THE TRIP BACK TO FRANCE

Note: this is a lightly edited series of excerpts from my journal.

INTRODUCTION

He wanted to go back to France. We had been talking about it for a few years, but due first to scheduling and then to COVID-19, it got pushed back. Then his first wife, a French woman, died unexpectedly and the family there planned a celebration of life for her. So the plan was for him to visit with old friends and his children – my step-siblings – while I traveled solo, then meet up after her memorial service to spend a week together with no agenda, doing whatever he wanted.

John came early with a fishing buddy, Brent, who had never previously left the States. It was a disaster. Brent didn't realize the level of help and care John needed, and after eating one meal at a restaurant in Paris, decided to live on McDonald's the rest of the trip. He left early, then John stayed with his first wife's family in a town called Brou, southwest of capital near the Loire Valley.

Meanwhile, I spent a week in Paris first, going on long walks and visiting art museums, then Normandy, seeing WW2 sites. I was supposed to meet John at a family friend's house in Villenueve la Huree, but the day before, when I got back to the hotel after spending all day on a D-Day bus tour, I got a message that John had been coughing up blood and was in the hospital. Instead of meeting him at Maria's, I was now going to drive to Brou.

04 JULY 2022

Bayeux. Had breakfast at the Hotel Lion D'or, then checked out. Walked around town on a sleepy morning, then wandered my way to the train station. Had a Facetime call with my step-sister Emily about John and his status – they are off to see her husband Robin's family in Wales, but are worried about John, which is understandable. His health is a constant concern and seems to have reached a new low.

Reserved a window seat and read a D-Day book on the train ride into Paris. Arrived at Gare de Lyon. Walked around the area: Rue Cremieux, Bastille, Canal St. Martin. Got a panache at a cafe to kill some time, then back to the car rental place near the station and drove through Paris at rush hour.

I was extremely nervous about driving in France, but it was largely the same as in the States, and, of course, GPS navigation on my phone helped a ton.

Arrived in Brou around 7PM. John's former wife Liliane's sister Monique lives there half the year; the other half in South Carolina with her American husband Bill. They were so inviting and welcoming, and told me John was still at the hospital getting tests done, so I waited.

When he arrived about an hour later with my other step-sister Melissa and Monique's other sister Sylvie, he was about as agitated as I'd ever seen him, having left the hospital early and accusing everyone of trying to get him to go home, conspiring against him, etc. I'd never seen him that paranoid before, and he left without even saying goodbye, ushering me out to the car.

We drove even deeper into the countryside to a farmhouse Melissa rented and stayed there the night, John still ranting about everyone. I tried to focus on how bucolic it was, and not how out of character he was.

05 JULY 2022

Left Melissa's place outside of Brou and spent the day driving around the countryside south of Paris. John wanted to see some castles and chateaus and wanted to show me a few places he used to like to visit.

First stop was Chateaudun. I parked in the town square, John sat in his wheelchair at a cafe, and I walked the cobblestone streets to the castle and did a tour. Almost no one was around – it felt like I had the place to myself, and got lost in the maze of rooms. There are beautiful gardens, big windows overlooking the town and the valley, and a special exhibit of medieval weapons, armor, and tapestries.

Next stop was a church in a tiny village that had a fresco on the wall that John loves. It was the “Danse Macabre” in Meslay-le-Grenet. It's so small and out of the way that the caretaker wasn't even there – there's a callbox in the gravel parking lot and she comes over when you arrive, unlocking the door with a giant iron key.

John gave me a tour and detailed the contents of the wall paintings, then gave them 200 Euros and made me write a note in French to send him a letter if they wanted a larger donation.

Had lunch at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere. I didn't know what I was getting into, but John paid for both of us at the bar, then they led us into the dining room, sat us down, and took our orders. I got fish with rice and a buerre blanc sauce, but first we went to the salad bar and I loaded up on beets and cornichons. My main dish came, then they brought out the cheese course, and then there was a selection of desserts. I got a basque cake. Oh, and I washed it all down with a carafe of wine. All for 12 Euros!

John didn't eat much, but chatted with the Danish truck drivers at the table next to us, who wanted to know if we liked Biden. “J'aime beaucoup Joe Biden,” John replied. They didn't seem to like that answer.

Back on the road to Chartes. Again, I parked at the city center, then walked petite ancient streets up to the destination: the Notre Dame cathedral, which was enormous and beautiful. I walked around the building, feeling engulfed by its size, taking way too many pictures.

Walked back to John, who was sitting outside at a cafe in his wheelchair. We played the sloppiest game of pool ever and I made him drink a beer with me, then we took off. Chartes seems like a nice little city and was gorgeous along the river – I'd love to come back again.

Drove to Maria's house in Villeneuve la Huree. Got settled, then she cooked for us and we ate dinner on her beautiful back patio as the sun went down.

06 JULY 2022

Nice weather, so we hung out on the patio all day, eating and drinking and playing cards and petting the dog and peeking into the house to catch bits of the Tour De France.

Patrick and his wife Catherine came for lunch, and I discovered a bit of a trick to help with my French: have John tell a story to me in English first, then repeat it to the group in French. That way I can follow along and almost translate it myself as he's speaking to them.

Otherwise, they all tried to school me in French a bunch, which was simultaneously helpful and frustrating, but such a quintessentially French thing to do; they take great pride in their language.

John said goodbye to Patrick after lunch, then broke down crying as he down away. Unsaid in all of this is the possibility that this is the last time John will be in France, and the last time he will see these friends and family.

To take our minds off it, we got maps out and planned the rest of the week: Verdun, once I get back from Paris.

Packed up and they took me to the little train station at Tournan-en-Brie, where I took Line P into Gare de L'est.

Walked Canal St. Martin to Hotel Speria, checked into my room, and wandered Le Marais that night.

07 JULY 2022

My 41st birthday. In the morning, I visited the marche at Bastille and Marche des Enfants Rouge, gathering supplies for my planned picnic dinner later in the day.

Got L'as Du Fallafel for lunch, then walked to Pere Lechaise cemetery. Wandered around, listening to Fiona Apple and taking pictures. John had told me his first wife's family, the Bernards, had a plot there, but I couldn't find it.

Drinks at Bisou, a fancy casual cocktail bar with no menu. You just chat with your server about what you like and how you’re feeling and they make something special for you. Even after just a few days with John translating for me, I got so sheepish about using my terrible French, but luckily my server switched right into English after I sputtered some bad descriptions. I told him it was my birthday, he replied that his birthday was tomorrow, so in addition to the bourbon cocktails they made me, he brought two shots of French Vermouth and we took them together. “Bonne anni,” I said. “Toi aussi,” he replied.

I took the Metro to the Eiffel Tower. Had a picnic dinner along the banks of the Seine: demi baguette, 2 cheeses, olive and pickle mix, cherries, beer, red wine, champagne, and a chocolate eclair in lieu of birthday cake.

Watched the sun go down, the boats go by, and the Eiffel Tower sparkle.

Long, crowded train ride back to my hotel. Facetime'd with my family, who sang to me before I fell asleep.

08 JULY 2022

In the morning, I checked out of my hotel, walked Gare de L'est along the canal, and hopped back on Line P, eating a takeaway croissant.

Maria picked me up at the station and I tried to tell her about yesterday in my limited French. I really wish I spoke the language better – it disappoints me that I don't.

Got back to her house, picked up John, and drove east to Verdun. John was hungry, so we stopped at a roadside cafe in a tiny village. The place was a complete dump and smelled like a wet dog. The owner, an obese Libyan man with his belly sticking out from under his shirt and a few missing teeth, was friendly and talkative and told us he had just bought the place and was renovating.

All I wanted to do was leave, and all John wanted to do was chat and eat. He made John friend eggs and French fries in his gross kitchen and they talked politics while I held my nose.

Got to Verdun, checked into a quaint two-story hotel, walked around town – the WW1 monument, shops and cafes, and along the river – until we found a restaurant for dinner, which took forever due to indecision on what to eat, so many places being closed, and pushing John's wheelchair.

I ran across the bridge to the tourist center and got some brochures and we made a plan for tomorrow.

09 JULY 2022

Breakfast at the hotel. Poor John is a mess – getting up and down the stairs gets him so out of breath and it feels like he could fall at any minute due to his poor posture and stance as well as his tendency to potentially fall asleep at moment.

We were the first ones in line at the Verdun Memorial Museum, but was interesting to me but more of John's thing. Still, fascinating to see how this was the first “modern” war with so much more technology and brutality: airplanes, machine guns, tanks, gas/chemicals. Horrific stuff.

Visited the ossuary and the cemetery, all out in the woods in the middle of nowhere. Then, per John's wishes, did the long drive back to Maria's. I thought we'd stay longer, but he was ready to go. Got lost on the ride due to John not trusting GPS navigation, but still made in back in time for dinner.

Hang out in Maria's back yard drinking Pastis with her husband. He's a truck driver, back from a route.

10 JULY 2022

Woke up to a rooster crowing. Then I heard John cussing and grumbling about something, then playing his harmonica.

Oh, the harmonica! John started playing that thing after quitting smoking a few years ago as a way to stave off his oral fixation (I did the same thing with Dum-Dum lollipops when I quit cigarettes in my 20s).

That is admirable.

Now, however, he plays it at all hours and at inopportune times, including in public or at restaurants, etc. I've seen so many people look over at him, perplexed or annoyed or mad at the noise, and he's either oblivious or just doesn't give a shit.

Packed up Maria's car and the three of us bought a giant bag of baguettes in a neighboring town, then drove deep into the country, eventually making our way to the Ecuyers race track. Maria's husband Christophe is a truck driver by trade, and an amateur race car driver on the weekends. He and his friends took me out in their cars as a passenger, and it is no joke – the twists and turns and heat make you feel like you're going to puke, but the speed and power of the engines is awesome.

They spent the whole day there, breaking for lunch and taking breaks and looking at each other's cars and tuning things up and changing tires and talking shit. It's a whole subculture like any other – reminded me somewhat of the time I went skydiving and all the dudes who hung out in the hangar all day.

In the afternoon, we said our goodbyes. John broke down crying while hugging Maria, saying “Just go!” at me as I drove away.

Made our way back to Livry-Gargan. Hung out with Patrick, walked around and visited a few folks he knew from when he lived there. Had dinner at a mussels restaurant at night with Patrick and his wife, Vanessa and her daughter.

Saying goodnight to Patrick as he drove away, John watched him from the second-story balcony: “I'm all out of tears, just emotionally exhausted.” He cried then, his face in his hands, overwhelmed.

There's a distinct chance this is the last time he sees France, the last time he sees those people he's known all these years. You can't fault feeling strong emotions at the finality of it all.

11 JULY 2022

John woke me up by saying, “Réveille-toi!” Then Vanessa drove us to the airport in my rental car. Another sad goodbye; this time Vanessa was the one to break down crying as we waited at the security gate and she had to rush off to work.

Learned while checking in that our flight was delayed, which would then delay John's flight from Dallas to Charlotte, so the gate agent moved some things around for him and we were off.

We got a mobility assistant to help him with his wheelchair through security, which he definitely needed. He played his harmonica on the plane and fell asleep a lot, sometimes mid-sentence. He was in a grumpy mood in general, irascible and demanding through the flight.

All this is just me venting and complaining, and really, I'm making it sound worse than it was. I love John, and find him to be a remarkable man in many ways. I was flattered he wanted me to accompany him to France, and I was happy to travel with him and assist him in the ways he wanted and needed. I know I'll look back on this trip fondly, and I'm glad I went. I hope he is too.

But I'm also glad to sleep in my own bed tonight.

Rushed to get him on his connecting flight in Dallas, said our own goodbyes, and then all of a sudden I was alone. Walked through the enormous airport to my gate, then flew home to Los Angeles.

EPILOGUE

I saw John two more times: at a wedding in San Francisco in September, then just before Christmas at my step-sister Melissa's house in Ohio.

He died in Michigan in February 2023, age 76.

To John.