The Kiosks of Paris

When my career-military father was first stationed at the Pentagon, our next door neighbor was a French diplomat. He and his wife soon became fast friends with my parents. They were gracious people and home was Paris. When they made their first trip back to France after moving to DC, I asked them to bring me back their favorite souvenir. Not knowing what that would be and not yet having the palette for fine french wine, I anxiously awaited their return.

A few days after they got back, Marie came over for coffee with my mom and said she had found the perfect souvenir. It was a metal cylinder covered with airline ads. On top was a sort of crown and appropriately for the time, when you pulled it open, it was a cigarette holder. The highlight was a music box inside that played "The Last Time I Saw Paris"..

I have to admit, for the kid I was and because I had never been to Paris then, I was not impressed.  I politely thanked her and then asked her what it was. "It's a kiosk, They are all over the city. It's like one of your billboards. It makes us think of home" "Great," I said, 'Thanks again."

At the time, I still didn't really get it but, today, decades later, that kiosk has a place of honor on my desk at home. It symbolizes the adventure that travel has been for me Encountering new places and people. Speaking new languages. Learning to eat escargot and tripe. The differences in culture and customs around the world have literally changed my life for the better.

Jane and I have come to love Paris. We have gotten to know the arrondissements well. We can lose ourselves in the Tuileries and Luxembourg Gardens or just lie on the grass in the mall for hours.  It's easy to fall in love with life there.

If you can't tell, I'm trying to get my mind moving in a positive direction. The tragic happenings around the world are screaming at me every time I turn on the TV or the radio. I've been in Paris this time of year. It's perfect weather for a stroll. The neighborhood shop keepers even cater a bit to the Thanksgiving urges of the ex-pats there. It's time to come out of our holes and see the sun.

As troubling as the events of the past few days have been, I know that somehow Paris and its people will survive this horror and be stronger for it. I've checked on our friends there and they are well...sad and angry but well. I can't wait to sit on the sidewalk at one of our favorite Parisian cafes in the afternoon, watch the people and traffic go by while reading the posters on the Kiosk across the street. Parisians know better than anyone that nothing is more important than living life. Vive la France.