Old friends--and Lille

Judy.  A few days ago someone posted on Facebook one of those quotes about friends you don’t see for years, but can pick up right where you left off. Do you know folks like that? Well, for us, Don and Catherine are those friends.

Don and Catherine in Lille, France

Ted first met Don when they were both working as civilians on an army base in Germany in 1974, and I met Don and Catherine when they stayed with us just as our daughter Leslie was born in 1979. I don’t remember how long they stayed, but they cooked and cleaned for us, while Ted and I bonded with our new daughter. It was a wonderful gift.

Since then we’ve seen each other maybe once or twice in the US, and four or five times when we’ve visited them in Belgium, Paris, or the tiny town of Quiévrechain in northern France, a stone’s throw from the Belgian border.

With Catherine in Belgium, 1984

We’ve both raised two kids, a boy and a girl, and now those children are grown and working in successful careers. We’ve retired, and Don and Catherine are on the cusp of retirement. When we see each other, we may touch on past visits, but rapidly move on to the present: our kids, Catherine’s taking her German students to Berlin, Don’s frustration with running a small business in France, our decision to become nomads, politics, organic versus non-organic foods—you name it, we’ll have an opinion.

They live with Catherine’s mom in a wonderful old house—actually two houses which have been melded in to one, which makes for crooked passages, stairs that go off in strange directions, and cozy rooms. Catherine’s dad was a German prisoner of war who fell in love with a French girl, and despite all opposition, married and remained happy until his death a few years ago. It’s one of the most romantic stories I know.

Both of them are quiet, Don more soft-spoken than Catherine. I’ve never known her not to be dressed to the nines and looking like a million dollars.

She’s also a terrific tour guide. Wherever we visit them, they take us to a nearby city for a taste of French life, and this time, they took us to the northern city of Lille. She carries with her a tour book and a notebook filled with trivia about the city we’re visiting: how the oldest building, from the sixteenth century is still used as an antiques book market; the fact that the Opera House, built at the end of the nineteenth century was designed to look like an eighteenth century theatre; that there are still cannonballs in the wall of a shop from the Austrian war. Everyplace is an adventure with her. And, invariably, she takes us to a teashop or restaurant that is representative of the area.

Lille,  Grand Place

Opera House

Cannon holes

While Don and Ted wander and talk, she takes my arm and we talk about—whatever—I’m not even sure what. But the talking never stops, and our laughter helps to cover the pain of knowing we’ll be leaving soon. Still, we know we’ll make time to see each other again, wherever we can meet. And we’ll pick up right where we left off.

Meert Tearoom