Blog #5, Excuses..., November 17, 2021
Jim's Musings from Paris
It’s been a while since I sat down and gathered my thoughts into this thing called a blog. And even though I stoically insisted “NO EXCUSES!” from my students for years, here are some poor excuses for an excuse: First off, there was vacation– a real French vacation at the seashore. To take a break from writing while we enjoyed the bliss of sand, sun, and salty air seemed like a good idea. I slowly began to shed the layers of stress and tension that had accumulated over the past few years. The pandemic, a forced and rapid retirement, the move, my mother’s illness, and new beginnings at every juncture had hammered an armor over my emotions. I needed some time to disassemble myself. Vacation served as a point of departure for this work.
The French refer to the weeks after vacation, the beginning of September, as la rentrée. This term can have many meanings: the end of vacation, the beginning of the school year, autumn. It also signals the opening of the French Parliament and the beginning of various seasons—theatre, literature, music, and others. I like to think of it as both a homecoming and a re-entry, blending the new with the nostalgic. September and October are a beautiful time in Paris. The threat of any kind of heatwave has passed and the days are generally sunny with cool and clear evenings. This year, especially, there was a sense of excitement that things were getting back to normal. Theatre, dance, opera, music, and art exhibits were all happening as scheduled. Although tourists were still scant, the city began to bustle. We spent la rentrée figuring out our grandparent duties and which days and times we would be responsible for our grandson, picking him up at school, feeding him, playing in the park, or taking him to some other activity. French schools are not in session on Wednesday afternoons. Therefore, Léo gets to split his Wednesdays—one week with his abuelo and dziadzia and the next week with Mami-Do and Papi-Lo. Abuelo also picks him up after school several other days of the week and spends some quality playtime with him. They have developed a deep and tender rapport that allows them to enter each other’s fantasies and play with abandon. Léo has an extremely inquisitive mind (I suppose most four-year olds do) and we have spent numerous dinners discussing the lineage of Greek gods and goddesses, stories of King Arthur and his knights of the round table, and the names of all the different dinosaurs (and I mean all).
When I began this blog entry, it was again vacation time in France. The last week of October and the first week of November mark an academic break for French school children: les vacances de la Toussaint. When I went to Catholic grade school in Wisconsin, we always had off on All Saints Day. One day of vacation, mind you, not two weeks. We arrogantly held this day over the heads of our public-school friends because, of course, it was November 1, the day after Halloween, and us Catholic kids were able to stay out late and spend the entire next day counting our loot and trading candy. Those were the days before Trick or Treat became a movable feast and must end before darkness falls. It never entered our minds to begin until after sunset and it was dark outside. Suddenly, the streets of our tiny town were full of kids running from house to house, dressed in sheets or old work clothes to depict a ghost or a scarecrow. Groups would meet on street corners and report to each other who was giving out nickel candy bars or other special treats. One year the bread man gave out little loaves of white bread and the milk man’s house always held some surprise. I was lucky to be in the same class as one of the milk man’s sons. On his birthday, his dad would show up to school with ice cream bars or chocolate milk for everyone in the class. On Halloween, the milk man’s house and the bread man’s house were at the top of the list. There were, of course, the scary houses that everyone would skip or where we would dare each other to ring the bell and run off. No one was watching us. Our parents sent us off and we didn’t think about going back home until our bags were full of treats or we were too cold or tired to continue. It seemed like it lasted all night, but it was probably a two-hour spectacle at most. Still, it was very different from the antiseptic version of Halloween practiced today.
This blog entry was going to be about my reasons for not blogging. My first excuse for not blogging in a while was vacation. And then another vacation. There was also the arrival of our two tons of “stuff” via boat from the USA. Our apartment on Rue Titon is now completely furnished with rocking chairs, kitchen crockery, glassware, books, files, and artwork. Home has been established. Coziness ensues.
I wonder if I can use coziness as an excuse for not writing. As I sit on my Bobo chic sofa, sipping an after-lunch coffee, listening to abuelo and Léo playing in the guest room, I am content. Writing from a place of contentment seems like a perfect way to spend a November afternoon in Paris. I promise I will do better. Until next time.