When tragedies happen (and is there a day when tragic events do not befall communities of bewildered families, friends?), I want to believe that they happen at the margins. That most people seek to aid, not to destroy. I look for that in the stories that emerge.
Paris is in the headlines. And the sad thing is that it really is not unique, not really unexpected, and not something that cannot happen there or elsewhere, again and again.
When I first heard the news yesterday (and I heard it within minutes, because being alone, I was plugged into my computer) my immediate thought was -- each violent death has a lifelong impact on the loved ones who survive. And then -- I always wanted to take my grandchildren to Paris... And then -- what a messed up world we're handing over to the next generation and the one after.
Forgive me for starting a post in this way. I work hard to steer Ocean in the direction of the simple but noble. I leave it to others to decipher and expound on the events that leave us gasping. But of course, I owe Paris so much of my good, reverent moments. I cannot ignore here the pain that has flooded the city right now.
I write the few emails to people I know who live in France. I'm sorry... I'm with you (but of course, I'm not really there, I'm here). I read the stories, watch the news videos. And I start my day with my sadness. For all that happened in Paris. For all that happens elsewhere to people who, like you or I, merely want to live a life of calm, where a stroll to a park with a grandchild takes center stage and a dinner (or even a breakfast) with family, lovers or friends is the most important event of your week.
Breakfast.
Cheepers. Getting along today.
And a hike with Ed.
Where all is as it should be everywhere today -- peaceful. Quiet. Beautiful.
With a path leading toward the brightest of blue skies.
Are you wondering if I will be less likely to travel to Paris, going forward?
That, at least, is an easy question: no, not at all. I will be going there in a couple of weeks, when perhaps the shock will have morphed into a more constant pain. I wont hide nor stay away from that. It's my turn to show gratitude and admiration for all that the city is and can be for the millions who call it home.
One more photo -- evening sky over the farmette.
And a last one -- the fields beyond.
Paris is in the headlines. And the sad thing is that it really is not unique, not really unexpected, and not something that cannot happen there or elsewhere, again and again.
When I first heard the news yesterday (and I heard it within minutes, because being alone, I was plugged into my computer) my immediate thought was -- each violent death has a lifelong impact on the loved ones who survive. And then -- I always wanted to take my grandchildren to Paris... And then -- what a messed up world we're handing over to the next generation and the one after.
Forgive me for starting a post in this way. I work hard to steer Ocean in the direction of the simple but noble. I leave it to others to decipher and expound on the events that leave us gasping. But of course, I owe Paris so much of my good, reverent moments. I cannot ignore here the pain that has flooded the city right now.
I write the few emails to people I know who live in France. I'm sorry... I'm with you (but of course, I'm not really there, I'm here). I read the stories, watch the news videos. And I start my day with my sadness. For all that happened in Paris. For all that happens elsewhere to people who, like you or I, merely want to live a life of calm, where a stroll to a park with a grandchild takes center stage and a dinner (or even a breakfast) with family, lovers or friends is the most important event of your week.
Breakfast.
Cheepers. Getting along today.
And a hike with Ed.
Where all is as it should be everywhere today -- peaceful. Quiet. Beautiful.
With a path leading toward the brightest of blue skies.
Are you wondering if I will be less likely to travel to Paris, going forward?
That, at least, is an easy question: no, not at all. I will be going there in a couple of weeks, when perhaps the shock will have morphed into a more constant pain. I wont hide nor stay away from that. It's my turn to show gratitude and admiration for all that the city is and can be for the millions who call it home.
One more photo -- evening sky over the farmette.
And a last one -- the fields beyond.
Sad heart, clear eyes.
ReplyDeleteOur children too, will go ahead with their trip to Paris as planned.
Just as, after 9/11, they went with their drumline to march in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade. In our entire school band, there was only one set of parents that felt they had to keep their child home, and all of us supported their decision for their own family.
We live each day the best we can - mindfully - we are as kind to others as we know how to be.
After 9/11, overseas flights were cancelled for days. I was scheduled to take a group of women to France, on a wine tour. I asked if they wanted to cancel. Flying was suddenly an act of courage. They said if the flight goes, we go. And the flight went. And we went. I'll never forget the compassion that we were greeted with in France. We weren't from New York, but it was a shared feeling of sorrow for the loss and suffering inflicted on so many.
DeleteI just wish we wrote a different history. That we weren't so inclined to dominate and destroy. Or, for the vast majority, to be at the mercy of those who choose to do so.
What I meant to say at the end of my comment was how much JoyD's words also resonated with me.
ReplyDeleteWell, that makes no sense because I must have deleted my first comment in which I said to you, Nina, how eloquently you have expressed your love and sorrow for Paris (and the world) in your words and photos. xx
DeleteMade sense to me! I do so love all that you bring to the table... and to my everyday.
DeleteThanks for your post and your lovely photographs today amidst sorrow.
ReplyDeleteThank you for writing, Trudy.
DeleteThe attacks of Sept. 11 floored the world, and shock translated to sympathy quickly in France. Le Monde made that clear in a headline atop the first page of its Sept. 12 edition: "Nous sommes tous américains" — We Are All Americans. Their message was poignant and loving..
ReplyDeleteAs the shock of the Friday’s tragedies in Paris flowed out of the TV in wave after wave on terrible news I mourned the lost lives and the injured. A revised version of Le Monde’s headline formed in my mind: “Nous sommes tous des parisens” — We Are All Parisians.
Although it is only a gesture; it is an honest and sincere one. It does give us a shared humanity and indicates real feelings of empathy. The desire to help is strong. The ability to directly help from so far away the hard part. It is all so very sad.
Friends of mine were in Paris on Sept. 11, 2001 on a second honeymoon and scheduled to fly home the next day. Their hotel manager graciously said they could stay in their room at no cost until the planes were flying again. Wherever they went in Paris people stopped them to offer condolences. Restaurants offered them free meals. My friends experienced an amazing outpouring of fellowship and love. They were thankful for the generosity show them by Parisians, but their biggest emotional lift was seeing Le Monde’s now famous headline.
I wrote of my experiences in France after Sept.11 in the comment above.
DeleteI do agree that the desire to be there, to help is strong. If nothing else, to keep filling those restaurants and music venues and sports arenas. And to express sadness and unity.
Thank you for your comments, dande.
That last picture is gorgeous.
ReplyDeleteOf all the comments I saw online about "standing with France" and people being scared to go back, I thought travel author Rick Steves said it best (paraphrasing): things like this happen all of the time. We can't let terrorists win or dictate what free society does (including travel) or the terrorists do "win". He ended his post with his signature "keep on traveling" and honestly, but for kid/life constraints, that's exactly what I would do, too.