My old man, who records the sound files for this word journal. Merci, Jean-Marc!
If only we'd stop trying to be happy, we could have a pretty good time. -Edith Wharton
Si seulement on essayait d’arrêter d’être heureux, on pourrait peut-être profiter de la vie.
Today's Words: Profiter de la vie
: to enjoy life
Audio File: click the words below to hear the soundfile:
DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE
by Kristi Espinasse
When I am old and wrinkled—well into the troisième âge—I want to race along the shores of Brittany on my Mobylette, that most groovy of French bikes with an engine!
I want to be an eccentric vieille dame. I don't want to care about what anyone thinks, as long as I am not imposing myself on their philosophie de vie. I'll ride my old bike along the seashore. I'll wear black goggles and wrap a long wool scarf, in orange potiron, around my neck. Off I'll fly, scarf ends flowing in the wind.
I'll let go of the pedals, WHEEEEEEEEE… and sing a song by Yves Montand—or a tune from Les Misérables—depending on my mood.
I'll pack a picnic with all my favoris. Inside the panier there'll be boiled eggs, anchoïade, Gratin Dauphinois, pungent cheese, a soft baguette and a flask of Earl Grey. There'll be tangerines to eat and a few squares of dark chocolate.
I'll gather delicate coquilles from the foamy seashore and tie them to my shoes. You'll hear the jingle of seashells when I pedal by.
My voice will be agreeably hoarse, not from les Gauloises or le vin but from whistling all the day long—a habit I'll have picked up at the beginning of the century, when a certain Frenchwoman cautioned: "Les femmes ne sifflent pas! Women don't whistle!" That's when I puckered up and blew another tune… and another… and then one more!
I hope to have a dear old friend, one who is much more excentrique than I. She'll dye her white hair rouge vif or aubergine. We'll tchatche about the current generation and how people need to loosen up and 'profiter un peu de la vie,' enjoy life a little, like us.
I'll say, "Pépé! Les oursins!" and my old man will return from the rocky pier where he has spent the morning hunting sea urchins. When he cracks open their coquilles, revealing the mousse-like orange roe, I will remember that real treasures don't come with a price tag.
I want to live near the seagulls so that I may slumber beneath their cries and wake up to the whoosh of the sea. I'll push myself to a stand, smooth back my white locks, adjust a faux tortoiseshell comb, and say "Dieu merci!" for another day.
Before I tuck myself into bed at night I will, once again, empty mes coquilles into an old metal cookie tin, a treasure from long ago. Looking over at my seashells, I will give thanks: my cherished, tired tin runneth over.
When this story was first written, I didn't have a dog and could not know one of the essential vital ingredients to happiness (besides my old man) in one's golden years.
French Vocabulary
Listen to the following list of French words: Download MP3
le troisième âge = retirement
Mobylette = a particular model of moped, a vintage Mobylette
une vieille dame = a venerable lady
une philosophie (f) de vie = a life philosophy
orange potiron = pumpkin orange
favori(te) = favorite
un panier = a basket.
l'anchoïade (m) = anchovy purée mixed with olive oil
un Gratin Dauphinois = a potato casserole with milk, butter and cheese
une coquille = a shell
la Gauloise = brand of cigarettes
le vin = wine
excentrique = eccentric
rouge vif = bright red
aubergine = eggplant purple
tchatcher = to chat (away)
le pépé = grandpa
un oursin = a sea urchin
Dieu merci = Thank God
We both love to putter in the garden. It's fun to collect fava beans.
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Hi Kristi!
I LOVE this story! When I started reading it reminded me of your Mom! Sounds like fun and I would love to join you!
Have a great weekend and Happy Mother’s Day tomorrow! 🙂
Kristin,
Merci beaucoup! Great way to start my Start morning!! Now I will work on my French journal collaging some pages.
Happy Mother’s Day tomorrow!
Elissa
Love the quote from Edith Wharton! How do you translate “my old man” into French?
Debbie
A wonderful story. And of course, what would le troisieme age be without a dog?! You know my mother was a shell collector. She’d comb the beaches of California, Baja and the Gulf Coast of Florida. I love the sound of coquille and I think that would have been a good nickname for her. She’s been on my mind as Mother’s Day approaches here in the States. Thank you for bringing back those memories of her searching for seashells and her orange vif hair under her sunhat with your own vision of le troisieme age.
Do not wait to have this very même experience. You never know what tomorrow may bring, so grab your scarf, hop aboard and whistle away, NOW.
Sounds like a plan! Reminds me of the title of a book by the late physicist Richard Feynman- “What Do You Care What People Think” A philosophy I try to live by.
Kristin, this puts me in mind of “When I Am Old, I Shall Wear Purple.” However, you are a long way off from such an age. I KNOW!!! But the picture you painted is soooooo appealing.
I can’t imagine not living close to the ocean and waking up to bird songs. Profiter de la vie!
There is another poem called “Wehn I am Old I Will Wear Purple” – but I’ve worn purple my whole life. So my advice to you is not to wait till you are in the “troisieme age” – start riding the beach now while you have the energy – you may get some looks, some comments but they will write it off you your youth, not your old age!
Lovely piece!
This is your mother, Jules, personified. She may not have the scarf or bike, but she has the “hat” and the horse.
J’aime cette histoire! Je voudrais être là aussi! I’d love to be your other éclectique friend 😘😂
I LOVE this delightful picture of a happy aliveness in le Troisieme age. I shall imagine myself riding along on my very own Mobylette!
That is exactly what you should do, but with dog! I am trying to do the same thing, myself. Veuve et grand-mère d’une petite-fille de vingt-et-un ans, je viens d’acheter une maison dans un village audois. It’s never too late!
You have an awesome model in your mom! Bizz Jo
Delightful post, merci Kristi. Carpe diem. I love the images and free spirit you convey. Quelle joie de vivre.
Happy Mothers Day.
Eccentric and full of joie de vivre–sounds a lot like you mom, Kristi.
Kristi,
Thanks for a beautiful story of the age Kinda and I are enjoying. It will give us more thoughts to expand on that enjoyment.
Mervin
Lovely post, but the translation of the Wharton quote doesn’t seem quite right. Si seulement on essayait d’arrêter d’être heureux, on pourrait peut-être profiter de la vie.
Wouldn’t it be Si seulement on s’arretait d’essayer d’etre heureux … ?
BCE*….
Best Column Ever!
I am of that age (or older!) and now I comb the beaches for shells, and make jewelry. None like I have ever seen in stores, so I feel that i am fulfilling my “creative bent”.
I agree – it’s your loveliest piece of writing ever! I delighted in it – and the pictures of Smokey, too, of course.
Happy Mother’s Day!
Here’s a colleague writer’s poem, along the same lines:
When I Am Old.
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat that doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me,
And I shall spend my pension
on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals,
and say we’ve no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I am tired,
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells,
And run my stick along the public railings,
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens,
And learn to spit.
You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat,
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go,
Or only bread and pickle for a week,
And hoard pens and pencils and beer mats
and things in boxes.
But now we must have clothes that keep us dry,
And pay our rent and not swear in the street,
And set a good example for the children.
We will have friends to dinner and read the papers.
But maybe I ought to practise a little now?
So people who know me
are not too shocked and surprised,
When suddenly I am old
and start to wear purple!
Jenny Joseph
What joy in all you expressed. Thank you for a lovely gift. Happy Mother’s Day to you, the embodiment of all you wrote about. You are really living a beautiful, joyful life!!
Salut,
I have a feeling this story may be more truth than fiction! I can picture a future Kristi that would do the things described in the story. . . . “Like mother-like daughter” might be coming into play here.
Aging allows us to become more comfortable in our skin and we may experience the reality of the phrase . . .“I am drinking from my saucer because my cup runneth over”.
As one who is well into retirement and fast approaching quartre-vingt-huit ans, I can relate to today’s story. I find myself more relaxed and less inhibited.
Happy Mother’s day, Kristi
What a beautiful ode to living life to its fullest. Loved it! Happy Mothers Day!
What a beautiful story! And I love how your sunhat gives you a semblance of freckles 🙂
Our dear Kristi,
What a wonderful post!
And such glorious examples for us to follow!!
I especially loved,and agree with,those lovely words you wrote–Dieu Merci.
And,needless to say,(for me) a loving husband and devoted dog(s)are vital ingredients for happiness in the golden age–or any age.
Though I always tried to savor life to the fullest,now in my troisieme age,things have taken on a deeper and more fulfilling meaning.Savored days,cherished
family and friends,enjoyable times wrap themselves around my heart like never before.
Happy Mom’s Day to you and dear Jules.You two are absolutely a dynamic duo!
Love
Natalia XO
That is wonderful, Leslie. I hope it brings you much joy.
My old man is “Mon vieux”.
I love your comments, Herm, and especially your poems. And, at soixante dix ans, I find you to be a wonderful inspiration! It is not surprising that your “cup runneth over”!
You have a true joie de vivre!
Happy Mother’s Day. Enjoy it as you described your story. It sounds wonderful. I was just thinking that could be a wonderful life when I get old. Right now I run hetlter shelter and work myself into a titter. I am too busy, but the electric bike and the ocean wind, the smell of sea, the sand and the water – they are so inviting. Oh but I have to return to Provence soon.
Kathleen
Kristin,
A cool and grey morning in upstate New York. The irises are blooming all over my garden.
Today when I think of my mom I think of the poem Trees by Joyce Kilmer her favorite.
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
I love the first two lines.
Knitting a wee sweater for a mother- to-be, her first. Thinking about how this day is celebrate all over the states.
Have a wonderful day!
Elissa
Love this story and can see you making it come true! Perhaps I’ll be on of your excentrique dear old friends who come by to tchatche! Bon weekend!
BCE Love this image and want to right there also – at the sea. thank you from my heart.
Here at home we have Red Hat ladies of which I qualify. We are of the age to wear red and purple in defiance of customs. My Red Hats group meets on the day my French class meets and therefore I miss my French for the Le Jour de Chapeau Rouge.
I love this story! I can just picture you and see the wind in your golden hair…wheeeee how wonderful to feel free! Also, love the Wharton quote, your picnic choices and the addition of a dog to your list! I cannot imagine my life without at least one dog! I can imagine you and me hiking, or biking, along the coast, picnic, books and sunhats ready!
Another glorious line from Edith Wharton: My little dog – a heartbeat at my feet.
Lovely day to you!