Impressions of Paris 2

Walking into the apartment in Paris, we were immediately struck by its beauty. It was obvious that the owner of the  apartment we’d rented through Air B&B was well educated.  The walls of the hallway, living room, and bedrooms are lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Though most books are in French, the most beautiful are sets of red leather-bound books with gold Arabic writing on the bindings. Clearly the owner is an Islamic scholar. It belonged to Abdelwahab Meddeb to a well-known poet, novelist, and translator whose weekly radio program “Civilizations of Islam” invited listeners to thoughtful criticism and appreciation of islam by looking historically at the development of Islam over the centuries.

Meddeb 1540-1Abdelwahab Meddeb was born in Tunis in 1946. He died here in Paris November 16, 2014.  Abdelwahabe Meddeb: Le Proche et Le Lointain, written in his honor pays him tribute as “among the greatest Maghrebi poets, scholars, writers and translators of his generation.” — Pierre Joris, poet, translator and essayist, Professor at the University of Albany.

Click Abdelwahab Meddeb to learn more on this amazing Professor who devoted his life after 9/11 countering the extremist misinterpretations of the Koran.

As irony would have it, on Saturday morning two French soldiers stood guard 20 feet to the left of Dr. Meddeb’s apartment building. The soldiers, with machine guns held against their chests, were guarding the synagogue next door against a terrorist attack on Shabbat.

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Abdelwahab Meddeb’s apartment, Paris, France, June 6, 2016.

 

 

 

Impressions of Paris 1

We arrived @ Charles de Gaulle Airport (CDG) Friday morning @8:30 a.m. Paris time. These are some first impressions.

Unlike the airports in Germany re-built out of the rubble of WWII, CDG is showing wear. It has none of the aesthetic pizzazz one expects from French culture. The driver we’ve hired through a Paris travel agent is nowhere to be found. An hour later we connect. What would we do without Tim’s cellphone and saved phone numbers?

Our driver is very professional, kind, and courteous. He’s dressed in a business suit. Transportation is his business.

Traffic is nuts! Like bumper cars. Motorcycles and scooters zip between the lanes of traffic ignoring the lines between lanes — and it’s legal! Traffic is bumper-to-bumper or slow, except for the motorcycles and motorbikes who speed past us in the small spaces between the cars in the traffic lanes. Good thing we haven’t rented a car in Paris! I can see the headline, “Conducteur de la voiture Américaine stupide tue cycliste Français! Chauffeur parlant non- Français arrêté pour conduite imprudente et d’homicide.”  [Stupid American driver kills French cyclist. Non-French-speaking driver arrested for reckless driving and homicide.]

As we come to a complete stop on a busy highway into Paris, an Arab woman carrying a screaming child approaches our van. She comes to the front passenger window, looks at Sasha, our driver, and begs for money. Sasha gently shakes his head no. The woman persists; the child screams louder. Sasha shakes his head again and looks away from the woman. “Syrian?” I ask. “No,”  he says,“Gypsy, from Romania.”

Liberté, égalité, fraternité

Within the city bicycles go every which way, cutting and turning in front of cars, and cars in front of them. Traffic feels like anarchy. Fraternité is absent on the streets. Liberté is everywhere.

Walking to a restaurant Friday afternoon, soldiers carrying machine guns across their chests patrol the avenue in threes. In the doorways, families sit or lie with bedrolls. Are these gypsies to whom Europe is accustomed or are they newly arrived Syrian refugees?

We enjoy dinner at a small local restaurant known as a non-tourist neighborhood fixture with great food. Wonderful experience in every way – so accommodating to the butchers of the French language, explaining the menu to us as best he can in our native tongue.

Fraternité and égalité fill the the restaurants, cafes, and brasseries. Laughter and easy conversations are shared over wine and food. Faces smile. Joi de vivre lives indoors in Paris.

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Paris, France, posted June 6, 2016, D-Day.

 

The Baseball Cap on Memorial Day

I’m a baseball fan. I love baseball. I  turn on the TV.

It’s Memorial Day. My team, the Minnesota Twins, is wearing visitor’s gray. The Oakland As are wearing white. That’s tradition.

But today something’s different. Both teams are wearing the same baseball cap: military camouflage.

Why?

Memorial Day is not a salute to the military. It’s a day to remember the dead who have fallen in the service to their country. The Twins and the As are not soldiers, sailors, Marines, or special forces. They’re baseball players in different uniforms and different caps with different logos. They throw. They catch. They swing. They hit. They walk. They strike out. Nobody kills. Nobody dies. But Major League Baseball is big business that knows how to strike up the band and confuse civilian and military life. Not good. But it’s become the new normal.

A moment of silence followed by Taps would better fit the occasion – and the removal of all caps.

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, May 30, 2016.

 

 

 

Memorial Day – The Silenced

Snails

Faith Ralston is walking the Camino n Spain, a pilgrimage she and her late husband Phil Brown had planned to walk together. When Phil died unexpectedly a year ago, Faith decided to move ahead with the walk by herself. She’s wonderful and her daily reflections along the Camino are worth a read.

Faith's avatarMy El Camino

An author once said, “Next to crawling, walking is the slowest way to transport our bodies from one place to another.”

Walking allows time to see things I’d otherwise miss. It’s a slow pace. There is time to watch snails crawl by and butterflies play in the flowers, see storks nesting and storm clouds forming.

We see the.busy highways from a distance and sometimes intersect with the modern world. But for the most part we are on snail time, slowly moving along ancient paths traveled by many before.

I relish this pace and the simplicity of life as a pilgrim. Unfortunately it also comes with a cold shower today.


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BREAKING NEWS: TRUMP OUT!

This morning @7:30 a.m EST on Good Morning, America, Donald Trump announced he would not accept the Republican Party nomination after all.

Taking off his “Make America Great Again” cap, puckering his lips and brushing back his orange hair before putting on his NY Yankees hat,  Mr. Trump declared,

“I’m a businessman! I never wanted to be president. I just wanted to shake things up. I’m a winner! I won! All politicians are liars and Losers! It could have been so great! Have a nice life, everybody!”

  • Gordon C. Stewart, Chaska, MN, reporting for Views from the Edge: Breaking the Chains that Bind Us, May, 27, 2016

Verse – May Sunrise

The sunrise painter’s palette
Today has pink and blue
With touches of white,
And is that purple and orange?

No rhyme, of course,
For that last word,
But also no clash
Of colors in nature.

The white hot sun
Will soon be hidden
By the massing clouds,
But colorful may yet be the day.

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, May 20, 2016

April 15, 2016

Am I Dying? [written 2014]

Well, certainly sometime…
but I mean, am I dying soon?
like before my next birthday…
or even before I get to make love again…
(and these days, at my advanced age,
that might well be AFTER my next b- day),
and is that a good sign, or a bad sign?

Energy is low, even after I stopped my statins,
(which one of my five M.D.s says increases
an elderly male’s risk of a heart attack)
–btw, having 5 Docs is certainly a sign
of one’s impending demise.

All of my doctors are younger than I am.
Two of my doctors are younger
than my youngest child.
The ages given of the newly dead
in my local paper’s obits are half
older, half younger than I am, usually.

I am writing more verses than ever,
but fewer sonnets–am I preferring
free verse because it is faster?
Am I desperate to say what I have to say
before I can no longer think or speak?

There are times now I can no longer
see the grid of streets (as if from above)
in my home town. I make more wrong turns.
My dreams are more memorable than
many conversations. Nightmares
are more frequent–nightSTALLIONS
chase me till the dawn.

If death is like sleep, will I ever
really rest in peace?

  • Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, April 15, 2016

Verse -The Strong Man

Inside the Super-Hero

He was strong. Unlike some men his size
power pulsed, constrained–there was no fat.
He stood tall. His eyes looked down on those
passing by who turned and stared, impressed.

He would smile. He joked when asked his height,
“Five feet…twenty!” Childhood awe returned
(big is best, is boss.) Authority
is imposed. The strong do what they want.

He had never been a little child–
young, but never small. Assumed adult,
he was proud to grapple, fight and hold,
lift and shoulder, carry, guard, protect.

Work was good, but work was never done.
Satisfaction was postponed. Trials like
cancer cells dividing, unrestrained,
overwhelmed him. Tasks enough to make
gods despair. Then building built decayed,
bridges fell, and wars blazed in the land
he had calmed before. He went to bed.

The world’s weight will break the strongest man.

Steven Shoemaker, Urbana, Illinois

[Published in Response, Journal of the Lutheran Society for Worship, Music and the Arts, No. 3, 1976.]

Note: Apology to Steve for re-publishing this morning as “Inside the Super-Herod. LOL. Actually, the mistaken title also seems to work.

I’ll giggle tomorrow!

 

colonoscopy-s2-why-is-colonoscopy-doneAlthough Norman Cousins makes the case that humor is good for one’s health, it’s hard to giggle preparing today for a routine colonoscopy!

I’ll giggle tomorrow after they give me the happy sedative and assure me everything’s come out all right.

Written in response to The Daily Post‘s invitation to write something on the word ‘giggle’.

  • Gordon C. Stewart, April 13, 2016