STORIES WORTH REMEMBERING

 

A series of essays....

TYPICAL FARE FOR A PERFECT FRENCH PICNIC FEAST

Courtesy of  Fat Tire Tours

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The stories in my head take me back to a time when dreams came true. A time when lifelong plans became a reality. A time when the excitement of world travel blossomed like snowdrops in the springtime, fresh and new following winter’s frigid cold.

Set me down at a picnic table right in the heart of Champagne with the sun shining down on the simple luncheon feast spread across the wooden planks and a slight breath of air curling the edges of the colorful scarf used to anchor the edible feast.

The refreshing, mid-August breeze caressed my smiling face as I slipped into the memory of how my husband, daughter, and I arrived at this petite picnic spot in the first place. 

We had recently left Paris after three full days of walking, observing, and listening to the locals sing their beautiful words and watch their melodies float along the air like rows of multi-colored gems. I was pleased to know that many of these gems I could identify and even piece together again in translation understanding that the years of high school and college French classes were paying off.

The last evening spent in the City of Light found us squeezing into a small sweet shop in the Marais and ordering glace à la fraise (strawberry ice cream) with tiny, dark pearls of tart, red current berries topping the frozen creation. We discussed our next night’s stay in the center of Strasbourg (centreville), due east of Paris and nestled along the Rhine River that separates France from Germany. So much history to take in from one picturesque city following the thread to another.

To arrive in Strasbourg by early evening, we decided to travel the Champagne Route and meander through the row upon row of vineyards comprising this beautiful area. Dan drove through the heart of Reims, the unofficial capital of the region, with its many champagne houses headquartered there offering tastings and cellar tours.

WEAVING OUR WAY BETWEEN FORESTS, VINES AND HILLSIDES
DOTTED WITH PICTURESQUE VILLAGES 

Opting out of a tour this time around, we stopped at a marché or French market on the outskirts of Reims in order to purchase luncheon fare for our picnic between the vines and hillsides along the Champagne Route.

We asked Dan to wait in the car while my daughter and I played like the locals and did our shopping. Our plan was to speak only French—and, giggling mercilessly, we succeeded in making that happen! Our eleven-year-old understood the language well enough to make selections and even speak with several people in the store. She proved to be brave and inquisitive. It was quite an adventure for both of us!

Yes, a baguette and creamy butter (a meal in itself), served with a side of ham slices and local cheese (jambon et fromage). There were French radishes, carrots, and celery to add more color and local freshness to our humble meal. Soon, we’d be pouring inexpensive red wine into paper cups. Our daughter chose a carton of fresh juice for herself.

 

We were very proud of ourselves as we hopped back into the car after stashing our armful of goodies in the trunk. All French markets back in 1990 had you pay a few cents extra for a plastic bag for your groceries. Or, you could bring your own bags to be filled. Our outstretched arms served us well for the few purchases we made that day.

Following the Champagne Route out of Reims and heading south towards the town of Epernay, we were seriously looking for the perfect spot to enjoy our meal. Right on cue, under a fluttering green canopy of summer leaves with sunbeams filtering through pointing out the spot, we found our wooden picnic table nestled along a small hillside embankment just off of the narrow road.

We floated in this protective bubble, grape vines encircling us and luxuriating in our heady triumph, for as long as possible. How could this not be the best meal, by far, we had eaten while in France? And, for dessert, we had framboises juteuses (juicy raspberries) purchased at a Paris open market the night before and gently rinsed in the bathroom sink of our hotel room. Their sweetness ran down our throats like liquid candy from the garden and was the perfect ending to our perfect feast.

Feeling energized from the consumption of food, fresh air, and glorious sunshine, it was time to pack-up the small cooler and erase all remnants of our stay in this glorious spot, leaving it as pristine as possible for the next family to visit. We had the hillsides and small villages of Champagne yet to discover with our small hotel near the Cathedral in Strasbourg waiting for us at the end of this particular rainbow.

WHOSE WEDDING, NEW YEAR’S PARTY, GRADUATION,
RETIREMENT, OR BIRTHDAY HAS BEEN 
CELEBRATED WITH THE PRODUCT OF THESE GRAPES?

Riding in the backseat of our rental car, sunroof gaping wide open with the heat of the early afternoon sun settling nicely on the top of our heads, our daughter begs her father to stop and pull over. As she opens the trunk and lifts a bright yellow package from our bag, I take advantage of the opportunity to take several pictures of the clusters of green, unripened grapes clinging to the vines. I can’t help but wonder who’ll be drinking their golden, bubbly nectar, known as the king of wines, in the future. I have captured a moment suspended in time that will keep me speculating for years to come.

I remember now that I spotted LU Petit Beurre emblazoned on the package she held in her hands, eyes begging me to let her open it. Mais bien sûr. This simple, golden butter biscuit is a French classic. It would not be an exaggeration to say that France would not be the same without Petit Beurre! 

MONSIEUR LEFEBVRE, A BAKER, AND MADEMOISELLE UTILE
MARRIED IN 1850 AND BEGAN BAKING BISCUITS
AND LABELED EACH PACKAGE WITH THEIR INITIALS, LU.

Passing the package back and forth, devouring the seemingly burnt cookies while weaving our way between forests, vines, and hillsides dotted with picturesque villages sparkling with charm, we happily polished off the Petit Beurre. There was joy within those golden crumbs swirling around us and clinging to the smiles on our sun kissed faces. 

The Champagne Route was more than a gateway into the world of wine. It was an opportunity to discover the happiness within ourselves. It was our way of enjoying the simplest things this spectacular country had to offer while eating Petit Beurre along the way! It was truly—unforgettable.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

ALONE

 

A series of essays....

“WE ENTER THE WORLD ALONE, WE LEAVE THE WORLD ALONE.”

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

"We enter the world alone, we leave the world alone," a quote by the English writer and historian, James Anthony Froude, in the mid 1800's. Orson Welles added his own spin when he said, "We're born alone, we live alone, we die alone. Only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we're not alone."

Variations on a theme. 

With eyelids carrying the day’s exhaustion, I tuck my pillow beneath my neck and slowly curl into a fetal position, my future dreams taking me down the haunted path of aloneness.

What is the reasoning behind this dour feeling?

I spend hours inspiriting a sensation of acceptance knowing that this vast, natural world is cradling me within its arms even when people fail to do so. Surely, I cannot be alone when I hear the joyful birdsong drifting among the tree branches, piercing the morning haze as I listen from my cozy bed.

I am not alone when I open my eyes and Nature’s concert carries me through simple morning routines: making coffee and relishing the first sip, brushing my hair and deciding what to wear, and drifting to my desk to begin my workday with a second cup of steaming coffee poured from the carafe on the kitchen counter.

Certainly, I could not be alone when the lively conversation between husband and wife of a gentle, spring evening clings to me like a second skin. Sitting side-by-side while plotting, planning, and dreaming of a time with mixed desires of future travel and moving back up north near family and friends. Life will never slow down if we do not allow it to slow down.

Can we be alone with others so nearby?

The realization hits me as if it were a hammer striking truth deep inside my brain—I am successfully 'creating the illusion' that best fits within my life's mold. I see the fine line between actual and contrived. It divides my thoughts like a gossamer web stretching between two solid objects.  

"Only through our love and friendship...." 

How much control do we truly have? The pieces float along the gentle breeze and match one shape into another adapted for accuracy and exactness like the pieces of a machine-cut puzzle. We are instruments of the grand illusion—living in the moment.

We are on the outside looking in.

Within the span of time we become thinkers, dreamers, artists and imagineers. A puppetmaster of our own world. Alone, I see the color blue. Alone, you see the color gold. Alone, I am bombarded and assailed by words and phrases. Alone, you create beauty from stone and mortar.

As we differentiate between fantasy and reality, we decide

when to choose love over hatred, or when to stand alone or follow the masses, or the right time to employ common sense or become a loose cannon—potentially causing damage to this beautiful planet and the people we share it with.

Do we believe in the rights of women worldwide or do we crush equality between men and women like so many generations of organized religions and cultures have done before us? 

Will honest souls prevail and black-hearted souls be crushed by their own cowardly deeds?

I sit upon the edge of my bed in the shadows of the early morning and chant "Thank You, Thank You, Thank You to my personal deity. I do so in appreciation of my life and the well-being of those I love. My prayer is carried out into the ethos on the wings of angels.

James and Orson, I remain grateful to both of you for your insight.

Vironika Tugaleva, an inspirational speaker and healing coach from the Ukraine, explains that, "The greatest tool of self-love is self-awareness. Once you truly know yourself, love is the only option."

Self-Love.

If love and friendship creates the illusion, for the moment, that we are not alone, then we must learn to be our own best friend and love ourselves with the passion and grace that we would afford to every other living soul around us.

In summary: We are alone with our thoughts and ideas. We create a glass-domed world around us in order to protect these thoughts and ideas. However, we must constantly watch our own beliefs because they will become the words of the people we draw into our inner sanctum.

Live—Laugh—Love for today! Tomorrow we will leave this world, all alone. May we make the best choices for ourselves and everyone around us in the meantime.

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

HERE COMES THE SUN

 

A series of essays....

DOWNTOWN KALAMAZOO, MICHIGAN:
THE NEW ARCHITECTURE COMPLIMENTS THE OLD.

....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I find myself having trouble putting down my thoughts and describing my recent actions that would make this story particularly interesting for all of you today. I do apologize. But, I am finding my thoughts all scattered and incoherent and if I could corral them all in one spot, I might be able to put the various pieces together and make something out of them. 

For now, I will try as best I can. Here goes!

Dan and I got our second dose of the Pfizer vaccine this week and all went as smoothly as the first time around. We were fortunate to have for each round the beautifully orchestrated and highly organized people working at the Kalamazoo County Health & Community Services Department taking care of us. The sparkle in their eyes reflected the genuine smiles they had behind their masks at each station and with every poke in the arm they administered.

LIKE THE LINES AT DISNEY WORLD
ONLY WITH MUCH MORE SIGNIFICANCE

WAITING TO GO IN FOR SHOT NO. 2

DAN’S EYES SAY IT ALL!

I wasn’t as giddy feeling this time around, though. I had heard from several sources quite close to me that the second shot would/could do me in for, at least, a day or so with possible unfavorable reactions to the vaccine. But, not to worry, it just means it’s working and my body is reacting to it as it should, or something like that. I admit it, I psyched myself up for the worst-case scenario and was pleasantly surprised to have proved them wrong. Now, I’m not discounting the fact that my current fogginess doesn’t have something to do with it all but, at least, there’s been no hard side-effects such as having a temperature, dizziness, or headaches to deal with!

With the bright, sunny day ahead of us and second shot in our arms, we left The Expo for downtown Kalamazoo to a shop whose motto is, “Your best choice for all things in print! More than a store—an enlightened community!” How could you go wrong by visiting the Michigan News Agency on W. Michigan Avenue? This independent bookstore has been around since 1947 when Dean Hauck’s father established it and then Dean took it over in 1988. During the pandemic, Dean vowed to remain open to the public with her day beginning at 7 am, sharp, seven days a week, because she knows how many people depend on her to begin their day.

DEAN HAUCK STANDING AMONG HER
THOUSANDS OF PRINTED ITEMS

Courtesy of Joel Bissell

This outgoing, amazing woman has spent her entire career cultivating a community atmosphere and the pleasure was all ours as we opened the front door and happily stepped inside. My mission was to find two books by the author, Jacqueline Woodson and it didn’t take me long to find Woodson’s novels neatly displayed at the front of the store. As we continued to walk around the bookstore, many individuals dropped in to purchase their morning paper, slide their change across the counter, and say good morning to Dean as she replied to them on a first name basis, eyes sparkling.

I purchased my books and took my time as Dean, Dan, and I chatted together for a few minutes at the glass case counter near the front door.  Hauck, a high school English teacher has a master’s degree in English Literature and is dedicated to the promotion of local writers and poets and offers live readings by many of them in the very back of her cozy establishment. As we bade our good-byes, I couldn’t help but think how fortunate we all are for the existence, enthusiasm, and dedication of Dean Hauck and for the opportunity to know her and to have, right downtown, one of the last remaining newsstands in the Midwest!

Dean Hauck lovingly goes on my list of important women meant to be celebrated year round and highlighted in March during Women’s History Month here in the U.S.A.

The morning sunshine continued to break over the tops of the taller buildings in Downtown Kalamazoo and splash its warmth on our upturned faces. I was very happy to have only taken a half hour out of this spectacular morning to get our vaccine shots. More time for play and discovery as we decided to leave the car and walk to the other end of town to yet another well established local business and promoter of the arts, Sarkozy Bakery and Café, who has been “Proudly baking for Kalamazoo since 1978!” 

JUDY SARKOZY WELCOMES 
ALL WITH OPEN ARMS

Courtesy of sarkozybakery.com

Judy Sarkozy has been baking up a storm for over forty years and nothing expresses community vibes like fresh baked goods and a hot mug of coffee or tea! As with Dean, Judy has not closed her doors due to the pandemic and has offered curb side pickup and take-out throughout this past year. When you’ve been a large part of a community for so long, you accept the fact that so many people depend on and feel comforted by your services no matter what. Judy, her huge smile covered by a black face mask, came up to the counter to bid us a good morning before shuffling back to the belly of the bakery and her home away from home where she has felt comfortable and productive for so many years. 

Okay, as I add Judy Sarkozy to my list, along with Dean Hauck, of local women who have kept this community growing and strong year after year, I marvel at their strength and long term dedication. It is obvious to me that there is great respect and love for each and every one of us who, also, take pride in living in Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Grabbing our crisp, white bag of freshly baked goodies, including a loaf of warm, French bread, we walked back outside and followed the long shadows on the south side of town leading us back to our car. Along the way, I have to stop at each business entrance, open or closed, to take pictures of the dated terrazzo tiles that remain and have welcomed customers into these shops since 1915 and before. Towns like Kalamazoo are simple treasures of architecture, history, and the people who lure us into the heart and soul of a community and always keep us wanting for more.

Finally, back at the car, we decided to make a beeline for home with breakfast in hand. I will make two large mugs of Irish Breakfast tea and slightly warm-up the pastries with a touch of Irish butter on top. The anticipation is mounting.

Seems like hours ago that we left the Kalamazoo County Expo Center for a visit with Dean and Judy downtown. I know we all have our favorite women with whom we identify during this special month of honoring the history of women and they may include anyone from Harriet Tubman to a favorite teacher to our own Mothers who have greatly influenced us along the way. Today I was happy to put two more women on my list and thank them for all of their hard work; thank them for helping to knit the lives of people in our community together in so many educated and delicious ways—for decades.

I encourage you to take a walk around your own town sometime soon and make a list of the women who help make it a better place in which to live, raise children, and work in. Have fun watching that list grow!

PURE DELIGHT!!!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photo Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

THE PIECES OF LIFE’S PUZZLE: SO MANY SOUVENIRS

 

A series of essays....

MEMORIES CREATED ON A BEACH IN CONNEMARA, IRELAND~
SAND~ROCK~BRIGHT GREEN MOSS WITH THE SOUND
OF THE WAVES CRASHING AROUND US!

....as seen through my eyes!

“A friend once told me that when someone we know dies, we're actually mourning the death of the part of ourselves that only they knew.”

Ryan Prior—Screenwriter

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Aunt Maxine had no children of her own. She seemed to have lived a rather full and exciting life with her husband, Orris. I remember the first time Dan and I went to visit them in their cozy stone house near the edge of town where they had lived throughout Dan’s memories of them while growing-up. It was like entering a small museum with closed, glass cases filled with exotic memorabilia of their time spent traveling around the world together. Every object I observed had an amazing story surrounding it and, if you asked Aunt Maxine to talk about a particular item, you would be fascinated and entertained for hours on end.

Now that I am older and have logged my own adventures in such exotic places as France, Germany, Ireland, the UK, and Italy, with Dan and our girls, I recognize that personal trend of wanting to bring even a small portion of these places home in order to relive our experiences there. Whereas Aunt Maxine’s treasures were mainly museum pieces kept under glass, box upon box of colored slides, a pink conch shell from their honeymoon in Florida filled with sandy beach memories of love and romance, mine consist of photos, lasting friendships, and lots and lots of rocks!

I’ve been writing about my adventures since September of 2013 at my Blog site, Moving On..., and have over 350 essays and poems to show for it.  My Blogs are dotted with a picture or two or three expressing the visual portion of each trip. For me, it’s a wonderful way of reliving every precious moment spent somewhere else in this grand world we live in. 

 

With a cocktail in hand, I envision Aunt Maxine explaining away each slide picture to their various dinner guests while softened versions of the Ponte Vecchio, Duomo, and cobblestoned streets of Florence clicked on-off-on again across the virgin white surface of the pull-up screen. Uncle Orris is making sure that the circular projector stays filled with new slide cartridges and gently laughs each time a person, building, sculpture, or street scene is projected upside down. He immediately corrects its position by deftly flipping the slide over. The dust particles living in the cone of light projected from machine to screen subtly adjust to the corrected version.

Maxine was very proud of her self-acquired knowledge of travel expertise. And, considering not many people were fortunate enough to take yearly trips somewhere in the world, I knew that she and Orris used their time together traveling—wisely. I was certain that the many stories Orris brought back regarding his military service while stationed in Europe  during WWII provided the niggling itch and grand passion that she needed to pack her suitcases and go abroad herself. Armed with beautiful slides and detailed stories, they could have held amazing travelogues for various groups after each trip taken.

When Dan and I were young, newly married, and packing for our honeymoon in Aruba, I asked Aunt Maxine for some packing advice.  She was my shining example of all things worldly and was always there for anyone wishing to tap into the life she and Orris forged from various connections on planes, trains, ships, and automobiles while moving around the globe. She was delighted to give me a little travel tutelage and lots of worthwhile advice.

I learned how to expertly pack a man’s sport coat keeping it unwrinkled and pristine until it could be hung-up at our destination. The trick of stuffing shoes with rolled socks or small objects would save needed room for other items. She instructed me as to the importance of maintaining a color theme with my clothes: I should choose either black, navy blue, or brown so that I would pack less by incorporating mix-and-match articles and be able to create more outfits for the trip. Maxine introduced me to the art of rolling clothes which is quite popular among travelers, today. She had perfected this technique long ago and I was the lucky recipient of her expert style and practical knowledge.

Along with packing clothes, I was instructed as to the best way to bring precious souvenirs back home with little to no damage. As mentioned before, her mementos of intricate glass and hand-painted  porcelain figurines, clay pipes, and bronze statues all required unique handling. Just like the photo slides, each piece brought back home represented a personal memory of a time and place that brushed their lives with its own unique colors and flavors. 

Dan and I rarely take the fancy route when it comes to bringing home mementoes from the places we visit, unless you count the allotted amount of unopened bottles of wine we bring back in our checked baggage. Always a bit dangerous but, so far, so good! For me, bringing home a geological specimen of the landscape specific to an area means that rock or stone has the ability to channel the vibrations of its origins through me as it’s being pressed into the palm of my hand. The rock may represent climbing up to the peak of a mountain in Connemara; walking along the shores of the Mediterranean Sea or the Côte d'Azur in France; pocketing a small, jagged piece of black rock high in the Pyrenees to a smooth, age-worn stone found along the dangerously narrow roads of the Italian Alps; and back down to sea level with a gray and white beauty found in the shallow shoreline of Loch Lomond in the Scottish Highlands.

When Aunt Maxine passed away in 2009, at the age of ninety-one, nine years after Uncle Orris, it was knowing what a full life they had together that made her passing more tolerable. Their memories served as brilliant souvenirs that documented a great love story. With each picture taken or hand-painted figurine purchased, these pieces fit together within the grand puzzle and help to breathe more life into our precious recollections. 

You see, sometimes we do get to choose our own paths in life. When one flame flickers and fizzles out, we pick up the pieces left behind from this giant puzzle of life and clutch them to our hearts like vibrant souvenirs, poignant memories of the people and places we will cherish many lifetimes over.

It’s easy to see how, “...when someone we know dies, we’re actually mourning the death of the part of ourselves that only they knew.” I do mourn the passing of that part of my life that only Maxine shared and grieve its earthly passing. But, I knew that I would always retain the souvenirs of our unique relationship!

Copyright © 2021 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved