Walking to the Library

Every year for Christmas K.J.'s parents give us some money to go shopping with, and after much contemplation of all the shelves at Barnes & Noble, I walked away with this book.  After all, we were about to be "Americans in Paris," and this book promised stories of adventure in a significant historical time period.  

I've been reading it aloud to K.J., and so far we've learned things that showcase the strengths of America in the past and also weaknesses and failures.  For instance, the American ambassador was the only one who stayed in Paris when it became clear the Nazis were coming in to take over the city.  All other diplomats, and the French government left the city and put Ambassador Bullitt in charge as mayor, and it was this American man who transferred the keeping of the city into the hands of the German army.  Who knew?!

On the side of cultural failures, we've learned some fascinating stories of black Americans who stayed in Paris after WWI, a place where they had more opportunity and freedom not to be judged by the color of their skin.  

It's a book filled with stories of Americans with vastly different backgrounds who found themselves in Nazi-occupied Paris, many of whom ended up involved in moving information around right under the Germans noses.  It also tells the story of two American institutions formed after WWI that played an important role during WWII as well, The American Hospital and The American Library of Paris.  When these places showed up in the story again and again, I of course wondered if they were still up and running, and indeed they are!  I thought our reading lives might be reduced to mainly books available on Kindle this year, but I am really happy to have access to a historical institution and thousands of books in English.

The picture below is not the library, just a hotel; I thought it might be confusing!  I didn't actually take a picture of the outside of the library.

The American Library of Paris began with donations from libraries in the U.S. with the aim to distribute books to U.S. armed forces serving in and after WWI.  On our first visit to the library the lady working in the children's section asked me how we heard about it.  When I explained she said that was not the usual answer she heard, and few people knew about their long and interesting history.  The women who kept the library open during WWII secretly lent books to Jews in the city who were banned by the Nazis from using French libraries.

On our first visit we took the Metro, but a couple of days later I found myself in need of a walk, and the kids had requested books that were waiting for pick-up, so I went all the way on foot.  I didn't think anything about walking two and a half miles, but I should have thought about not walking two and a half miles in boots I hadn't worn in a long time.  I got a huge blister on the back of one heel, but I also got some good books and a chance to take pictures along the way, so it's a draw.

I loved this perspective of the Eiffel Tower.  

Next time maybe I'll be like the smart Parisian women who put their tennishoes on with their hose.  My heels would be much happier.  Thanks for walking along with me to the library!

Walking: Our Own Moveable Feast

I re-read A Moveable Feast the week before we arrived in Paris to get into the spirit of Americans in the City of Light.  In one chapter Hemingway writes about how he couldn't write about Paris when he was in Paris.  He wrote about Michigan, where he spent his boyhood summers.  There is something about being transplanted from one place to another that makes details of the former place stand out vividly and make it easier to write about.

One thing I noticed about Alabama when we were home for Christmas is how gray-brown it is in the winter, especially when you drive by woods without the benefit of pine trees to provide some green.  But you can't tell that about Alabama from these pictures I took one freezing January day.  The sunniest days have sub-zero temperatures.

One of the best things about our living in North Yorkshire is that it taught our kids to walk "a fur piece" without complaining.  We didn't want two months in the land of cars to ruin them so we thought a walk in the woods was in order.  The day before this K.J. took James for a walk along the roadside where James was embarrassed to be seen walking "...like poor people.  This isn't England, Dad.  Everyone drives."  Oh, buddy.  

We saw deer tracks and busted up the ice on the shore of the lake, sending it flying.  You know it's cold when lakes in the south freeze.

The good news is everyone is faring well walking all over Paris.  Praise the Lord forever that I no longer have glass in my foot!  And the kids, who felt tired after the first few outings, are now walking everywhere like champs.  And James is no longer embarrassed because everyone--rich, poor, and in between--walks in Paris.