Legendary French comic singer Gaston Ouvard performs “Je ne suis pas bien portant” (I Am Not In Good Health)
Donald Trump avoided military service to his country thanks to a “minor” malady. He said he had visited a doctor who provided him a letter for draft officials, who granted him the medical exemption. He could not remember the doctor’s name. (New York Times August 1, 2016)
The French New Wave movement in cinema (Nouvelle Vague en francaise) began in the late 1950’s and the tenets of Nouvelle Vague continue to be seen in French films today.
Notable features of this movement include:
While I have a genuine appreciation for Nouvelle Vague, I also appreciate a film like Pixar’s “Ratatouille” (2007), which not only sold beaucoup movie theater tickets, but also beaucoup toys. (I doubt the Jean-Paul Belmondo action figure ever made more than few francs – even with the optional toy cigarette that produces real smoke!)
Needing a to rest our weary legs as we were walking to the Rodin Museum, a Paris bicycle-taxi driver offered his services. We accepted, foolishly not agreeing to a fee right away. Upon entering his chariot, the driver asked, “You like music?” He spoke in a heavy Eastern European accent (later telling us he was from Romania.)
I replied “Oui, I like music!”
“I have music!” he said through a wide grin.
Our lean and lanky driver then dialed his boombox to “11” and and away we went – pedaling thru the busy Paris streets along the Left Bank, and blasting Techno, Rap and Club music, while Linda danced.
Once we arrived at our destination, our new Romanian friend definitely over-charged us, Linda says “we got taken for a ride, twice!” But it was worth it.!
More pictures from the Rodin later.. The museum was wonderful.
In less than 10 days, we’ll be in Paris – the City of Lights. Will we meet up with Jean-Luc Godard and Anna Karina dancing The Madison in a Paris cafe?
Peut être.
We will certainly encounter Jim DeLillo and his lovely ballerina/wife Shirley in the south of France, where our friends have vacationed in the small village of Venasque for the past 20 years.
Can’t wait.
The first French voice ever to grace my eardrums belonged to Marie Yolande. I was in second or third grade, and the good Sister of Mercy who taught French lessons to our class of forty-five children at St. Peter School, played instructional French language records while she prayed a silent novena seated at her desk. (The merciless Sr. Padraig also used this time to devise a wrestling maneuver to subdue my pal Tommy Tanner – a lethal combination of the traditional “Full Nelson” and Killer Kowalski’s “Claw hold.”)
Marie Yolande was the girl on the instructional record, presumably the same age as us, and living in France. As the scratchy record played, we learned about what Marie ate for breakfast, the route she walked to school each day, and how she might say “Ouvre la fenêtre” to let the breeze into the kitchen where her mama cooked her favorite Cherry Clafoutis. I wasn’t too good at learning French (not much better today) but I was very good at dreaming about Marie Yolande.
I’ve searched for Marie Yolande on the Web de Worldwide. I think she is probably my age (On June 9th I turned 59, sacrebleu!) She might be a bit older, as the record was produced in the early 1960s, I think. I haven’t yet found a single web reference to Marie or to the French language records. I’d love to discover that Marie Yolande now works for “Doctors Without Borders,” or that she is a brilliant artist with a nom de plume like “Left Banksy.” Maybe she is the brains behind the hacktivist group “Anonymous.”
Willa Cather wrote, “Some memories are realities, and are better than anything that can ever happen again.” My memories of St. Peter School, my friends, and even the nuns are like that.
Où es-tu, Marie Yolande?
Pas De Merde 