PANDEMIC DIARY

A FOND MEMORY [reprise]

AUGUST 29, 2020

[Due to a posting glitch, I am not sure y’all saw this post from two weeks ago. It was attached to another post that ran consecutively. I wanted to ensure you had a chance to experience this. Thanks.]

The year is 1961. I am 15 years old and living with a family in Paris for a too brief period of three weeks. In recognition of their hospitality and the sincere affection I felt for my hosts, I thought to express my deepest regard and admiration by purchasing a going away gift. It would not be a ‘lasting’ memento because what I had in mind was a consumable. It would be eaten and enjoyed likely within a matter of a couple of days. Still, I thought it an appropriate and tasteful gesture. So, on this misty morning, I ambled down the cobblestone lane of rue Eugene Delacroix, along the boulevard Avenue George Mandel, through Trocadero and across the Pont D’Ilena into the Seventh Arrondissement, to a ‘chocolaterie’ famous for their handmade and distinctive chocolates.

With my new found French language skills and my French dictionary tucked in my jacket pocket, I confidently took hold of the ornate brass handle to the grand, art-deco glass door and stepped into this chic wonderland of seemingly endless displays of chocolates.

A very beautiful young lady [as most young French ladies were to this rampantly hormonal male] approached me wearing a knee-length, dirndl-like skirt with an apron top. In French, (‘bien sur’), she asked if she could be of assistance. So dearly did I want to be French, and willing to assume the role of a young Frenchman, I confidently proceeded to request the following having practiced along the route, “I would like a half kilometer of chocolates.” There was a wisp of a pause and a telling look of confusion on the clerk’s face as she asked me to repeat what it was I wished for. I adjusted both speed and tone. “May I please have a half kilometer of chocolates.” The charming service person was now clearly nonplussed and mildly upset not knowing how to handle this situation…a situation I was causing without any self awareness.

Curtsying ever so slightly, the young lady excused herself indicating that she would get someone else to assist me. And, in just a few moments a fine, tall, elegant looking gentleman who I took to be the proprietor appeared and, with the clerk by his side, repeated for thrice time, “How can I be of assistance?” And, so as not to disappoint, I repeated. “Sir, I would like a half kilometer of assorted chocolates.” Then, without a moment’s pause, and absent any suggestion of sarcasm or smugness, indeed with a generous gift basket filled with patience, sympathy, grace and respect for my linguistic efforts, he earnestly inquired as if willing to accede to my request,

“Would you care for the chocolates to be lined up…

THIS WAY

OR THAT WAY

Politely adding to insure I did not miss the error of my ways, “Of course, you will get very many more pieces if they are aligned vertically.” Slapping my hand against my forehead {a real ‘zetz’} in what must have looked like a precursor to Homer Simpson…

…it finally dawned upon me that I was asking for chocolates in distance…not weight.

“Kilogram!” I blurted.

It was their knowing smiles and laughter that kept me from feeling any sort of embarrassment or humiliation. This comedy was not idiosyncratic, a foible or deficiency. It did not reflect on my innate character or characterize a nationality. They did not gloat, demean or debase me in word or deed. In fact, instead of setting themselves apart, my hosts became integral to the burlesque. I also was rewarded a block of chocolate to enjoy on my walk home.

Why did this youthful interaction have such a lasting and important influence on me? Even as a young man, I was aware of reports from family and friends who traveled to Europe extolling the societal delights and pleasures they experienced. They would spend thousands of dollars and return with stories of how they were treated by the department store clerk, the supermarket attendant, the lady at the vegetable store who wore a simple, black ‘A-line’ dress with high heels and pearls, the waiter who brought them a taste of something viewed and commented upon at another table, the street cleaning machines that would pass by the hotel every morning washing and brightening the streets,

These acts, all, are measures of self-reflected, egalitarian, societal attitudes toward service, civility, humanity and culture. The clerks and attendants were as vital and necessary to the mutual functioning and enjoyment of society as were the financier or politician. Each had a significant role to play. They were not anathema to the whole. They were neither bane or burden. They were essential. And, when I speak of essential I do not mean something to have to “put up with” or grudgingly accept. No! I mean essential to the ‘good life’ - a shared daily existence without encumbrances and impediments like regards for race, presumed intelligence, status, class, presumed wealth or any other claims to privilege or exception.

Americans, instead of blurring the lines of distinction seem to relish in drawing and defending lines…and for a false psychology that infers somehow one is elevated if another is demeaned. In that system, no one gets what they want. Everyone is resentful, hateful, feels either underprivileged, dismissed, disregarded, and/or denigrated. Americans sacrifice the ‘inter’-relationship and forego the compatibility emphasizing the unworthiness, the discord, the infliction those in lower classes impose.

As it happens, just the other day, I heard an interview with Gene Sperling, author of “Economic Dignity”, a new book that advocates for economic justice and market reforms that would allow people to “care for family without economic deprivation or desperation”. Referring to Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech delivered to the Sanitation Worker’s Union, he quoted King, “the Sanitation worker was as essential as the physician”. He pointed out that especially at this time we are realizing that farmers, delivery drivers, grocery store clerks, and home health care workers “are now people who are literally saving our lives”. But, they remain underpaid and allowed to work in unsafe conditions without personal protective equipment. He goes on to say, “…you do not achieve dignity just with applause, just with respect. You have to have dignified treatment”.