Jacques in Granges

Remembering Camille

2010-07-17T04:14:00.000-04:00

Almost six months to the day before Camille died this past February, he and his wife Lucette and the three of us walked to one of our favorite spots in the Vosges, Belbriette, a hidden valley unknown even to some locals, and then had lunch in one of his favorite restaurants, l'Auberge de Belbriette.

Two months before he passed, Camille was still swimming for exercise in the local pool. He would have been 89 years old this summer. He was a renowned photographer in France, a decorated World War II hero, a member of the French Resistance, the founder of the basketball program in Granges, father, friend, mentor, coach. His absence is felt profoundly by all who knew him and many who didn't.

When we visit his wife Lucette, it is as she has said--as though any minute he would come walking in the door carrying either his camera bag or his fishing equipment.

Yesterday, the local chapter of the Veterans association in France honored Camille with a ceremony and a commemorative plaque on his tomb. The mayors of the surrounding towns came, and his war history was read, including his efforts to support the American troops by sabotaging the Germans who were occupying the area, and by hiding and transferring supplies and weapons dropped by plane.

Lucette calls Camille a phenomenon, and that is what he was--a once-in-a-lifetime phonomenon who loved life and loved people, and who left a hole in the world that will not be filled.

Camille was a believer--he loved to go sit at the foot of the statue of Mary that stands in the woods above Granges, and pray. On his deathbed he called for the priest and was given last rites. We will meet him again--we'll probably find him organizing a basketball tournament (Angels vs. New Arrivals?)!

One last thing--For Camille's 80th birthday, we brought him a basketball signed by Coach K of Duke that reads, "From Coach K to Coach C." From the hospital not long before he died, Camille told Lucette to be sure Ren gets that basketball. Even then he was thinking of others.

Scotland Part V Etcetera

2010-07-15T16:29:00.000-04:00

1) Ren plays with Uncle Dave's Ipad...

2)Cool tower in downtown Hawick...

3) Can you guess the last one?...

Scotland Part IV Magical History Tour

2010-07-13T12:58:00.001-04:00

Hermitage Castle, Newcastleton (said to be one of the bloodiest in Scotland. Mary Queen of Scots visited her lover here.)

Hume Castle (Patrick, Ren, Cindy)

Melrose Abby, where Robert the Bruce's heart is buried. It's in ruins because Henry VIII had a little temper tantrum when the Pope wouldn't grant his divorce, and he destroyed all the Catholic churches and abbies. Third one is of Patrick standing in front of flushing canal used by the monks for eliminating waste.

Hadrian's Wall and Roman fort ruins (my uncle Dave, Patrick, and Ren):

Gilnockie Tower, where the famous Reiver Johnnie Armstrong lived:

Scotland Part III Police Constable Little: Redeemed Past

2010-07-09T07:41:00.000-04:00

It may have taken a few decades, but it looks like our branch of the Littles in the Borders region of Scotland did redeem themselves, through my great great grandfather Jimmy Little, who was a Police Constable in Hawick in the mid-1800s. Through police records, we learned that he had blue eyes, dark brown hair, and a fair complexion, and that he was considered a good policeman. In 1869 he was granted leave to go to America with his new wife. (Picture of official police record with description of Jimmy and permission to move away.)

Through relatives in the US, Cindy had found his actual hand-written police log, which she scanned into a PDF file and transcribed. After the historic society in Hawick, called Heritage Hub, found out about this, they were so excited to have a copy of the log that they arranged a private meeting for us during off-hours, and they let us have private use of the archives for the afternoon with their help and guidance. It was very exciting, and we felt honored! The next picture is of Cindy and the historian looking at the actual handwritten police records from the local headquarters. We were able to see the eventual results of the cases PC Little had written in his personal log. They plan to use some of the more interesting cases along with Jimmy's story to help bring local history alive for school children.

Next piece of exciting news (for us) was that the house across from the archives was the police headquarters where Jimmy reported 150 years ago. (Picture with orange door)

Through information the women who work in the archives gave us, we were also able to locate and go to the house (or ruins) where Jimmy was born, called Salinside, just outside of Ashkirk:

...and the one where he lived with his family when he was five years old, at Clerklands:

All in all, a productive and exciting visit to Hawick and the surrounding towns.

Scotland Part II: Questionable Past

2010-07-07T08:06:00.000-04:00

We learned from Aunt Cindy that the Littles were Reivers. According the website for the North American branch of Clan Little, "The Scottish border Clan LITTLE was named in an act of the Scottish Parliament of 1587 as one of only 51 truly independent clans in all Scotland, 17 of which were clans of the English-Scottish border. A Clan is a tribe with a strong tie of family blood. In the Anglo-Scottish border wars of 1296 - 1603 the LITTLES were one of the fighting clans living close to the border on the Scottish side. They were constantly raiding or reiving on both sides of the border (reivers are thieves and ruffians, a group of lawless independents). They were horsemen and held in contempt all who went on foot, and by the close of the 16th century they had earned a reputation as the finest light cavalry in Europe . The borders clansmen were an ever ready source of fighting men, a permanent mobile task force when war broke out.

"Many clansmen with less warlike dispositions found their vocation as monks in various abbeys such as Sweetheart, Holyrood and the Franciscan convent of Greyfriars in Dumfries, scene of the murderous episode which launched Robert Bruce of Annadale on the road to the throne.
"The LITTLES for over three centuries shared with the Armstrongs and Beatties the steep-sided dales (valleys) immediately to the North and West of the present town of Langholm [which is where Archibald and Barbara's house was, and where they are buried] at the extreme east of Dumfriesshire (county). Each successive Chief resided on an estate at the foot of the side valley half-way up Ewesdale which is beside the present day road A7, near the stretch from Langholm to Hawick. [We stayed in Hawick, pronounced "hoik", and Jimmy Little was a police constable there in the 1850's.]

"Edward Littil founder of Clan Little (and there have been over 25 spellings of the surname) was active in 1296/7 in South-West Scotland as a guerrilla fighter with Sir William Wallace, the great Scottish patriot who led the first phase of the wars of independence against the oppressive occupation of Scotland by Edward I of England . Many of those who supported Wallace most closely were kinsmen, not the least of whom was “Eduuard Litill” his nephew.

"Simon Little was chief of the Little clan at the ending of the border wars; his son Thomas succeeded him, to be followed by David Little, last Laird of Meikledale, who in 1672 was the last chief to be officially recognized. Since David's time, the Littles have been one of Scotland 's many “heidless” clans (headless - without a chief).

"The clans began to scatter in the 17th century. Littles and Lytles, with neighboring Beatties, Thomsons, Elliots, Armstrongs and Irvings fled from persecution and overcrowding to the Ulster plantations. (Plantations were communities established in North Ireland by England ) Many moved later into neighboring English Cumberland where today, as in Ulster , there are twice as many Littles as in their home country of Dumfriesshire. Many crossed the oceans to North America , Australia , New Zealand , proud of their origins but, over the generations, losing contact with the descendants with those who stayed behind.

"Many of the Littles, Lytles and Lyttles in Ulster re-emigrated as Scots-Irish back to Great Britain or, like hundreds of Littles from the border, headed overseas. The most numerous are in the United States . There are now over 45,000 Little families in the English speaking world, some of English and some of Huguenot origin but most (and especially those in and from Scotland , Ulster and England 's northernmost counties) with deep roots in the old West March of the Scottish border."

We haven't established a direct link from our Archibald to William Wallace YET, but we are hopeful!

In Hawick, a statue (pictured below) shows a Reiver claiming victory for the town. The other photos show two descendents of the Reivers along with our personal family historian Cindy (excluded from the following comment)--ample evidence that the apples don't fall too far from the trees...

(Actually there were family members of the Littles who were not actively raiding and pillaging, and we'd like to believe our ancestors fell into that group...)

Scotland Part I: Archibald Found

2010-07-05T08:19:00.000-04:00

We started our visit to Scotland in Langholm in the Borders region, meeting up with Arthur Bell, a man my aunt Cindy Cochran had contacted before we arrived who is knowledgeable about the history of the region. Cindy had come across an article published in 1925 about my great-great uncle Andrew Little which states that his father William Little was from "Bombie Bush." Mr. Bell had never heard of Bombie Bush, but he had heard of Bombie, and through discussion it was concluded that Bombie was most likely the location of William Little's birthplace. The first picture is the ruins of a house built (most likely) on the exact site where William Little was born and where his father and mother, Archibald and Barbara Little, lived. (It is my understanding that there is a law in the area that houses may only be built on the location of a previous house, so this is most likely the spot since this location is called "Bombie".) The lambs were a bonus: they ran up to us expecting food!

The second picture is of our wonderful guide Mr. Bell, who is 80 years old. He's the one talking to Patrick--he looks much younger! He took us to Westerkirk Church (pictured below), just up the valley from Bombie, where Clan Little donated a stained glass window.

Mr. Bell arranged to get keys to the church so that we could see the window, and from there we walked a short distance up the road to the cemetery, where, after searching tombstone by tombstone, Ren found what was one of the highlights of our trip: the grave of Archibald and Barbara. (Pictured: Archibald and Barbara's descendents my uncle Dave Cochran, Ren, and me.)

The grave stone reads:

Erected in memory of Archibald Little who died at Bykine-burnfoot 30 Dec 1830 aged 79 years. Also Barbara Anderson his spouse who died at Bombie 13 Oct 1807 aged 53 years. Also John Little their son who died 29 March 1806 aged 25 years and Andrew son of Archibald Little who died at Longholm (sic) 4 Feb 1855 aged 48 years. Also Janet Jackson second spouse to Archibald Little who died at Knockmains 7 Feb 1857 aged 76 years."

Several things we didn't know before finding the grave: death dates or years, that Archibald had married again, and where he died. Bykine-burnfoot is located between Bombie and the church and is really just a spot near the Bykine-burn river.

We took a picture of the bridge that leads to the church and cemetery from Bykine-burn and Bombie, built in 1734. It is certainly the one our ancestors crossed going to and from church.

It is an exciting feeling to find these locations, and we were blessed to have a professional researcher (Aunt Cindy, retired librarian) as our family historian and guide. I'd like to believe that the connection I felt to the area wasn't just my imagination! It is a beautiful area, and we felt so welcomed by Mr. Bell that we loved it even more.

A French Wedding

2010-06-27T15:43:00.000-04:00

I was privileged to witness a beautiful French wedding ceremony this weekend. (Anyone, including total strangers, can attend the Mass in the church. Virginie is the neice of a friend, and we had met her groom Olivier as well, and so I felt comfortable attending.)

In France--at least in this part of France, there are no pre-parties, no bridesmaid's luncheons, no rehearsal dinners here. There is just one long celebration the day of.

At 10:00 in the morning, we begin to hear horns honking as the wedding party prepares for the day and family and friends arrive at the bride's house. Residents of the town begin to gather in front of the church to see the bride and groom and all the people in their best outfits. (This is Lucie Jacques, Ida Jacques, and three ladies)

At around 10:30, with lots of honking and all the cars decorated with tulle tied to door handles and antennae, the wedding party arrives at the town hall for the civil part of the ceremony:

(As we watched from across the street, a woman rode her horse through the center of town.)

At 11, the bride and groom (he's to her right in grey) walk across the parking area to the church, now legally married but not yet married in front of God.

In the picture above, Virginie is escorted on the arm of her proud father. Inside, the groom takes his place at the front of the church while the bride and her father greet the last-minute guests in the entry of the church. (At this point, I took my spot at the back of the church with the other people who were there to witness the Mass but not invited guests.)

Just as in the US, whether or not the couple are believers is not critical to whether or not the ceremony is held in a church. But there is a different feeling when the Holy Spirit is a welcome part of the ceremony, and this was the case with this wedding. One thing I loved about the ceremony was that it seemed to be for the benefit of Virginie and Olivier as opposed to being centered around Virginie and Olivier. Some weddings can feel like a show with the bride as the star of the show. In this one, God was the focus. Virginie's father spoke; the priest spoke; Scripture was read; Communion was served; the choir sang. Every part of it lifted the couple up to God; everything was about honoring and blessing the union of these two people, and they were joyful witnesses of the celebration.

When the ceremony ended 90 minutes later, the bride and groom came out to applause and more horn-honking. You can just see the three yellow post office mini-trucks parked in front--Virginie is a postal worker. (Olivier is a police officer.)

At this point, the first group of invited guests heads to the rented hall for an aperitif and appetizers. As the afternoon wears on, everyone except the inner circle of invited guests (usually the immediate family and closest friends, plus the Godparents) leaves the "festival hall." And the long celebration meal begins and lasts several hours, including party games between courses and a lot of celebration. Several hours later, those who are invited, who left earlier, come back to join the "inner circle" for dancing and more of the celebrating. It goes on all night--all night. It was around 5:00am when Ren heard the some of the wedding guests walking (thankfully) home.

I hope you enjoyed this glimpse into a French country wedding! I love the way they celebrate, but I'm not sure I'm up to an all-night party anymore...

Market Day in 1823

2010-06-23T05:15:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time there was a man named Laurent Baradel. He lived on a farm in the mountains above a town in eastern France. Once a month, there was a market in the town, and since farms were so far apart, it was a reason for celebration and social gathering--and sometimes, people had a little too much to drink. On one such market day in June of 1823, Laurent's neighbor, Claude, who had already returned to his home in the mountains after market, noticed Laurent and his friend walking past his house. Now Claude was the jealous type, and Laurent always seemed to do well on his farm. And Claude had had a little too much to drink. So he yelled something out to Laurent that wasn't very neighborly, and the two men began to fight. Words thrown at one another became fists thrown, and then suddenly Claude had a knife...and Laurent lay bleeding on the road between the two houses.

Laurent's friend ran as fast as he could to the town to get the local magistrate, but by the time they returned, Laurent was dead. After a lengthy trial, Claude was found guilty of murder, but because of a technicality, he was released and set free. He returned to his farm, next door to the family of the man he murdered, and lived out his days.

Laurent's wife had a stone cross erected on the spot where he was killed, which reads:

"Cross erected in memory of Sire Laurent Baradel, age 43 years, died here the night of 17-18 June 1823 by a violent act."

Laurent's son, who was 19 at the time, went on to have his own family. Eventually, in 1929, one of his descendants Lucie Baradel married Raymond Jacques and settled in the town, Granges-sur-Vologne, in eastern France, and they had seven children, one of which was named Rene. His namesake is pictured below:

(Left) standing on the ruins of Laurent Baradel's farm in the mountains above Granges. (Right) Ren reenacts the fatal act on the spot where it happened, next to the memorial cross Laurent's wife erected, about a half-mile from the ruins of Laurent's house and a few feet from the ruins of Claude's house.

Happy Father's Day!

2010-06-22T14:42:00.000-04:00

Happy Father's Day to all the Dad's out there, especially mine. We had a terrific day Sunday, starting with church in the morning in Granges:

...followed by one of Patrick's favorite meals for lunch: American meatloaf with chess pie for dessert.

The best part of the day for us was playing Belote, a French card game, with Patrick's Mom Ida. It is a game for four people that is a lot of fun, and Ren learned it quickly. Ren and Patrick beat Ida and me for two matches out of three. We played all afternoon (since it was about 50 degrees outside) and had a great time.

Some of you may know that I descend from some of the best Old Maid players in America (in their minds at least) so playing cards is always an enjoyable way to pass a cold afternoon.

Happy Father's Day!

Working the Garden

2010-06-19T17:25:00.000-04:00

A small plot of land is set aside as our garden in France. It came with the house and already had a few plants in it: two strawberry bushes, some lilies, and some bulbs that bloom in the spring (we have no idea what they are). Last year, I planted perennials and wondered what would come back this year. When we got to Granges, we were told the garden was a mess of weeds, but after pulling out the dandelions (they are massive here) and other weeds, some of the plants were evident. And even without pulling weeds, two things were immediately obvious: the lavender we planted were healthy and spreading. And the digitalis--foxgloves--had returned as well.

The significance of the foxgloves lies in who they represent for the three of us. A few years ago, our friend and mentor Camille Lievaux came to pick us up in Granges, telling us, "You have to see this--I've never seen anything like it. Come on--right now, just as you are." We hopped in the car with him and his wife Lucette, and he took us to a hilltop not far away. He explained that before the "Storm of 2000" which knocked down entire forests of trees, this area had been completely wooded, but since the storm, it was clear. As we pulled up, we saw with wonder the reason he was so excited: it was filled with foxgloves, mostly the traditional pink but with some rare white ones mixed in. Camille, a photographer by trade and never without his camera, took many pictures that day, and a couple of them ended up in one of his books of photographs.

Camille passed away this past February just shy of his 89th birthday. So when the foxgloves came up in the garden, full and strong, I saw again the hand of God blessing us and reminding us that we will meet Camille again. I can only imagine what pictures he is taking now--and the team of basketball players he is coaching!

We visited his wife Lucette this week, and she told us that the foxgloves have never come back to the place we visited that day--it was a one-time event, the rainbow after the storm, and a perfect reminder that God redeems everything, even the "Storm of the Century."

Counting Our Blessings

2010-06-18T08:04:00.000-04:00

We are safely in France, in our little "pied a terre" in Granges. Cloudy rainy skies greet us each morning but the sun peaks through once a day, and the cool temperatures are welcome after North Carolina heat and humidity. We have been amazed at how quickly we have recovered from the jetlag--usually a week-long process. But thanks to the funky read couch we found during the 7 hour layover in London, we got almost a full night's sleep (in pieces) during the travel.

The amazing thing was that there were almost no places to rest in the waiting area at Heathrow. Terminal 3, where we had to wait after passing through security, is a huge area filled with shops and restaurants and groups of seats, all with arm rests--as though they really don't want anyone to nap. We walked the length of the "airport mall" without finding a single bench or flat area that wasn't the floor. Then, just when thoughts of sitting upright for the 6 hours left of our layover were getting us down, we spotted four red couches, and one of them had a family that was packing up to get to their flight. God is good!

I am amazed at how He blesses us--and often it is the little things, like finding one of only four places to rest in a sea of uncomfortable seats. And being in this pretty little town surrounded by green mountains, family, and friends.

Heading to Granges

2010-05-29T10:50:00.000-04:00

T minus 15: We leave for France on June 13. A wonderful man named Bruce M. will be housesitting for us. He works in the Orange County school system and comes highly recommended. I am excited to be going...but stressed about getting everything done.

Eat, Eat, Eat

2009-08-14T15:28:00.000-04:00

All we have done this past week is go from meal to meal. Saturday at noon, we went to the same restaurant where we celebrated Ren's baptism when he was a baby, the Bleu Marine in Gerardmer, but this time we were celebrating Patrick's brother Philippe's 50th birthday. Here we are, left to right, back row: Patrick, Dennis (Christine's bro), Ren, Lucie, Philippe, Florian, me, then Christine in front of Patrick, then sitting Bernadette (Christine's mom), Gladys (Patrick's aunt and godmother), Ida, and Remi.

Then Sunday, distant cousins who have become friends recently, came to Granges, and we went to dinner and celebrated my birthday a day late. First picture, Philippe and Ren. Who does Ren remind you of? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, although it may skip a generation! 10 points for the first to e-mail me with the answer!

Below, same night in our kitchen. Clockwise starting from bottom left: Gladys, Ida, Coco (Jean Francois, the cousin), his mother Pacquerette (meaning "Little Easter"--she was born on Eastere morning), Coco's wife Sylvie, their baby Helene (they are our age, and yes, the baby was planned), and me. Coco is the artisan who did all the windows in the new house and our beautiful ash staircase.

Coco and me. Notice the two delicious cakes, and Ren's homemade birthday card, the highlight of my day.

On Tuesday, we went to a favorite restaurant called Auberge de Belbriette, with Lucette and Camille. Here are the four of us at my favorite spot in the Vosges, the lake at Belbriette (not the same one the restaurant overlooks).

On Wednesday, we drove up to the mountain tops to eat at a Ferme Auberge, a restaurant that produces 75% of what it serves. Check out the view! Left to right, Gladys, Bernadette, Christine in front of Philippe, Ida, Patrick, me.

Finally we got a day of walking! Patrick, Ren, and I went on a hike that took us past some WWI barracks and trenches. This is Patrick and Ren in front of German bunkers from the first war.

And this is "graffiti" on one of the bunkers telling the date, 1916, and the name of the bunker.

This will most likely be the last entry in the blog. We go back to the US on the 19th. It will be hard to leave, especially for Patrick, and I think for his mother too. It is very difficult for Patrick to live this far away from family, and it is a blessing to me that he is willing to do so. Please say a prayer for him and for his Mom, and for us for Travel Mercies as we go back next week.

Diet starts on August 20th...

Housewarming Party

2009-08-09T05:50:00.000-04:00

It's done! The traditional "Cremaillere" or House Warming, named after the chain that the cooking pot was hung from in the cooking fireplace in a home, was held Friday night. (The name probably comes from the idea that, once moved in, the family would set a pot on the fire to cook and invite friends and family for the first meal in the new home.) Our Cremaillere had an American flavor to it, which required some education for the French who were invited, at least those of the older generations, who expect to sit down and be served a meal over several hours, as opposed to the less formal style of heavy hors d'oeuvres and serve-yourself that is more traditional for Americans.

We served Jambalaya over rice to represent my Louisana heritage, quesadillas for Texas, carrot cake muffins from Grandmom Cochran's recipe, brownies, shrimp spread on crackers from Mom's recipe, "Heath" cookies also from Mom, and a few other tidbits. To drink, we offered Sangria, champagne, or orange soda. You see here the food laid out on our kitchen table. (This table was Patrick's grandmother's, and he has good memories of everyone gathered around it, so we are honored to continue that tradition in our own home.)

Jambalay almost ready!

Angela Boulet (married to Dennis--Patrick was his best man), with Lucie and Flo in the back yard. The weather held--we had a few drops of rain but were able to stay outside most of the time.

Below, left to right: Suzie Antoine, Ida Jacques, Andre Antoine. Andre is 92! I teased him that he likes to flirt with young girls, and his wife said, "Yes, he loves to walk in town with young girls." I said, "Actually, I was referring to Ida!" (She's only 82.) They are sitting on our living room "sofa" which was actually Ida's childhood bed, now serving as a daybed. On the wall behind, there are three framed sheets of music, all from around WWI, all owned by my grandmother Jewel Ewing. The first one is "Goodbye Broadway, Hello France" and shows Roosevelt shaking hands with Petain. The second is "My Dear Old Texas Home," and the one on the right is "Over There" by Cohen, with a picture by Norman Rockwell.

I took this picture from our bedroom window, looking down into the back yard.

I had to push to get people to try the Jambalaya, but once they did, they came back for seconds. I billed it as a Lousiana version of Paella, since Paella is very popular here, and that seemed to get it started. This is Michel Boyet (a man Ida helped raise when she served as a nanny for a family from about age 15 until marriage), Daniel Jacques (Patrick's uncle), and Francois Martin (another cousin of the Jacques, and the man whose company replaced the roof of the house.)

A couple of interesting things about the picture below. First, our friend Eric talking to the village priest. Second, next to Eric is M. Rouault, our neighbor and WWII vet who flies the flags. (He is 82 and joined the FFI, which was the undercover French army, aka the Resistence, at 17.) Third, we see our neighbor in the orange shirt in the background, helping himself to a beverage. There are stories behind each of these, but there isn't time or space here, but I wanted to put this one for the French blog followers. (By the way, the blong woman next to the priest is Eric's lady friend, Nathalie.)

Patrick talking to his brother Philippe (to Patrick's right).

Patrick and me with the architect who designed and oversaw the remodel. This is the same man who built Patrick's parent's house and his brother's, so by now we can say he is also a friend. We're standing in the living room in front of the beautifully-done staircase that was added by a woodworker/artisan from a nearby town, whom we discovered during the renovation to be a distant cousin on Ida's side. (Everyone here seems to be related in some way...)

Finally, for those of you who are wondering where Ren was, he was there all along, helping. He helped clean ahead of time, helped prepare the food, and helped serve throughout the party. We were proud of him: he truly was one of the hosts. In this last picture, he is standing in the entry way to the house pointing to the sign that says "Cafe de la Gare Chez Jacques." Last year, a rumor started that we were going to reopen the Cafe de la Gare, a Cafe that existed in this house years ago. (Gare means train station.) This house was also once a butcher (the giant basins for cutting up the animals are still in the cellar); a shoemaker's store and workshop; and a hotel. So Ren made this sign on the computer saying the Cafe was now open, with an asterisk at the bottom saying, "The cafe will open for sure the day the train returns to Granges." In other words, never!

Two Dinners and a Truck

2009-08-07T04:11:00.000-04:00

Our next door neighbors are a young couple who just got married in February. The young woman, Marion, is the daughter of our good friends Bertrand and Catherine Voirin. She married a young man who has since opened a "Kaboberie," a middle-eastern fast-food kind of restaurant. On Tuesday, a group of us, including Marion's parents, went for dinner. It was a delicious meal of gyro-style meat, a well-presented salad, and fresh-made fries. Left to right: Philippe (Patrick's brother), Marion, Lucie, Flo, Susan, Patrick, Catherine Voirin. Front row: Pierre, Bertrand Voirin, and Pierre's wife Monique. (Pierre and Monique are friends of the Voirin's. You saw them in the Potato Pancake pictures.)

On Wednesday, Lucie and Flo invited the family for dinner at Flo's parent's house. When we arrived, we found USA decorations on the door and a US flag to welcome us. We started with homemade sushi (they learned how from our neighbor Tokso in the US), and chips and salsa (Lucie has become a huge fan of Tex Mex since her stay in Texas!). The dinner consisted of several delicious vegetable and salad dishes, along with pork chops and grilled sausages. Dessert was a "clafoutis"--a kind of flan-like pie made with plums. It was all very good and very well-presented, with little US flag mints and a mini Mexican hat for decor.

Above, left to right: Christine and Philippe, Lucie and Flo, and Julian (one of their friends, studying to be a PT.) Below, left to right: me, Patrick, Ida (Patrick's Mom), Gladys (Ida's sister), and Bernadette (Christine's Mom).

Finally, as a little bonus on today's blog, a picture of Philippe's truck, loaded with wood awaiting delivery, parked in front of the original garage from the early 1900's where the family trucking business started. The garage is located across the road from Patrick's grandparent's house (Rene Senior's parents, who started the trucking business in the 1920's). Frederic and Pascal now own the old home. They split it into two parts so that they each have a section for their families when they visit Granges. The business is now housed in a larger, newer garage next door to this one.

Tonight, we are hosting our House Warming party, so I better get busy getting ready! Pictures to follow tomorrow!

Village Festival Sunday

2009-08-06T14:36:00.000-04:00

First, a little WWII history. First picture is a memorial at the site where the Nazis shot down an allied plane

(I'm a bit behind...) Last Sunday was the Granges Village Festival--kind of like an old-fashioned carnival with games, homemade waffles, and artisans demonstrating their skills. Ren and Patrick tried their hand at "Quilles," a game like bowling that used to be played outside of most taverns. All it takes to set it up is a couple of boards, 10 wooden pins, and a wooden ball. Ren won a bottle of wine for his parents.

Then he played a game where you toss a petanque ball at an egg. He broke the egg, and won a two waffles, for his parents. By then we had a complete meal! Who says kids cost a lot?!

Everyone comes out for the festival. From left to right, this is Patrick, his cousin Pascal, some guy I don't know, his cousin Frederic (in black with his arm on his hip), and others. The church is in the background, and you can see two ladies pulling a wagon with a bag filled with delicacies like a bottle of champagne. That, too, was a game: guess the weight of the bag, and whoever comes closest wins the bag. (We lost that one.)

Just at the end, the skies opened up, and we ran into the local tavern. (This is Frederic with his youngest son Ludovic.)

Fish and Birthday Cake

2009-08-02T05:17:00.000-04:00

On Friday, the three of us drove to Nancy (about an hour from Granges) to pick up Patrick's almost 85 year old aunt and godmother Gladys (Ida's sister), who is coming to visit for a couple of weeks. Shortly after we got back to the house, the doorbell rang, and there stood Camille, 88-year-old WWII resistance fighter, photographer, Patrick's basketball coach, and our friend, offering us fresh-caught trout. Of course, one good turn deserves another, so we invited him for beer. (Truth be told, it is tradition when someone drops by to offer them a beverage, but we were thrilled to see him!) I hope I am as active and energetic as he is when I'm 88.

He had come by twice already to give us the fish, and since we weren't there earlier, he went ahead and cleaned them for us--something I consider to be quite a blessing, in addition to the gift of the fish! Cooked in a little butter with almonds--delicious!

The weather was beautiful, so of course we ate outside...

Patrick caught this telling shot of Ren (who did eat a trout), following up his meal with, quelle surprise, pasta.

Later, we went for a walk. Ren took this picture of Patrick and I walking in front of Ida's house (on the right) and Philippe's (on the left) with the moon rising over the mountain behind. It was close to 10:00pm but we are so far north that the sun sets late.

Saturday was Patrick's birthday, and I invited the inlaws over for dinner to celebrate. We started with the traditional "appero" outside, then had bruschetta as our entree (inside--it was getting chilly), then for the main meal we had American meatloaf (a favorite of Patrick's) with zucchini from Ida's garden steamed and served with lemon-parsley butter. Then a cheese and salad course, and finally, these two delicious cakes. (No, I didn't make them--are you kidding?!) The one on the left is a fruit-type cake with layers of pistachio mousse and apricot mousse. There was a lovely "flower" on the top made of vanilla sticks, apricots, and pineapple slices. The chocolate one was layers of different chocolates and a layer of cream filling. It was my favorite. I know you are shocked!

Biking in the Vosges

2009-07-30T15:05:00.000-04:00

The three of us went on a bike ride Wednesday on the "Voie Vert", biking trails that are linked with old railroad lines. It was a lovely sunny day, and we stopped for a picnic along the way. My legs are a little sore, but I earned my potato chips at lunch! (Dad, we had jambon-beurre for lunch. I know you would have loved it!)

Castle Matching Game

2009-07-29T10:57:00.000-04:00

We went to Alsace on Monday to visit castles and then to eat dinner with a "true" (14 generations) Alsatian family that Patrick met through his antique postcard collecting. Each picture represents something, and it is up to you to match the picture to the description. Here are the descriptions:

A: "Donjon"
B: Medieval Chapel
C: gate with drawbridge holes
D: sewage system
E: Medieval toilet
F: cannon firing hole
G: Medieval fireplace
H: "Choucroute Alsacienne"

1:

2:

ANSWERS:

1 B: This 11 or 12th century tiny chapel was in the wall of a castle ruin.

2 D: Yes, this is indeed the exterior of an indoor toilet! They would sit down on a stone seat with a hole in it, and go...and it would just all exit out the tower. Sarah, I know you love this one!

3 F: When canons were invented, this castle was updated to allow for holes to fire out of.

4 G: Most castles we have seen had some kind of fireplace in the wall.

5 A: A "Donjon" is the tower that was the last resort when a castle was under seige. It was where the family lived, and where they stayed in a seige.

6 H: Homemade! Excellent!

7 E: This is a different castle but another toilet. Here you get to see the seat!

8 C: This gate once had a drawbridge. You can kind of see the openings where the drawbridge mechanisms were (above the opening).

Sunday Lunch

2009-07-25T08:39:00.002-04:00

You gotta love a country that understands the importance of good food as well as France does.

Picture this: Our WWII vet neighbor had brought us a big box of potatoes and green beans from his garden. What to do with them? Invite Patrick's Mom to come have lunch with us on Sunday. So we call the butcher and ask him to set aside a roast chicken for us for Sunday. Done.

Sunday morning comes, and I think, "It would be nice, since it is Sunday lunch and that is traditionally a nicer meal in France, to have an 'entree' before the main meal." (An "entree" in France is the course between the appetizer and the main meal.) I look in the pantry and realize I have all the ingredients for Dotties 4-ingredient chicken salad as long as I use tuna and almonds instead of chicken and pecans. (It was good, Dottie!) Stuff some smallish tomatoes, and you have an entree.

But then we realize that my bro-in-law and his youngest daughter Lea are on their own because Christine had to work, so... let's invite them!

First, though--Ida, do you have any extra tomotoes? Yes, no problem!

Butcher, can you put aside another chicken for us? Yes, no problem!

What about dessert? Quick stop at the patisserie/boulangerie, and voila! A delicious, relatively easy meal fit for the in-laws! (We already had fresh bread from that morning and delicious cheese on hand.)

The meal: appero (nuts, olives, cheese straws, etc. while sipping a glass of port or other such aperitif), followed by tomatoes stuffed with tuna salad, then roast chicken and a side of green beans and potatoes, then a selection of cheeses with fresh bread, then dessert, then coffee. Mmmmmmm!

I love this country! (Pictures below)

An assortment of desserts to share...

Stuffing the tomatoes with the tuna salad in our little kitchen...

Patrick, Philippe, Ida, Lea sitting outside for lunch al fresco (but under the umbrella to keep the temperature down!)

Beignets de Patates a Champdrey (Potato Pancake Festival!)

2009-07-25T08:39:00.001-04:00

The now-famous (in our circle of friends) Potato Pancake Festival in Champdrey (the village on top of the mountain show in the quiz) took place last night, and it was, as predicted, a lot of fun--although the general feeling was that the beignets (kind of like hash browns, but better) were not as good as last year. Oh, well--the bacon sandwiches made up for it! (Think thick-cut bacon cooked on an open fire, on fresh French bread--mmmmm!) Patrick, Ren, and I went to 6:00 mass in Champdrey at the church across from the festival. In fact, if you look at the first picture, that's the priest sitting at the bottom right in the white with the glasses. He joined us for a glass of wine and some beignets, and let me tell you, he held his own with the funny stories and jokes! (Thank God, everyone kept the jokes clean, at least while Frere Jacques was with us!) You can just see the church behind our table. Clockwise from left to right, starting at the bottom left: Bertrand Voirin, me, Catherine Voirin, some other people we didn't know, across from Catherine is Christine Jacques (Philippe's wife), Philippe (Patrick's bro), Frederic (Patrick's cousin and close friend), Father Jacques, and Pierre (a friend of Bertrand).

Funny stories and jokes were told by anyone who had that ability (not me). Here, Philippe tells a good one to Fredo.

Only complaint: long lines for the food! You can just see Patrick waiting in line for the bacon sandwiches, in the right half of the picture behind a lady with a pale green sweater around her shoulders.

Like last year, a clown was present to provide entertainment. I'm not usually a fan of clowns, but this guy is really good. He keeps the kids entertained while still keeping it humorous enough for the grown-ups, and his juggling ability was impressive.

The "after party" was at Bertrand and Catherine's house in Granges. We had champagne and kuggelhopf (don't hold me to the spelling on that). Clockwise starting at bottom left: Pierre, Fredo, Christine, Bertrand, Philippe, Virginie (Bertrand's neice and godchild), her fiance Olivier (a policeman), Monique (Bertrand's sister-in-law's sister and Virginie's godmother), and Patrick.

The funny stories and jokes continued! But we were still home and in bed by 1:00am, which was earlier than last year (and very welcome by those of us who need our 8 hours!)

As they say, a good time was had by all. (Ren had dinner with us, including beignets and coke, and then Patrick drove him down the mountain so he didn't have to hang with the old fogies.)

Dinner in Gerardmer

2009-07-25T08:39:00.000-04:00

Last night, we had dinner in Gerardmer with Remi, our nephew (Philippe and Christine's son). Ren enjoyed a fillet St. Pierre with a green salad and some potatoes made in the traditional Vosgian way (lard, butter, herbs...).

I can't remember what Remi ate, but it was good.

As for me, I ordered the Menu du Jour, which started with a beautifully presented and delicious type of pate' made with lentils and thin slices of duck. My main dish was Rognons de Veau. Do you know what those are? I thought I did. I thought I was ordering little veal steaks. I was wrong. Rognons are kidneys....

Since it is considered impolite and bad manners not to finish what is served to you, I ate them. And to be honest, they were really good--once I got beyond the idea of it. (Can you tell how I felt when I figured out what I was eating?)

This morning, the three of us went on a bike ride nearby. After a lunch of sliced tomatoes from the garden, tuna, cheese, and bread, Patrick and I rode our bikes over the his brother Philippe's house, just in time for coffee and chocolate. Then Patrick ran an errand while I picked up our mail from Ida's house--a letter from Lynette was waiting--what a nice surprise! And then I rode my bike to the butcher to reserve a roast chicken for Sunday lunch. We'll have more of the green beans and potatoes that our neighbor Mr. Rouault brought us to thank us for helping him put up his wood, roast chicken, and salad from Ida's garden. Life is good! The only wish is to have more sunshine!

A Quiz About Life in France

2009-07-24T08:27:00.000-04:00

(Don't worry--the answers are at the end of this article!) Using the clues next to each picture, take a stab at what these might be, and then read the end to see how close you were:

1) Could this have religious significance?

2) Take a close look at the railings: What is this made of?

3) Yes, that's Granges below, but what is the significance of the mountain behind?

4) Every house had one back in the day. This is only a ruin of the original. What could it have been?

5) Less solid versions of this cross by the road exist in the US too. What is its purpose?

6) Hint: $15.00

7) What is our favorite aisle in the grocery store?

8) What is American Sauce?

9) What is very American about this picture? (Hint: it's pink and not on me.)

10) What is in Ren's collection, pictured here?

Answers:

1) A statue in the wall near the church in Granges, of unknown origin or significance. We guess it has religious significance, but it is odd!

2) The supports for the stair railings at City Hall in a nearby town are made of bomb casings from WWII.

3) The American troops were camped out here as they waited for their supplies to catch up before the freed Granges from the Germans in WWII.

4) The outline of an old bread oven.

5) Called a "calvaire" (as in Calvary, as in this was someone's personal or family Calvary), this marks the location where something significant happened, often the death of a loved one. They are found on the side of the road, and sometimes even in the forest at old crossroads. We found one once that marked where a man was killed in a hunting accident.

6) $15 is what it cost to buy three good bottles of wine and five bottles of Normandy cider.

7) The cheese aisle! This is us with our favorite cheese, called "Caprice des dieux" or a caprice of the gods. It's like butter--and I really mean that, it's like butter.

8)American Sauce is exactly like French Dressing in the US: a mix of mayo and ketchup.

9) Crocks have invaded France! You can see a large pink one hanging from the crock stand at the fresh market in Granges. This is truly one of the great tragedies of modern cultural invasions, following closely behind the popularization of McDonalds in France.

10) Ren's WWII collection: a large bomb casement, a large bullet casement, and an actual German bayonet with sheath, found hidden in a shed under the eaves of the roof where Patrick's family lived when he was growing up. They lived in the old police station that had been converted into apartments after the war. A neighbor found the bayonet and gave it to the Jacques. Ida gave it to Ren, and needless to say, it is a prized possession.

The Resistence Movement in WWII

2009-07-22T11:59:00.000-04:00

In June 1944, the word went out to the Resistance movement in a little village about 10 minutes from Patrick's home town named Corcieux, to create a distraction for the Germans. The Resistance throughout the Vosges, called the Maquis here, took their orders seriously and set to work. They were so effective that the German army, believing that something big must be about to happen in the Vosges, left a good part of their divisions here instead of sending them to the beaches at Normandy--perhaps helping insure the success of the Allied invasion. The Maquis were so effective that the German army, infuriated by what the Maquis did, in retaliation, shot hundreds of people, often while families watched, and burned entire towns to the ground. The first picture here is the monument at the location where the Maquis of Corcieux were lined up and shot. Corcieux was totally destroyed by the Germans --there isn't a building in the town that is left from before the war. We spoke with a woman this morning whose father was in a group of men who watched the executions, fully believing his group was next. (For whatever reason, the observers were spared.)

This second picture is on top of a mountain at La Bresse, another city that was a major headquarters for the Maquis in the Vosges Mountains and that was totally destroyed by the Germans in retaliation. This is another site of executions by the German army. The Maquis were meeting here in secret, but someone told the Germans, and the SS snuck up on them, surrounded them, and executed all they found there. It was a foggy night, and some were able to hide in the brush and were spared. The monument says "Never forget that on this spot, the Black Drop Maquis and the Piquante Pierre Maquis, on the 16th, 20th, and 21st September 1944, and soldiers from the 4th Battalion of the French Interior Forces, died for freedom. Honor their memory and keep it sacred." (An interesting note: listed on the monument is a man whose home town is listed as New York. He was listed as one of the French soldiers. Also, as a point of explanation, the battalions referred to here were soldiers fighting for the non-occupied French Army, led by DeGaulle in England. Because they fought more in hiding than in the open, there was a fine line between official sodiers and maquis.)

The last picture is Patrick and Ren at the site in La Bresse. Today we visited with Camille and Lucette Lievaux, a couple who lived through the war. Camille was a prisoner of war and then after escaping, a Maquis fighter with an amazing story of his own--for another day! Lucette is the one whose father witnessed the executions in Corcieux. She was a teenager, and she said to us this morning, "You can't imagine what the fear is like--to live in fear and have no relief from it for so long."

Patrick's father was deported by the Germans on November 8, 1944, just six days before Granges was liberated by the Americans. He was "requisitionned" by the German army: all men in good health between 16 and 46 years old were told to come work to build up defenses against the Allies who were stuck about three miles away from Granges, waiting for supplies to catch up. Of the men called by the Germans, lmost no one came, so the Germans got mad and rounded up the men and took them prisoner. They were forced to walk in the snow across the mountains more than 30 miles. Patrick's Dad Rene spent almost six months as a prisoner of war, forced to work for the Germans. He was part of a group that was on its way to Dachau, an extermination camp, to be executed, but the allies kept bombing the train tracks, and instead the prisoners were forced to repair tracks until April 1945. There is a memorial on the front of City Hall in Granges that commemorates the deportation.

2009-07-21T05:47:00.000-04:00

On Sunday afternoon, we went to an outdoor mass in honor of Saint Anne at this little chapel. (I think she is said to be Jesus' grandmother, Mary's mother?) This chapel is all that's left of a small castle (more like a manor house) that was owned by Anne de Martinipre, a noble woman from the early 17th century who we recently learned is an ancestor of Patrick's (and Ren's of course.) Every year they have this "procession" (see picture) and then an outdoor mass.

This is Ren, Ida (Patrick's Mom), and Patrick inside the little chapel.

We were invited by the property owners (a family from Paris whose daughter, son-in-law, and their three kids live in New York and were visiting) for a glass of champagne after the mass. That's Ren, then Ida, then the man who did a lot of the research about this branch of the family, and me in the foreground.

La Cholande: Village Festival

2009-07-20T14:31:00.001-04:00

The story goes that Granges was known for its Cholande, a buttery bread made with bacon, and 16 years ago, they started hosting a village festival in honor of the delicacy. It is a fun event for us--we get to see lots of people all at once; the food is good; and we're within walking distance of our house. In fact, this year, we provided the electricity for the Barbary Organ, parked just outside our door (in front of our "private garden"--see photo on the left taken from our bedroom window).

Some highlights from the day: Where else but in France would you see two wild boars roasting over an open pit? Or dancers from the Loraine region dancing in front of an 900 year old church...

Or eat a lunch of regional specialties including a Salade Vosgienne, a pork chop, and three potato pancakes (plus dessert) for $9?

Patrick and I bought three Cholandes au lard and one au chocolat, along with local sausage and some smoked pork tenderloin. We put that together with the letuce our next-door neighbor gave us from his garden, and invited Patrick's brother Philippe, his wife Christine, their youngest daughter Lea, and Patrick's mother Ida. We had everything ready, but the family hadn't arrived yet... so what better way to wait than to head out into the closed-off street where a stand was set up and friends were relaxing? (You can see Patrick with a friend Bertrand Voirin sitting to Patrick's right, enjoying a beer, only four houses away from ours.) We couldn't have asked for a more pleasant afternoon, and a few minutes later, the Jacques family came walking down the street, ready for dinner. Back to our house for a lovely evening of Cholandes, sausages, and good conversation with the family.

(This is our kitchen. Left to right, Ida--Patrick and Philippe's mom, Lea--Philippe's youngest daughter, Christine, Philippe, Ren, Patrick.)

2009-07-18T12:02:00.000-04:00

Strong wind, heavy rain, and cold temperatures greeted us outside our windows this morning, so what better thing to do that go to the garden store and buy flowers to plant in the planter!

That done, Patrick and Ren noticed our WWII vet neighbor loading a huge (5 feet high, 25 feet in diameter) pile of wood that was deliveredto his driveway, into his shed, one wheelbarrow at a time. (He must be in his '80s.) So they went to help. I followed soon after to say hello (my neck keeping me from lending a hand), and our neighbor handed me a basket and said, "I have a little job for you." He led me to his beautiful garden and instructed me to pick as many green beans as we could eat. Once I finished that, he handed me three fresh-picked heads of lettuce and several freshly-harvested potatoes from his garden, and then he insisted on giving us four different kinds of jam he had "put up" this spring. So a dreary, depressing day turned into one of bounty! This is me, sitting next to my newly-planted planter, with the jams and veggies on the table in front.

Tomorrow is the village festival, "La Cholande," and since everyone says it is ALWAYS pretty weather for this day, we're looking forward to it. Tents and tables are already being set up!

Temps de Chien (Dog Weather) for the Tour

2009-07-17T11:00:00.000-04:00

To get to the tour, we thought we were going to have to hike three miles across country (to avoid the blocked-off roads) to a place where the riders were going up-hill and around a roundabout (so that we'd see the riders for more than a split second.) But the good part about the weather, which was very cold and very wet, was that it kept people home, and we were able to park within a half-mile of the course.

The caravane, the "parade" before the race where they throw all kinds of junk and some cool stuff at the waiting people, was running late, and we got a t-shirt and a bag (along with a key chain, two cheapo bracelets, and several newspapers), all from sponsors of the tour. The first picture, upper right, is of the "Cochonou" cars, a big sponsor of the race. (They make delicious dry sausage. Unfortunately they were not throwing sausages.)

We placed ourselves up a steep hill with a good view of two parts of the road with a roundabout in the middle. (If you watched the race, there was a giant snow man in the middle of the roundabout. We were just up the hill behind that.)

The first group of three--one of which came in first in Colmar--passed by, and by some miracle my camera actually focused on the riders instead of the spectators (see below).

Below left, you can see the peleton going up the hill away from us, and below right are the overall leaders. One is Lance--no idea which one--and the one with the yellow helmet is the Yellow Jersey.We were soaked but had a great time. Can't wait to take a hot shower!

2009-07-16T15:44:00.000-04:00

Ren in his room in Granges. Surprise, he's playing a video game on his DS! The other picture is "our" garden in front of the house in Granges. We feel blessed that the kind taxpayers of Granes support a town worker who maintains this beautiful plot of land. You can't tell from the picture, but it is a cul-de-sac, so in spite of the wide-looking road in front, it has very light traffic. (Remember, DnD?)

2009-07-16T08:46:00.000-04:00

I think it is funny (and appropriate) that the only two people who were able to figure out how to post comments were Lucie and Flo. I bet Mollie, Elizabeth, and Ren could have, too! It is odd to be the "older" generation.

This is us having dinner behind our new house, with Frederic (Patrick's cousin and our good friend). It was our first dinner at the new place. The fence behind is the little separation for the patio of our renters. They have been very respectful--letting us have the back yard all to ourselves.

Today we are taking advantage of 80 degrees, low humidity, and sunshine. We hiked in the mountains around Granges this morning and this afternoon, we're going to Gerardmer to walk near the lake and to run some errands, then to have dinner. They are predicting big thunder storms tonight and tomorrow, so we want to be outside as much as we can!

2009-07-14T12:32:00.000-04:00

This is my first experience at blogging, so bear with me, but I thought this might be a good way to share pictures and experiences from our trip with family. So take a look and let me know if it comes through. It will be a closed blog open to people I invite only.

This is a picture of Philippe, Ida, and Patrick, taken kind of tongue-in-cheek because Laura had our Christmas card on her fridge, and Philippe did not like the picture of him that was on the Christmas card. (It was the same picture, same location, taken a year ealier.)