking on the VCR: 1:30 A.M. Kathryn was asleep on the other couch. Where the hell was her mom? She’d left for the hospital before dinnertime. I checked my phone. Nothing. Walked downstairs and tapped tentatively on their apartment door. No answer. Searched for a note on my door. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">When I found no sign of communication, I went back inside, locked the door, turned off the TV, and draped a blanket over Kathryn. Maybe we’d been sleeping when her mom came by. Still . . . Oh well, nothing more to do now.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The next morning, Kathryn and I made pancakes, walked downtown, and browsed at the library. I kept thinking, “What if her mom doesn’t come back?” Uncharacteristically, Kathryn didn’t ask any questions, which made me wonder if something like this had happened before. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">I realized I didn’t even have a phone number for her mother. Could I adopt Kathryn? Did she have any other relatives? I could probably make a bedroom for her in the den. All of the hard stuff, diapers and toilet training and learning to walk and talk had been taken care of. Besides, she bypassed most of my past roommates in maturity.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“That your baby?” someone asked as Kathryn pored over the Amelia Bedelia collection in the children’s section. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“I’m just watching her for her mom.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“You two look alike.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">After having a milkshake and hamburger for lunch, we walked back up to the apartments. Kathryn’s mother waited at the top of the hill. “Baby!” she screamed. Kathryn took off running, “Mama, Mama!” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“I missed you, baby. Mama got locked out of the house.” Her eyes never met mine. “Got locked out of the house and couldn’t get back in till now.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“Well,” I said, relieved and a little sad, “I think your baby missed you, too.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-1776901559453707322011-01-03T19:02:00.000-08:002011-01-03T19:05:59.705-08:00Southern Snow<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHFp1tx5_GCdgo6CWr_55aaOGiiIdWlcklWjKfayO4y0SjmItbohS3g0FttUtgIW0izByl2Nuf-kmZObVireP9i5hffm73Qgk8de6PAbI8U9lBpNmfF77-N1a3ndJsTfOn6mc7OY_riQ/s1600/IMG_0930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDHFp1tx5_GCdgo6CWr_55aaOGiiIdWlcklWjKfayO4y0SjmItbohS3g0FttUtgIW0izByl2Nuf-kmZObVireP9i5hffm73Qgk8de6PAbI8U9lBpNmfF77-N1a3ndJsTfOn6mc7OY_riQ/s320/IMG_0930.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;">“Here’s what I call snow.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">My grandmother, Tee Tee, is speaking. We’re on our second glass of Chattanooga Blush, a variety of wine I love as much for its Kool-Aid shade of pink and muscadine magic as for the Biblical chiding on the front of the bottle, which references Ephesians 5:18: “Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery. Instead, be filled with the Spirit.” (NIV)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Well, we're filled with spirits at least . . .</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">She continues, “You can’t get to work and you can’t get to school, but you CAN get to the mall and the restaurant. That’s what I call snow.” <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The meteorologists had speculated that our Christmas would be more white than warm, which means that we’ll celebrate any brrr-inducing blanketing of the ground by primarily protecting ourselves from foreign flakes. A mad rush to the grocery store for hot chocolate. Some kerosene for the heater. A snowscape admired first though a pane then up-close for as long as we can endure. (Before we realize that our boots aren’t designed for trudging through the drifts, that our cotton socks prove too thin for below freezing.) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">The one time I'd been caught off guard by the snow in Chapel Hill in 2003, my boyfriend and I had driven from hardware to grocery store for an hour after a cross-town power outage left us shivering in our little one-bedroom, sure that spooning was no match for temperatures in the teens. Our search for firewood eventually led us to a man named Leon who took our 20 bucks in exchange for a bundle of wet timber. We supplemented it with two armfuls of stolen newspapers and spent the next several hours building the most futile of fires, one that left the rug soot-stained and and made us wonder if we were on the verge of carbon monoxide poisoning. Finally, he said, "Let's just drive to your parents' house, honey. Neither one of us was made for this sort of battle with the elements."<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">Usually, southern snow is a ground dusting as light and unlasting as confectioner’s sugar on a waffle. Northern snow, in my imaginings, might be more like the copious covering on the Louisiana brand of beignets: heaps of powdered piles at first delighted in, then eventually shoveled to the side once they’ve overstayed their usefulness. Once you’ve had your fill and then some. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPOdbZmeZKe1Fw5HQY0ps_YDeYhbPZdlRkz8TO6j0ZcQDuvhvigjsc8A7zm-CfpoyGSAvzIEpwvwkbQ7NUKHPvxbE1PUFxN9JTYlbK4ImsiBeRkEoNWTHU9NZAjq-9xwY5DkCWq25M10/s1600/IMG_0850.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggPOdbZmeZKe1Fw5HQY0ps_YDeYhbPZdlRkz8TO6j0ZcQDuvhvigjsc8A7zm-CfpoyGSAvzIEpwvwkbQ7NUKHPvxbE1PUFxN9JTYlbK4ImsiBeRkEoNWTHU9NZAjq-9xwY5DkCWq25M10/s400/IMG_0850.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">I remember the first time I had beignets in Baton Rouge. Two friends and I stopped into Coffee Call, a local diner-style beignet joint after an Abita pub crawl. By the end of our witching-hour snack, I looked as if I’d weathered a bakery blizzard, with snowy sugar on my eyelashes, flecks around my mouth, white spots dotting my top. Both of them, in black, managed to stay impeccable. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“But how….?” I began.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">“We grew up here.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">What must it feel like to grow up in a place where snow isn’t limited to special occasions, where it’s a chilly given of winter? I’ve read that director Tim Burton thought of snow as magical because he never saw it in his native California. One of my <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H9AT_JJQ74w">favorite movie scenes</a> is his, when Edward Scissorhands carves an ice sculpture as Wynona Ryder’s character swirls beneath it, savoring a snow unknown to her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;">This year we had a white Christmas, just like the ones I (didn’t) used to know.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhvZ2_huWNgZH_hLyfoUG1ckhPvQkdGHgSmEPxerg-lPCFts-NKaREMgUjWawDU5DhiwIU9Q5NvsFeCsfi6OXK7EY11pMmkPPdkws-pJeGbUd6lUi_GcTfDzF9TpAlp93S9b9CxSnZQU/s1600/IMG_0929.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihhvZ2_huWNgZH_hLyfoUG1ckhPvQkdGHgSmEPxerg-lPCFts-NKaREMgUjWawDU5DhiwIU9Q5NvsFeCsfi6OXK7EY11pMmkPPdkws-pJeGbUd6lUi_GcTfDzF9TpAlp93S9b9CxSnZQU/s400/IMG_0929.JPG" width="223" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11pt;"><br />
</span></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-19076090552451610052010-09-27T20:34:00.000-07:002010-10-02T21:38:14.566-07:00Profound South: Invincible Summer<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcIpsknuEvQQO2eIaWrbejAqVWzRZ6Q_L2aGG2CWlPo2H9cy-lguAozxMKmTQq4G7gdx0cQiikbNdMvRp3nue9bD-ZgWG50q3vNzJyA4Obx1UmsoJM3Xdk_EQLO8GvkbmMAShJ9QAbCo/s1600/thanks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIcIpsknuEvQQO2eIaWrbejAqVWzRZ6Q_L2aGG2CWlPo2H9cy-lguAozxMKmTQq4G7gdx0cQiikbNdMvRp3nue9bD-ZgWG50q3vNzJyA4Obx1UmsoJM3Xdk_EQLO8GvkbmMAShJ9QAbCo/s400/thanks.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #131313;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #131313;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #131313;">"Au milieu de l'hiver, j'ai découvert en moi un été invincible." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #131313;">-<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/quotes/957894.Albert_Camus"><span style="color: #512700; text-decoration: none;">Albert Camus</span></a></span><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">About a month into my summer stay in Paris, I bought a little purse-sized bottle of Tabasco and began carrying it with me like a fiery flask. I loved the thought of it tucked into my bag, a potion from home.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Is this the culinary equivalent of packing heat? I wondered. And if so, what was I armed against? A spiceless life? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I pepper my morning smoothies with cayenne, sprinkle Tony’s on my popcorn, shake sauce onto pizza. Moving to Louisiana has only encouraged this practice. Two Tabasco bottles sit, side-by-side like salt-and-pepper, on nearly every restaurant table in the state. There’s classic crimson and a lighter green version for those who like it less hot. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I purchased my heat at a place called Thanksgiving on rue Saint Paul. My friend Annie was the first person to tell me about the store. “It’s one of the places you can buy peanut butter,” she’d said, imparting a piece of information valued among newly-transplanted Americans. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">So, one day I’m walking home and see it: the big glass window painted with a cornucopia, scrolly cursive words announcing underneath: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cuisine de la Louisiane</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Inside, I find a section stocked with Zatarain’s Red Beans and Rice, Louisiana Hot Sauce, Tony Chachere’s Creole Seasoning, just-add-water gumbo in little plastic packages. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">But this cornucopia isn’t all oysters and crawfish. There are baked beans and marmite for the English, paper packages of maple-leaf cookies for the Canadians. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff for the Americans. Then, tubs of fudgy icing and box mixes for yellow cake for anyone with a cupcake craving. Prices aside, it’s every Anglophone expatriate’s dream. So, in a move of (ex)patriotism, I splurged on grits, cornmeal, and hot sauce. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">While I was browsing, “Me and Bobby McGee” came on, and Janis Joplin told me a southern comforting story about kindness. Even if you had a flat tire, you shouldn’t worry because a trucker would pick you and your boyfriend up and drive you to a city an hour and fifteen minutes away as it rained and the three of you sang, safe and sheltered in the cab. The first line from the song was the only real association I had with Baton Rouge before moving here. It was the place where Janis busted flat. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">During my move south, I had busted flat, too, in a U-Haul, in Mississippi, also with a boyfriend, but nobody offered to drive us to New Orleans. And by then we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">really</i> could have used a daiquiri. So, instead of riding all the way to New Orleans as someone strummed her harpoon, we sat in the diner section of the gas station and tried to re-tranquilize my cat. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It about the time that I bought the Tabasco that I began saying I was from Louisiana. I’m from Tennessee by birth, from North Carolina by virtue of having lived there for most of my life, and from Montpellier simply because I love it more than any place. But now, in some ways, I am also from Louisiana. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Hot sauce: wet heat. A climatic clue you’re in the South. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">In Paris, people kept fanning themselves, bemoaning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">la chaleur</i>, and I kept thinking, a little indignantly, you call THIS heat? A sunny little seventy-five and no humidity? On one of the first nights, I remember sitting in my apartment in jeans and a scarf, sipping tea and feeling desolate that it was late June and in the low 50s. Fast forward to now: we’re in the home stretch of September and my roommate said yesterday, “It’s starting to cool off. It might get down to 86 tomorrow.” <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Louisiana’s all swamp and sweat, and so am I.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">A few nights ago, I watched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Steel Magnolias</i>, which was filmed in Nachitoches, LA. Viewing a movie set in the South has always been uncomfortable for me. Things that seem natural in real life become affected, put on: the exaggerated accents, the waitresses calling you darlin,’ the languid pace. It’s all drawl and dawdle that feels false played out on a screen. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">But beyond all the little signals of southerness, the mention of sweet tea, the words like “tacky,” and “grandbaby,” the hell-raising husband at the wedding who shoots firecrackers into the trees to scare off the birds, the Bible-brandishing beautician . . . beyond all the triteness, the tropes, there’s one part that gets me. One part that feel real. Southern. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It’s the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xiRDsD18W4">mother’s monologue</a> in the cemetery, about her daughter Shelby’s death. (If you remember, she went into a coma after complications from a kidney transplant.) It begins calmly then builds to rage. There’s grace and resilience in it, even if M’Lynne believes she’s been done wrong. I think of Louisiana. Of Katrina. Of Deepwater Horizon. Of the steady strength of rebuilding. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The cemetery monologue reminds me of another scene from an epic southern film<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, Gone with the Wind</i>. Scarlett’s <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ixx66T-FPYM&feature=related">“I’ll never be hungry again,”</a> speech. Famished, her hair all frizzy, Scarlett claws at the ground for a stray radish, then collapses, chest heaving against the earth. If you’re from the South, you know the ground matches the sun-smeared sky. “Red as birth land’s dirt,” to cite a line from a friend’s poem. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i>As God is my witness. They’re not going to lick me. I’m going to live through this and when it’s all over, I’ll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat, or kill, as God is my witness, I’ll never be hungry again.</i><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Scarlett’s standing. The score swells. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Camus wrote, <span style="color: #131313;">"Au milieu de l'hiver, j'ai découvert en moi un été invincible." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="color: #131313;">"In the middle of winter, I discovered in myself an invincible summer.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">He grew up in a sunny place, too. Algeria. His story, like Scarlett’s, assumes a certain nostalgia for a way of life that became indefensible. French Algeria fell like the Confederacy.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">In French, the Deep South is called <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">le sud profond</i>. The Profound South. The more I live here, the more I realize I am profoundly southern. The land and I lay claim to one other. Like Scarlett, called back to her birth land’s dirt, I am also called back to my <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">terre</i>, and carry it with me when I go.<o:p></o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-64462118196294018172010-09-05T16:16:00.000-07:002010-09-05T16:16:15.651-07:00Seeking Édith: Dieu réunit ceux qui s'aiment<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">“Je veux voir Édith Piaf !”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">She couldn’t have been very old, the little French girl who spoke her wish, but her pouty proclamation could have come from my own mouth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I also wanted to see Édith Piaf!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where WAS she?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I’m in Père Lachaise cemetery, standing beside a French family staring squinty-eyed at a map, near the exit on Avenue Gambetta.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They, like me, have traveled from tomb to tomb for hours <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">à la suite</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Elle est loin, chérie, loin . . . <o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I could tell that no one in her family especially cared to see Édith, and that she, unlike me, would not be able to return the following day, seeking Édith, dedicating a day to her. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">When I taught high school French, we sometimes listened to Édith Piaf in class.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The students all knew <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rKgcKYTStMc&feature=related">“La vie en rose.”</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one knew <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1gTGmbA40ZQ&feature=related">“L’hymne à l’amour.”</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has become my favorite.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">The first two-thirds of the song is typical love song fare . . . a woman making a lot of foolish, fabulous promises, offering to do things no would ask her to do to prove her love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She says she’d <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">décrocher la lune</i> (unhook the moon) and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">aller au bout du monde</i> (go to the ends of the earth) <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">and [se] ferais teindre en blonde</i> (have her hair dyed blond), <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">renierais [sa] patrie et [ses] amis</i> (deny her friends and her country) if her beloved asked her to.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">After this crescendo of hollow promises, a laundry list of lovesick clichés, I always begin to feel vaguely vexed with Édith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why are women endlessly offering to change themselves, to deny who they are and what they love to be loved?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is this Sam-I-Am vision of relationships?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Would you love me in a box?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would you love me with a fox?)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I understand it. I’ve done it, even, but why fall in love with a brunette, then ask her to dye her hair blond?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who’s the man who could say I love you then make that kind of request?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">But that’s when the song changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Si un jour la vie t'arrache à moi<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Si tu meurs, que tu sois loin de moi<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Peu m'importe, si tu m'aimes<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Car moi je mourrai aussi . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Nous aurons pour nous l'éternité<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dans le bleu de toute l'immensité<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Dans le ciel, plus de problèmes<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Mon amour, crois-tu qu'on s'aime?...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">. . . Dieu réunit ceux qui s`aiment!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">If one day life snatches you from me<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">If you die, if you’re far from me<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">It doesn’t matter, if you love me<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Because I’ll die, too . . .<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">We’ll have for ourselves eternity<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In the blue of all immensity<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">In the sky, no more problems<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My love, do you believe that we love each other?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>. . . God reunites those who love each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Si tu meurs . . .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She’d written the song in September of 1949, seemingly about the love of her life, boxer Marcel Cerdan.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just a month later, when he was taking a plane from Paris to New York to see her, their story ended.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The plane crashed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps you remember <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QF4x1WiUcpk">the scene</a> from the 2007 film about her life, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">La Môme (La Vie en Rose </i>in English).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“L’Hymne à l’amour” became one of her most famous songs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many times had she sung it afterwards?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Confirmed that the “if” had become a “when”?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Love seems to me both defined by its fragility and its foreverness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A fractional change in circumstances on an arbitrary afternoon can shift the scale from love to unlove, can cement a decision to close the door, lock it, throw the key in the Seine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I imagine the heart as a vast locker room, each of the occupied lockers belonging to someone you’ve loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some lockers are almost empty . . . a yearbook picture, a note passed in class, a ticket stub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Others, full to overflowing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You open them, and like a slapstick scene from the halls of high school, the contents spill out, an avalanche of almost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost just right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost the one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Almost three years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The day you close it, you have to slam your shoulder against it to get everything to fit inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, you go to the weight room to work out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People don’t cry in weight rooms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">My friend Kim had once compared love to a pillow . . . hard to destroy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Malleable, yes, but durable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I agree with that, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The lockers are like fireproof safes. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when we’ve ceased to rummage through them, forgotten what all they contain, they remain, never really cleared of their contents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I also believe that love is unlinear, that we travel in orbits, that we loop back around and cross paths with the people we’re meant to meet and re-meet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few weeks ago I bade goodbye to my friend Karen on the Pont des Arts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has been in Paris for two years, in France for the past four.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We first met ten years ago in Montpellier.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-I’m afraid that if I leave, I won’t be able to come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or that it will be harder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-I know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always feel that way, too . . . but look at us. We’ve both come back so many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We always come back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s how we are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Dieu réunit ceux qui s’aiment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">The last time I’d left France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I sobbed, sometimes secretly, sometimes not, for weeks as I slept beside the person I’d come back for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-It feels like France is the other man</span></i><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">, he’d said once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" /> <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">When he and I parted ways, I went back to France.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, when I was there and I missed him, I tried imagining he was dead. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-So that I’m not angry with him.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-I didn’t realize you couldn’t be mad at someone who’s dead.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-Maybe you can . . . but you try to remember the good things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And you try to make peace with the idea that you won’t be hearing from him again.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Strangely, pretending he was dead was a strategy that he’d suggested, once, when I said I didn’t know how to respond to inquiries about him, about us.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-Just tell them I died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ll quit asking.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-Really?<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">-Yeah</span></i><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He demonstrated:<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> Oh him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yeah, he died.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then he looked very sad for a moment, as if he was honoring his own memory, observing a moment of silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Then you change the subject.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Not far from the Cimetière Père Lachaise, in a non-descript building where she once lived, is the Musée Édith Piaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visitors require appointments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first full song I hear as I walk in is “L’hymne à l’amour.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOKZ4SeJd33i8Tpw57dWfYMn1SBeczdRXCOK_G8saD8182yEwohLvmn0UxWTDfL9jeuwzjEWhyphenhyphen1UPg0mDXNrUmL7JMoTJfzBOh9bTp_Vnlz_nydr2iYzMv3PkjME6XjKK7eeK3GRB5Yl8/s1600/musee+ep.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOKZ4SeJd33i8Tpw57dWfYMn1SBeczdRXCOK_G8saD8182yEwohLvmn0UxWTDfL9jeuwzjEWhyphenhyphen1UPg0mDXNrUmL7JMoTJfzBOh9bTp_Vnlz_nydr2iYzMv3PkjME6XjKK7eeK3GRB5Yl8/s400/musee+ep.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">I think of the apartment-turned-museum as a life-sized locker with its memorabilia guarded by a tiny dog named Opium and a man named Bernard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an article in English lying on one of the tables, the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">gardien </i>is interviewed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He reveals that met the singer as a teenager at the insistence of his parents.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">As he looked at her, sitting a blue couch that now resides in the museum, in a bathrobe, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">mal-peignée</i>, he thought:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This isn’t a great singer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She isn’t even beautiful.</i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, he said, he heard her sing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked to watch her practice backstage for the next three months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Afterwards, I walk back to Père Lachaise, determined that this time I will find Édith Piaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I arrive at her gravestone, looking at the dates of her life, I remember the beginning of a framed letter hanging in the museum, a run-on gush of thoughts on growing older:<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Tu sais que j’ai 28 ans aujourd’hui, oui mon vieux.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Vingt-huit ans depuis cinq heures du matin, tu te rends compte, je veillis, c’est embêtant quand on a dépassé 25 ans enfin ils sont parties, n’en parlons plus !<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Do you know that I’m twenty-eight years old today, yes old man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Twenty-eight years old since five o’clock this morning, do you realize, I’m getting older, it’s bothersome when you pass 25.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, the years are gone, let’s not talk about it anymore!<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span style="font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Lucida Grande";">Engraved on a plaque by her tombstone, are the final lines from the song.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMO7SJ96Iyi9gHo_SivlwlyL-wvqfD6RGuWf6sf3TYeYruF_QVQhtgGncT7CLWC99W5UW3o0VwPUDg-XgmM1bECGzFg2vSn1eyYqen2uzKr9kFjJgtWHzTyFIADmMUPdN0bmviBH6CF4/s1600/Dieu+r%C3%A9unit+ceux+.+.+..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinMO7SJ96Iyi9gHo_SivlwlyL-wvqfD6RGuWf6sf3TYeYruF_QVQhtgGncT7CLWC99W5UW3o0VwPUDg-XgmM1bECGzFg2vSn1eyYqen2uzKr9kFjJgtWHzTyFIADmMUPdN0bmviBH6CF4/s640/Dieu+r%C3%A9unit+ceux+.+.+..jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px;"><br />
</span></span></div><!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-8423035092978854572010-08-29T15:57:00.000-07:002010-08-29T19:27:16.836-07:00Accent Mark<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyB90-J1hGdYLaYRR3vgFv78jI5SoMwsbc1E54Ol_DW6B1uahUWX3IL7uHZVF8F6sXWO_WNvkSMjW7Hj-Ly_y2sQuJGoSoK1A1TH3q6VWLhdva-ZQrqJD6AfsOSptdV3wdJuTaoIrr8s/s1600/IMG_0847.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfyB90-J1hGdYLaYRR3vgFv78jI5SoMwsbc1E54Ol_DW6B1uahUWX3IL7uHZVF8F6sXWO_WNvkSMjW7Hj-Ly_y2sQuJGoSoK1A1TH3q6VWLhdva-ZQrqJD6AfsOSptdV3wdJuTaoIrr8s/s400/IMG_0847.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Au carrefour de l’oral et de l’écrit, de l’usage et de la raison, de la mémoire et de l’oubli, l’accent circonflexe révèle l’ambiguïté de l’orthographe française. Il en illustre la passion. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">- Bernard Cerquiglini, from <i><a href="http://www.leseditionsdeminuit.com/f/index.php?sp=liv&livre_id=1990">L’accent du souvenir</a></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><div style="text-align: center;"><o:p> At the intersection of the spoken and the written, of usage and reason, of memory and forgetting, the circumflex accent reveals the ambiguity of French orthography. It illustrates the passion.</o:p></div><div style="text-align: center;"><o:p>- Bernard Cerquiglini, from <i><a href="http://www.leseditionsdeminuit.com/f/index.php?sp=liv&livre_id=1990">L’accent du souvenir</a></i></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It is the third day of French class. We have sung the alphabet, counted to ten, practiced our hellos and how are yous. All so cordial, all <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">enchantés</i> to meet one another, inquiring politely and perpetually about each others’ well-being. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">At the beginning of each class, I ask them to have the one conversation they’ve all memorized with five new people. It goes like this: <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p>Bonjour !</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Je m’appelle _____. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Enchanté !<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Et vous ? Comment vous appelez-vous ?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Je m’appelle _____.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Enchanté ! <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> Comment allez-vous ?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Très bien ! Et vous ?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Bien !<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"> Au revoir !<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">They always laugh when the conversation’s cut short with an abrupt <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">au revoir</i>. Afterall, mere seconds earlier the exchange seemed so promising, a new acquaintance they were pleased, no ENCHANTED to meet, someone who asked very earnestly how they were. Then suddenly, they have nothing more to say to one another and find themselves ending the pleasantries without warning only to make their way through the script with someone else before dead-ending into <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">au revoir</i>, again. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">But, that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">is</i> the way of language learning. You say what you have the words to say, and then you say no more.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Shiny-eyed and eager, all of them, they know each others’ names, feel relieved that the alphabet is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">exactly</i> the same, except sonically. Take comfort in the fact that they were born to count to <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">dix</i> in Dixieland, named so because its inhabitants used “dix” for the said <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">chiffre</i>.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">But this is day that French becomes foreign. This is the day that I tell them about accent marks. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">There are five accent marks in the French language: aigu, grave, circonflexe, tréma, and cédille. The most storied and for me the most fundamentally French, is the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circonflexe</i>. It’s a linguistic example of the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">passé-présent</i> or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">le passé qui ne passe pas</i> (the past that doesn’t pass) so often evoked in France, perhaps most commonly in the signs and statues on each street, at each square, always reminding you of someone or something long gone but lingering. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I cannot cross the Pont Saint-Michel, for example, without remembering the Algerians who drowned under it in the police repression of October 17, 1961, a story summarized in a sentence on a copper pont-side plaque. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyKV34TsZjtEK2NylZOp8YGMivA5q5LNZjpot_5hL2sLoV8EFx7LX60lSBq2fIIEdzwYDk85zZXUAAt8DZHQ8LqzcvuVNalEEb1z5m22Hw05YlWq7NKeoRni2TwNIAzaW8PmZicO1T4g/s1600/plaque.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlyKV34TsZjtEK2NylZOp8YGMivA5q5LNZjpot_5hL2sLoV8EFx7LX60lSBq2fIIEdzwYDk85zZXUAAt8DZHQ8LqzcvuVNalEEb1z5m22Hw05YlWq7NKeoRni2TwNIAzaW8PmZicO1T4g/s640/plaque.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
An equestrian statue of Joan of Arc, glittering and gold, on Rue de Rivoli reminds me that it was here, before the street sprung up and became a succession of vendors selling post cards, magnets, and pashminas to Louvre-bound tourists, that Joan tried to enter the city. <br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G6D56yog3ZsBokPIMI8hWvzChdfPV0wWoXIeohq4Cehjbc0OGOujWQtyk9-i_lEEYs9AvDFwya8q8jnNApc-E7hceqX604EC9Mu6SFkHKv-5q47YGhEm1xetZiWFRGs0xlBsb3M0JqQ/s1600/joan+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1G6D56yog3ZsBokPIMI8hWvzChdfPV0wWoXIeohq4Cehjbc0OGOujWQtyk9-i_lEEYs9AvDFwya8q8jnNApc-E7hceqX604EC9Mu6SFkHKv-5q47YGhEm1xetZiWFRGs0xlBsb3M0JqQ/s640/joan+.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
The other day, I passed a streetside plaque commemorating someone named Louis Baron, who “fell for the liberation of Paris in 1944.” Someone had placed flowers in a hook attached to the plaque earlier that week. In Paris, more than anywhere I’ve visited, the present is always rooted in the past.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPZuPXINN4XINWUs5mVIWjd-n2lzkPK0JDboA1tAq3sdROPrtry_-pYV3tFJpfhD_tCMoySWe8t_6CQ4PvwPihXZUurLnpxv8cK8lkjgZOtaDLoCm5FeQVxVqRRJWxsuwvPBKvm4MymI/s1600/Baron.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQPZuPXINN4XINWUs5mVIWjd-n2lzkPK0JDboA1tAq3sdROPrtry_-pYV3tFJpfhD_tCMoySWe8t_6CQ4PvwPihXZUurLnpxv8cK8lkjgZOtaDLoCm5FeQVxVqRRJWxsuwvPBKvm4MymI/s640/Baron.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The circonflexe hovers like a hat, wind-lifted for a brief moment before it blows away above certain vowels, indicating an “s” that once was but is no more. It reminds you that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">forêt</i> was formerly “forest” that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">hôtel</i> in a past life went by “hostel” that before they became <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">apôtres</i>, the apostles were encumbered not only with a real back-stabber but also with an “s,” that an extra letter once appeared in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">paraît</i>. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The circonflexe serves no practical function except to whisper that words, like people, have ancestors, (or <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ancêtres</i>,) that they’ve left their legacy, even if that legacy may at times elude us. It reminds me of a beautiful poem by my friend <a href="http://questionair.blogspot.com/">Kim</a>, in which she considers some of the daily signifiers of her Southernness, seeks her inheritance in her everyday surroundings. She, too, has lived in places where an occasional drawl or y’all marked her as an out-of-towner.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">This summer I was chatting with a professor at a conference in Paris and mentioned that I was in school in Louisiana. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mais . .</i> . she paused, studying me, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Comment ça se fait que vous parlez comme </i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ça </i>? How is it that you speak like that? Did you spend time in France when you were younger? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I assumed she meant that I didn’t sound especially American, that nothing in my intonation or accent marked me. I don’t remember exactly how I responded, but I must have said something along the lines of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">It’s not always like this. This is a good day, and you are generous. </i><o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The linguist Eric Lenneberg argued say that there’s a critical period for language learning, the cut-off point of which is sometime around the beginning of puberty. If you begin learning a language after that time, you can never really hope to attain native fluency. I know of a few almost-exceptions, friends who can pass for French much longer than I can, but in the end, our accents always betray us. A garbled vowel, a fumbled “r,” an “ou” where “u” should be. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It used to be a game. How long can I go before someone asks me where I’m from? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Sometimes, only a moment. This was the case with the taxi driver on one of the first nights in Paris. I wasn’t in the mood to tell him, to assume all of the connotations of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">américanité</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Et vous ? </i>I’d asked, after he’d tried to guess, (<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Irlandaise ? Allemande ?)</i> knowing he wasn’t French either. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Moi, je suis de la race humaine</i>, he volunteered, matching my mystery. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Why would I want to go undetected in the first place? Because sometimes an accent is a weapon wielded against you. At a champagne tasting in Épernay, I’d been chatting with the woman serving us and the husband of another customer at the tasting. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">-I do like this champagne, he lamented, but I don’t know if we can carry another case.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">-Oh, but you don’t have to buy a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">whole </i>case! Just get a bottle or two! </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">We both laughed until his wife snapped.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">-<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Et vous, vous allez lui vendre du champagne avec votre petit accent. Vous êtes quoi, <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">stagiare ?</i> <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p> -And you, you’re going to sell him some champagne with your little accent. What are you, an intern ?</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">We all knew that American interns had certain connotations. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Mon petit accent</i>. Other people had called it little, too, but in a different way. In a way that wasn’t designed to make me feel small. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">I remember that a friend and fellow southerner I used to teach with said that when he’d visited California a girl at a bar had commented on his little accent, one that, because we grew up in the same place, I had never especially noticed. “That accent,” she’d said, “It’s gonna get you laid.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">It amused me because I’d never really thought of a southern accent as an asset, had tried to shed mine even, and did, to some extent, as I taught English as a foreign language. But, like the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circonflexe</i>, it was always vaguely hovering over me, reminding me of a past from which I felt a little detached but that was still a part of me. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">My boyfriend has once teased me when we were living in France. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">When you talk to your mom on the phone, you sound so southern.</i> When he said “southern” he sounded so French. He said it the intuitive way. Not “suthern” but “south-ern.”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">The other English teachers in the department marveled at the funny exoticism of my American accent, instructing the students to listen for the differences. They had all studied in England and sounded like Julie Andrews, to me. Not that I blamed them for preferring the British accent: it was a preference shared by F. Scott Fitzgerald. I’d read that when he was living in Paris, he’d hired a British governess for his daughter, Scottie, in the hopes that she’d sound nothing like her parents.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Back to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circonflexe.</i> In the early nineties, a group of language reformers proposed a series of changes that would normalize the spelling of certain words, minimizing inconsistencies in spelling and grammar. One of the suggested alterations was the elimination of a certain <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">accent inutile</i>. Afterall, didn’t it just confuse people? Wasn’t it just a leftover legacy from Latin, detached from the present just as it was detached from the letter over which it hovered? <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Eyebrows arched <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">en circonflexe</i> as its defenders grew combative. As it turned out, no one really wanted to see the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">cironflexe </i>effaced. Some people would say it’s about elitism, about taking a certain pride in being the kind of person who always remembers the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circonflexe</i>, while others forget it, the way some English speakers take pride, for example, in knowing the distinction between “less” and “fewer,” in never making an apostrophe error.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">As I speak to my students and they repeat after me, I can hear how they echo back the imperfections in my own accent, how with good faith, they imitate every note, even when it’s off-key, even when I sound more American than French. I think they know, but they don’t mind. I don’t mind either. Like the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">circonflexe</i>, I have come to accept my accent, even like it.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">Why? For the same reason I don’t think the argument was ever about elitism. I think it’s about knowing where you’re from, remembering where you’ve been, and keeping the souvenir.<o:p></o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-60271993172645230332010-08-22T16:11:00.000-07:002010-08-23T06:29:34.140-07:00Bubbles: Comme fanent les roses<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgejPN_VrmXine60V_aO_F45hww99D2toO5uoeuGNQFOkXgxwNDhpvJm3OJ5x4D9iIonpPMC5oBdWHKxOU3swDZV-k3l172p95WnCP3O3GXKim7OHk7p65dP0fdJxA6xebGW0I0b7NwRtA/s1600/IMG_0822.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" 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id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508386863538486370" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWGBJqmh34vkgpLA1kW9vI_sx3TJ1b1268nLZkSKAx3TiZs8J83hoJHMdWX46hTW9cxOrn9RtCkYGuuyNaDjpFy6rIkvzxLvTAAI56QSiGMIakfpInD6A-6ZpxHtpqC0Gdkal9fH-Wwo/s1600/IMG_0793.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTWGBJqmh34vkgpLA1kW9vI_sx3TJ1b1268nLZkSKAx3TiZs8J83hoJHMdWX46hTW9cxOrn9RtCkYGuuyNaDjpFy6rIkvzxLvTAAI56QSiGMIakfpInD6A-6ZpxHtpqC0Gdkal9fH-Wwo/s400/IMG_0793.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508386853348549794" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z-xE2YjbLQnwXUJjuIvQQ7OLW_wFjzUVxQCFueOe5v4sKVFPJtLqh8LGSftL-a9IfJTe_Ip40WClwih9YXdDyPBlVcKvBcQg9G_79TvP18MkowvlB7bYd2vqOHhhGuG_i7nIPDGJCfo/s1600/IMG_0821.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3z-xE2YjbLQnwXUJjuIvQQ7OLW_wFjzUVxQCFueOe5v4sKVFPJtLqh8LGSftL-a9IfJTe_Ip40WClwih9YXdDyPBlVcKvBcQg9G_79TvP18MkowvlB7bYd2vqOHhhGuG_i7nIPDGJCfo/s400/IMG_0821.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508386848323430498" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;"><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Venez vite, je bois des étoiles ! </span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Come quickly, I’m drinking stars!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 12px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Dom Pérignon</span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 10px;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Do you remember Miami Subs?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s 8 P.M. in Paris, which makes it 2 P.M. in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If you changed the “P.M.” to an “A.M.” and rewound the clock ten years, we would all be twenty-one and in college at UNC.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The bars would just be closing, and we might be hungry.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They do remember Miami Subs.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Everyone who went to college in that town a decade ago does.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span></span>“They” are Addie and Burleigh, whom I have known since college, and Scott, whom I met a few months ago.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Actually, Scott doesn’t remember it because he had his post-bar munchies in a college town in Michigan.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We try to explain.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“The thing is," said Addie, “when you walked in, you actually felt like you were in Miami.”</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Miami Subs was a pink and blue neon blaze of a fast-food joint that had more tacky charm than your typical late-night establishment.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Rosy flamingoes and turquoise ocean waves beckoned you into a painted beach scene, a mural-mirage on the wall.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Everything was fluorescent and flashing under a neon sun that didn’t set until 3 A.M.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Miami Subs served the usual five-dollar fast-food fare: bacon cheeseburgers, cokes, curly fries . . . </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">but they also had pitas and key-lime pie, seafood platters, Philly cheese-steaks, a startling array of menu options for a clientele often too inebriated to sort through so many options.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There was one item on the menu that truly distinguished Miami Subs from every other franchise I’d frequented.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Along with your cheese-steak or curly fries you could order, for the more sizable sum of 99 dollars, a bottle of Dom Pérignon.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’d never seen anyone purchase any, but the temptation was there.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The cool glass bottle beckoning through the glass refrigerator behind the cash register.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Last week, I took a day trip to Épernay, a quaint little town in the champagne region, famed for its </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">caves</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As you step out of the tourist office, you find yourself on the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">route de champagne, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">a yellow brick road of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">maisons de champagne</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> which begin both literally and historically with Moët et Chandon, the first of the producers, founded in 1743.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Moët et Chandon is where they make Dom Pérignon: there’s a statue of the legendary Benedictine monk out front.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I took the tour, which finished with a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">dégustation</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> or tasting.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I had decided to splurge and taste two vintage champagnes.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sometime, our guide said at the end, you should try Dom Pérignon.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Her face goes dreamy . . . </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">C’est autre chose.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s something else.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For a tasting, you have to make an appointment.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They bring you into a private room for a lengthy lesson. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Then, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">après l’effort, le réconfort.</span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After the effort, the reward. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">All in all, it takes about an hour and a half and costs 70 euros.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>À qui faut-il que je m’adresse ?</i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Who do I need to talk to? . . . Maybe it was because it was before noon and I’d already had seven glasses of champagne that a 70-euro tasting seemed like a good idea.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The man at the welcome desk rebuffed me.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Non. Aujourd’hui, c’est impossible.</span></span></i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“C’est impossible” is an expression that French people use fairly regularly.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Most recently I’d heard it when I tried to move a chair around to the other side of the table at a café terrace.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">C’est impossible !</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> announced our waiter, swooping in and replacing the wicker chair to its original position.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Il y a une loi</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A law? Really? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Oui</span></span></i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You couldn’t place chairs past a certain point on the sidewalk.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But the French also have another expression: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Impossible n’est pas français</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Impossible isn’t French.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It isn’t American either.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And as far as I was concerned, I was a little of both.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I ask the barman at the champagne café around the corner that also hosts tastings if he can hook me up.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Non.</span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He says they sell Dom Pérignon at a place down the street.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He shakes his head and asks if I’ve ever tasted it.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Of course not.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He says it’s risky.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Besides, there are very good champagnes for much less.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Je sais, je sais, c’est clair que c’est une histoire de marque, mais bon . . . il y a aussi une valeur symbolique.</span></span></i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I shrug, gallically</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ça représente quelque chose pour moi</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Despite the fact that I’d make the statement so assertively, I wondered what I meant.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What was the symbolic value?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What exactly did it represent to me?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first answer that came to mind was “credit card debt.”</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But the second answer was more like a line from a credit card commercial.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Certain experiences, with certain people, at certain times, are priceless.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You take opportunites when they’re presented, and you don’t ask a lot of questions or listen to the naysaying bartenders.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fast-forward a few days from my visit to Épernay.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My friends Addie, Burleigh, and Scott are sitting around a wooden table at my apartment</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">before a spread of picnic pleasures.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Chorizo.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Dark chocolate.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ripe cherries. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Zucchini bread </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">fait à la maison</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A block of comté, the color of a daffodil. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fig-infused foie gras on </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">pain d’épices</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Cantelope wrapped in prosciutto.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Smoked trout and baguette.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Hazelnut brownies.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Do you remember Miami Subs?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They do.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We try to recreate Miami Subs for Scott. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ten minutes later, Addie pauses . . . What made you bring this up?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I tell them the story of my day in Épernay, how I’d always wanted to taste Dom Pérignon, how I tried while I was there and they said no.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And how it was a good thing that I’d been denied.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Because if I had tasted it there, I wouldn’t have bought a bottle to share with them.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We abbreviate the lesson we would have received chez Moët et Chandon by reading the description in the booklet that came in the box.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fresh, crystalline, and sharp, the first nose unveils an unusual dimension, an aquatic vegetal world with secret touches of white pepper and gardenia.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The wine then reveals airy, gentle richness before exhaling peaty scents.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On the palette, the attack bursts forth, and matures into a sensual fullness that winds itself around, like a tendril of foliage.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Notes of aniseed and dried ginger linger on the skin of the fruit (pear and mango), more textured than ripe.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The finish gradually unfurls and then settles, smooth, mellow, all-encompassing.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We pour ourselves glasses, toast, and look pensive as we sip the first swallow.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Burleigh is the first to speak: “It tastes effervescent.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We laugh, very hard.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I imagine us sending the black and silver booklet back to Moët et Chandon with a suggested revision to Richard Geoffrey’s elaborate paragraph.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’d scratch through it with the silver Waterman pen Addie gave me earlier this summer and replace it with Burleigh’s single phrase: It tastes effervescent.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On me dit que nos vies ne valent pas grande chose</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Elles passent en un instant, comme fanent les roses</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They say our lives aren’t worth much</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They pass in an instant, like roses wilt</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was a line from Carla Bruni’s song </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvyMG0z0FZY"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“Quelqu’un m’a dit,”</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> that came out when she was just an heiress and supermodel, not yet first lady. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A couple of years ago, when she passed up a glass of champagne at a state dinner, I had read that everyone immediately took it as a sign of pregnancy.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Because, who, really, ever wanted to pass up champagne? </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Life passes in an instant.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So does champagne.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What did it represent?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Dom Pérignon is aged ten years before it’s sold. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You can save it for another ten, even longer in your home.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But once you open it, you can sip and savor, but you can’t linger too long.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You have to drink it before the fizz goes flat.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Venez vite, je bois des étoiles</span></span></i><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> . . . </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first time I read his exclamation, I’d really only considered the second part . . . that image . . . champagne as a constellation, swirling and sparkling on the tongue.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="font-family:";"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span></span>But now I think of the beginning.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Come quickly!</span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I imagine the monk calling out to his 17</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">th -</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">century equivalents of Scott, Addie, and Burleigh.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He had wanted to share it, too.</span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div><div style="text-align: center;"> <!--EndFragment--> </div> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-29453551648030930432010-08-16T01:34:00.000-07:002010-08-29T21:16:03.736-07:00Graveyard Rock Stars: Popularity, Père Lachaise and the Living Dead<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkC0o75ucdOkI0P8APQBScGybSddvJL43972X-mDvhFEkT1uZ6gD84Gf_WgzrlauUWaHX_y1LdJaf69bM9_yoYTfzc5eC9DD_4qOHzQZvMxkzB1WAcdXYZUmDE87phjPI8h6BRVsWEKU/s1600/IMG_0580.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5505955077624156962" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFkC0o75ucdOkI0P8APQBScGybSddvJL43972X-mDvhFEkT1uZ6gD84Gf_WgzrlauUWaHX_y1LdJaf69bM9_yoYTfzc5eC9DD_4qOHzQZvMxkzB1WAcdXYZUmDE87phjPI8h6BRVsWEKU/s400/IMG_0580.JPG" style="cursor: hand; 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<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">POPULAR! </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. . . it's all about popular. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It's not about aptitude, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It's the way you're viewed</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-from the song “Popular” in the music</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">al </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Wicked</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There have always been two kinds of popularity in my mind.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There’s the first kind, that I’ve dubbed “meritocracy popular.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">People who are meritocracy popular have risen in the ranks because they’re genuinely good and deserving. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They’re friendly and caring and you’ve never heard them say anything particularly unkind or seen them trample over others to get where they are. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">If they have lots of friends, it’s because they’ve been a good friend to many people.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then there’s the other kind of popular, which I call “rock star popular.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">People who are rock star popular exude cool.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They’ve won affection from being beautiful or having gifts that others admire. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe they try, but they don’t seem to.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And they don’t have to be a good friend to anyone to have people lining up to adore them. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Someone I used to know, who had traces of both kinds of popularity, once said:</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Children like me</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Why?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Because I’m tall.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I laughed.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It seemed simple, silly.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">No real reason to like someone.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He was, at 6’3, a head higher than most people, so to kindergarteners, he towered even taller, a man on stilts.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I hadn’t entirely believed his assertion until one day when we were ice skating together in front of the Hôtel de Ville in Paris.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> He’d grown up in a place where winter sports existed and whizzed around the rink, looping and circling and crossing over, triple lutzing.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I came back inside and pulled my skates off, tired by the unaccustomed cold, knowing my calves would ache.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He ambled in afterwards, stood beside barefoot me in his skates, which added another six inches, and within seconds a crowd of French schoolchildren gathered.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Regardez l’homme très, très grand avec sa toute petite femme</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">!</span></span></i></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> -Did you hear what they said?</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-No.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I relayed it, but didn’t mention that they had married us in their minds because we were grown-ups.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> C’est un homme GÉANT !</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Avec une dame MINUSCULE !</span></span></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It’s a GIANT man!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">With a MINISCULE lady!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Soon a clump of children gathered around us, laughing and pointing.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Fingers accusatory. Mouths ajar.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At first we laughed, too.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then, as the little blond </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">garçon</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, the ringmaster of the freakshow we’d found ourselves featured in, kept calling out to his friends to see the big man and his little lady, their howling laughter began to feel cruel.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe we didn’t belong together.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe we didn’t fit.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> But he was right.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They did love his height.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At the </span></span><a href="http://http://www.pere-lachaise.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Cimetière du Père Lachaise</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, the biggest graveyard in Paris, there are two kinds of gravesites: those of the popular people (the living dead) and those of the forgotten. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Oscar Wilde, Édith Piaf, Jim Morrison, and Balzac lie alongside the tombs of cemetery citizens unknown to the vast majority of visitors.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">At the entry, you can grab a map that indicates the resting places of the most sought-after deceased.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Putain.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">J’y comprend rien, quoi, RIEN !</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">exclaimed one twentyish woman with a male companion as they scrutinzed the map.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> He shook his head.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There’s a system of double numbering.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sections have a digit.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Gravesites, another.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes, people just head in the general direction and look for the crowds.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Every once in a while, you can start off excitedly towards a grand group, convinced that you’ve struck graveyard gold given the number of groupies, then approach to realize the throng is not comprised of tourists but funeral-goers.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They’re mourning the recent dead.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Someone they actually knew.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> As I walk, I come across one grave with fresh flowers and an 8 x 10 framed picture propped on it.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">1993-2010.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Just a kid.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A few people start towards me thinking I’ve spotted another graveyard rock star then back away, embarrassed.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They think I know him.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Imagine they’ve interrupted.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I also give up on the map, which I’ve tried to reproduce in my notebook since they’ve run out at the front, just about the time I find two other Jim Morrison-seekers.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> -He was a rock and roll guy who died young, says a fortyish man in khaki shorts.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-How young, Dad?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How young?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Oh I don’t know</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Twenty-seven, I supplied.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I could tell by the girl’s expression that she didn’t think that was especially young.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It’s not, when you’re thirteen.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> When I was thirteen, I’d had a rock star crush on Jim Morrison and read all of the books on him, even the trashy, conspiracy theory ones that insisted he was still alive.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I had a big poster of him, his arms outstretched like Jesus, pasted to my closet door, above a black-and-white photo of Marilyn Monroe.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My friend Alison and I had stayed up late one night writing out the lyrics to all of the songs on the Doors’s first album.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It felt like a deep and meaningful activity.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And compared to most of our other eight grade occupations, it probably was.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Funny . . . the boyfriend I’d had at thirteen grew up to be a rock star.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> But a nicer one than Jim Morrison.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span><br />
<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Five to one, baby.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One in five.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">No one here gets out alive.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> What was that song about anyway?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A starstruck scribe, I’d dutifully recorded the lyrics on notebook paper in my loopy lettering.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One of the titles of the more sensational Morrison biographies borrowed the last phrase.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> At the gravesite, people leave flowers and notes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes, they’re just phrases from the songs.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Nearby trees and tombstones have suffered the effects of graffiti. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There used to be a guard here because there were so many problems.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’d heard that they actually wanted to kick him out of the cemetery for his posthumous hellraising.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">People wanted to show up and smoke a joint or spray paint “JIM LIVES” on the surrounding tombstones.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Today, two teenagers sip a can of Stella, the local equivalent of Budweiser, and converse in German.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A series of metal barriers prevent visitors from getting too close, like bodyguards at a concert. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The graveside activity isn’t as much of an issue now.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As one tourist notes, the fans are starting to die.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I move on, seek others.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> -</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Vous avez vu Yves Montand ?</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">inquires an older lady whose map I’ve borrowed.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Yves Montand est là ? Je passerai lui dire bonjour alors !</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Have you seen Yves Montand?</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Yves Montand is here? </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I’ll drop in and say hello!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I realized my response made it sound like we were at a dinner party and I was surprised to bump into an acquaintance.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But then again, we </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">were</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> only acquainted.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mainly because he’d slept with someone I knew better.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Someone more popular than he was.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Someone of my own nationality, who also died young.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Having greeted Yves, I returned to looking for Oscar Wilde, who also has enough rock star allure to attract graveyard groupies.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hundreds of lipstick kisses adorn his enormous white tomb despite an engraved plea to halt such “defacement.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> According to my guidebook, the tomb isn’t the only enormous thing.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There’s a sphinx-like angel sculpted onto the marble front with missing genitals, the statue’s, supposedly huge.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Now, according to legend, the missing member rests on a British ambassador’s desk.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A penis paperweight.</span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> The lipstick kisses seem like such a heteronormative expression of love for a writer whose most celebrated </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">liason</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, whose muse, was a man, Lord Alfred Douglas, or as Wilde knew him, “Bosie.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In a way, you could say Oscar Wilde was <a href="http://taratoutesdirections.blogspot.com/2010/08/lovelocked.html">lovelocked</a>, adoring a man much younger than he, who never entirely returned his mentor’s affections.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In the end, Wilde went to prison for that love, accused of sodomy and locked away for gross indecency. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But if he died alone, in a hovel of a hotel with tasteless wallpaper, he’s found hordes of posthumous admirers.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Metro tickets and scraps of papers destined for the deadman collect on all sides of his tomb.</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> One person’s note reads: </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Dorian Gray made me love literature.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Thx for that.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></i></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I wipe my eyes.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It gets to the ex-English teacher in me, on two levels. The emotion behind it makes me misty-eyed because I</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> also believe that a book can change a life.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But the “Thx” makes me want to wield my lipstick like a red corrective pen and fill in the letters lacked.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Out of my own respect for Oscar.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The note reminds me that on the same closet door, I had also pasted quotations from </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Portrait of Dorian Gray</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, having graduated from Doors lyrics by the tenth grade. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My dearest Oscar</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, a woman named Amy had written on the tomb,</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> we are winning! </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I first read “we” to mean gay people.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then again, maybe it also means unpopular people.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Wilde was a rock star now, but he hadn’t always been loved for who he was.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">His epitaph, pulled from his own poem </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Ballad of Reading Gaol</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, speaks of outcasts in a manner strangely prophetic:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And alien tears will fill for him</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Pity's long-broken urn, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">For his mourners will be outcast men, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And outcasts always mourn.</span></span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><i><br />
</i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">On the way out, casting about for conversation, I stop off to chat with the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">gardiens</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There’s a funeral here today. Women in black dresses.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Men in suits.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A carful of flowers.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-People are still buried here often?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-Every day.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> But death doesn’t get them down.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They are playful, flirt a little, ask about Louisiana, if I speak French because I’m “cadjin,” make me promise to drop by again.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i> -À l’été prochain, alors ?</i></span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>-Non! C’est trop long !</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><i>Revenez à Noël !</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> -See you next summer then?</span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-No!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That’s too far off!</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Come back at Christmas! </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 4.0pt; margin-right: 4.0pt; margin-top: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Though I’ve never been sociable enough to maintain a large group of friends all at once, I leave feeling a little popular.</span></span></o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-27412235715342997532010-08-12T09:46:00.000-07:002010-08-16T01:32:02.700-07:00Vagabondes: Women, Walking<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vloPuEc1v3zzNhB9TKpNulEAPt5j30AFR68DRoZCq86oXE-DjNjQPRwkRDTEeIUlgVcOyjlDC-z7OzmdXsJqAPA-ZhuAK6r8_WDGJQokcanSCBarWME6KDxQOwwOOwE23Xci0Nedw7c/s1600/IMG_0493.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2vloPuEc1v3zzNhB9TKpNulEAPt5j30AFR68DRoZCq86oXE-DjNjQPRwkRDTEeIUlgVcOyjlDC-z7OzmdXsJqAPA-ZhuAK6r8_WDGJQokcanSCBarWME6KDxQOwwOOwE23Xci0Nedw7c/s320/IMG_0493.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5504568883027609202" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:georgia, serif;font-size:medium;"><i>-What do you like about living in Paris?</i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>-That it’s feminine.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>-Feminine?</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>-It has curves.</i></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>It’s slow.</i></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>Buildings are close to the ground.</i></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>You can wander.</i></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> </i></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>You can’t wander in Manhattan.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre;font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-<i>Conversation with Cyndi, who moved to Paris last year from New York</i></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> The French language offers a wealth of <a href="http://http://hipparis.com/2010/08/04/strolling-in-paris-let-me-count-the-ways/">words for walking</a>, a dictionary list, long and imagistic, of ways of moving through the space.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">While we stride and amble along the glittery cement of American cities with “skyscraper wallpaper,” to use Jim Carroll’s description in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The Basketball Diaries</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, the French are apt to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">se promener</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> or </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">errer</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, along the cracks and crevices of cobblestone, amidst marble façades that stretch up only a few stories.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I contemplate cobblestone: maybe that is what slows them, eases the pace of “walking” into “wandering.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Its uneven edges, its dips and drop-offs, remind you to slacken your step for fear of stumbling, to look around as the land shifts endlessly beneath your feet and you realign your stride.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Of all the words for Parisian peregrinations, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">vagabonder</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> is my favorite, perhaps because it calls to mind Cosette. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As a writer, divorcée, and cabaret performer, she often matches her character Renée in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">La Vagabonde</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, a self-described </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">dame seule</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, re-envisioning her existence after parting ways with her partner.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Both women seem shared between the desire to settle into stability with someone else and an equal longing to revel in the terrifying freedom of singularity.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">People say Paris is a great city for couples, but I think Paris is a great place to be alone</span></span></span></i><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> It was a statement made by one of my first friends here, each of us in some ways like Renée, each of us realigning our strides as the land shifted.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As she suggested, when you are alone, you look both outward and inward.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You notice more.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">When coupled, you look at one another.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">John Donne had said it best in “</span></span><a href="http://http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/goodmorrow.htm"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The Good Morrow</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">”:</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i> For love all love of other sights controls</i></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>And makes one little room an everywhere</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Cyndi had commented on the curves.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A popular saying, quoted on Parisian post cards reads: </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ajouter deux lettres à Paris, c’est le paradis</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. (Add two letters to Paris and it’s paradise.), but the city’s concentric circles might remind the errant traveler of Dante’s rings of hell.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Descend to his innermost circle, the ninth ring reserved for traitors, and you will rub shoulders with Mordred, Cain, Judas Iscariot, and Satan, himself, frozen in a lake called Cocytus. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But if you spiral into the center of Paris, you’ll find the first circle, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">point zéro</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, a copper-colored stud on the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">parvis</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> in front of Notre Dame from which all distances are measured.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s as if Paris is a pinwheel of an art project, expanded, glittered and glued, cut and crafted, by 2,000 years’ worth of city dwellers, and the creation is all held together by a tiny golden brad.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Dante’s inner ring promises perpetual punishment; Paris’s, perpetual pleasure.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Point zéro</span></span></span></i><span style="color:black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> is a wishing stone, but no two wishes are the same, nor are the ways of wishing.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some days, as I’ve watched, people toss coins onto it, a price paid, even if a pittance, for what’s wanted.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Other days, they touch their toes to the middle, close their eyes.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Still other times, they tiptoe over it. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Once, I saw several people, one after another, step into </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">point zéro</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and spin around, as if you really had to spiral into the center of something in order to know which direction to take, which one would one would wind you outwards toward your wish.</span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Many walking tours begin in the center.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Many times, even if I begin on this outskirts, I walk almost subconsciously towards it, submitting to the city’s centripetal pull.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> There’s a literary archetype in French literature, <i>le flâneur</i>, that arose from another word for walking.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Flâner</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> is a verb that describes a leisurely, aimless stroll, defined as </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">se promener sans but, au hasard, pour le plaisir de regarder</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> or “to walk without aim, haphazardly, for the pleasure of looking” (Larousse’s online dictionary). </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I think of it as the exact opposite in time, aim, and gait, of a power walk.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In the nineteenth century, as Baron Haussmann revised the city’s geography, expanded streets and cleaned up the infect sewage of </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">boue</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, walking became easier and more pleasant.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">People, and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">personages </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">took to the streets.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Masculine ones, that is.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> In a </span></span><a href="http://http://www.h-france.net/vol8reviews/vol8no121davidson.pdf"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">book review</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> of Catherine Nesci’s academic work devoted to the subject of flânerie (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Les Flâneurs et les flâneuses: Les femmes et la ville à l’époque romantique</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">) Denise Davidson comments on the qualities of the flâneur:</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> “ . . . The classic flâneur of the early and mid nineteenth century symbolized the transformations of modern, urban life. In Baudelaire’s writings of the 1860s, [ . . . ] the flâneur is associated with bohemian Paris. He was an artist and an intellectual, an upper-class man of leisure, a dandy and a connoisseur of the pleasures of the city. In </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Le Flâneur et les flâneuses</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, Catherine Nesci focuses on an earlier period, when the flâneur took a slightly different form, and was more an observer and chronicler of all that he saw than an artist transforming it through his creative impulses.” (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">H France Review</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Vol. 8 September 2008 121)</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> In literature of the same period, women walking often translated to promiscuity, real or perceived.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Women, who </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">flânent</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> unchaperoned, are seen as a softer version of street walkers.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">How funny that our euphemisms in English and in French still suggest a connection between women’s walking and loose morals.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The term </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">faire du trottoir</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> or, literally, “to do some sidewalk” means to sell one’s body, offer it up to the public for more than viewing pleasure. Balzac’s novel </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ferragus, le chef des dévorants</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> commences with the premise that every Parisian street has a character, and certain streets are so notorious that simply being seen on them can ruin a woman’s reputation.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Oui donc, il est des rues, ou des fins de rue, il est certaines maisons, inconnues pour la plupart aux personnes du grand monde, dans lesquelles une femme appartenant à ce monde ne saurait aller sans faire penser d’elle les choses les plus cruellement blessantes</span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Yes, there are streets or ends of streets, there are certain houses unknown to the majority of people in the wider world in which a woman who belongs to this world would know to not go into without having people think the most cruelly injurious things of her.</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Yet, women want to walk, to move about, uncorseted, to stretch and stroll and claim the space.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some of Dumas’s characters in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The Queen’s Necklace</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, Oliva and Jeanne de la Motte, sneak out of their towers for witching hour walks.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The author George Sand, who adopted a male pseudonym for the purposes of publication, cross-dressed to be able to circulate freely.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right:4.0pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination: none;mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span style="color:black;"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> She writes in </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Histoire de ma vie</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, “La découverte jubilatoire du monde par la flâneuse travestie donne ainsi naissance à la creation artistique: la ville se fait paysage et espace de la rêverie.” </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(The cross-dressing flâneuse’s jubilatory discovery of the world gives birth to artistic creation: the city transforms into a landscape and space for reverie.)</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Perhaps, because it was once denied us, we desire to </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">vagabonder</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> on broad avenues and cramped alleys.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Maybe that is why people like Cyndi, like me, like so many other women I’ve met take such pleasure in the slow discovery of self and city that occurs on winding walks though Paris’s curves.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>-What did you do on your last night in Paris?</i> I asked Liz, who left this morning.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><i>-I went on a walk.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sometimes, as a woman, it is still dangerous to walk alone.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have encountered women who will never walk unaccompanied, who imagine danger waiting in every shadow. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In college, my first-year roommate called a male chaperone for the three-block walk between the bookstore where she worked until nine and our dorm. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">She was always safe, but what sadness I saw in that safety.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What willingness to relinquish freedom.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As I have <a href="http://taratoutesdirections.blogspot.com/2010/08/lovelocked.html">written before</a>, I have been attacked in my apartment, in broad daylight, on a Sunday afternoon, with all of the neighbors nearby, at a time and in a place where I felt perfectly safe.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have been scared into submission, physically overpowered.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have wondered briefly and powerfully if I was about to die and how.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I still jump if someone startles me on the sidewalk. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I still, on occasion, have nightmares.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top:0in;margin-right:4.0pt;margin-bottom:0in; margin-left:4.0pt;margin-bottom:.0001pt;line-height:14.0pt;mso-pagination:none; mso-layout-grid-align:none;text-autospace:none"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span></span>And I still walk myself home. </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-54022978989441929312010-08-08T16:25:00.000-07:002010-08-08T17:37:44.482-07:00Paris: Well Worth a (Hot) Messe<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8H19NToGYlCH-QawdvcUT35kDgVnGz1PydiTamenwIXQszu2Y5KpP8ofo1MDi_BXwbcASiVIHiK18ZBGD8WUPY0VcXvgYm9X8Si8M-KybBD1RbwaMoWzWCxO0vX53sQsimTaawcUgW_M/s1600/IMG_0519.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8H19NToGYlCH-QawdvcUT35kDgVnGz1PydiTamenwIXQszu2Y5KpP8ofo1MDi_BXwbcASiVIHiK18ZBGD8WUPY0VcXvgYm9X8Si8M-KybBD1RbwaMoWzWCxO0vX53sQsimTaawcUgW_M/s320/IMG_0519.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5503194620140645490" /></a><br /><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Paris vaut bien une messe</span></i></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Paris is well worth a mass.) </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-Words of Henri IV, the first Bourbon king, in reference to his conversion to Catholicism in order to assume the French throne</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Boulevard Henri IV radiates out from place de la Bastille, just a cobblestone’s throw from where I live.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The big </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">boulevard</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, named after the first Bourbon monarch, geographically links the storied king to the once-was prison, the stones of which bolstered barricades during the Revolution.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> For some believers, religion, like the Bastille, is a sort of invisible prison, with its creeds and rules, its prescriptions for interactions with God.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But Henri IV refused to be locked into anyone else’s God logic.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Any die-hard denominational Christian might consider him a fair-weather worshipper.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He had already converted from Protestantism to Catholicism to avoid death in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">massacre de la Saint Barthélemy</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> then returned to Catholicism once his coronation depended upon it, pinballing between two faiths all of his life since his parents differed in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">confession</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I imagine his last conversion as a sort of a quick and dirty ceremony, at the </span><a href="http://saint-denis.monuments-nationaux.fr/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">basilique Saint-Denis</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, on the way into Paris.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Henri, throwing up his hands and bellowing, “Oh, what the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">enfer</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">!</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If this is what it takes to be king, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">pourquoi pas</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s not like I haven’t done it before.”</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> In the past two weeks, I’ve attended mass twice, and each time it’s been, well, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">messe</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-y.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have always been clumsy at church, despite having grown up in one.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I fumble a little in prayer, drop the hymnal, twist and fidget in the pew, never know how many hands to shake during the passing of the peace.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Another recent example of this confessional clumsiness?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Last week, I stopped into </span><a href="http://www.insecula.com/salle/MS01296.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">l’église Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> in the Marais for the specific purpose of praying before a statue of my favorite saint, Joan of Arc, and spent half an hour jabbering away to the wrong martyr before realizing that my beloved Joan statue was actually about 75 feet behind me.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> There’s a phrase from a </span><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tXs-vxgYHvA"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">song</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> by the </span><a href="http://www.theavettbrothers.com/us/home"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Avett Brothers</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, whom I first heard singing in the fellowship hall of the small Methodist church where we grew up, that sums up this rough-around-the-edges desire to be good:</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And I don’t know if my soul is saved</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sometimes I use curse words when I pray</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> You see, when you grow up in rural North Carolina, you hear a lot of talk about “being saved,” and it can really jar you into believing that if you haven’t had a particular kind of come-to-Jesus moment, you might have wandered off the path, taken an accidental detour to a place Christians might describe as a “hot mess.”</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> “Hot mess” is an expression I first encountered when I moved to Louisiana.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A grad student from Lafayette had applied it to the bureaucracy at LSU.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Culturally, it makes sense.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">No matter what kind of mess you’re in in Louisiana, it’s always worse when it’s ninety degrees and you’re sweat-streaked, hair all frizzed from the humidity.</span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> How do you say “hot mess” in French?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’d translate it as </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">C’est le bordel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, which literally means, “It’s the whorehouse,” but can generally be applied to any crazy or disorganized situation.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> In an attempt to practice churchgoing, and maybe get better at it, I decided to attend mass at </span><a href="http://www.notredamedeparis.fr/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Notre Dame</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> this morning.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Instead of being one of those tourists who shuffled through the herd to gawk at the rose windows while being pick-pocketed, I’d continue my experiment of trying to have non-touristy experiences in touristy places.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And believe me, it DOES feel very strange to have people flashing photos of you in your pew, praying, or up at the front, receiving communion.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Last week, after a trip to the </span><a href="http://www.americancathedral.org/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">American Cathedral of Paris</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, I’d made the mistake of calling the “flesh” component of the Eucharist “the wafer” a couple of times.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“The HOST,” my upstairs neighbor, who invited me, corrected.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">(Apparently, “wafer” connotes “Nilla” rather than “body of Christ.”)</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">She said the proper way to take communion was to let the host melt on your tongue.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> So, imagine my surprise this morning when the priest bit off a piece of the wafer, (um, host) which was, afterall, the size of a silver dollar, then put the rest in his mouth and visibly chewed it.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was actually a relief to see him, up there in front of hundreds of people, nibble off a piece of the host like he was snacking on a Ritz cracker instead of experiencing transubstantiation.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If he can take communion that casually in one of the most celebrated cathedrals in the world, maybe there’s more than one way to be good. Another line from the song comes to mind . . .</span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I don't doubt that the good book is true</span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But what's right for me might not be right for you</span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> The service, which involved Gregorian chants and readings from Hebrews and Luke, lifted my spirits, though post-communion I wondered if I’d committed a terrible sin by receiving the sacrament without being Catholic.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> On my way out, I stopped by another statue of Joan of Arc and said a few prayers for the people I loved.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Since my friends John and Emily would be getting married a few hours later and I wouldn’t make it across the Atlantic in time, I asked for a blessing for them.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As I prayed, I remembered the overheard words of a woman on a cell phone behind the cash register of the cathedral’s gift shop a few days prior.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tu demandes à Dieu.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tu lui demandes rien, il va rien faire!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ask God.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">If you don’t ask him for anything, he won’t do anything!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> It was a funny image, God just lazing about, thumb-twiddling, lounging on some futon in heaven, waiting for his pager to buzz, when timid Christians couldn't summon the gumption to ask him for anything.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I bet this woman used “tu” instead of “vous” when she prayed.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I bet, every once in a while, she let a curse word slip.</span></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-80149400417101489772010-08-05T05:23:00.000-07:002010-08-05T12:32:52.954-07:00Parisian Prison Breaks, Saints, and Sinners<span><span></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbWPzkfIbcWncdO_WLqNaUxfnV95t7WMRL21GGNiGa8kFc5qBvLsSMmWru2uMs_z0FosIvl9D7YXonu0aIgNnR4aGorSS5Zove3448ZPtMBS3wmm6Vk30tG_5Ouh6r9G-s6KVpm-lHEs/s1600/IMG_0513.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCbWPzkfIbcWncdO_WLqNaUxfnV95t7WMRL21GGNiGa8kFc5qBvLsSMmWru2uMs_z0FosIvl9D7YXonu0aIgNnR4aGorSS5Zove3448ZPtMBS3wmm6Vk30tG_5Ouh6r9G-s6KVpm-lHEs/s400/IMG_0513.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501904272229055746" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzCJQG4yunpsVYuF6ZWqUxxDMQ7z_iNkEjCYAt0gPK_YsbU1rmwxuLQCzm-zGpnxpgrrFAtktmmBrSHbD8c7qa6Q0F9Q8LBpGGBFZdKciJhTyENNl_EYgRVRanRhDi-BBlF40p1dUEVw/s1600/IMG_0507.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCzCJQG4yunpsVYuF6ZWqUxxDMQ7z_iNkEjCYAt0gPK_YsbU1rmwxuLQCzm-zGpnxpgrrFAtktmmBrSHbD8c7qa6Q0F9Q8LBpGGBFZdKciJhTyENNl_EYgRVRanRhDi-BBlF40p1dUEVw/s400/IMG_0507.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501904265877222930" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“Sailing past the Conciergerie’s floodlit towers on an evening boat cruise, it is hard to imagine the fear that lurked within its walls during the five centuries it served as a prison. But step inside the gloomy main hall, and the sense of oppression is palpable.” –Fodors’s </span><span style="font-style:italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">See It, Paris</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tuesday, I broke into a prison, the front hall of which conveniently resembled a church, and because I’m not good at being bad, I immediately confessed, pleading for a pardon that should have been invalidated by the fact that I was actually delighted to be inside. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Like many sins, it began innocently. On a self-guided stroll, I came to the Conciergerie, a castle of a cell which had once housed Marie Antoinette and other enemies of the Revolution, pre-beheading. Discouraged by the line that snaked along the building, I peered in through a side door, wondered if it was worth it. It was an exit door. Visitors kept bustling out. After the second or third person held it for me, I just slid inside, tiptoed down the stone stairs, and waited vaguely to be arrested. But no one paid me any attention . . . they’d seen worse.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Standing there, under the ribbed vaulting, glancing at the security guard inspecting the bags of everyone who hadn’t stepped in through the out door, in the fashion of a Led Zeppelin album, I remembered what Andrew said. At the close of our Nineteenth-Century Criminal Fictions class, he annotated a class photo of all of us from the last day, saying which characters from Hugo, Dumas, Dickens, and Balzac we most resembled. Of me, his caption read: “Tara=Jeanne de la Motte. She looks so sweet in this picture, but I get the sense she could sly her way around if she needed to.” </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Jeanne de la Motte claimed to be a long-lost descendent of the Valois line who won Marie Antoinette’s favor then betrayed her in a scam that involved forgeries, lookalikes, and a diamond necklace originally commissioned for Louis XV’s mistress, and eventually sold for parts, its jewels supposedly scattered across the continent. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Unlike Marie Antoinette, Louis XVI, and their children, Jeanne de la Motte evaded la guillotine. Two of the walls of the Conciergerie named all who hadn’t. An expansive plaque reads “Les Guillotinés de la Révolution,” with the bizarre subtitle, “Liste générale et très exacte des 2 780 condamnés à mort à Paris.” I laughed when I read “très exacte.” Who exactly had come along and scoffed, “Why, that’s merely an </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">approximate</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> list!” to be met with such a haughty, passive-aggressive reply?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Of the executed, there were </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">perruquiers</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (wigmakers), </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">brasseurs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (brewers), </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">jardiniers</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (gardeners), </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">prêtres</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, (preachers) and many, many </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">ex-nobles</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">. Though the list of condemned might be exact, I have read that the guillotine wasn’t always. That it sometimes took more than once. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I ponder prisons each time I exit my metro stop, Bastille. The building once the dwelling place of Voltaire and the Marquis de Sade, is now only a ghost of an outline, painted on the place, its stones scattered and lost like the rocks in the necklace.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I wonder, how is Paris a prison? Like the Conciergerie, it is also externally breathtaking, but how does it lock one in?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Hmm . . . maybe it locked you into a kind of perpetual tourism. Even when you knew the city, people could treat you as a tourist, insulating you from authenticity by speaking to you in English, for example, even if you persisted in speaking French.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first time I’d ordered a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">sandwich jambon-fromage</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, on that first field trip to France, the practiced phrase echoed through my head for the quarter of an hour I stood in line (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Je voudrais un sandwich mixte, s’il vous plaît. Je voudrais un sandwich mixte.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">) I was met with a dismissive, “Yes. What else?” in a stand-off of textbook language phrases.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I believe in reversal rituals, that you can undo one experience with another, so I decided to choose the most touristy place I could find and vow to have a purely Parisian untouristy experience. Luckily, it didn’t look long. Right outside of the Conciergerie sat a café called “Les doux palais.” Given that the menu was posted in six languages, it clearly catered to out-of-towners. I’d order the most typically touristy thing I could think of (</span><i><a href="http://www.clearlydeliciousfoodblog.com/2010/628/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">a croque-monsieur</span></a></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">) but do it in a place only a local would, (at the counter). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Commander au comptoi</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">r is the French equivalent of ordering at the bar, except you don’t linger as long since you have to stand. Your reward? A cheaper price. A 4.60 meal instead of one for 6 euros. </span></span></div></i><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I have never seen a French person order a croque monsieur and suspect Americans are only partial to them because they use loaf bread instead of baguettes, but still seem exotic enough with their mix of melted cheese and béchamel on top. Besides, they’re as familiar as foreign food can be. Heavily featured in French I textbooks, they’re the lunchtime equivalent of a croissant. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Croissants</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> for breakfast, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">croque monsieurs</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> for lunch, and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">escargots</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> for dinner. Wasn’t that what French people ate? How many restaurant-themed skits had I seen my own students perform that featured this simple little sandwich in a starring role?</span></div> <div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-Vous désirez, madame?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">-Je prends un croque monsieur, s’il vous plaît.</span></div></i><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I revealed I was an amateur to counter culture by squeezing into a space too small. The barman gallantly glossed over my <i>gaffe</i> and gestured to my right where a man with a half-drunk cup of <i>café</i> perused <i>Le Parisien</i>. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ici, madame, vous pouvez faire de la gymnastique !</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> (Here, Madame, you can do gymnastics!)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I strolled over, stretched my arms out in appreciation, claiming the space, and wondered if I should oblige him by cartwheeling down the shiny, silver counter. Last January, when the Saints scored the final touchdown of the Superbowl, a girl at the wings joint in Baton Rouge where friends and I surveyed the spectacle climbed onto the bar and slid into a split, her arms waving over her head like she was in the fast bend of a roller coaster. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">New Orleans and Paris intertwine in my mind. An undergraduate in the LSU French department once showed me her tattoo, a scrolly Latin phrase, that wound up her right side. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fluctuat nec mergitur</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">: “Tossed by the waves, she does not sink.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s Paris’s motto, she said, but it reminds me of New Orleans. Of Katrina.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">New Orleans, too, has its signature sandwich, the muffaletta. All the tourists made sure to eat one at Central Grocery on Decatur Avenue in the French Quarter. Back in Paris, I ate my sandwich the non-touristy way, with a fork and knife. I people-watched, paid, and left. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In an hour’s time, I’d broken into one prison and out of another.</span></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-22582495146647446382010-08-01T14:37:00.000-07:002010-08-01T14:46:08.102-07:00Unlocked: “Higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide”<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2ySd5n7j99jCOj7iStFsvvm9Q6qYJqVuGtQoUhTpYrfUP6pRMhKN-pMN3_8isYkk-xcyOdFyqMX36IyHQkim3yEDY7jiJFjrdDmzIjAhB9BnL1WHh21xPKqpfSK7XBb4Djw0ruXh_Wc/s1600/unlocked.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit2ySd5n7j99jCOj7iStFsvvm9Q6qYJqVuGtQoUhTpYrfUP6pRMhKN-pMN3_8isYkk-xcyOdFyqMX36IyHQkim3yEDY7jiJFjrdDmzIjAhB9BnL1WHh21xPKqpfSK7XBb4Djw0ruXh_Wc/s400/unlocked.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500560455435864274" /></a><b><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I walked to the Pont des Arts and made a list.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span></span>I tore the list into a handful of confetti to scatter in the Seine.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span></span>I took the lock from my purse.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span></span>I kissed it, slid the key in, unfastened it, let it spring open.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span></span>I tossed the lock and both keys in the river and walked home a different way. </span></span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </b><p></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-56810640052662809522010-08-01T11:08:00.000-07:002010-08-01T11:18:58.440-07:00Lovelocked<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPVQByASqQv_wI3jSch875zXSbE2sDlzEhml2HZsEe_O_NtoteZfCqLHIXyhKkPH12PE5Lux5x122EE090mFOX3E27gnEGN03lq7-2VxUkkL7UuORi7sZc5NImYHlwdaue6gXacv91V0/s1600/IMG_0345.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOPVQByASqQv_wI3jSch875zXSbE2sDlzEhml2HZsEe_O_NtoteZfCqLHIXyhKkPH12PE5Lux5x122EE090mFOX3E27gnEGN03lq7-2VxUkkL7UuORi7sZc5NImYHlwdaue6gXacv91V0/s320/IMG_0345.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500506828279407874" /></a><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">“Ce n’est jamais aussi simple que ça en a l’air.” (It’s never as simple as it seems.) - my professor, in reference to life in the Moroccan harems in the 1800s</span></span></span></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The locks had become a shade more sinister. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The first sign was the brand names, all in large letters on the front. The most common by far were </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Abus,</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Master</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">, and </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Bull</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. Each undermined the sweet, simple, sentimental first vision of the lovelocks. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Abus</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> means “abuse” in French. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Master </span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">suggested an inherent imbalance in relationships, the idea that someone is always empowered, while another is enslaved by sentiment. </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Bull</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> seemed to mock some of the public declarations of love with a crafty little “ha!” in the juxtaposition. Tim and Laura . . . BULL.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What did it mean to symbolize love with a lock?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> Looking at the locks, hung from the grating, I could not help but wonder if love imprisoned. In a conversation before things ended, the last person I loved explained his leaving by his uneasiness with the idea of being “locked in.” </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> It was a sad thought, being the warden of someone’s passions. Pacing the perimeter of the heart, guarding against intruders. Contentment guards against its own intruders, does not need to lock in or be locked in. How many of the lovelocked couples felt locked in? How many had felt pressure to make a public profession of passion?</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">One of my students from Louisiana, recently wrote to me to request a recommendation letter for a study abroad program in France. I wrote back that I’d gladly write it but was concerned that the fact that I’d be mailing it from France might delay her application. “Oh </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Madame</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">!” she wrote back. “You are living a life I dream of. No strings!” </span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Strings . . . Couldn’t they make you high strung, strung out, strung along? Didn’t you get tangled up in them? Tied down?</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Where else did I most often see locks in Paris? On the bouquinistes’s bookstands. Personally, I couldn’t imagine wanting to steal one of the crinkle-paged, yellowed books they sell, afraid it would disintegrate under my fingertips. I liked a durable companion of a book that I could annotate and shuffle around at the bottom of my backpack. But we guard what we value. We assume someone else will value it, too.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The other day, I stopped into the musée du vin in the 15</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. A young man walked in just after I did and asked if he could leave a heavy-bottomed bag of his belongings at the front counter while he toured. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Is it valuable? the woman at the counter asked.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-No, it’s not valuable. But it’s very important to me.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Later, when he was reunited with the important bag, I asked what was in it.</span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-My rollerskates, he replied.<br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Last year I was held up. I had left my door unlocked. Before my robber left, rode off on my bicycle with a backpack of electronics, he shut me in a closet. “Stay in here so you don’t get hurt,” he said in a tone strangely protective for someone who’d had a kitchen knife to my throat a few minutes earlier. My heart hiccoughed when the door closed. He had left it unlocked for me, the way I’d left it unlocked for him. </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> He had just gotten out of prison, and he knew what it felt like to be locked in.</span></span></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-25199691326855607982010-07-31T04:18:00.000-07:002010-08-01T08:43:36.064-07:00Symbol Sorting and Sign Language<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VToNrZHkBoyr00KNgDyKYaExjNMUKCZAeuva0NldRvZ3FDeCahiPDNmetd97n9mGrpJq320sXeX-D4eRiUVbh8qssQ2Ix0N2Wnts6Sn2O-KMi4HgkeIeutqaP9TcYfdCCLIQ7OFb95c/s1600/IMG_0202.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7VToNrZHkBoyr00KNgDyKYaExjNMUKCZAeuva0NldRvZ3FDeCahiPDNmetd97n9mGrpJq320sXeX-D4eRiUVbh8qssQ2Ix0N2Wnts6Sn2O-KMi4HgkeIeutqaP9TcYfdCCLIQ7OFb95c/s320/IMG_0202.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5500029273618516642" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US">S</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">ous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine</span></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Et nos amours</span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Faut-il que je m’en souviens ?</span></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">La joie venait toujours après la peine.</span></span></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Apollinaire, “Le pont Mirabeau”</span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">When I think of bridges, of love, of Paris, I cannot help but think of Apollinaire’s poem, “Le pont Mirabeau.” (Find it and a translation at the end of the post.)</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The bridge itself, which links the 15</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> to the 16</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> arrondissement lies much further down the river than the Pont des Arts, which sits in the center, emanating out from the Louvre in the 1</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">st</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The poem is a bit of a break-up anthem, about layovers of the less lovely variety. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">About standing still in the space between yesterday and tomorrow for a little longer than you expected to.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">About knowing that things have begun to shift around you but wanting to fix yourself in the place where you had once been with your love and be still with the </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">souvenir</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I imagine the speaker standing there on the bridge, remembering his beloved at a time when they were there together and the stillness came from the calm of shared things rather than inertia. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Les mains dans les mains restons face à face</span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Tandis que sous </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Le pont de nos bras passe</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Des éternels regards l'onde si lasse</span></span></span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">For him, in memories, love bridges the two of them, their arms arced, echoing the structure where they’d once stood.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It’s dark and broody and true. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">If I had tried to study it with my high schoolers when I taught World Literature, some tenth grader would have dismissed it as “so emo.” </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Maybe the one who slouched in his seat and regularly forgot his homework.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Then, one of the girls would look out the window at something that wasn’t there, and return the next day with a few of Apollinaire’s verses written on her binder.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Later, you’d remember they used to date.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">That one day, a couple months ago, she’d been very quiet, her eyes a little red.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">There’s a refrain in the poem, a foregone conclusion that metes out the message: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Les jours s'en vont je demeure.</span></span></span></i><i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The speaker seems stuck.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Perhaps it is the first time he’s been back to the bridge without his chérie, before different memories could crowd out the current connotations. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">His mind loops back to the same thoughts, the way couples loop back to the same patterns, dynamics, conversations.</span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Often, at night on the Pont des Arts, a few guitar players and drummers begin a sing-along, the refrain of which is Bob Marley.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">He’s the artist they always come back to.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">French people of a certain age and population love him, but they don’t always know the words to his songs.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">There’s a great French expression for this, the slurred word sing-along style of someone who’s vague on the lyrics, especially in another language.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It’s called </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">chanter du yaourt</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">, or “to sing yogurt.”</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">So, the voices fade and wane for stretches, but everyone knows the chorus: </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I’m feeling?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Is this love, is this love, is this love, is this love that I’m feeling?</span></span></span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Though I’ve heard it many times, more times here than elsewhere, and forget much of it, one image sticks:</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We’ll share the same room, with a roof right over our heads.</span></span></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We’ll share the shelter of my single bed.</span></span></span></i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I had always loved that last phrase and its conjurations of two lovers, their limbs twisted together in a space that verged on cramped but was instead cozy. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Don’t many relationships begin in single beds?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">In dorm rooms?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The first time I left France, I left someone I loved very much.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">To reassure me, he said, “When you come back, we’ll live together.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-What will our place look like?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-It will be a very big apartment with a very small bed.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It soothed us with what we knew.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">One evening, several months earlier, I had sat on the edge of his small bed.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> From across the room, near the door, h</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">e looked at me and said he loved me.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I said, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Moi aussi, je t’aime</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">He walked over to bed, sat down beside me, took my twenty-one-year-old face in his hands and said, </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Moi aussi, je t’aime</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> with earnestness equal to mine.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I felt confused.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Weren’t we even?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Wasn’t this getting redundant?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Wait.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What did you just say a minute ago?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-I said I was turning off the lights.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">J’éteins</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Later, it became our code.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Hey . . . I’m turning off the lights. Yeah, I’m turning off the lights, too.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Back to the bridge.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The refrain, so far, of these writings.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">My friend Cathleen and I questioned some teenagers one night.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">They said the locks weren’t just for couples. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">C’est pour faire un voeu</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Oh! For wish making? </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">About anything? </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-No, he clarified, A wish for someone to love you.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It reminded me of an earlier trip to New Orleans, to the tomb of Marie Laveau, a nineteenth-century </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">creole voodoo priestess of the French Quarter.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">People traveled to her tomb for the same reason.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">You knocked, whispered your love wish, scratched three chalk Xs in on the marble exterior, then left her a gift.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Dark chocolate.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">A string of red beads.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Candles stubs.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">A folded note.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I’m not sure how many native New Orleanians do it, but the teenagers seemed to think the lovelocks or </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">cadenas d’amour</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> on the Pont des Arts were the traces of tourists.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">You made your wish, or announced your mutual love with a lock, then tossed the key in the Seine.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Later, authorities in Paris might come by and remove all of them, as they had in late May.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Who gets that job?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What kind of anti-romantic feels good about slashing through all those symbols of love?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Maybe it’s the police department’s equivalent of Apollinaire’s speaker.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Some guy who just got dumped.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The other </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">gendarmes</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> agree, “It’ll be good for him.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">All he does anymore is stand on that bridge.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Our conversation about the locks was interrupted when one girl, followed by the group, stormed off to confront a clump of boys on the opposite side who kept shining a laser into her face.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Were they trying to flirt in a third-grade kind of way?</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Like pulling a pigtail or popping a bra strap? It wasn’t working.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">She was furious.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I watched for a second, as she strode across towards them, her friends behind.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Saw their bodies, confrontational, posturing anger.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Saw the other boys stand up, followed by some gesturing, but glanced away after a minute. </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">If we couldn’t hear them from here, it couldn’t be too bad.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We’re discussing the profile of the lock placers when they return.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Ana says they have to be very young, that it’s just another version of making a big heart on the bathroom wall and filling it with names: </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Addie and Burleigh 4-ever, Terry + Beth = LOVE</span></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">We agree that Parisians must do it less.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The grand gesture works better when you don’t have to pass by it daily, after things have gone sour.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Hey, what happened?</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">She mumbled something.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-They were drunk?</span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">-Non, pas saouls.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Sourds</span></span></span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">! Not drunk, deaf! </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">She shrugs.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">And we don’t know sign language. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I cannot help.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I only know the signs for billy goat, Jesus, and popcorn, none of which seem relevant.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">As I write, there is a woman in the apartment above me screaming in Spanish.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">In the past, the police have come.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Once, there was a broken flowerpot on the sidewalk.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I cannot understand her, but I imagine that she’s warring with someone she loves.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">That the same language doesn’t always make it easier.</span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 18px; font-family:'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', Arial, Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Le pont Mirabeau</span></span></b></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">par Guillaume Apollinaire</span></span></b></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine<br />Et nos amours<br />Faut-il qu’il m’en souvienne<br />La joie venait toujours après la peine.</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure<br />Les jours s’en vont je demeure</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Les mains dans les mains restons face à face<br />Tandis que sous<br />Le pont de nos bras passe<br />Des éternels regards l’onde si lasse</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure<br />Les jours s’en vont je demeure</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">L’amour s’en va comme cette eau courante<br />L’amour s’en va<br />Comme la vie est lente<br />Et comme l’Espérance est violente</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure<br />Les jours s’en vont je demeure</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Passent les jours et passent les semaines<br />Ni temps passé<br />Ni les amours reviennent<br />Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Vienne la nuit sonne l’heure<br />Les jours s’en vont je demeure</span></span></p><p style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-color: initial; outline-width: 0px; outline-style: initial; outline-color: initial; vertical-align: baseline; background-image: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-attachment: initial; -webkit-background-clip: initial; -webkit-background-origin: initial; background- background-position: initial initial; font-size:11px;color:transparent;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); line-height: normal; font-family:Times;font-size:medium;"></span></p><h2><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Mirabeau Bridge</span></span></h2><h2><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Translated by Richard Wilbur</span></span></span></h2><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine<br /> Must I recall<br /> Our loves recall how then<br />After each sorrow joy came back again</span><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> Let night come on bells end the day<br /> The days go by me still I stay</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Hands joined and face to face let's stay just so<br /> While underneath<br /> The bridge of our arms shall go<br />Weary of endless looks the river's flow</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> Let night come on bells end the day<br /> The days go by me still I stay</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">All love goes by as water to the sea<br /> All love goes by<br /> How slow life seems to me<br />How violent the hope of love can be</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"> Let night come on bells end the day<br /> The days go by me still I stay</span></p><p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The days the weeks pass by beyond our ken<br /> Neither time past<br /> Nor love comes back again<br />Under the Mirabeau Bridge there flows the Seine<br /><br /> Let night come on bells end the day<br /> The days go by me still I stay</span></p><div><br /></div></blockquote><p></p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><span style="mso-ansi-language:EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-75069233052349007932010-07-26T02:10:00.000-07:002010-07-26T15:06:50.971-07:00Lovely Layovers<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNNWye175NN4EORUZaJUJTEH4pW8our0qjCAQG8A8fbCyMkmDCaxVgMBDLgc3_2y4XBfE1fFh6SRwjs8nPwyjsP6n6zs1njXcT540Mnk93HvPwTU-EA-wz5HSYNkzh-rzsaUfFHejlzY/s1600/IMG_0352.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkNNWye175NN4EORUZaJUJTEH4pW8our0qjCAQG8A8fbCyMkmDCaxVgMBDLgc3_2y4XBfE1fFh6SRwjs8nPwyjsP6n6zs1njXcT540Mnk93HvPwTU-EA-wz5HSYNkzh-rzsaUfFHejlzY/s320/IMG_0352.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5498141171428620290" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Oscar Wilde, of women: “They spoil every romance by trying to make it last forever.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> What did it mean to symbolize love with a lock?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Or to place the lock on a bridge? These were the questions I was mulling over, a week after my first stop on the Pont des Arts.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I had a notebook, an Orangina, and an hour, so I went back to my new favorite place, hoping to catch a couple actually placing a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">cadenas d’amour, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">or</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">lovelock. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I settle in, pen poised.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">To my left, a man photographs </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">close-up shots of the locks, something I’d done days earlier.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Maybe I’ll interview him, I think.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Half a page into my notes, just when I’m beginning to feel like my favorite chapter book character, Harriet the Spy, a man comes up on my right.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ça vous dérange si je me mets à côté de vous ?</span></span></i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></span></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Hmm.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What does he want?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">A cigarette?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My purse?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">My number?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I wind my hand through the turquoise strap of my bag.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> He is early for a rendez-vous at the Louvre, he says.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He wants to know what I’m writing, peers playfully over my shoulder, mystified by my handwriting, noticing now that I am not from here, t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">hat this summer is a layover, between two lives. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first with a seatmate; t</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">he second, perhaps not.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I tell him I am in an Urban Anthropology class about Paris, that we’ve been asked to choose a place that interests us, and well . . . </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">me voilà</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I nod to the locks.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He hops up, moves to the other side of me, where my purse is.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I pull it closer. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He jiggles one of the locks.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Where would you choose?</span></span></i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He has lived in many places but most recently the 14</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Hmm… probably Parc Montsouris, he says, but it’s hard to make a place your own when so many people who don’t even live here are always in Paris.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">2.2. million residents.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">45 million tourists.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Across from us sprawling and chatting, sits a group of twenty or so American high schoolers, claiming the space the way American adolescents do.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He sits down cross-legged, face to face with me, tells me about his neighborhood.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Now the photographer begins to take our picture, snaps several shots before he walks off.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">In his lens, there is a sudden </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">us</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, smiling, laughing.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> It is time for my new friend’s rendez-vous.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He stands up, thanks me for sharing the space.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He has not asked for a cigarette, taken my purse, shown any interest in contacting me again. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He says, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Des fois à Paris on croise une personne qu’on ne va peut-être jamais recroiser.</span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Sometimes in Paris we cross paths with someone that we’ll never see again.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He is headed off, and I am a little sorry to have been so guarded, sorry to have assumed that he wanted more than company.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Wasn’t it Oscar Wilde who said women ruined everything with their forever fantasies? </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Later, I’d have to scrounge up some lipstick and kiss Oscar’s tomb in Père LaChaise in acknowledgement of a truth told.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">And I’d have to come back another day for more investigative work.</span></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-5535230834011833002010-07-15T13:36:00.000-07:002010-07-25T04:32:26.212-07:00Le Pont des Arts: An Intersection of Love Stories (un premier contact)<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjudI1IjKyAKP4KIQGlq97QD76ysNRnxKBusFoSICFocDQcRWMhJY-DCLVh8FB8b6OkTz3xT1orEcYXMCKdhvaIDnro1SXUnrqxUBN8R9hWiN_iOsB_mi-r_bVU0X4rFlURATHX1Y8l19o/s1600/IMG_0343.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjudI1IjKyAKP4KIQGlq97QD76ysNRnxKBusFoSICFocDQcRWMhJY-DCLVh8FB8b6OkTz3xT1orEcYXMCKdhvaIDnro1SXUnrqxUBN8R9hWiN_iOsB_mi-r_bVU0X4rFlURATHX1Y8l19o/s320/IMG_0343.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494236741850747522" /></a><br /><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "> <span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(45, 45, 45); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;">“<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Paris a mon coeur dès mon enfance.” -Montaigne</span></span></span></span></span></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“Paris has had my heart since I was a child.” </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:Calibri;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As a seventeen-year-old, I sat in a cramped classroom pasted with the Johnny Hallyday-laden pages of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Paris Match</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Petit Prince</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> posters reminding me that the essential was invisible to the eyes, and wondered if one day I would glimpse the Eiffel Tower in any form other than its cardboard incarnation on Madame Furr’s wall.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Even though most of my world could be condensed into the rural radius of the one-stoplight town where I grew up, everything I loved seemed to be French.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> So, I practiced my </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">pirouettes</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> in ballet, perused Camus in translation, trekked hours to see Rodin’s sculptures in museums, tried to reproduce the intricate grandeur of puff pastries, and exhausted the French film section at the local library.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I did see the Eiffel Tower, a year after I began taking French.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">After that, just as Gertrude Stein claimed that America was her country, and Paris, her hometown, I had two countries.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The first time I saw the tower was at night.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It is still my favorite way to see her, twinkling on the hour, a coquette of a clock.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> This is probably my tenth time in Paris, but the first thing I wanted to do in my adopted hometown was run, see as much as I could, as fast.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It is the way I discover a new place, or return to an old one.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Scenery slid by as I pounded </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">pavé</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> . . . Notre Dame’s spire, slender and coal-colored, emerging from among the marble.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The glossy glass Pyramide juxstaposed against the Louvre, so stern, so enduring.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The dusty stretches along the Tuilleries lined with garden-sitters paging through newspapers and paperbacks.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The green-boxed </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">bouquinistes</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, equipped with vintage </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">cartes postales</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, posters, yellowed books.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The cluster of cars and cycles weaving wildly around Place de la Concorde.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> More bridges, more near-misses with motos.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> I cross to the left bank.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Arrive.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">En fer et forte</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, 1665 steps surging skyward.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I touch the west leg, move under it, look up. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Mouth </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">merci.</span></i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">No one is trying to sell me a postcard or keychain.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I live here, even if only for two months.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> On the way home, I crossed back over to the left bank on one of the pedestrian bridges near the Louvre, le Pont des Arts. I slow to see a man, crouched, taking a close-up photo of something on the railing. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I pause, curious.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Glints of gold and silver sparkle from all over the bridge.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Locks.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Hundreds of locks hooked onto grated side railings. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> He leaves.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I approach.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Every lock was marked with a combination of lovers’ names.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some scrawled in Sharpie, perhaps purchased also in haste from a hardware store on the Quai.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some engraved, the product of planning, perhaps packed with the couple on a honeymoon voyage.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Others, more discreet, had initials. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Some, no names at all.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Most were key locks, others dial locks, still others with combinations, numbers lining up in a vertical stripe down the middle.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> There was a kind of beauty in it that ached a little, all those people loving each other, wanting to offer proof of it to the passersby.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Thinking of the people I have loved, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">je me lève</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">, realize I’m dizzy from standing still for a moment after running so long.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I had been to Paris with each of my long-term loves.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Each once.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But have come many more times alone than attached. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The backdrop of each story outlasted all of the characters.</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> Who were these lovers?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Where were they?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Fanny et Jérémy.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tim and Laura.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Ana Luisa y Robert.</span></i></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I want to get away.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I want to fly awaaaaaaay.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yeah, yeah, yeah . . .</span></span></i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">a guitarist croons, mid-bridge as I jog off.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">What did Lenny love? </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Oh, right.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">He loved falafel.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know this because we’re rumored to live in the same neighborhood. </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">There’s a big picture of him, Rue des Rosiers, falafel in hand, his arm around the owner whose restaurant he endorsed.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“Best falafel in the world,” he had said, according to my </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Let’s Go</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> guidebook.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I won’t mention the name of the place, out of respect for the other falafel joints, but you’ll be able to recognize it, if you visit.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s the one with the line, preceded and followed by other desolate vendors pleading, “We have good falafel, too.” </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">They don’t want to beg but they feel compelled to.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It is the position of the lover who is left: “Don’t pass me by . . . I have something worth your time.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know you’re not convinced, but please stop walking away.”</span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> How many of these couples were still together?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It was a question I asked my friend Scott, a few weeks afterwards, once we and some other friends had become </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">habitués </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">of the bridge, frequenting it in the evenings when youngish people gather for improvised picnics, drinks, </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">rencontres</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“Doesn’t matter,” he said adamantly.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">“It only matters what they felt at the time.”</span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><i><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Who are they, these couples?</span></span></i><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Are we not predictable in this?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Loving the sunset, the kiss at the airport, the Eiffel Tower, the easy and obvious cliché?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Was me being enamored with Paris, the most frequented tourist destination in the world, or the people I’d loved, each so charming, each beyond beautiful, another example of loving the obvious?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Was I like all of those people on Rue des Rosiers lining up for falafel at Lenny’s favorite place, not looking past what might seem like the clear first choice?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></span></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><o:p><span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Each couple had lived a love story, each unique.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Yet, they had chosen to symbolize their love similarly.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Was love always more alike than different?</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I must think more on this, or perhaps not think.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I remember the words from one of my favorite love stories.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It is the story of two kinds of love: a friendship and an unrequited adoration.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It too, is obvious.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">As I leave the bridge, it stays with me: </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Adieu . . . Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: </span></i><span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> on ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. </span></i></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-25905680979814223892010-06-29T15:36:00.000-07:002010-09-10T17:50:50.620-07:00Seatmates and Signs<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1XfjmcY_MoXn2qTbUk6VpesS9egYfz2wopJPCJLIPl0gVBNQBAS_kP7nAaFz0MTiom18307EcN_25tYSpb0lR9_EIKkVwlWru7UA4xfP0_HO7eJHJfOHt07bMK0USi2n8Hw2W-q0izU/s1600/IMG_0387.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488335321094211506" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm1XfjmcY_MoXn2qTbUk6VpesS9egYfz2wopJPCJLIPl0gVBNQBAS_kP7nAaFz0MTiom18307EcN_25tYSpb0lR9_EIKkVwlWru7UA4xfP0_HO7eJHJfOHt07bMK0USi2n8Hw2W-q0izU/s320/IMG_0387.JPG" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 240px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Maps won’t show us where we’re going.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">All they are is just the boring facts.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Relax.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-“Dear Confessor,” Immaculate Machine</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I am very good at meeting people on airplanes. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I think of talking to someone on an airplane as a conversational one-night stand.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In the intimacy of a shared armrest and questions about which seatbelt belongs to whom, in the unspoken fear that the sad salad and limp lasagne you’re dining on could be your last meal, in the moments in the sky, ungrounded, unattached to any place, you are apt to share things you wouldn’t normally.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It’s a private and particular exchange, often followed by side-by-side sleep, and the knowledge that you will never see one another again.</span></o:p><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Most recently, on a plane ride to San Francisco, I met one of my favorite seatmates, a 40ish composer of music for a series of very popular video games. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I mention his age because he had just turned a higher number and happily told me of a New Orleans birthday tradition.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You pin a dollar to your chest and everyone who passes you in the street (the one named after the last French dynasty, not the brown liquor) congratulates you and awards your hard-won years with another dollar. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It proved to be a great system, and allowed him to learn all the positive connotations of the word “Hurricane.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I didn’t know his name, but he was the kind of person with a ready-made answer for the question that has always had the potential to make me feel immediately boring: “What do you do for fun?”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> It’s the kind of inquiry that supposes a quirky hobby or adventure sport.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The truthful answers seem insufficient . . . I read for hours every day.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I make color-coded flashcards for Spanish words I’d like to learn then tape them up around my house.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I watch American television shows from the nineties dubbed in other languages because I love how much more suave Doogie Howser (“Docteur Doogie”) sounds in French.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes, by accident, I spend an hour on Facebook looking at the photos of friends of friends whom I may not even like .</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> . . </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So when he asked me some variety of this question, it let me know, even before he told me, that for fun he rode his motorcycle along the California coast.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> That’s when we hit turbulence.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My Earl Grey spilled. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I mopped it with a wrinkled napkin fished from the seat pocket.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We both kept talking, but he kept it up longer.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That’s how I knew he really did have dangerous hobbies.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Because as soon as we hit the first bump, I was already wondering if I’d ever see the person waiting for me at the airport.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And a couple minutes later, when my seatmate was still telling me about the twisting terrain between Los Angeles and San Francisco, I was praying with my eyes open, attempting to mimic the signs of active listening while saying quiet goodbyes and thanks yous.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He eventually noticed, then grew quiet until the air smoothed out and he announced, “Good!</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Looks like we’re not going to die, afterall!”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> A few weeks ago, as I prepared for another plane ride, I was reminded of another seatmate when rummaging through a desk drawer in search of my passport.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I came across a business card, a little </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">madeleine de Proust</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> that actually prompted me to exclaim, alone in my room, “Mr. Chris!”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> As a side note, it is probably useful to explain that in the South, people for whom we have a combination of familiarity and veneration are addressed in what is a compromise between being on a first or last name basis.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My dance teacher growing up went by “Miss Terry.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As a child in North Carolina, this seemed normal to me.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When I moved to Louisiana, I noticed that even adults used this form of address for other adults.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The maintenance man at my apartment was “Mr. Leigh,” my landlady, “Miss Ruby.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> My French students, at the university where I taught beginning language classes, often refused to call me by my first name, as I instructed them after a few mistakenly promoted me to “Dr.” Instead, they persisted in calling me “Miss Tara.” I knew it was their way of showing respect, but it made me feel like a slave owner, some lost extra out of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Gone With the Wind</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “How about “Madame Tara?” I suggested, thinking that even if I still sounded like a human trafficker, maybe a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">bordel</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> owner in Pigalle, this appellation was at least more French.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Detour concluded.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Back on track.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Je ferme la parenthèse</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, as the French say.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Mr. Chris was a boy scout leader, in the best possible way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Upstanding.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Loyal.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A born counselor.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Something about him made you want to tell him everything bothering you because you trusted that he would have an answer.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So somehow, I ended up confiding that I’d just visited the place I was supposed to be moving and how it felt as if I had taken a wrong turn.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I was trying to decide between doing a graduate program in Paris and doing one in Baton Rouge.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I chose Louisiana.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And now that I was about to tranquilize my cat and drive a U-Haul across the country, I wasn’t sure if this was where I was supposed to be.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “Paris,” he said, shaking his head.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“That would have been awesome.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I didn’t argue.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And we both honored the thought with a little silence.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The kind that causes French people to remark, “Un ange passe.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “But there must have been something that made you choose Louisiana.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> He was right.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There were many things.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And now that I’ve lived there a year, they’re even clearer in my mind: screaming for beads at Mardi Gras, watching brown pelicans gather on the lakes, being elbow-deep in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">écrevisses</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> piled high in a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">pirougue</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> at the first crawfish boil in May, learning from professors I genuinely liked in a bayou </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">décor</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> that mixed North America with Europe, Africa, and the Caribbean, teaching students who wanted to learn French because their grandparents spoke it but their parents didn’t, discovering new words like </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">maringouin</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> and </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">lagniappe</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> It was a place where my redneck roots and French soul could mingle, a crossroads that wasn’t cursed.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But at the time, I had a lot of experience moving to and from France and no experience uprooting to another state.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “I’m going to tell you a story about my troop” Mr. Chris said.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Every year we go on a camping trip.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One day, after we’d been walking a very long time, we stopped and sat down to rest and I asked the boys, “What would you do if you were walking in the woods and you got separated from the group?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What if you lost your path?”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “We’d call out for you, Mr. Chris.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “What if I couldn’t hear you?”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> It was an excellent question, but I could imagine the boys growing uncomfortable, thinking vaguely that Mr. Chris was being mean, that he was only pretending not to hear.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That he would never let them stray so far.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I smiled.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Having grown up in Sunday school, I had heard many parables about losing the path, wandering in the desert, being the prodigal son. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And I knew that, unlike in horror films, wandering off the path rarely proved irreversible or fatal.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “I guess maybe we’d try to retrace our steps, think about the landmarks and how to get back to where we needed to be.”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “That’s right.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You still have the tools and the lessons.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You have your compass.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You have your knowledge of the woods.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You already have everything you need. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The path is always there, waiting for you, even if you wander off of it.”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> By the end of the story, I wanted to be a boy scout in Mr. Chris’s troop. I loved Mr. Chris’s parable. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It comforted me, the way a story can.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Yet, I wonder, “Do I believe in the Path?”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Or rather, “Aren't those moments in the woods, when it seems like all the other kids are back at the campsite roasting marshmallows while you shiver and rifle through your backpack for a compass, part of it?”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">As for my path, somehow, I ended up in Paris anyway, by way of Baton Rouge. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And though each may be a layover rather than a destination, they both feel important.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I am noticing that the seatmates are important, too.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When you move often, you have two kinds of seatmates, the Mr. Chris kind, and the other kind, that you tell things to and then </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">do</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> see again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> My friend Ben, whom I’ve known since age seven is one of the second sort.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Like me, he’s on the long journey that began sometime before Ms. Burton’s second-grade class and has led to “Ph. D. School.” </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Having friends that you’ve known and who have known you for so long makes it feel like you do have roots, even if they’re what Madeleine Kay calls “portable roots.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I told Ben about Mr. Chris and the next day, Ben called me, laughing hysterically into my voicemail.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “So, this kid comes into office hours to ask me about this rough draft he’d written, saying he’d gotten kinda off topic and before I realized what I was doing, I start talking about how even if he got off track the path was always there and he had the tools to get back on it. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">IT’S LIKE I CHANNELLED MR. CHRIS!”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Maybe even the first kind of seatmate can stay with us for a while. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe there’s not so much of a line between one kind of seatmate and another.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe the detours are part of the path. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe maps can’t show us where we’re going, but seatmates can remind us.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> To all my seatmates, near and far . . . thanks.</span> </o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1550111924140001905.post-61268307556291598642010-06-25T06:08:00.000-07:002010-09-07T21:17:12.878-07:00Cursed Be Crossroads?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcjZE0oGf_c1ETkQ1rwutXyUe4Cf4PUKMHnmI4qFwA_fnHrcB6lL1qDgVaacrZU4i_VRaK-CwEvVzU2AfvP1-0YxsXWQIePmZo8UWnBgDGzK1OGI80N83GB_ecLnL5R6b4PQqKYtBJro/s1600/IMG_0383.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487884143543241714" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimcjZE0oGf_c1ETkQ1rwutXyUe4Cf4PUKMHnmI4qFwA_fnHrcB6lL1qDgVaacrZU4i_VRaK-CwEvVzU2AfvP1-0YxsXWQIePmZo8UWnBgDGzK1OGI80N83GB_ecLnL5R6b4PQqKYtBJro/s320/IMG_0383.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 320px; margin: 0 0 10px 10px; width: 240px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Maudits soient les carrefours.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">C’est le diable qui les a faits à l’image de sa fourche!”</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">–Victor Hugo,</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Notre Dame de Paris</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> As a traveler and Francophile and person who has pinballed between two countries for most of her adult life, I’ve developed an appreciation for the French road system, which, like its railway system, has the kind of tidy uniformity unimaginable in a country as vast and rebellious as the United States.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> In France, bike lanes often line perfectly paved streets, unlike my most recent city of residence where pock-marked pavement and jagged cracks zigzagging across streets and sidewalks seem to evidence some low-scale natural disaster.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Last summer, in an effort to make the capital more bikable, the city undertook the not-so-grand gesture of painting stenciled bright white bikes periodically along the middle of the main thoroughfares, as if to say, “See, bikes belong on the road, too!”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The effect suggested something more sinister—an overturned, flattened bike, mid-street, overrun by the passing cars.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“At least there’s no chalk-outline painted around the bike,” offered my ex-crime reporter then-boyfriend, cheerily, as I puzzled over what the bike meant, knowing that cycling would be my main form of transportation in my new city. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There could have been a chalk outline, I later learned, since the cycling fatality rate placed Louisiana as the second most dangerous state for biking in the nation.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> French speed limits also attest to a kind of uniformity, reminding you to be more cautious </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">en ville</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> and more aggressive on the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">autoroute</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, while never suggesting for a second that you reach the kind of face-blown-back velocity you might in Montana in the pre-speed limit days.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Establishments such as the drive-through daiquiri bars that dot the southern-Louisiana landscape, or ranges in legal blood-alcohol limits do not muddle the message about drunk driving.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There are rules for the road.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> French people learn to maneuver a car in driving school.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Because the age for obtaining a license is eighteen and many people wait until later due to the extensive and efficient public transit systems, French </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">auto-école</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> students theoretically have more maturity than their fifteen-year-old Driver’s Ed American counterparts.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It costs close to a thousand dollars to take the classes, and if you fail the tests (which many people do) you have to repeat the process and pay the fee again.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And despite a real propensity for rule-breaking, as evidenced daily by sights like cars zooming backwards down sidewalks, most French drivers I know seem to possess a thorough knowledge of a reference manual called </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Le code de la route</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, which they can cite like the Bible.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">More than once, I’ve been scolded by Gallic passengers for blatantly ignoring key tenets of </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">le code</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> by passing on the right, not leaving enough following room, or otherwise doing something </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">pas prudent</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Once, back home, a policeman named Darryl asked me and a friend, both small-town, southern girls and native North Carolinians what we would do if we arrived at an intersection at the same time as another car:</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span><br />
<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I answered honestly: “I’d look at the other driver and gesture for him to go ahead or see if he was signaling for me to do the same.”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “Ha!” my friend said triumphantly, “That’s what</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> I</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> said, too.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “And if you couldn’t see his face?” Darryl pursued.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> “I’d flash my lights. Or beep, lightly.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">You know, in a friendly way.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Darryl rolled his eyes.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“There are right-of-way rules that clarify this sort of thing.”</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> But I don’t remember them.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I learned to drive over a few weeks at seven A.M. free classes offered at the high school.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Most of my classmates were probably only semi-awake or stoned. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Our teacher was a retired, white-haired, blue-eyed coach who referred to everyone as Nadine, sometimes even the boys, as a playful acknowledgement that having taught both you and your parents and everyone they knew there was no real way for him to retain the names of an entire community.</span></o:p><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> One of my favorite things about the French road system is the abundance of roundabouts, or </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ronds-points</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I had heard of roundabouts, once, in a Beatles song.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There was a shelter there, in the middle.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But I never encountered one until I studied abroad.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I loved that you could hop on and spin around a few times, as if you really had to spiral into the center of something before knowing which direction to take.</span></o:p><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Roundabouts struck me as superior to simple intersections, which demanded a decision as soon as you arrived, and where sitting in the middle (where there was no shelter) unlike circling a </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">rond-point,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> was a good way to get smashed. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maudits soient les carrefours</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, (“Cursed be crossroads.”) pronounced Pierre Gringoire, a struggling writer in Hugo’s </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Hunchback, </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">lost in Paris’s labyrinthine cityscape, a locale that is, itself, more circular than gridded.</span></o:p><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> A very instructive sign precedes most roundabouts in France.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Several meters before you arrive, you see a diagram of the traffic circle indicating which way to turn off if you want to head to a particular place.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Nîmes this way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sète that way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Chamonix further still and by another path.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sometimes, if you’re lucky and find yourself in the </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">embarras du choix,</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> you’re offered what has become my all-time favorite French sign: one that simply announces </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Toutes Directions</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, or “All Directions.”</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> The sign seems to whisper something hopeful and expansive.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“You’re not sure if what you’re looking for is in Nîmes or Sète or Chamonix?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Feel a little limited by a straight and single path?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then travel in </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Toutes Directions</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Everywhere you want to go is this way.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> At first it seems confusing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Really?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Paris and Cairo, New York and Dakar, San José and Québec, New Orleans and Santiago and Casablanca all in this all-encompassing direction?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Foreign and familiar, home and away, they’re all this way?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p><br />
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</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> Joy surges up. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe there’s a logic not so circular in this.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maybe all directions are the same direction.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The one all of us are choosing.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Forward.</span></o:p></div>toutesdirectionshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15995479466802750015noreply@blogger.com0