Culture – Page 9 – Don't Gel Too Soon

How Did I Miss “The Giver?”

The movie is coming. I saw the trailer. But it wasn’t the story I thought it was; it turns out that all these years the book I remembered as Lois Lowry’s The Giver was in fact Phyllis Reynolds Naylor’s The Keeper!. Which is pretty embarrassing given that I reviewed that one for The Washington Post. And The Giver? I hadn’t even read it.

Yesterday I did. I so wish I had been 14 when I found it, but it was published in 1993 and won the Newbery Medal in 1994 so that’s past not only my 14th birthday but that of one of my son’s! It’s very gripping and beautifully written, but there’s been so much YA dystopian fiction since then that it’s hard to imagine the punch in the gut it must have been when it appeared.

As a veteran of the Divergent trilogy and The Hunger Games (and, ok, the Twilight Series but they don’t count) as well as countless post-nuclear–holocaust novels and a ton of cyberfiction, I’m an old hand in this neck of the woods. Even so, the intent of The Giver is a little different. There’s no hunger, no war, not even any pain. It’s a twisted version of John Lennon’s Imagine.

Except, of course, it isn’t.

The “sameness” that rules this world has murdered color and music and laughter and love. Oh – and babies, too. One person, “the Giver” is the sole custodian of all memories of the bitter, the painful and the sad. We know this will not stand. And that’s the point.

We had a sign up in my college dorm – a banner across the front porch: “Given the choice between the experience of pain and nothing, I would choose pain.” — William Faulkner, The Wild Palms Those are the words and feelings of young people and artists. And it is the battle against nothing the Lowry offers her young readers. As she told the New York Times: “Kids deserve the right to think that they can change the world.”

When the Giver helps our young hero Jonas decide that beauty and emotion are worth the terrible prices we pay to be fully human, we are all empowered to imagine that we can — no must, join him. Take a stand. Change a mind. Solve a problem. Correct an injustice. Fall in love. Break our hearts or someone else’s. Be alive.

And that’s the power of The Giver, as the rest of you have probably known for years.

Samuel L Jackson’s Pulp Fiction Vengeance: Still Amazing

Just because this is my favorite movie speech (almost – maybe a couple in Princess Bride or All About Eve )but really —

Life and Death on the Coast of France REDUX

It doesn’t look at all real – I know that. But it is. It’s also a place I’ve wanted to see for as long as I can remember. And here we are. Here we are! The sweet, formidable beauty of this place is matched only by its astonishing history – as a monastery, a prison and a target, from ancient times to the carnage and suffering of D-Day.

Mt-Saint-Michel has, for more than a thousand years, stood atop the rock upon which is was built. Its timelessness is much of what attracts people, I suspect, along with its ice-castle beauty and the awesome commitment of its inhabitants: the sacrifices made by these men on the mountain top, alone, virtually silent, with nothing to do but pray and take on their assigned chores, meditate and live out their lives in as holy a way as possible

SMEglise ike diorama crop — Ike sends US troops off to the D-Day invasion of Europe that helped win WWII.

Nearby, the small town of Saint-Mère-Élgise and its museum await the summer celebration of the 70th anniversary of D-Day and its remarkable exercise in vision, courage and grit. This diorama of General Eisenhower’s last visit with the men he was sending to fight and die is a moving one. Anyone who has ever seen his 1968 conversation with Walter Cronkite knows how well the General understood that half of those he sent out on D-Day would never return.

SMglise resistance — Resistance Armbands

SMeglise death book crop — Prayers to say if death is near; provided by the military

One group of special heroes and heroines represented at the museum were the Resistance – women and men who parachuted behind enemy lines, worked with local opponents of the Reich to complicate their war and, at great personal risk. transmitted by hidden radios everything they learned about their German enemy.

Aside from their real-life-spying, they also served in special, high-risk, low profile operations, commemorated in history, in films and in novels. I often used the Resistance stories and the children running messages and doing other support work as a way to engage our sons in history when we traveled. The drama and courage, and relevance, was and still is irresistible.

What you see here another of the profoundly moving exhibit items at the museum. Look carefully; it’s a page of prayers to support young soldiers dying in the field. Breathtaking as you stand among the photos of these young men and see how wise it was to offer them this comfort, and wonder if today’s military is inclined, or allowed for that matter, to provide similar comfort.

In all, the life of the monastery and loss that surrounds the beaches of Normandy really are bookends to how we live our lives. Life and faith, war and peace, courage, sacrifice, defeat and victory. It is the greatest gift of travel when these things present themselves and we remember how fragile, and how wondrous, the privilege of being alive and aware really is.

NOTE: This post was first published on May 8th, the day we made this trip. But today, on the anniversary of D-Day, it seemed right to offer it once again.

Antwerp and the Immigrants

That’s the view from the deck tonight. We docked late so had just over an hour to visit the new immigration museum built in the former headquarters of the Red Star Line, which for years carried dreamers from the old world to the new. Here’s how they looked through the eyes of painter Eugene Van Meighan, whose parents owned a pub across the street.

This fellow stands watch just a block away, reminding us of those who trudged, carrying all their worldly goods, from the railway station at the end of a grueling trip to Antwerp to the embarkation point: the Red Star Line terminal. It was quite a trek.

The museum has managed to take a story we all know and, with the very ordinary tools of words and pictures, make it new again. There is a sweetness to the presentation, including portrayals of physical examinations, decontamination, and general misery, combined with respect for the travelers and pride in the role the company, and the city, played in so many futures .

Of course this city is more than an immigration hub. It’s also got a long history of its own, built around, among other things, the guilds that preceded trade unions. Their icons top several of the buildings that surround this lovely city hall.

Just down the street is the Cathedral and a flurry of chocolate shops, coffee houses and souvenir vendors. We could have gone to Brussels tomorrow, but have decided to stay here and enjoy where we are. We’re a bit weary of moving so fast, although grateful for all we’ve seen and learned. It’s time for a nice, slow day, and that we shall have.

Rainy Rouen

Carousel in the rain outside Notre Dame Cathedral, Rouen

This sweet carousel was deserted; buckets of rain would have discouraged even the most determined child. It sits outside the Rouen version of a Notre Dame cathedral. This one contains, we hear, the heart of Richard the Lionhearted, and is beautiful but not off the charts compared to some others we’ve seen.

Rouen was a surprise; lovely in a modest sort of way – even the H&M and Printemps stores were little. The history is profound however, for it was here that Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.

We have spent a lot of time on this trip with people with strong Catholic faith. Visiting cathedrals and shrines with them has really illuminated the meaning and depth of emotion they communicate. It’s been very moving.

The rest of the day we sailed down the Seine and out into the sea enroute to the Schelde River and Antwerp.

It was stormy and the ship bounced around a bit. Now we’re almost there and the River is calm and wide, giving us time to process all we’ve seen. Half of us leave the cruise in Amsterdam on Monday so we’re also preparing goodbyes to people we’ve come admire and care about. Yet another gift of life on the road (or water, really)

Surprises

Sometimes, like the day we went to Mont-Saint-Michel, you don’t expect anything and are rewarded with beauty, magic and meaning. And sometimes you don’t get what you wanted but it’s really OK.

We meant to visit abbeys and chateaus but our guide was an Abbeys only sort of guy so we ended up at Jumieges Abbey about an hour and a half from Rouen. We found soaring beauty, like this archway. . .

And this Madonna , contemporary yet right where it should have been, in the Abbey Cloister, in the center, at the Abbey de Boscherville down the road, where she oversees a kingdom of her own.

saller — Abbey de Boscherville – Madonna

We learned a great deal about Benedictine Monks, monasteries, the politics of moving from the election of the abbot (chief of the Abbey) to empowering the local Duke to appoint him, (you can imagine where that led.)

And then there was the French Revolution. To us, that means guillotines and The Terrors. In fact, there was a clear political philosophy and plan that informed the cause before it got away from the thinkers.

Some of France’s basic principles of governance were, in fact, established by the revolutionaries, who fanned out into the countryside to create more than 90 “departments” through which to govern. Each was required to be no larger in circumference than the distance a horse could travel in one day. This kept the people close to, and invested in, their government. It also provided the government with ample intelligence on neighborhood issues and plans.

The churches also faced challenges. Each town had to choose: They were permitted only ONE church since there was only ONE city hall. It was unacceptable for the Church to overshadow the state by setting up small parallel governments in or sphere of influence.

And then we went to Honfleur, one of only a few towns in France that suffered no bomb damage during WWII. It’s had damage of a different kind, though — so many tourists — like Provincetown in August. We were ready to be snooty about the entire experience and then we came upon her:

Ste Teresa stone church honfleur — Sainte Thérèsa de Lisieux in the Wood Church of Honfleur

She is Sainte Thérèsa de Lisieux, a 20th Century girl who died of tuberculosis. Her sister wrote a book about her and her good deeds and she was canonized during the papacy of John Paul II. This shrine is in the Wood Church of Ste. Catherine in the middle of Honfleur and the church, and the haunting Thérèsa were worth the trip.

Saint Joan was there too, so I’ve put her photo below. Tomorrow Antwerp.

Saint Joan of Arc in the Wood Church of St. Catherine

Pilgrims and the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela

Pilgrims come here. They walk 100 km or bike 200 km in order to be certified as religious seekers. They walk slowly so they can think about their lives and their souls. They have been coming for centuries. It’s a beautiful old place, smaller than the grand cathedrals but fraught with meaning and swimming in ghosts and souls.

Why is this “porch” above the main section? So that pilgrims could sleep there and not have to pay for the privilege of coming from very far away to pray for forgiveness or a miracle.

The power of this place is exceptional. Statues that pioneer portrayal of textile surfaces for clothing, and statues with facial expressions. Golden altars, a bloody Christ, St. James’ beautiful silver coffin – combine to contribute to the soulful mystery that hovers over it all.

These columns, for example, are ornate and golden because they were meant to resemble those in Solomon’s Temple in Jerusalem. A saint sits atop two open-mouthed lions who represent the (sadly premature) celebration of human victory over sin. Moses joins the Apostles on the “Portico de la Gloria” that rises over the main entrance.

And is now, as are so many other wonderful historic locations, a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

It’s awesome no matter what brand of faith one carries to a visit here. It took centuries of prayer and construction and design and love to put this cathedral here and its power still surprises and moves visitors.

Welcome to the End of the World

It’s 3:30 in the afternoon and we’ve just returned from a trip to the barren cliff of Sagres, which was, until the 15^th century, the end of the world.

It was there that Henry the Navigator, the third son of King John of Portugal, sent the explorers he trained and financed out to explore what lay beyond the lands they knew.

It’s an inspiring story – a charismatic royal, never to be king, transforming Portugal and, really, the world. Sadly, all this wonder emerged despite, not because of, our guide. It’s tough to overestimate the power of a guide on a bus full of eager learners. She can seduce, enchant and mesmerize, or she can issue rote descriptions, lecture on the virtues of diversity to a crew of people who are on the trip because it’s what they already value, and, eventually, become toxic force within the community. And that’s what she was. Which wouldn’t be worth mentioning except that by the time we left the bus we were so bummed we were sniping at each other. Agitated and angry, disappointed and dismissed. OH and she forgot to show us where the statue of Henry was and wouldn’t turn around the one roundabout between us and his lovely presence pointing out to sea.

When you travel, every day is a jewel to be burnished, full of potential experiences and lessons and joys to share. So when someone violates the trust of leading this crew of nomads, it’s a grave offense, particularly painful in such a bleak, beautiful, Wuthering Heightsish landscape.

Fortunately, we rallied, went into the Portimāo for lunch, met some cool expats and saw trees wearing granny squares,

some crazy ceramic benches with one tale of the history of Portugal illustrated on each one and a couple of really interesting political posters. Tomorrow: Lisbon!

Bruce, Sting, Tangier and Us

Amazing day. Of course Rick found Said (center,) the guide who worked with Bruce Springsteen and Sting during the 80’s Amnesty tour. He was a trip and a pleasure. Tangier is not as romantic or exotic as I had expected but it certainly was interesting.

It was May Day so lots of things were closed including the famous, visited-by-George-Washington American Legation Building. Morocco was the first country to recognize the new United States in 1777 so it would have been cool to go inside the place so long a part of our shared history, but this country has a real workers’ May Day and public buildings are all closed.

The holiday also meant no garbage collection so the streets were kind of scruffy, too.

tangier synagogue edited

We went to see the old Sephardic synagogue but the guard had lost the key (seriously !) We did look in through the open windows though, which actually offered a pretty good view.

Oh, and in case I forgot to tell you , here’s a reluctant undertaking. For the record. Yes. Camels.

So Many Stories

dinner window 4-29 — Evening, out the window.

There are some amazing people here. Wander around looking for a poolside table for lunch and two people look up and say, “Join us.” They turn out to be a pair of characters with whom we share enormous common ground – in broadcasting, in travel, in life.

Go to Trivia at noon and be outclassed at every turn (an unfamiliar experience, I might add.) Meet two couples who’ve sailed around the world and several who’ve hit most of it. All full of stories and curiosity and an unfettered sense of adventure.

Spend a couple of hours on the private patio; wander upstairs to check out the gym and the spa then downstairs to the “book swap” to find an old favorite I would have rated “highly unlikely” to be along on a trip like this.

Then I met a Game of Thrones couple who had never heard of Hyperion and were thrilled when I went back to the give away and brought it to them. A perfect cruise reminder: never assume anything about anyone. Don’t.

I guess that’s true in general but out here on the sea it’s particularly so. Physical therapist or CEO, accountant or fashionista, nobody is predictable and almost everybody is as eager to meet you as you are to meet them. An openness to discovery – of new places, people, food, books and ideas dominates.

A lecture on tomorrow’s destination filled the large auditorium. It’s a kind of floating grad school dorm for grownups. In other words, as we move toward our first stop in Tangier in about eight hours, we’re a bunch of excited, curious, energetic travelers who also just happen to be living on a ship where this appeared at the foot of our bed tonight.

Yes, he’s a towel wearing Rick’s sunglasses and holding the info on our next stop in his paws. Goodnight for now, from Rick, me and the bunny.