Everything in Perspective

While trying to pack up our
nine months here in France
I decided to check my airplane
reservations one more time,
even though they were
confirmed.  My conclusion,
after spending the entire day
on the phone?;

"DO NOT TRUST UNITED"

Today I Am Grateful for the Journey

Today I am grateful. 

 I celebrate  the day I was born 

in a small town in
Northern Ontario, Canada;
5th child of 7 all told. Daniel,

my oldest brother,  only lived a 

couple of days and though 

I never got to meet him
in person I believe he is here, 

present in my life,
 big brother to all of his siblings.


Today, I am grateful 

for my dad,

who left too soon, too fast.
He told me often, Noli Timere, 

Be Not Afraid and taught me to embrace life

 with humour, no matter the situation; 

 his glass was always half full.  

And for my mom, 

 our quiet,  steady centre of hospitality to whom,

 now, many years later I can say 

I am grateful that "I am just like you...." 

 (uh, I'm not exactly quiet).


Today I am grateful,

 for my younger brother and sister,

 Jon and Pati, 

and for my three older siblings,
Margie, Rick and Marty;

 I am blessed to have been
born into their embrace.

For Jeff, my husband

 and Alec, our son,

for enriching my life

with your love,

I am grateful.

I am grateful

for family and friends

 and dogs
who make my world
a blessed placed. 

I am grateful 

for this journey,
for waking every day
to the freedom to choose.

The Journey
One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice--
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
you knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do--
determined to save
the only life you could save.

            Mary Oliver

It is Time to Start Packing

Everyday Alec tells me exactly how many days are
left until we cross the pond again and return to
the New World.  Today is day 16 and it is time to
at least think about packing.

My most pressing issue is how to get my pottery
back home.

Even though Alec tells me to "have a great sleep, mom"
when he leaves for school, believing that I return
to bed (okay I think I did this a couple of times)  after
he leaves, the truth is, I have created in clay during

Luc and Brigitte

the nine months of living here;  both in Chatel St. Germaine
with a lovely group of new friends and in Rachel's studio.

Luc, the chief potter at Chatel St.Germain where
I go every Monday afternoon

  
I even gave a class, in French, on paper clay to a group of potters.

my friend Jacqueline, the only
person who gets away with
calling me Petula (after Petula Clark)
She says I have the same accent when
I speak in French!

my globe taking shape

      

making marks

                                      

This is what you (or perhaps me) can make in paper clay!

Jude showing how you can add metal
to the paper clay

Now, I am almost finished creating,
at least for now.
The theme for the year;
The Journey.
Boats and keys and totems
emerging from cages and globes accompanied
me this year.

All my pieces are made with a mixture of
reclycled paper and reclycled clay.  I form
this mixture, often adding metal pieces, then
fire the creation first in an electric kiln.

Rachel's Studio Preparing My Pieces for the Fire

getting ready for the fire

no Piper, the wood is for the fire, not you!

The second firing is often a wood firing in a small barrel.

the barrel was a wee bit too small

And the end result.....

 

                                                                                                                             

Cathy's Boat
my lovely sister-in-law
 thinks it is okay
to cut across a labyrinth
after  you reach the middle!

                                       

   

 the sentinel

   

Rachel's Dream

the passage

this way

heh jude, what's this?

                       

the final sculpture almost ready to fire
this one needs to be fired outside
with wood....lots of wood....
should be interesting

It is amazing what you can find when you

arrive in a foreign country with no pottery

tools, no clay and no kiln!  

You find friends!

French Women Have Suffered a Serious Setback

Friends, husbands, bosses
harrasment is the domination

Before Zarkozy officially left office, his government
"abolished the right to initiate criminal
 complaints for sexual harassment; all complaints
have been canceled, and stalkers /rapists will not be prosecuted.
Women who filed suit are left with legal bills of 10,000 or20,000 euros.

It removed the right to complain and canceled all present
complaints because the law was "not good enough."

 "The case against the law was

 brought by a former MP, Gérard Ducray, 

one of several French politicians 

Gerard Ducray

to face sexual harassment charges recently.  

He was sentenced to a three-month suspended

 sentence and fined 5,000 euros in 2011."

Apparently Ducray argued that the law was  

"too open to interpretation and could lead to convictions

 for “acceptable flirting”.  Acceptable to whom?

It seems that Ducray has not evolved beyond the act of standing

upright.

"This is a true disaster for all victims.  There is no worse scenario,"  

said Gwendoline Fizaine, lawyer for the European Association

against Violence against Women at Work. 

http://www.ladepeche.fr/article/2012/05/05/1346438-le-harcelement-sexuel-raye-du-code-penal.html

Susanna and the Elders
by
Artemisa Gentileschi, 1610

Back in the beginning of the 17th century,  

a remarkably mature, 17 year old Artemisia Gentilischi  

"depicts the biblical story of Susanna, 

a virtuous young wife sexually harassed by

 the elders of her community."  What was shocking for the

 art world at the time was that Artemesia "takes the female

perspective and portrays Susanna as vulnerable, frightened, 

and repulsed by their demands."  The male artists of the time 

painted Susanna as "coyly  flirtatious."

http://www.artemisia-gentileschi.com/susanna.html 

Perhaps some things take a little longer to change than others, 

but to regress back to a time of no protection for women,

 this is an atrocity. 

 My heart goes out to the women of France.

Saturday Morning Flea Market...in Germany!

Rachel thought Alec would like to
go to a flea market....in Germany!
Saarbrucken is only supposed to
be 45 minutes away but the GPS
and road work made it over an hour.

Like most European cities, there is a lovely
square with restaurants circling it and a market
selling fabulous bread, cheeses, honey products
and flowers.

       

Brigitte, a french friend of Rachel's
 lives in Saarbruken. (used to live
in Roanoke and her daughter Claire went
to Roanoke Catholic).  We finally met
Brigitte and walked through our first
German flea market.  Walking through the
market I heard quite a bit of English but
not much French.  In fact, when asking
a woman for direction she said she spoke
no French but her English was excellent.

Unfortunately I didn't take any photos of
the market, I was too busy looking for
treasures.  Alec bought me a great purse,
a gift for mothers day.  He bartered the price

Happy Mother's Day
(France celebrates in June but I didn't tell Alec.)

down from 10 euros to 7 euros.  

 He also bought  three painted soldiers for his dad...
and a German  arm band  for the
Volunteers of the People's Police to add
 to  his militaria collection.

  .

We had lunch with Brigitte.
Jeff, I had to try a dark, German beer
called a Schwarzbier, 
Looks good but it simply wasn't as good as yours.

After a quick morning in Germany we drove back home to
attend our art exposition in Chatel St. Germaine, Rachel exhibiting
her paintings and me, my pottery....stay
tuned for reflections on our exhibition.

Thanks GIs

Yesterday, May 8, 2012 marked
the  67th   anniversary when

"World War II Allies formally accepted the
unconditional surrender of the armed forces
of Nazi Germany and the end
of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victory_in_Europe_Day 

 Throughout France, in all of the
small villages,celebrations honouring those
who died during this war took place
at the village cemeteries and the
monuments aux mort.   Again, I was
humbled by the appreciation the
people of France have for the Americans
and Canadians who liberated their country
from the Germans.

Alec and I drove to Ancy sur Moselle where the Association
Thanks GIs  arrived with numerous "american" vehicles and men
and women dressed in WWII uniforms.

The French were actually liberated in 1944, so
Alec tells me.

 

The troop first stopped at the Memorial in
Ancy sur Moselle
 and then continued on to the village of
Dorno.

I couldn't help think of my dad who fought
in WWII for the Canadian army, stationed
in Italy and my Uncle who fought
on a destroyer in the South Pacific.

When I saw this gentleman wearing
the Thanks GIs t-shirt I asked to take his
photo, explaining my husband and son were
American and that my father fought in WWII
in Italy.  Unfortunately I did not ask his name,
but he was very interested in a Canadian in
France with an American son.  His association
helps to educate the youth of France never to
forget how the Americans liberated their country.

Jeff, I bought this t-shirt for you!


After the memorial celebration this young man
said "now  you must drink French wine to
celebrate, no? "  Qui!



I met an older gentleman at the celebration.  We shared
a glass of wine and he told me his story.
"I was 11 years old when the Americans liberated
France.  There was much excitement.  I walked into
a building, like this one, and I didn't know what was
going on.     I saw five men, pinned against
the wall, hands raised.  We were all French and I
didn't understand.  They didn't use rifles....these men were
brutally cut in half, hauled off to a truck and
 more men were pinned against the wall.
Later, I realized that these French men were
collaborators with the Germans, they were milice
and were being put on trial by the local people.  It was
French against French.  I was a child of 11, I will never
forget what I saw.  The Germans were brutal....
but the French were just as bad."

I thought of my dad, trudging through
the trenches of  Italy, 26 years old, a small
town boy who never held a rifle before the
war and yet saw atrocities of which he never spoke.
He received a mention in dispatches; an 
award to recognize a mention in dispatches from a senior commander for brave or meritorious service, normally in the field. 

He swam across a river under enemy fire to deliver news of the enemies position.

And here we are in France, where people
still remember and give thanks and teach
their children to remember.