30th Reunion~ A Gift

Recently I went to my 30th High School Reunion of which, in the last few months, I had helped on the planning committee. I mentioned to someone that I hadn't connected with a lot of people in high school (too shy, self-conscious and insecure-- like most of us were) and really wished I had reached out to more people.

In high school, in social class terms, I didn't feel on the same level. Most (or at least many) of them had parents who worked regular jobs and had 'normal' homes and lives. Throughout most of my early school years, we moved every few months so I was perpetually the new kid, the outcast and even worse, "The Hippie Kid" (which meant never having new clothes and feeling a little like a zoo attraction).  Back then, I felt we had so little in common (and again with the lack of self-confidence), I would never have struck up a conversation just to be friendly.

So to be able to connect with people based simply on our school history and shared memories (most of my high school years were finally all in one school)  felt like a blessing to me. These days there are any number of hooks on which to hang a conversation: 30 years of life experience, school, travel, kids and present locations. And what a world of difference a little life-experience confidence can make.

This past month, our class had three wonderful days to catch up on all topics starting with a casual Friday night gathering at a local steakhouse. Eighty to a hundred of our peeps literally took over the bar and nearby diners sprouted eyes wide as cup saucers as they relinquished all attempts to talk to each other over dinner, decibel levels making that a sheer impossibility. The big bash Saturday night at the top of the Hilton offered gorgeous views and dresses, great music and food and speeches by our old principal and a favorite teacher (mine anyway), her basic message touching on the importance of connecting and finding the joy in your life. Sunday's barbecue, back to casual fare, was light, fun and easy and enabled more catching up with some of those possibly missed earlier in the weekend.

Someone (planning a 35th reunion for another school) told me that the 30th is much less about the inevitable "And what are you doing?" question (the inflection on any one of those words changing the tone and its perceived meaning) and much more about "How very lovely to see you!", "What's new with you?" and "Let's stay in touch!" And after a full weekend of my 30th, I can resoundingly say I found it to be true.

At our 10th reunion, one of the 'popular athletic types' in high school approached me, asked what I did and when I told him I was bartending after having just graduated as an English major and wanted to write, he promptly turned and walked away without a word. I literally could have caught flies, my mouth hanging to the banquet-room carpet  as I watched the God-like back I'd sat behind in Mr. B's class walk away from me, his handsome features now approaching a cute nearby blonde sporting a tight miniskirt and blazer who clearly looked like she commanded more money, more respect and more prestige out in the world.

The 30th (without certain jocks) was a lovely affair with joyous, smiling faces, truly happy just to find each other and spend time together as well as throngs of screaming, jostling hugging old friends reunited, so excited they literally jumped up and down. Social class no longer mattered. What was truly important were the hugs, the memories, learning new things about old friends and new stories about old times.

Helping with the reunion, I think, was a way for me to connect now as I hadn't back then. Did I know that when I offered to help? I think I knew I wanted connection but didn't really put it all together until later. Coming down off the high of so much fun, so much reuniting and so many truly open arms and loving hearts, I felt accepted in a way I never allowed myself to be in high school. And I feel grateful and proud that these people are a part of my past, my history, making up a piece of the mosaic soul montage that I am now.

Connecting and joy!
Who knew the 30th could do all that!?!

(Photographs copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Shakespeare & Co. and Midnight in Paris~ A Respite

On one of my last trips to Paris,

I spent a day going from cafe to church to bookstore to write.

And the bookstore was none other than the famous Shakespeare and Co.

...which feels a little like a place of respite in Paris.

After a day of struggling with the language,

it's refreshing to step into a world of books in English

and young salespeople speaking it.  

Though I know it's not the original location,

it still makes me think of the writers of the 20's who spent time at the original store:

James Joyce, D.H. Lawrence, Ernest Hemingway, Ezra Pound, T.S. Eliot, Thornton Wilder,

Andre Gide, Gertrude Stein, Man Ray and so many more. 

George Whitman (rumored to be the grand-nephew of Walt Whitman)

opened it as Le Mistral in 1951. According to one blogger (Talkin Travel),

before her death, Sylvia Beach, who started the original S.& Co. called George's bookstore,

"the spiritual successor" to her store. 

She willed many of her books to him and after her death, he changed the store's name. 

~My writing spot~

 Shakespeare and Co. is a respite in Paris much the same way 

the film 'Midnight in Paris' is a respite to our lives. 

A jaded writer gets to travel back in time (in an antique roadster)

and do exactly what so many of us wish we could do:

meet the writers of the 1920's, share a drink with them, 

talk writing with them and hear about their lives and their stories. 

The film touches on a universal theme of the human condition:

wanting what you can't have.

Though I'm not sure I would want to stay permanently in 1920's Paris,

what I wouldn't give for a visit (or two) and access to those conversations.

And although I myself tend to question writer/director Woody Allen's personal motives 

for the gorgeous jewel he has bestowed on his audiences,

he does offer us his fantasy
of the chance to have both that visit and access!  

(Shakespeare and Company photos copyright: Kirsten Steen)

The Setting Seine~ Missing Paris Day

This shot in Paris was taken after a long afternoon of walking

as the sun shone dying ember rays on the ancient buildings along the Seine.

A perfect summer-like day in spring,

throngs of people in every neighborhood enjoying

the unusual shorts and t-shirt weather in late April.

It fits my nostalgic mood today as I've just returned 

(to my regularly scheduled programming, ie. Life)

 from my 30th High School Reunion and am working on a post about it. 

(Yes, I'm surely dating myself...

.....but please don't call me shirley. Sorry, couldn't help it even with all the nostalgia.)

My mind is joyously cluttered with 3 days-worth of new memories

of people with whom I shared most of my high school years.

And I promise to share soon.

For those of you contemplating an upcoming reunion, don't miss it. 

Like those high school years,  the memories of old and new connections 

cannot be recaptured or replaced. 

As the recently retired teacher who spoke at ours said,

it's all about connecting. 

Bon Lundi a vous! 

Wonderous Courtyard~ Missing Paris Day

I love finding these old cobblestone courtyards in Paris,

wondering how long the moss has been growing here

and just how many well-dressed footsteps have traversed over how many centuries.

They leave me wondering how many artists

 have endeavored their craft behind these walls and windows,

laboring and rejoicing over their work,

stirring the creative melting pot to see what words, what colors,

what stone features arise to the surface and beg to be let loose in the world.

Paris inspires creativity

though I find I can barely write while I'm there,

too many courtyards like this one calling,

too many sights, Parisian street sounds and smells working on my senses 

to do anything but absorb them. 

These courtyards leave me wondering

 about the gardener or concierge who tends to them,

watering new buds or plucking old, bruised and wilted flowers,

scrubbing walkways and polishing sills,

wishing their neighbors 'Bonjour' or 'Bonne Nuit'.

They also leave me wondering 

 how many ways a photo can be sweetly 

posed and framed into slightly new incarnations. 

A lovely new week to you!

And hoping your creativity can find some fresh, new colors 

through which to see it. 

(Photography copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Fontaine de Leda~ Missing Paris Day

On my writer's walking tour recently, 

I came across an older woman reading in one of these chairs

at the Fontaine de Leda in the Jardin du Luxembourg.

She got up to leave just as I snapped the photo 

so instead of  'Portrait d' une Femme Lisant'

we are left with 'L'Invitation dans le Jardin'. 

Originally located at the corner of Vaugirard and Rue du Regard,

the fountain was commissioned by Napoleon Bonaparte in 1806

and moved during Louis Napoleon's reconstruction 

of the center of Paris in 1856.

This beautiful bas-relief sculpture on raised pedestal

 is of 'Leda and the Swan', 

created by a young sculptor named Achille Valois (1785-1862).

It was preserved and moved to its present location 

behind (and attached to) the Medici Fountain.

The subject of Leda,

having been seduced or raped (we'll never know which) by the Greek god Zeus,

was perpetuated by Ovid throughout the Middle Ages

and became even more popular during the Italian Renaissance.

Painted, drawn or sculpted by the likes of 

Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Correggio,

their works were used 

as studies for future artist's pieces. 

Both Leonardo and Michelangelo's works of this subject 

were recorded as being in the French royal collection at Fontainebleau

but both were lost or destroyed. 

Correggio's was also damaged while in the collection

of the Regent of France, the figure of Leda said to have been 

stabbed with a knife by Louis XVI . 

A provocative subject eliciting many responses over the centuries

 including one critic's voice regarding the placement 

of the above bas-relief in the park,

"before the eyes of the public". 

Maybe that's why it sits behind the Fontaine du Medici

in a corner.

~Photos copyright: Kirsten Steen~
Info from Wikipedia

Buddhist Quote~ Two Mistakes Along the Road to Truth...

"There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth,

not going all the way, and not starting."

~Buddha

There's an obvious theme running here in my Buddhist quotes these days,

Truth.

I find that I cannot do without it in my relationships. 

Not truth as weapon but as healing, creative energy; 

to be allowed to birth one's truth,

to hear and feel the refreshing ripples in waves of honesty,

not the dead, dank air of a storage locker where tired, used old phrases 

and unspoken rules lay covered, waiting in mossy darkness. 

But a sharing as exquisitely rich and lush as the blessed song of any mountain stream 

or the tiny, flapping wings of a sun-drenched, blossoming meadow. 

Truth can be difficult, painful, heartbreaking,

but like the stretching of birth,

it can bring joy, creation, forward motion.

Magic. 

Last Part of American Writers Tour in Paris~

And here we are again on the last segment of our

American Writers in Paris Tour.

I had to include this door just because I loved it

(even though the shot is a bit wonky) 

and doors are my thing!

Heading south on Rue Bonaparte

at #36 is the Hotel St. Germain des Pres

where Janet Flanner (pen name 'Genet') lived for 50 years.

Writing from here, Flanner served as

 The New Yorker Magazine's Parisian correspondent, 

sending in her 'Letter from Paris' from 1925-1975. 

When in New York, she ran with the members of the 

Algonquin Round Table

(a varied group of New York wits who met for lunch daily

for nearly ten years at the Algonquin Hotel).

When in Paris,

she was a member of the Lost Generation

becoming good friends with Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas.  

Though briefly married, 

Flanner met and fell in love with Solita Solano in 1918

and while they lived together for over 50 years,

they were not monogamous. 

Henry Miller also lived in this building,

on the top floor,

in 1930.

The attendant was kind enough to let me

step inside and snap a few photos.

While I'm sure it's a shade different

from its former days,

still fun to see what it looks like now. 

Continuing along Rue Bonaparte to St. Germain-des-Pres,

a few blocks down turn right onto Rue de Seine.

On the corner, which has become, Rue du Tournon, sits #20

where Booth Tarkington lived from 1905-1908,

the Pulitzer Prize winning author of 

The Magnificent Ambersons and Alice Adams 

and one of the very few to have won the Pulitzer for fiction more than once. 

While there is so much more to see, our tour ends here.
But I highly recommend clicking on the website here for more.

It was thoroughly enjoyable to walk it 

and delightful to share with you. 

Thanks for joining me.

(Photographs copyright: Kirsten Steen)

American Writers in Paris Tour continued...

As you remember, we left off on our writer's tour last time

on a gorgeous late spring (summer-like) day.

I loved the look of this Salon de The 

along the way with its 

flower boxes and

trailing ivy. 

And this unique way of serving ice cream

to warm tourists. 

Leaving Gertrude Stein and Rue Christine

and heading west on small streets to Rue Bonaparte,

I then turned right onto L'Hotel des Beaux Arts.

Here, at 13, L'Hotel des Beaux Arts

the tour states that Thomas Wolfe lived here for a year in 1925

(though another chronology of his life would put him here at another time). 

On either side of the front door are plaques,

one dedicated to Jorge Luis Borges

(according to the plaque, the Argentine writer 

who lived here during frequent visits to Paris

from 1977 to 1985). 

The other a plaque announcing that 

Oscar Wilde died in this building on

November 30, 1900. 

Sources say he died destitute in Paris

of cerebral meningitis,

the cause disputed by family and doctors. 

He was buried at Cimetiere de Bagneux but was 

moved to Pere Lachaise in 1909.

His epitaph a verse from his poem,

The Ballad of Reading Gaol:

"And alien tears will fill for him

Pity's long-broken urn,

For his mourners will be outcast men,

And outcasts always mourn."

We'll continue our tour next time

and until then, you can see more of it yourself

here:

American Writers in Paris Tour

(Photographs copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Teaser Tuesday~ Sarah's Key

Hosted by MizB at shouldbereading.

Here's how to play:

*Grab your current read,

*Open to a random page,

*Share a few “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page,

*Please no spoilers!

*Share the title and author.

Today's selection is Sarah's Key by Tatiana De Rosnay (p.39)~

"Last summer, or was it two summers ago, she couldn't remember, Papa had taken them to spend a couple of days in the countryside by a river. She couldn't remember the name of the river. But the water had felt so smooth and wonderful to her skin. Her father had tried to teach her to swim. After a few days, she managed an inelegant dog paddle that made everybody laugh. By the river, her brother had gone mad with joy and excitement. He was tiny then, a mere toddler. She had spent the day running after him as he slipped and shrieked along the muddy shore. And Maman and Papa had looked so peaceful, young, and in love, her mother's head against her father's shoulder. She remembered the little hotel by the water, where they had eaten simple, succulent meals beneath the cool, leafy bower, and when the patronne had asked her to help behind the counter, and there she was handing out coffee and feeling very grown up and proud, until she dropped coffee on someone's foot, but the patronne had been very nice about it." 


A  difficult to read but hard to put down, fictionalized account of one little girl's experience in Occupied France during the Velodrome d'Hiver roundup on July 16th, 1942. Thousands of Jewish families were rounded up by French police (on order of the Germans) on that summer day in 1942. They were held for several days in horrendous conditions in a stadium in the 15th arrondissement before being moved to a concentration camp in the suburbs of Paris (Drancy). Parents and children were separated before finally being moved to Auschwitz.

The street where the Velodrome used to sit is just a few blocks from us and we've walked past Rue Nelaton many times with absolutely no knowledge of what went on there. While I've not seen a plaque in the neighborhood, the author describes one found on Blvd. de Grenelle which I will now have to look for.

Writer's Tour near Pont Neuf~ Walks in Paris

Recently I took a Writer's Tour/Walk in Paris

following online directions to several late writer's home addresses. 

But before I began, taking full advantage of late spring's perfect weather,

I took my little baguette sandwich from a nearby stand

and (joined the crowds) for my own little 

Picnic Partay for One! 

I parked myself on a bench in the shade 

in this sweet little park just adjacent to the Pont Neuf

(which, of course, I don't ever recall seeing before). 

It was the perfect place to begin an afternoon

to myself in Paris. The Chef had business to attend to 

so it was just me and a few dead writers. 

After I finished my sandwich,

I followed the directions to the last home of Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas.

At Rue Dauphine at the end of the Pont Neuf,

go just two blocks up to Rue Christine and make a left. 

According to this online source,

it was here at 5, rue Christine that Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas lived

(after they left the more famous rue de Fleurus address and with a few absences)

 until Stein's death in a Neuilly sur Seine hospital (a suburb of Paris) in 1946.

Toklas stayed on until 1964.

(Unfortunately the only car on the entire block

had to be a huge white van parked directly in front of their door,

limiting my photo capabilities of their address.)

In the mesmerizing glow of warm sunshine and Gertrude Stein's ghost,

it took me awhile to make myself leave the block

so I took a few more photos as I haunted the street's treasures. 

 I found an interesting shadow pattern inside one entry...

...and the lovely courtyard of a hotel at the other end of the block.

Just a few doors down from 5, rue Christine, this restaurant 

left me wondering if it had also been a food establishment during their years here.

Maybe they popped in on warm afternoons like this one for an aperitif before dinner. 

And maybe they stayed on for a plat de poisson or a souris d'agneau 

before walking the few steps back to their own door, their books and their art. 

I finally made it off the block

to continue on the tour to a few more artist's addresses.

Next week we'll continue our Walk in Paris with a few more pictures
of my one day of the 8-day 'American Writers in Paris' Tour.

And if you wish to see the full tour, 

Click Here. 

(Photographs copyright: Kirsten Steen)

Happy Summer Solstice!

Happy first day of summer all! 

Thought you might enjoy this photo taken recently at our 

Saint Charles Market just a few minutes walk down from the Eiffel Tower.

It definitely makes me think of summer.

The Solstice begins today at exactly 10:16am in the Pacific Northwest.
And I've been reading about how the cultural theme of this year's solstice chart is about
enormous shifts and changes around the globe between 2010 and 2015.
We feel it, we've seen it and hardly anyone is left untouched by it,
whether it's within our own family, on the news
or in your neighboring town.
Change is usually uncomfortable
but with it always comes opportunity!

So while I'm wishing us all a relaxing, enjoyable summer filled with warmth, love, bounty
and the many traditional things we enjoy about the summer months,
let's find a way to help those around us (or even those far away)
who are not enjoying the same creature comforts of summer.

Do some tithing, take food to a shelter, offer someone a helping hand.
It could be you next month (or next year) who needs a hand.
And the immediate gratification (something we all enjoy) is worth those few dollars
and the healing within our own hearts.

What better opportunity?!

Cremerie de Grenelle~ Walks in Paris

On a recent walk in our neighborhood in Paris, 

I looked up to see something I don't remember seeing before. 

An old cremerie sign from time gone by. 

                                                   

Clearly the shop below is no longer a cremerie.

By the looks of it, 

it's been there a very long while 

so I just missed it on my many walks down this street. 

I stopped in my tracks and my heart nearly skipped a beat 

when I looked up and saw these magnificent pieces of historical art.

The colorful scenes are a bit hard to make out...

But I'm just happy to have seen them! 

One of the things I love about Paris,

even when you think you've fully seen a particular area,

there is always something new to see. 

You just can't see it all. 

And FYI (re: the last post),

a magical little puzzle piece actually did float down from the sky

and land right into my hands this weekend.

Something I've been pondering for the last year or more

regarding writing about my ancestors 

suddenly took a new shape and perspective 

and gave me the idea I've been looking for. 

It came in the form of an interview I was listening to over the weekend, 

from a decade past and from one man now deceased. 

In fact, the interview and the information has changed my perception on a lot of things,

about myself, the people around me and about history. 

 I know I'll be sharing more about it in a later post. 

It's too big not to share. 

But for now, it's the last day of spring. 

And I'm wishing you magical puzzle pieces 

in your life and the coming season. 

And, like my puzzle piece and the cremerie,
I'm wishing you that joy of finding something new

in what you thought was explored territory!