I’ve been chasing my tail, but I did catch part of it.
To tell the truth, I had thought I’d take the challenge of writing a blog entry every day, but it just didn’t work out.
Most recently I’ve finished a project called “If Mona Dies.” Yes, I got that from my big brother who did just that in 1998. but his humor stays with me.
What’s that? Well, I’ve been pulling together into one folder all the stuff my family needs to know “if I die” or become incapacitated. I had no idea what I was getting into. My life is just not that complicated, but it would be if someone else had to straighten out the pieces.
Don’t be alarmed. This is not an announcement. I’m planning on hanging around for at least another 20 years, but I remember what a blessing it was when my mother died with everything taken care of. All we needed to do was give away most of her stuff to the nursing home and take home a few small mementos. (a clock and a small leather change purse.) The rest had all been spelled out in the appropriate legal documents. Time to bid goodbye without frazzlement. (I know that’s not a real word, but it says what I mean.)
I want things to be as close as possible to that simplicity.
And I am grateful that I have this problem. Just as my hot morning shower reminds me of people who are deprived of that opportunity, so this activity reminds me how fortunate I am to have a home and all the stuff that’s in it.
Other things have been going on too. I’ve been teaching a course on forgiveness to an absolutely wonderful group of people at Mt. Calvary Lutheran Church in Excelsior. I’m still working at finding a new publisher for “Mrs. Job” or whoever she might become. And I’m still gathering data needed to write “My Father’s House.”
Oh, and in between, real life goes on.
My request to you. Please forgive me for failing to follow through on blog events.
I can’t believe I’ve been home so long since the four week visit to Europe. Time flies, filled with so many activities: working on finding a new home for the “new” Mrs. Job, doing research for “My Father’s House,” planning a course on Forgiveness for Mount Calvary at the end of this month, organizing photos, etc. But now I’m ready to share our stay at Mougins, France from July 28 – August 2.
One comment in general. In France, we are still in the alps, and sometimes my son forgets that I have a 28 year head start on him, but I did survive the walks up and down hills. No doubt it was good for me. And that’s what we did — uphill, anyway, on our first full day in Mougins. We climbed to the city. There was a rest on the way at — guess what — a cemetery. Somehow cemeteries become interesting tour stops. In this case, on the way to Mougins, I treasured it especially as a breather. Amazing the efforts to preserve our loved ones.
I will admit, the visit to Mougins was a delight. It turns out that Picasso spent the last 12 years of his life there, and they do take advantage of it, almost as much as Salzburg celebrated Mozart.
The street scenes were charming.
And that includes the shops. They even had a milliner’s shop there, along with so many other artistic delights.
For some reason I was into trees on this trip, like this one in Mougins.
I’m happy to say we went back down to our time share by way of an elevator. I think walking down is even harder than walking up.
Our next journey was to the Riviera. I have no desire to go back. I’m no longer a sun worshipper, nor do I like crowds, and we drove through plenty of both. I’ll say this for it, though. The waters are beautifully clear, enough to evoke envy.
And one finds the remains of great wealth, as in the Villa Ephrussi de Rothschild. It’s hard to imagine living in such a lavish place. It must have taken the inhabitants all morning to make the tour just through the inside to say nothing of the fabulous gardens outside. As for other activities, I can’t remember what they said about how often the owner’s clothes were changed during the day. More often than mine, that’s for sure.
But to see it was a pleasure both inside and out. My photo comes nowhere near doing it justice. What you see is just a small part of it.
And then there are the gardens.
Doug, seeking the ideal spots for photographs just missed being a part of the aquatic show.
It was all-in-all a delightful place to spend several hours.
And then it was on to Kerylos. Here’s where I confess even greater ignorance. I know the owners were somehow related to Ms. Rothschild (who also had a married name that I can’t remember), but the important thing is they wanted to live like the ancient Greeks, so their home was a replica of a Greek villa. I did manage to get one photo that reflected the style.
That made a day of it. giving us a chance to rest up for our guided trip the next day to Fort Royal where The Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned. I don’t feel ignorant that I can’t tell you who he was, because “they” don’t know either
I’m not really clear on the history of it, or the artists, but inside where the cells were once occupied paintings have now been added. For example …
In Cannes enroute from the Fort we had our own moment of fame, except no one was there to applaud. But we did get to pose on the red carpet — stars for the moment.
One of my favorite visits was nowhere near so extreme either on the luxury end of the scale, nor on the misery-in-prison end. And we were fortunate to do it, because the Renoir Museum was just re-opening after being closed for repairs. I loved the repairs. They repaired it, but left it basically as the simple home it was when Renoir and his students worked there. This scene could have been in any home of the period (1920-30ish).
The house was filled with paintings and sculpture by Renoir and his students.
He never stopped painting, but toward the end of his life it was with great pain. Before he could even pick up a brush he needed a helper to wrap his hands, gnarled with arthritis. But paint he did, and here is where he did it.
Still into my tree thing, I picked this one up outside his home.
As if to emphasize the difference, a visit to the Grimaldi’s followed. One photo seemed to me to display the lavishness of the place.
Finally, the visits that most affected my sense of smell were two perfume factories in Grasse, Perfumerie Fragonard (on the inside)
and Perfumerie Montenard (from the outside.)
I did buy a gift of soap for a friend at the first stop. These days I really don’t like scents, but by the time we’d been through the factory Ihad become adapted, I guess. I bought what I thought was very lightly scented until I got up the next day and found the fragrance filling the room. I packed it in several layers for the transport hime. I hope my friend will like it.
One last stop before flying on to Bulgaria from Milan. We did go into the center of Milan, but I think I was suffering from something close to heat exhaustion so I was only half with it. Enough to get this photo, though, of the Milan Cathedral.
Thanks for keeping me company. One more country still to go — Bulgaria.
I picked this up in church on Saturday evening, but I don’t think one has to be religious to recognize the challenge.
This blessing is known as the Franciscan Four Fold Blessing, a devotional discipline derived from the teachings of St. Francis of Assisi (1181-1226) and St. Clare of Assisi (1194-1253)
May God bless us with discomfort. Discomfort at easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, so that we may live deep within our hearts.
May God bless us with anger. Anger at injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, so that we may work for justice, freedom and peace.
May God bless us with tears. Tears to shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation and war, so that we may reach out our hands to comfort them and turn their pain to joy.
May God bless us with foolishness. Enough foolishness to believe that we can make a difference in this world, so that we can do what others claim cannot be done..
I had something else in mind for today, but I just have to share this link. And what my niece sent in response. “Brings to mind the Maya Anjelou quote,’People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.'”
Rejoice with me! I now have all the pieces of “Mrs. Job” to finish reviewing the copyedit. Now I can get to work finding a new publisher.
My thanks to Kevin Haws.
Water and Stones. I could watch this all day – thanks to Leelah for this beautiful gift.
And when you finish refreshing your self at this fountain of beauty, refresh yourself further with a look at my review of her lovely book, When Fear Comes Home to Love (The second one down)
(To get to either of these links, just click on the title.)
I want you to know I recognize there’s a lot of “I’ll recommend you if you’ll recommend me” going on in the blogosphere and elsewhere. For example, people are endorsing me on Linked In who don’t know my work from Adam. I get it. The deal is to endorse in return (which I do only for people who know me and whose work I know). Therefore, I end up generally ignoring endorsements, though I appreciate when I do receive such kindness from folks who are familiar with my work.
Why am I telling you this? Because I want you to know I’m writing here about Weaver’s UPHILL BOTH WAYS because I really enjoyed it. As did my daughter when I loaned it to her on her Kindle. (Wow! Isn’t that an amazing option?)
Please go take a look at my review at amazon.com. His good work deserves the reward of attention if nothing else.
I should have pointed out that clicking on the title (in blue) will take you to the book’s page on amazon.com. When you get there, click on the stars which indicate reviews. You’ll find my review in there along with others.
Well, what’s so newsworthy about that? Nothing — and that’s the point. After singing a few scales and having one go at “Consider the LIllies,” I lapsed into my usual thought. How lucky I am that I can have this water — clean, hot, plentiful, and there when I want it. Think of the folks in the world who don’t even have enough of it to drink, say nothing of such luxury as bathing.
I can’t help being grateful — and longing for a world where no one is thirsty.
I guess it’s time to share another segment of our recent trip to Europe. The last entry was Portugal – a delightful new adventure. This time it’s nostalgia all over again. Austria, mostly re-experiencing Salzburg.
My first visit to Salzburg was right after graduation from college with a National Student Association tour. We spent 11 weeks in Europe: Austria, Germany, Switzerland, France, England, Holland, & Belgium. As I recall, the entire price (except for two free weeks at the end) was $675.00, including eleven days over and back on the S.S. Volendam of the Holland America line. Transport was not elegant – the Volendam was still fitted out as a troopship – but for a bunch of students it was great – movies, lectures, courses, each other. a small smoking room, and bottles of Heinekens for 5 cents apiece.
I think there were 15 people in our group,including three guys. It was the time of the Korean war (which history refuses to label as such.) That meant young men had to hang around home in case they were called up for the draft. I’m not sure how some were free to go, but three of them made it. I wonder who, out of that group, is still around to remember.
I learned many years later that was the year when the CIA first enlisted students to gather information.
But now the focus is on revisiting. On our graduation visit, Austria was our first stop. My roommate and I were boarded in a home in Hallein outside Salzburg, the salt city. I’ll get to that later.
The first adventure I remember was Hohensalzburg – the castle on the mountaintop overlooking the city. It was new to us, but anyone who’s been to Salzburg knows it as the major site of interest. My first visit, though, was before “The Sound of Music” turned Salzburg into a tourist site, It was right after the end of WWII, so the place was filled with displaced, homeless people, giving it the feel of a medieval village. I don’t remember walking up there, so I think we arrived at the top by way of the funicular, which shows in this photo taken from the cemetery outside the plaza of the Cathedral.
My second visit to the site was in 1976 when I traveled Eurail with my teen-aged son and daughter. Again, I don’t remember walking up, so I suspect we took the funicular. Even then my children had to deal with my acrophobia – fear of heights.
This time, my tour guide – otherwise known as my son Doug, well beyond teen-age – had us walking to the castle, stopping along the way at various sites, and for lunch. Obviously there were many more things along the way than had been there decades before. Thankfully we returned to the ground below via the funicular.
Most nostalgic for me was the visit to the Salzburg dom (Cathedral). On my first visit I looked at it with ooh/aw excitement. On the second visit in 1976 I hid behind a wall to conceal my tears as I was grieving the end of my marriage. But there was beauty too. My son and I attended a Haydn mass there on Sunday, so crowded we had to stand in the back. But imagine – a full orchestra and chorus. Better than a concert hall was the site of the cathedral. This year, we got there early enough to get a seat for the Mozart Mass. Equally powerful. No tears. Just plain joy.
As one would expect in a tourist town, there were sales booths set up on the plaza outside. Yes, I did buy some things. Then we walked on through to the cemetery, seen in the photo above. A lovely, calming place, I thought.
We did visit the adjacent convent, and I even took a photo from an upper floor – hooray for me! In spite of my acrophobia, You can see the cemetery down below.
No visit to the Salzburg area is complete without a stop at Schloss Hellbrunn. Having been there twice before, I thought I was really wise and would avoid getting wet, but they got me. No photo of that, but a picture of the early surprise for the unsuspecting. The water felt good, though, because we were in Europe during a heat wave.
Of course, anyone visiting the area has to see Mirabel gardens.
We went a step beyond and bought tickets ahead of time for a concert at the palace. Remember, Salzburg celebrates its most famous citizen – Mozart. So, of course, we attended several Mozart concerts. Here, though, the physical setting was particularly lovely.
But Mozart wasn’t all we experienced. We happened to see an ad for a free concert at St. Peter’s church – Talis’ “Spem in Alium.”
A ten-minute choral piece. (Hmm. I’m getting a déjà vu feeling. Have I told you this before?) Well, anyway, to go on, we got there early to get out of the heat and waited in a not-very-comfortable pew, So few people were there, we thought it would be no big deal. Then suddenly the church was filled to standing room only. And at the appointed hour, 5 pm, the choir surrounded the back of the church and we were blessed with ten minutes of the most glorious music. After a long standing ovation, we were treated to a ten-minute encore. (Note: In Minnesota it seems the audience always offers a standing ovation, but in Europe, at least in our experience those few weeks there, such appreciation is saved for something really special.)
I hope you’re not bored yet, because I want to tell you about the salt mines in Hallein. I remembered them from my early visit there. Being attired in protective white clothing and sliding down into the depths, then being transported by various means through them. It was fun. I could hardly wait for my son to enjoy it, though I chose to have lunch while waiting in the tourist area above. (No such building was there on my first visit.) I don’t have a photo, but I was well satisfied with his pleasure.
Just a few more things. When I was there the first time, right after the war, we asked our student guides in Germany to take us to Berchtesgaden. They obliged and we spent a nice afternoon on the beach. We had in mind Hitler’s retreat, the Eagle’s Nest, but it drew a blank from the students.
This time, however, we did get to cross over into Germany to visit it. (What a pleasure – no border patrols asking to see our passports. Part of the European Union now.)
Until a year after we were there as students the Americans who controlled it did not allow visitors. Sometime later, it was returned to the locals, on condition it should not celebrate Hitler. So it is now a restaurant. I do have an aerial photo of it, but it’s a postcard and I suspect I don’t have the legal right to show it here. So, the best I can do is show the only decent photo I took on that visit – just a scenic sight.
Especially interesting was the careful timing to get there and back again. It’s a one-way drive up (and down) a single road requiring split-second departures. By the way, the elevator was very elaborate by which Hitler was raised to the Eagles Nest after being delivered by his driver who then had to back out for quite a distance.
At some point we decided to visit the “Silent Night” museum. Following the directional signs as best we could, often leading to place of “Huh? Where do we go from here?” we finally found it. Wish they had warned us. It’s closed for a period of time. Best I could do was get a photo of Hans Gruber’s grave outside his home.
Finally, just to convey the atmosphere, I’d like you to see the photo of a restaurant we enjoyed in Rohrmoos – Pariente.
The header is a photo of the boat on which we had a 40 minute ride after visiting Mirabel gardens and before going on to a series of concerts.
I can’t tell you how grateful I am that so many of you “liked” and/or commented on yesterday’s gratitude blog. Sometimes I get the lonely feeling that no one is seeing what I put out. Of course, I’m aware that I didn’t really put this out, but rather I passed it forward. Which obviously was a good idea.
Speaking of passing it forward. I remember years ago in Boston when I was in graduate school I decided one day to smile at everyone I encountered. Wow! What a result. Everyone smiled back. I mean, a real eye-crinkling smile. I suspect some of those smiles got forwarded to others.
monagustafsonaffinito 