During my recent visit to Paris, I had the pleasure of spending some time with a dear friend from some 30-odd years ago. I also visited his aging mother for a Moroccan tea. I had met her long ago in Marseilles, but she didn’t remember me. During the obligatory French chitchat, she recalled that her son, my friend, once had an English teacher come and talk to him at his place. He explained that it must have been me, since he never had any English lessons.
Then the mother looked at me and said, “Non, non. Ce jeune homme ne parlait qu’en anglais” (No, no. This young man spoke only English). I explained that at that time I didn’t speak any French. I was secretly pleased that she found my current level of French serviceable, but that joy, as you shall see, was short-lived.
She looked at me again and said, “Non, l’homme de qui je parle était jeune!” (No, the man I’m talking about was young!). I explained again, “Moi aussi, madame, j’étais jeune une fois.” (Me too, madam, I was young once).
She seemed satisfied for a few seconds, but then objected once more: “Mais non! Il était beau!” (But he was handsome!). I was beginning to get a bad feeling about the direction this conversation was taking, but I smiled through the pain and said, “Toujours moi, madame, je n’étais pas mal à ce moment-là.” (Still me, madam, I wasn’t too bad back then).
Then came the coup de grâce: “Ah bon? Qu’est-ce qui vous est arrivé?” (Oh really? What happened to you?). To be fair, there was no malice or mischief in her voice, only motherly concern. I held my ground and replied, “La vie, madame, la vie m’est arrivée.” (Life, madam, life happened to me). And then, a touch philosophically, “Comme elle arrive à tout le monde. La jeunesse ne dure qu’un moment!” (As it happens to everyone. Youth lasts but a moment!). That assuaged the pain a little.
All right, I must admit (just in case my friend or his mom happens to read this piece), I did take some poetic liberties to embellish the story a little, especially in my responses, philosophical or otherwise. But the underlying theme is accurate: life did happen to all of us, and it did rob us of our youth and vitality. Yet it also gave us French (or Spanish or German), or money, or creature comforts in return. It dished out, in equal measure, aching joints and levelheadedness, empty nests and human connections, heartaches and forbearance. It taught us, through hard knocks, the value of kindness and forgiveness, replacing the sound and fury of yesteryears with the serenity and peace of today. Perhaps that’s not such a bad trade after all.