Paris at a Certain Age

I am grateful to my friend Bonnie for many things, the most recent being a poem she shared with me. I don't follow modern poetry closely and was unfamiliar with this this poet who is being increasingly recognized for her work. Those who know me in the flesh are aware of my bad attitude about my home state of Pennsylvania. This poet, Kasey Jueds, lives in Philadelphia and has been published by the University of Pittsburgh Press (the fabulous Miss Lizzie is currently enrolled there). Perhaps the poet escaped the peeA curse by being born in Florida and spending her adolescent years in London. If you are as moved by this work as I was, please visit her website. And give thanks to friends who share treasured thoughts.

 

Claim

 

Once during that year
when all I wanted
was to be anything other
than what I was,
the dog took my wrist
in her jaws. Not to hurt
or startle, but the way
a wolf might, closing her mouth
over the leg of another 
from her pack. Claiming me
like anything else: the round luck
of her supper dish or the bliss
of rabbits, their infinite 
grassy cities. Her lips
and teeth circled
and pressed, tireless
pressure of the world 
that pushes against you
to see if you're there,
and I could feel myself
inside myself again, muscle
to bone to the slippery
core where I knew
next to nothing
about love. She wrapped
my arm as a woman might wrap
her hand through the loop
of a leash—as if she
were the one holding me
at the edge of a busy street,
instructing me to stay.

 

from Keeper © University of Pittsburgh Press, 2013

with permission from the author

 

I love you, Bonnie, and all my friends who have made me a better person

More French Cats

Two types of Paris pussycats

 

French Cats

These cats may not be as talented as Henri, le Chat Noir, but they are amusing nevertheless.

 

And it was nice to see that these cats have learned to play their game in French:

 

Yet Henri remains the master, the artist:

 

Long Live Henri, le Roi!

Remembrance

Remembrance Day...Arnistice Day...Veterans Day...

Veteran's Day began as a remembrance of the end of the First World War on the Western Front...at the eleventh hour on the eleventh day of the eleventh month of 1918. We don't do a very good job in the United States of remembering. It's a different story in France which was devastated by that war.There are memorials everywhere. Most small towns have a monument in their center square listing the names of those lost in that war, often with the addition of those lost in subsequent wars.

 

Did you see the recent coverage of Hubert Rochereau's bedroom in Bélâbre, central France? He was a soldier who died in WWI on Flanders fields in Belgium on April 26, 1918. His parents kept his room exactly as it was when he left for the battlefront. Subsequent owners of the home have continued this remembrance.

Paris buildings are studded with historical plaques, especially ones noting where fighters were killed during WW2.

This is the one that affects me the most:

I think it's because of his age, 21, and because they included his nickname. I kept wondering about Fifi Feferman and finally researched him. His family fled anti-semitism in Poland when he was 2 years old. He was said to be gifted and wanted to be a journalist and poet until the war intervened. He was active in the Resistance, commiting many acts of sabotage against the Germans and French collaborators. Fifi was felled at 58 rue des Petites Écuries in the 10th arrondissement where you can find this plaque.

FiFi

In the spirit of remembrance, I offer you this link to a fabulous film, Royal Cousins at War, about how WWI came to be:

Part 1

Part 2

 

A Secret Obsession

Since the post-election news is so depressing, I thought I'd provide a diversion via my secret obsession. First, a question: when you review your Paris photos, do you find any surprising themes? I have the usual photos of beautiful buildings, musées, window fashions, fabulous pastry and chocolate and bread, dogs, doors and statuary. But I also have a huge stash of photos like this:

Can you find my obsession in the photo? 

 

 

Here it is:

 

This is a chasse-roue. It's a guardrail or guard stone that protects the porte-cochère, the carriage gate or entrance, from damage by the wheels of coaches. Once you start looking for them, you can find lots in Paris. And when you do, your mind's eye fills with visions of carriages and horses and the city of old.

There are many variations of these.

Plain

 

Ornate

 

Round

 

Oblong

 

Pastry-shaped

Religieuse, anyone?

 

Beehive shaped

 

Fern Frond

 

Serpent shaped

 

Stone

 

Stone and metal

 

Templar Era 

 

and one of my favorites:

a fireman chasse-roue!

So in these depressing days, let yourself drift back in time and take a little respite.