To Gaze Upon!

Entering the Louvre through the rear door, the massive courtyard, stark and unassumming, allowing me a moment to breathe in the true beauty of this building.  As I walk, I watch, first at the few people gathered here, squinting in the daylight as the partially hidden sun emerges through the rain filled clouds, the rays of the sun scan this monolithic building, as if announcing each delicately intricate and ornate piece of art that sit along its massive walls and roof line. Saying this building is beautiful seems so meaningless, it is overwhelming.  For a moment I closed my eyes, only to re-open them finding the building still there and still feeling as those I had not been gazing at its massiveness for the last ten minutes.  Hearing chatter and laughter from tourists, my mind drifts to the masses that have passed through this courtyard before me, to view the works of the masters that are now in residence.  I feel honored to walk in these footsteps, to know that many of the creators of these masterpieces have most certainly stopped in this very courtyard.  We walk, chat, observe while trekking across, the clouds once again close in, I am hoping we make it to the farside before the rains begin.

As my thoughts become more of recent history,  "The DaVinci Code" enters the mix currently swirling in the depths of my over active mind.  Although a controversial book, in its own right will someday be a masterpiece, I find it somewhat upsetting I have put it in the same thoughts as the history that fills this building and the building itself.  I want to remain in the moment of the masters, I want to imagine who has walked this path, gazed upon this structure, used their hands and minds to create THIS! Speaking to my mind as if reprimanding a naughty child, "let me remain in the moment, hush be still!.  Let me gather the thoughts trying to surface."  Again closing my eye, I imagine, no modern tools of construction, just sheer brute strength, yet the delicate works lining this building are in complete contrast to what it took to build this structure.  Blood, sweat and tears have long soaked into the bowels of the earth beneath the Louvre, it is this moment I want to remember. Damn my thoughts as "The Da Vinci Code" resurfaces, but much as the small child pulling at "Mommy's arm", redirection of the thought process is going to be needed.  It is then I realize, what has been on my thoughts since day one, from the moment this Paris trip was planned, I was starting at the top of my "top ten " list, it was "Mona" calling out.  SHE, was the naughty child, she beckoned me!

The French are a proud, diverse and very vocal people.  The pyramid constructed in front of the Louvre, so very controversial.  It is such a stark contrast to this building and its residents,  in my mind it is justified.  Its simplistic beautify yet mystifying shape fit, although while in France that thought should and will remain within the confines of my brain.

The queue line not so long.  As we enter heading done beneath the pyramid, the skies once again allow the sun to peek through and the light hitting the floor well beneath the pyramid is awesome.  As I gaze at the dancing light, a whisper floats across my ears, "I'll be waiting".  It is Mona, she knows I am here.

We gather our Lourve map, scanning the walls look for directions to the Denon Wing.  It is Salon 6 that beckons.  We climb the stairs and as I gaze upwards I am awestruck by the massive size of the "Winged Victory of Samothrace" standing guard at the main entry level.  This statue was uncovered around 1863 but sculpted in 190 B.C., her beauty and craftsmanship truly amazing.  Again as if floating in on the soft breeze flowing through the Louvre, "Mona's" whispers reach my ears, "I am here, where are you?"  We continue on our journey following the masses heeding her calls.  I continue to be floored by the enormous size of some of these paintings, all part of the permanent collections within the Lourve.  Although no measurements are given,  some of these masterpieces are perhaps at least twenty-five feet wide.

My heart knows that "Mona" is small in comparison to her neighbors but her history, her creator, the mysterious aura surrounding her, larger than life itself.  As we enter Salon 6, the crowds pushing to see her, to stand beneath her gaze are amazing, patience is going to be needed.  I fix my eyes, first upon the wall, she is the only resident, none other allowed in her presence.  The frame surrounding her, ornate but complimenting to her beauty.  As our eyes meet, the crook of her smile tells me, she knows I have arrived.  Her Master, Leonardo a genius. Her beauty so simple, her smile so real but it is the eyes that beckon.  I have seen "Mona", my thoughts drift off and we will meet again, perhaps the next time we will talk!

A Cultural Thing Perhaps

 France is beautiful, a tad bit on the cool side, very much reminding me of New England, complete with corn fields.  Kind of odd, since I have lived in Florida almost four years, haven't returned to Connecticut, travel to France and find the countryside very much reminds me of my home state.  Mind you it was just the first impression.  Thought I was passed the impressionable stage in my life, but there have been a few instances in the past twenty four hours that have made an impression, one of which is toilet paper, which we will get back to in just a few.

Living in southern New England for most of my life, not too far from every major metropolitan area, diversity was evident.  That being said, it isn't the ethnic diversity that has made an impression, it's all about fashion and or the lack of.  The French, Italian and Latin ethnic groups have great fashion sense, or at least the majority do.  All other groups including those that hail from the states, yeah not so good or at least not by the standards set by my first Group.   Of course, that's not EVERYBODY and I never really paid attention before, but the fashion sense set by many in that first group mentioned, can throw on "any old rag" and still ooze sexuality, turn heads and are probably mistaken for someone that is always being photographed by the worldwide paparazzi.  I am JEALOUS! Even women who have long passed the menopausal years, look sensual! That REALLY rips me to the core.  One thing is evident here in France, less obesity, so they should live longer or one would think so but, there is always a but.....they SMOKE too damn much. They do not care where, when and whose lungs including their own, they contaminate.  So statistically, my JEALOUSY should be short lived!

Manners or lack of tick me off, (could be a Disney thing) but I enjoy manners.  Understand this lack of, is cultural and not meant to piss off people. It does upset me if a small child is screaming, kicking, slapping and biting a parent who has just informed them...NO!  This too is cultural.

Restroom differences are varied.  Remembering back to Fred's News, that restroom was not indicative of the restaurant.  Friend Arthur once mentioned "I always visit the restroom and give it a rating."  Probably a safe statement, although there are always exceptions.  The few I have had the opportunity to visit in the meager few hours I have been here are small commodes, small stalls (thank goodness the population is not super-sized!) and the toilet paper, oh the toilet paper!!!!  Even the restrooms within Disneyland sport the same toilet paper.  Let's just say Charmin is NOT the choice for butt-wipes. Mr. Bill would say, "we were so poor as kids, we used corn cobbs to wipe our butts!"  Never having had to use the proverbial corn cob, one would think I cannot make a judgement call.  WRONG.......the corn cob is probably softer than the texture of FRENCH toilet paper.  Oh yes, but I am reminded, it is a cultural thing!

The Underwear are Packed!

Vacation has officially arrived!  Although I do not leave for Paris until tomorrow, no worries, no work, just hanging out!  Making a list of items that must be packed is a necessity and has been an ongoing process all week.  Yet I know there will probably be SOMETHING I forget.  This brings to mind the Egg-Nazi's underwear!  Making a long story into a somewhat shorter version:  our first trip driving cross-country, young adult children in charge at Fred's News, everything in place, to do lists completed, instructions for preparing, ordering and serving the very best are all in place....NOTHING.......has been left to chance.  Matthew would be the morning Chef; Mark, the soup of the day sous chef as well as the Baker; Todd, not really thrilled with working the customers, would be the nightly cleanup coordinator and Jack-of-all-trades handyman, just in case. With all this in place, we felt pretty confident the little restaurant would survive. 

Thankfully, stories of "the happenings"  during our much more brief vacations, had not yet surfaced. Had we known of the "employee parties" complete with the holiday alcohol given to us by our loyal customers or the "how many young adults can we squeeze inside the family shower" after consuming the holiday alcohol and whatever else was "brought in" including tons of munchies from either the restaurant or "invited Guests", which I might add were used to appease ravenous appetites, resulting from the consuming of liquid refreshments and any other "product" that had been used to help enhance the "party atmosphere."  As much as our children argued as brothers, ratted each other out, the "mother of all parties" seemed to be encased in a shield of "stealthiness", not even the best investigators could crack.  Even more mind boggling is the fact that parents of "the invited Guests", which ninety-five percent of the time were also our loyal customers, never seemed to get wind of these functions.  My guess is, "As long as the little restaurant known as Fred's News was opened on time, the eye opening and sensory stimulant known as Fred's fresh brewed coffee was available at the ass-crack of dawn, these loyal customers didn't give a rat's ass what had gone down! At this point a number of questions should have popped up:  How slow moving and stoned looking was the morning crew?  Obviously the early morning patrons, complete with hair still tousled, sleep in their eyes and the inability to speak in anything other than a growl, never noticed.  For those that did arrive, wide eyed and bushy-tailed,  the antics of their youth, with wonderfully vivid memories, prevented this from been reported.  Did they not notice more vehicle than normal parked in the back driveway or the stream of young people arriving via the back door for breakfast, all looking as though they had "one helluva night!"  Regardless, all these young adults are now either thirty somethings or have hit the over-the-hill age of forty, have families of their own or successful careers, can laugh at the antics much like their parents still do of their much younger years and worry that perhaps their children may someday share the the same "life experiences" as they have.

Long-time friend and frequent visitor Ward is scheduled to arrive within the hour.  He has driven down to spend the week with his "bud" whom he affectionately calls Uncle Billy!  As for me, I am off to Paris, compliments of youngest son Mark, who has been working with his teams all Europe since the beginning of June.  I will meet him Tuesday morning for a six day vacation of non-stop walking, observing, sight-seeing and just plain fun.  Mr. Bill and Ward....a week of golf, "friendship bonding" and whatever else the two may conjure up.  My lists are are hopefully complete as is this story with the exception of Mr. Bill's underwear or my memory of them.  As we left for vacation, kid's in charge, Mr. Bill had "packed his own bags" as I was so consumed with the smooth transition of managerial powers during our absence.  I clearly remember asking him, "did you pack EVERYTHING?" A resounding "YES" echoed throughout.  Our first night, a stop in Tennessee, Mr. Bill takes a long relaxing shower, dries off and begins to search his bag for underwear, as I see the clothes being pulled out at a frantic pace, I feel a sense of smugness, "he packed his OWN bags!" "sweetheart, is something missing, did YOU forget to pack your"drawers?" I demurely asked trying to fight back the laughter.  "No, there in here someplace" he whips back.  "Let me call the boys", I calmly reply, "I left them on the bed all folded and ready for you to put in your bag!"  Of course no answer from the big guy.  As I dial home, the phone is answered, small talk follows and one of our lovely children questions, "How come Pop's underwear is still sitting in the middle of your bed?" Had I not been rolling on the floor doubled over in laughter, the question might have popped into my head.."What the hell are they doing in my bedroom?"

The Unusual Ones!

Characters were always a large part of Fred's News.  Aside from food, conversations, ambiance and anything else quirky, the Cast of Characters definitely stood apart from the millions of ordinary folks that inhabit this tiny planet in the endless wonders of the universe. Or perhaps the uniqueness of the place brought out the "best" in all that passed through its door.  Much like "you have entered the twilight zone" just quirky strange, not scary strange but then what's scary for one may not be the same scary for another.Let's just say, no two people were ever the same! Praise Jesus on that one!

Frenchy the wood chopper whose soul is one that now roams aimlessly throughout the heavens, was a tad bit pass the halfway mark to becoming an eccentric.  I use the word eccentric because relatively wealthy people who are somewhat off their rocker are called eccentrics.  Had he not amassed a small fortune we would simple refer to him as a" friggan nut." We enjoyed visits from Frenchy, as did all the morning regulars.  A woodcutter by trade, a gambler at heart, Frenchy loved to hunt.  The first morning we saw him in full hunting regalia he looked more like a foreign mercenary fighter than a deer hunter.  Can't imagine how many shots he thought it would take to bring down a nice buck, but the ammo belts he wore draped over his shoulders suggested he was ready to tackle "big game".  Frenchy had a way of explaining things like no one else.  As a much younger person he had lost an eye while cutting down a tree.  He now sported a glass eye, allowing him to look like the great beast slayer that he envisioned only in HIS imagination.  Frenchy announced he would no longer hunt after one of the "wild beast"(Bambi) had managed to sneak up on his blind side, scaring the crap out of him.  Frenchy tripped over a log, fell to ground, almost shot his foot off and let the "big one" get away.  "Time to hang up the ammo belt" he announced!

Old Red from Scotland another outspoken character, visited Fred's often during his life.  Another who passed much too soon, he was an eccentric by nature.  I do mean nature......he loved the earth and grew some of the most beautiful plants, especially cacti.  Red was a wealth of information, with his scraggly white hair hanging from beneath his hillbilly cap, and oh how he loved his land.  Red reminded me of an early settler to this country, strong on ideals, quick tempered, kind of heart who spoke with love affection about his family but spared the kindness with those he perceived as his enemies.

When it came to cemeteries, old head stones and their history, our resident historian was Fred Fredette.  Ironically, he too hailed from the small town of Scotland, just up the road a piece!  Fred, already close to retirement age was a wealth of knowledge.  He loved anything old, including himself.  A character in his own right any "antique picker" would of gladly given his right arm, to enter into the world of Fred's collectibles.  Still in the old wooden crates in which it was shipped, was an old Model T, never assembled, all original pieces.  I am not sure what happened to this much desired antique, but I do know Fred had a brother and sister-in-law that confiscated many of his antiques, as he lay in a coma.  Their thought process: Fred would never survive, he had no heirs, rightfully they would be theirs.  Fred defied the odds, surviving.  When he realized what they had done he was livid!  He sold his remaining properties, what little was left of his antiques, heading to southern Arizona in search of new surroundings, people and as far away from his brother as he could get!  Knowing Fred he still lives all though I have never heard otherwise!

Not many will remember Teddy, his eccentricities were many.  Hailing from Windham, up the road from Scotland, his artistic talents were known to many yet his strange behaviors were definitely the talk of the town.  Teddy never talked much about his father, but his devotion to his mother and his memories of  her were almost self-consuming.  Teddy, although he never admitted it seemed to suffer from paranoia, going so far as to paint all the windows in his house BLACK, just in case "the nosey ones" might be peeking in. Yet despite the fact that he had a pet goat, a craggy old dog that was as mangy as him, an extremely weird nature and well past the left of of center, I liked him.  He had an infectious laugh that opened up that rough and deranged looking exterior and a very wicked sense of humor.  Occasionally he would arrive with an older woman in her early eighties, introducing her as his cousin.  Rumor was this woman was his lifelong on again off again companion.  After sharing only a few conversations with her, it was easy to see they shared many of the same quirky and outlandish personality trait.  I feel very good at putting the "girlfriend" thing to rest, only the same strange genes would produce these family traits!

Seems some of our most memorable characters were men, less we forget about Millie.  A strange woman, made even stranger by years of alcohol abuse.  She had a beautiful home at one time, was married to a man who also consumed enormous amounts of alcohol and also raised a child.  A sad story but at times Millie's problems just made you smile.  I am sure her inner demons wanted out just as much as she wanted to rid herself of them.  She tried holding down a job, hoping that work would not only help her financially but keep her mind off of drinking.  Working at a local egg farm, she was allowed or so she thought she was allowed to take a few eggs a week.  In all actuality it was one dozen per week.  Millie immediately came into Fred's News, using the eggs as a bartering tool for a cup of coffee.  Although we had given her many "free" cups, he felt this was her way of paying and upholding what little dignity she had left. This continued for a few weeks but Millie was also confiscating eggs in her pockets.  She arrived early one morning, totally inebriated, asking for a cup of coffee and one egg with toast.  As I handed her the cup of coffee, she teetered, turning abruptly, she slammed into the large column that was a support beam in the building.  The coffee cup went flying, the saucer went in the other direction but Millie, with face slammed into the wooden column, outstretched her arms on either side of column catching both pieces, one in each hand before they crashed to the floor.  I questioned, "my God Millie, are you okay?"  Dazed and somewhat confused, she reached in her pockets, pulling out crushed eggs, "maybe you'd better cancel my order," she announced with very slurred speech, " I have just lost all my purchasing power!"  Seems she had been confiscating more eggs than allowed.  With that she left the restaurant, sadly we never enjoyed Millie's company again.

It is What it is!

And the rains came! By all accounts our former hometown has had its share of the wet stuff as well.  I am not complaining, although the weather has been extremely hot, we had a short cold winter, a gorgeous spring and what appears to be an extremely hot summer.  Yet the much needed rains have come "just in time", the lushness of the landscape returning to it's glory.  As the heavens have opened so have the heat tolerant flowers, that I am sure despite their claim to fame, "heat tolerant," welcome the refreshing rains.  Some of these rains, in monsoon portions, causing flowers to be battered, rotting on the stems, but once the Florida sun appears, they quickly regroup.  However, the small little "children" that play within this vibrant playround of color, have also regrouped and to say they flourish, would be an understatement!  The Egg-Nazi, at wit's end (his normal place to be), uses his size thirteens to crush the thousands of snails that have taken up residence in many of his "babies!" He shakes the plant and the snails bail out only to be flattened by the two hundred fifty pound Egg-Nazi, mumbling, "gotcha, ya little bastard!"  I think a video of this procedure might perhaps serve as an "educational tool" for young snails contemplating taking up residence in Mr. Bill's garden.

The Flowers of Fred's News, nurtured by Mr. Bill for the five to six month growing season, suffered from many of the same pests although not in such monstrous proportions.  They too were subjected to the profanity spewing forth from Mr. Bill's lips as he waged war on foreign critters attacking on all fronts.  His flowers flourished for many reasons; his diligence and passion for all things growing.  People often asked him "what is the secret?" "They need to be loved, talked to and fed, they will become strong and vibrant!" he reveals.  "Like all living things, to flourish they must be nourished!"  I remind him the profanity that spews across their fragrant blossoms does not remind me of anything "loving!" "Talk is talk", he curtly replies.

This also brings to mind a conversation he recently had with his friend Mike, a Vietnam vet, who ambles around on one leg and has amazing balance that does boggles the mind.  Mike owns a beautiful piece of land here in Florida and grows some of the most gorgeous flowers I have ever seen.  Yes, he does this for a living so it was only natural one would think he'd be an authority on all things "Florida" when trying to duplicate his successes in growing these beauties. "Mike, how do you handle all this rain that pounds down on these flowers, isn't it too much for the flowers?" Mr. Bill questions. "Rain is rain" is the answer from the tightly pursed lips, holding the half chewed cigar, that is never lit.  Mike just chews on the end, occasionally removing the thing to spit disgustingly brown tobacco juice into the soil holding these sweet smelling delicate and fragile flowers.  I thought I might ask if that bit of foul smelling liquid had any adverse effects on all this gorgeous flora creating a sea of color for acres.  Knowing he probably fertilizes the crap out of them, I kept my thoughts and questions to myself for fear the answer would be, "it is what it is....shit is shit!

   

That's an affirmative!

For millions of people today marked the end of the space shuttle era.  Although it has been just over an hour since the final liftoff, many feel a sense of "now what" especially here in Florida where these launches are viewed by so many.  Clogged highways leading to and from the Space Coast are a way of life during these events, now the anticipation has come and gone: all that's left is the frustrating bumper to bumper crawl away from the historic launch!

Yes, the little outdated TV would have been turned on in Fred's News.  Yes, the patrons would watch with the commentary immediately following.  "who in their right mind would want to go and sit in that traffic?"  That could also have meant, "I am envious and would love to have the opportunity to view this spectacular event!"  Funny how the masses react.  Of course there are those that truly mean what they say, there are those that cover up the true meaning with excuses and there are those that are the "doers!"  As a resident of Florida I have had the opportunity to see the shuttle lift off, to witness the power, the sheer beauty of the burn , the numerous vehicles parked alongside the roadways hoping for a glimpse before the now tiny speck frees itself from earth's atmosphere, riding at heart ponding and mind boggling speed into an orbit that will allow only a select few to witness their world and the entire universe in which we live.  A world we own and are responsible for, yet this universe is never ending and it offers infinite possibilities just as our own imaginations do.  As I try to understand my delights,my fears, my millions of what if's, I have concluded from the inner depths of my being....I am jealous! As the spirits and souls of those that have laid the groundwork for those that have followed, I now know their reasons for being on the cutting edge would unanimously ring across the heavens as they answer the question, "Given the opportunity and knowing what you now know, would you do it again?"  As a thunderous roar rolls cross the heavens, smiles in the form of sunbeams warm the heart, the answers sent back from infinity breathe a new freshness into the spirits of those trying to understand what makes all "THIS" simply tick.  "Absolutely, I would do it all again only more!"

"The Force" may it be with you!

Meandering 'round the dining room recently, I always take notice of children and what foods they are being forced or coerced into eating.  It  really isn't much different than Fred's News, dangle the proverbial "golden ring" in front of a child willing to do anything except eat what's on his plate and BINGO, works like a charm! At Fred's,whether one was offered rewards of candy, ice cream, sitting on the old carousel horse, going outside to look for snakes sunbathing on the polished stones, now the perfect "tanning beds", worn smooth by the years of the meandering waters of the quaint and charming Beaver Brook or my personal favorite..."Mr. Bill popping out his teeth to squeals of delight", parents continually try to get the kids to consume foods that are "good for them!
Seems to me those tactics need be done in the privacy of ones home.  Dear God save the masses from the pointless promises of rewards.  For God sake you are at Disney, isn't that reward enough!  A good argument can also be made.....when a kid is hungry he will eat!  Trust me, a five or six year old isn't going to die of starvation if he doesn't finish his pancake or waffle!

All this so-called wisdom comes from the memory chambers deep within my heart......palpitations begin as I remember sitting at the kitchen table, defying my Mother, "I won't eat those peas, they are yukky and disgusting!" I adamantly announced.  Two hours later, two shriveled, olive drab peas remained on my plate.  I had missed playing outside on an awesome summer night, I had been threatened (not really), I had gagged (just to prove a point) and a point well taken by the parents.  "She is the most stubborn person I have every laid my eyes on!" boomed my Father "forget the peas but you are in for the night!"  It was at that point in my young life I truly understood the phrase, "I might have won the battle, but the war was still lost!"

It is not always children refusing to eat.  Fred's News had one customer in particular, that had one of the queasiest stomachs I had even witnessed.  So much so it provided outstanding early morning entertainment for the regulars at Freds.  Billy, a character in his own right took everything to heart.  Some of the early crowd felt is necessary to share with their Fred's News family, the particulars concerning their daily bodily functions, the lack of said functions, remedies used to correct  the functions and the results of these sure fire remedies.  At times even I reminded these loose-lipped patrons "not good conversation in a restaurant."  After seeing Billy, hunched over his cup of tea,sweating profusely,gagging, eyes bulging holding back the just consumed food, I usually sent up the warning shot.  Needless to say, there were those that tried to see how far they could push poor Billy.  It didn't have to be conversation that pushed this poor man over the edge.  Someone in the vicinity, sneezing, coughing or perhaps the child choking  on the food he was being forced to eat was the cause.  Whatever, if immediate control was not gained on the situation the "domino effect" might have occurred.  Moments like this always caused Billy to stay away for a period of time.  I would give fair warning to the guilty culprits, with promises of it never happening again.  Yet depending on the moment, the mood, who was present or if a friendly wager was being had, that moment, just as day turns to night, always occurred.  The regulars had that innate ability to read a character as well as their mood.  Then much like the wild pack animals circling their prey, they'd go in for the kill! Worked like a charm, I just never understood how they all managed to pick up on "the right time" at the same time!  "May the Force be with you!"