PARTY OF ONE

I read an article the other day that included a “Loners’ Manifesto.” So, I made a note to write about it because I can be a reluctant socializer. Steve was the same way. We both preferred staying home. Now that he is gone, I am still a reluctant socializer. From time to time, I have thought that I should “link and connect”. So I have joined some local expat groups, like The American Club of the Riviera and International Women’s Club of the Riviera. I’m often secretly pleased when social plans are called off. Sometimes, I just don’t go. I am not much one for “hanging out”. I love silence. Maybe a little classical music, but I always like silence. And small talk gets boring. So, I can relate to author Anneli Rufus, who recounted in Party of One: The Loners’ Manifesto:

“When parents on TV shows punished their kids by ordering them to go to their rooms, I was confused. I loved my room. Being there behind a locked door was a treat. To me a punishment was being ordered to play Yahtzee with my cousin Louis.”

Asocial tendencies like these get a bad “rep”. But there are a lot of us who simply prefer being alone and like “alone time”. AND, there is emerging research that suggests there are upsides to being reclusive – finally. YES!!

One key benefit is improved creativity. Gregory Feist, who focuses on the psychology of creativity at California’s San Jose State University, has found that personality traits commonly associated with creativity are receptiveness to new thoughts and experiences, confidence, and possibly “a preference for being alone”, thus having a lesser interest in socializing in order to spend time alone working on his/her craft. Solitude allows for the reflection and observation necessary for that creative process. It does for me. That doesn’t preclude being with others. I simply prefer being alone Both. That gives me just enough interaction.

PLUS, solitude is important for mental focus. The brain’s state is of active mental rest without distraction. Day-dreaming and giving free rein to a wandering mind not only helps with focus in the long term but strengthens your sense of both yourself and others. Nurturing a few solid relationships without feeling the need to constantly populate my life with chattering voices ultimately may be better for me. YES!

And, some thoughts that have given me pause this week (Thanks to the original posters on Facebook):

Craig and Jean are in town. YES! And, my second knee replacement surgery is in a week from Thursday!! Look forward, not backwards. Let go. It’s all good.

Best, Jay

Wonderful Moments aka Miracles!

Today is one of those wonderful moments when the weather, the world, and the apartment are all going haywire, but that is OK!! My son and daughter-in-law are coming to Nice!! He and Jean will only be here for a few days, but that is OK. I can’t do what I used to be able to do, but that is OK. My apartment is not as clean as it should/could be, but that is OK. I look like a mess – my hair needs color, my nails need work, my weight needs work, but that is OK. I feel like a mess, but that is OK. I am concerned about the upcoming surgery in two weeks and my frustration with using a cane, but that is OK. I don’t think they will like France, but that is OK. I will (try to) listen more and talk less (with my usual opinionated conversations), and I may fail, but that is OK. No matter what happens, it will all be OK. He is coming. It has been a difficult time for me. It has been a difficult life for him. It has been difficult for Jean. I’ll admit it. But, we are all OK. He is alive, and Jean is alive, and Tyler and Jamie are both OK. Somehow, we have all made it to this point in time. And, we are going to have one wonderful weekend together in Nice, France (of all places) I am very grateful and feel very blessed. Just a word of encouragement to those of you who feel despair. Hang in there.

Say out loud what you want to happen. Then, let go. REALLY let go. Nothing to lose. Well…… maybe. But, the French say, “C’est la vie!”

Best, Jay

UP THE HILL!

The Park. The Monastery. The garden. The ancient city. It is all there – up the hill from my house. A mere bus ride away. In the park, there is a track that circles it. Runner, walkers, bicyclists, all use the track. And, in doing so, they pass the remains of the ancient Roman city of Cemenelum, at the heart of a splendid olive grove. The Matisse Museum is also there, as well as Matisse’s grave. Matisse is buried in the Cemetery next to the Monastery, which is next to the Park. And, next to all of it is one of the most beautiful Gardens that I have ever seen with roses galore!!

When Steve and I moved there in October 2015, little did we know how we both would come to love it! It became “home” to us, and we were happy. Little did we know that the Universe had other plans for us. Before my move down into town, I spent two wonderful years by the park. I went there almost daily. But, since my move, I have hesitated to revisit. Why? I am not sure. It is a mere bus ride up the hill.

On Friday, I went back for a short visit. My new knee doctor’s office is up there and also the anaesthesiologist’s. Also, the new hospital – St. George, and the Convalescence Center – La Serena. It was a beautiful day, so I got off the bus at the Park and went to the Cafe to get a sandwich after my appointment with the anaesthesiologist. It all felt very familiar. And, sad. Yet, wonderful. Emotions galore! I started taking photos. YES! I remember doing this! YES! I wanted to visit the garden, but I will have to save that for another day. Walking is still a work-in-progress. Stay tuned. Here are some of my favorites…..

It was wonderful to be back!! And, while there, I realized that I have moved on. Really moved on. I now have new dreams and plans and new things I love and want to do. That said, I will ALWAYS love Cimiez and Steve. SO, I got my camera handy so that I could take some photographs. It is time to “get a grip”. Let go of “knee-jerk reactions”. Get use to taking pictures with a cane. It is still going to be around a bit longer. AND, time’s a-fleeting. AND, no one is coming to save me – literally, not aesthetically. Damn!

I love trees. Always have. Anyway, it was fun to be there with my wonderful memories. More to come.

Best, Jay

ACTIVE OR PASSIVE VOICE – PLANS!

This is one of those days when I will write something, but as I start this blank document, I am not sure where this post is going. There are a LOT of things I DON’T want to write about, so let’s see what I include. For no good reason, I feel good this morning. That makes me happy just because it makes me happy. I still am having difficulty walking, so it will be an “at home” day, which is just fine with me. I LOVE having nowhere to go. It gives me a chance to write in my Journal, contemplate the Universe, and contemplate life in general. Plus, I have a hot cup of coffee and a fresh croissant and Missy to keep me company.

AND, my mind – which never stops. Haha. It is cloudy and sprinkling rain. A perfect day to write.

Life in Nice has taken on a “normalcy”. Is there such a word? I am accustomed to “my neighborhood”, and shopkeepers now smile and wave. Many times, someone I know says, “Bonjour. Ca va?” That means “Hello, how are you?” I reply, “Ca va bien, merci.” That means, “I am fine, thank you.” Then, I say, “Et vous?” (“And you?”). “Bien, merci.” Lots of “merci’s” and “bonjour’s”. After that, you are on your own because I am still working on understanding the French language with the weird pronunciation of everything. I would understand more if the person would write it down, and I could see what they are trying to say. Needless to say, I read it better than I can understand it. I can speak it better than I can understand it. That is a “work in progress”.

I haven’t written much about my knee because – first of all – it is not interesting, and – second of all – it is so distressing to me. Would this have happened in the United States? I don’t know. Would Steve have died in the United States? I don’t know. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. We were/are not in the United States, and I don’t plan on coming back any time soon. Sorry. I like it here in France. BUT, I need to be able to walk!! For those of you who don’t know, I had knee replacement surgery on September 27, 2018, and the orthopedic surgeon I used was highly recommended by my GP (General Practitioner). And, when I asked others, people said he was excellent. NOT. Maybe he is excellent for others. But, for me, an 82-year-old woman (sigh), he put a prothesis into my knee for a much younger person. As a result, it is 13 degrees off. My right leg turns out and is shorter than my left. I look “lame”. I am “lame”. It must be replaced as soon as possible because I am doing damage to my legs whenever I walk.

Oops. I just talked about what I was NOT going to discuss. But, you can see how disgusting this is – that I must do the SAME surgery twice because the first doctor was —- what? Lots of questions. Did he know and do it anyway? Did he think he was doing it right? Did he not get that memo? What? In the U.S., I would see if I have a lawsuit. Not so fast in France. Plus, it takes money to sue. And, I don’t think that doctor intentionally put the wrong prothesis into my knee. He was happy and said, “SUPER!” because my knee has great flexibility. It does! I can bend it great. I just cannot WALK! (Ugh.) No fun. (sigh)

SOOOOO, at a time in my life when I need to maximize every moment because EVERY moment is precious, I am being taught “patience”. Ugh. I am not a very patient person – you may have noticed. I want to go on my SeaTreks. Dine at the Cannes Film Festival. Explore castles with lots of steps. Swim in the Sea. Take a train to Monaco for the Grand Prix. Explore and move to Paris. (Don’t worry, I will still visit the Sea a LOT!) You get the picture. So, I don’t have a lot of fresh pictures to show you or exciting topics for blog posts. And, I don’t think many of you care what I think about things. Haha. Besides, I am not sure what I think about any of this. “So, what do you do?”, you ask.

I meet fun friends for lunch at favorite restaurants. I watch what I eat and drink because I still have to get myself and my cane back home. And, doing hair and makeup gives me reality checks galore. Haha. But all that is doable. One of my favorite Michelin restaurants is “Le Bistro Gourmand”. I went there this week with my good friend Cynthia. Great food, good atmosphere. And a few current pictures with the obligatory “selfie”.

I post post-it’s all over the apartment to encourage me – “TAKE ACTION!!”, “DO IT ANYWAY”!! Notice how all post-it’s are in “Active|Voice”, not “Passive”, e.g. A Plan Made or Action to be Taken!! (Note to Self: Practice using sentences in the Active Voice. Avoid Passive Voice whenever possible. “I did it!”; not, “It was done by me.”)

I work a lot at my computer, practicing law – Active California Law license, Current Law Clients and Cases and Entertainment Law Contracts, and continuing education as required by the California Bar (practicing law from Nice and eventually from Paris), Blogs, French, Research.

I work on my next book with a working title of “After Steve Died”, transcribing and adding to my Journal notes that I wrote from August 31, 2016, up to this morning. I write in it every day. I won’t change any names – like in “Journal of Janet Tallulah, Volume 1”, so my thoughts might offend some people as they did before. Well, Breaking News!!! I am entitled to my OWN thoughts and refuse to live to please other people. Period, end of story. But, I plan to “temper” what I say. In “Journal”, I did a literal translation of what I thought at that point in time (50 years ago), and it did not go well. As the French would say, “C’est la vie!”. “Journal” has since been “tempered”. The original one remains in my computer files, in the “Journal of Janet Tallulah, Volume 1” folder. (sigh)

I followed the Cannes Film Festival. It just ended. I cut and pasted this from an article I read and don’t know who wrote it. I went back to get the author’s name to give credit, and I could not find it. So, the Author is Unknown. Sorry. Here are the winners. Wonderful international filmmakers. Future Plan: Attend. Participate!

“The 72nd Cannes Film festival had lots of big names: Tarantino, Almodovar, Malick. In the end, Alejandro González Iñarritu’s jury opted for the smaller names, women, and the issues of poverty, displacement, and inequality.

Not that South Korea’s Joon-ho Bong is small – he’s a four-time winner of the Busan Film Critic Association and a five-time nominee at Cannes. And, this year, he led the pack, taking the Palme d’Or – the first for his country- for Parasite, the story of a poor family who gets entangled with a wealthy clan.

The Grand Prix went to Cannes’ first black female filmmaker in the history of the festival – Mati Diop and her Atlantics, which focuses on the broken lives of refugees. The Jury Prize was a tie between Ladj Li’s Les Misérables – another take on the plight of displacement and what awaits refugees on the outskirts of big European cities, like Paris – and Kleber Mendonça Filho and Juliano Dornelles’ Bacurau, a dystopian thriller about hunting poor humans for sport.

Brazil had a particularly good year on the Croisette, with Karim Aïnouz taking the best film award at Un Certain Regard for his The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão, and the Mendonça-Dornelles duo scooping the Jury prize – a bright, encouraging moment in a dark time for arts and culture in the country, under the new administration. Presenting a tie for the jury prize, filmmaker Michael Moore told the crowd, “Trump is the lie that enables more lying.”

The acting awards went to Little Joe’s Emily Beecham and Pain and Glory’s Antonio Banderas. Banderas dedicated his award to Almodóvar, saying “People think we live in a red carpet, but it’s not true. We suffer a lot, we sacrifice, and there is a lot of pain behind an actor of any kind. But there is also glory, and this is my night of glory,”

Writer-director Céline Sciamma received the screenplay award for Portrait of a Lady on Fire, which explores art through the female gaze. The director award went to Cannes darlings Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne for another refugee tale, Young Ahmed.

The Camera d’Or for first time director went to Guatemalan Cesar Diaz for his drama Our Mothers, about an anthropologist searching for his father in a country torn by civil war.

Iñárritu’s jury that included French author-artist-director Enki Bilal, French director Robin Campillo, Senegalese actress-director Maimouna N’Diaye, American actress Elle Fanning, Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos, Polish director Paweł Pawlikowski, American director Kelly Reichardt, and Italian director Alice Rohrwacher.

COMPETITION

Palme d’Or: Parasite, Bong Joon-ho

Grand Prix: Atlantics, Mati Diop

Director: Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne, Young Ahmed

Actor: Antonio Banderas, Pain and Glory

Actress: Emily Beecham, Little Joe

Jury Prize — TIE: Les Misérables, Ladj Ly; Bacurau, Kleber Mendonça Filho

Screenplay: Céline Sciamma, Portrait of a Lady on Fire

Special Mention: Elia Suleiman, It Must Be Heaven

OTHER PRIZES

Camera d’Or: Our Mothers, Cesar Diaz

Short Films Palme d’Or: The Distance Between the Sky and Us, Vasilis Kekatos

Short Films Special Mention: Monster God, Agustina San Martin

Golden Eye Documentary Prize: For Sama

Ecumenical Jury Prize: Hidden Life, Terrence Malick

Queer Palm: Portrait of a Lady on Fire, Céline Sciamma

UN CERTAIN REGARD

Un Certain Regard Award: The Invisible Life of Eurídice Gusmão, Karim Aïnouz

Jury Prize: Fire Will Come, Oliver Laxe

Best Director: Kantemir Balagov, Beanpole

Best Performance: Chiara Mastroianni, On a Magical Night

Best Screenplay: Meryem Benm’Barek, Sofia

Special Jury Prize: Albert Serra, Liberté

Special Jury Mention Joan of Arc, Bruno Dumont

Coup de Coeur Award: A Brother’s Love, Monia Chokri; The Climb, Michael Angelo Covino

DIRECTORS’ FORTNIGHT

Society of Dramatic Authors and Composers Prize: An Easy Girl, Rebecca Zlotowski

Europa Cinemas Label: Alice and the Mayor, Nicolas Parisier”

-AUTHOR UNKNOWN (sorry)

I think plans at necessary to stay engaged in life. Maybe not for others. For me. YES! It is easy to stay home, spread doom and gloom, stay in bed until noon and watch soap operas. Ugh. No, I plan to move to Paris, get an agent, get new head shots, and explore the international film industry! At the same time, I will practice law in the U.S. from a Paris address. Ok, OK. Maybe these are pipe dreams, but I am entitled to my OWN pipe dreams. I will NOT retire and move into a comfortable apartment with a big patio and room for a garden in the South of France and contemplate the Sea. (Sigh.) What is wrong with me? Well, choose the uncomfortable. Otherwise, I will just sit down, have a bunch of knee surgeries, feel sorry for myself, not get fat from the tiny portions of delicious French cuisine they serve here, and drink French wine. Enjoy life and good friends. Haha. Spare me that comfort!!! (Just kidding!)

See. I told you we would enjoy a few minutes together – that is, if you have read this far. Meanwhile, I am looking forward to seeing my son Craig and my daughter-in-law, Jean, in 3 weeks.

After that, I have plans………. Stay tuned. I will close with a thought for today.

Best, Jay

A FAVORITE THREAD – CARTOONS & COMMENTARIES

I love to write this thread of posts. It is fun!! And, I can hide behind the cartoons to make my comments about a lot of the things I am currently observing on and off the news and/or the internet. At this point in my life, I am not up to a lot of confrontations. I have enough confrontations right here in Nice, adapting to the French way of doing things and trying to communicate to solve problems. But, that has nothing to do with my passion for all of it! The good news is that my brain is very active and my memory is excellent!! And, I have excellent friends who are engaging in their conversations and inspiring with their knowledge of the world. And, I am looking forward to more of that in the days and years to come “if the Good Lord’s willing and the crick don’t rise….“

Anyway, a moment of reflection – my 1955 graduating class at GHS (Gainesville High School, Gainesville, Georgia) still meets every month for a breakfast get-together. They are all full of vim and vigor!! Witty and laughing a lot – the ones who are still around! I sometimes receive a classmate’s witty emails of an upcoming breakfast at Longstreet Cafe. This month, I received a commentary that I have read before, and I think is fun. Yes, I remember all of this. I am not saying it is good or bad. Just – that is the way it was, growing up in a small town – which I did. So, it is going into my “Commentaries” part of this post. The actual author of this piece is unknown.

TO ALL OF US WHO SURVIVED THE 1930�s, 40�s, and50�s!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank-While they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn’t get tested for diabetes.

Then, after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs

Covered with bright colored
Lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets,
And, when we rode our bikes,
We had baseball caps,
Not helmets, on our heads.

As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes.

Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar.
And we weren’t overweight.
WHY?
Because we were always outside playing … that’s why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day…

And, we were OKAY.

We would spend hours building
Our go-carts out of scraps and
then ride them down the hill,
Only to find out that we forgot about brakes. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.

We did not
Have Play Stations, Nintendo
and X-boxes. There were
No video games,
No 150 channels on cable,
No video movies
Or DVDs,
No surround-sound orCDs,
No cell phones,
No personal computers,
No Internet and
No chat rooms.
WE HAD FRIENDS
And we went
Outside and found them!

We fell out of
trees, got cut,
Broke bones and
Lost teeth,
And there were
No lawsuits
From those accidents.

We would get
Spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping-pong paddles, or just a bare hand,
And no one would call child services to report abuse.

We ate worms,
And mud pies
Made from dirt,
And
The worms did
Not live in us forever.

We were given
BB guns for our 10th birthdays,
22 rifles for our 12th, rode horses,
made up games with sticks and
tennis balls, and
— although we were
Told it would happen- we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes
Or walked to a friend’s house and knocked on the door or rang the bell,
or just walked in and talked to them.

Little League had tryouts
And not everyone
Made the team.
Those who didn’t
Had to learn
To deal with
Disappointment.
Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out
If we broke the law was unheard of …
They actually sided with the law!

These generations have
Produced some of the best risk-takers,
Problem solvers, and
Inventors ever.

The past 60 to 85 years
Have seen an explosion
of innovation and new ideas.
We had freedom,
Failure, success and responsibility,
and we learned
How to deal with it all.

If YOU are One of those born
Between 1925-1955, CONGRATULATIONS!!

– Author Unknown

And, now for some of my Cartoon Non-Commentaries!!!

And, now you know a little bit more about me. I know, I know – not that you asked!!! But, I had fun! Hopefully, you found a chuckle or two. Lots is going on around town – the Cannes Film Festival; the Monaco Grand Prix!!! Yellow Vests galore! I have been to Cannes (2017 and 2018), and I went to the Grand Prix with Steve (2016). I am studying the Cannes Film Festival online (I am a member of a Facebook Group) to get familiar with these fascinating international personalities and longing to go back into acting (not that I ever left) and to go back to the Grand Prix on Race Day!

Stay tuned…… Sending love…..

Best, Jay

A COMING-OF-AGE STORY! HaHa!!

First of all, a SHOUT-OUT to all us mothers – Happy Mother’s Day!! That said, those of you who know me, know that I have wanted to speak French since I was at the University of Wisconsin in spring of 1956, taking a class in Conversational French. AND, if you think I am bad now, you should have heard me THEN when I was speaking “Southern” in the Mid-West, much less French Well, I am now into my fourth year in Nice, France, and I STILL am struggling with French. I thought by now I would be fluent. NOT. But, I am better than I was when Steve and I arrived on October 1, 2015. Now, I can “get by”.

This week, a friend of mine in L.A., sent me an article, written by a friend of hers, that was published in the Opinion Section of the New York Times. Her friend had actually gone to school in France – her father was in the Air Force! I LOVE this article. I am sharing it with you – lifelong learners that we are!! I now know that I “have gone native” because I really feel bad about my French!

Why It’s So Hard to Learn French in Middle Age

I knew I’d never sound like a native. But shouldn’t I be much better than this?

By Pamela Druckerman, Contributing Opinion Writer

April 30, 2019

PARIS — When Notre-Dame burst into flames, I turned on the French TV news and realized that I had little vocabulary for either fires or churches. Whole sentences about collapsing spires were unintelligible to me.

This happens a lot. When I moved to Paris in my early 30s and started learning French practically from scratch, I knew I’d never sound like a native. But I envisioned a hero’s journey in which I struggled for a few years, then emerged fluent, or at least pretty good.

Fifteen years later, I’ve made strides, but they’re not heroic. I’ve merely gone from bad to not bad. I can usually follow the news, handle transactional conversations and muddle through any situation. Interviewing people is fine, because I’m mostly listening. If required, I can read French books.

Yet my French is still riddled with gaps and mistakes. When I try to tell a story in French, I sense that the listener wants to flee. ThingsI’ve done recently to avoid writing formal letters — a staple of French administrative life — include not reporting a slow leak in my bathroom and not filing for possible medical malpractice. Shouldn’t I be much better by now? Why is language learning so difficult?

Hoping for an expert opinion — and perhaps some expert solace — I phoned Joshua Hartshorne, the director of the Language Learning Laboratory at Boston College. The sorry state of my French doesn’t surprise him. In a paper last year on which he was a co-author, based on an English grammar test taken by some 670,000 people, he found that — even for children — learning a language takes much longer than I’d thought. Children need seven or eight years of intensive immersion to speak like a native. These years must start by about age 10, to fit them all in by age 17 or 18, when there’s a sharp drop in the rate of learning. (He’s not sure whether this drop is caused by changes in the brain or in circumstances).

And native speakers keep perfecting their grammar into their 20s. They reach a level called “asymptote,” when they’re not getting noticeably better, by around age 30, the study found. (But vocabulary peaks at about age 60, according to a study in Psychological Science. That’s probably because native speakers have had time to accumulate lots of words, and they haven’t started forgetting them.)

What does this mean for someone who started learning French in her 30s? Dr. Hartshorne says my language-learning ability had sharply declined by then and was getting worse each year. In his study, nonnative English speakers who had been immersed in English in their late 20s made only slightly fewer grammatical mistakes than native speakers in preschool.

And though I live in France, I’m not immersed enough. I use French for work, but I speak lots of English too, including with my kids and husband. I don’t have an “école horizontale” — a romantic partner with whom I speak only French.

I’ve tried to compensate by periodically taking French courses. And most mornings, I circle unknown words in Le Monde, then transfer them to sticky notes above my desk. But I recently discovered three notes reminding me that “ras-le-bol” means “fed up.” “Nothing seems to work as well as just speaking the language all the time,” Dr. Hartshorne said.

You can learn basic grammar and vocabulary at any age. That explains my “good enough” French. But there’s also an enormous amount of low-frequency words and syntax that even native speakers might encounter only once a year. Knowing any one of these “occasional” words or phrasings isn’t essential. But in every context — a book, an article or conversation — there will probably be several. They’re part of what gives native speech its richness. In other words, no matter how many sentences I memorize or words I circle, there will always be more. “You can get pretty good pretty quickly, but getting really, really good takes forever,” Dr. Hartshorne explained.

And your peak level might not last. I used to interview people in Portuguese; now the language merely sounds familiar. Most of what remains from three years of Japanese is a haiku I learned for extra credit in high school.

Confidence matters too. It doesn’t help that with French, I’m studying a language that’s considered such a treasure that it’s presided over by a group known as “the immortals”.

Dr. Hartshorne also points out that native speakers have exceptional precision. Even someone with 99 percent grammatical accuracy sounds foreign. He guesses that I have about 90 percent accuracy, which shouldn’t feel like failure. “Imagine if you decided you were going to pick up golf in your 30s, and you got to the point where you could keep up in a game with professional players. You’d think that’s actually really good. But for some reason, just being able to keep up in language feels not as impressive.”

At least my struggle probably has health benefits. A study published in the journal Neurology found that being bilingual delays the onset of dementia by four and a half years. Another study found that bilinguals were better able to recover cognitively from a stroke. And I revel in small triumphs, like discovering that a woolen ball on a sweater is a “bouloche” (I learned this recently from my dry cleaner) and that French Jews and Christians use the familiar “tu” when addressing God. There’s also the pleasure of realizing that a French hypochondriac is merely a “hypocondriaque.”

Often I can improvise. When my kids brought home notices telling me to check their hair for “poux” (pronounced “poo”), I correctly deduced that it meant lice. But later, in a first-aid course, I was perplexed when the instructor told us to immediately check an unconscious person for “poux.” (He demonstrated this by leaning over the mannequin’s head). It took me a while to realize that he was telling us to check for “pouls” — a pulse, pronounced identically.

I should probably accept that my French will never spark joy in anyone else. It’s part of accepting, at midlife, that I’m subject to the same rules as other people and that there are things I won’t do.

But I still expect to get much better one day. It would be hard to live here if I didn’t. I recently read an article — in English — claiming that many French people find their own language difficult and are convinced that they speak it poorly. Perhaps feeling bad about my French is proof that I’ve gone native after all.

Pamela Druckerman is a contributing opinion writer and the author of “There Are No Grown-Ups: A Midlife Coming-of-Age Story.”

P.S. I am past “midlife”. But, you already know that!

BEST, JAY

THIS IS MY WORLD AND WELCOME TO IT!

Yesterday was France’s “Labor Day”, aka La Fête du Travail. It was a day when I did a lot of nothing. A meeting with my landlord in the morning, but after that, a lot of nothing. It was a public holiday and a key day for the celebration of workers’ rights all over the country, especially in Paris. With that in mind, President Emmanuel Macron’s “zero-tolerance” approach to the Yellow Vests anti-government movement’s massive demonstrations all over France with possible violence, was tested with an overabundance of security. Nice had its own demonstrations. I stayed home to celebrate. Other than disrupt traffic and stop trams and busses, people in Nice don’t get too upset over much of anything. There were some drummers on the Promenade. Lazy warm spring day…..

May Day is also the day when “muguet” (lily-of-the-valley) is sold everywhere. Vendors are out on the streets selling small bouquets of the pretty little white flowers on bright green leaves. I got me some in the grocery story. It was prettier yesterday.

This is what it should look like….

This is particularly traditional in Paris and in the Ile-de-France, but it all started with King Charles IX who was presented these flowers on May 1st in 1561 and decided to present them to the ladies of his court every year on this same day. About 350 years later, it became just the thing for the men to adopt the idea and express their affection for some lovely lady with a bouquet. It is a public holiday, and banks, post offices, stores, etc., are closed, giving their employees the day off. May 1st became a special holiday in 1919 when they first introduced the eight-hour work day. During World War II, the Vichy Government called it “La Fête Internationale des Travailleurs,” but between 1944 and 1947 it wasn’t celebrated at all.

The month of May is full of holidays in France, starting with May 1^st. Then, there’s May 8th, Victory Day (Fête de la Victoire), celebrating the end of hostilities in Europe in World War II. May 10^th is Ascension Day and May 21^st is Pentecost. These religious holidays are celebrated since France is such a Catholic country. Mother’s Day is May 26^th, but it doesn’t count as a public holiday. Don’t expect to get much done in the month of May because a lot of places are closed because people are doing what they call here “faire le pont” — bridging from the holiday to the weekend to extend time off from work. And, it all started yesterday.

Which brings me to Breaking News!! I must have another knee operation!! Why? You ask. What happened? Well, here is the long story short. Before I went in for my six-month check-up with my knee surgeon March 21, 2019, I had a knee x-ray. There it was. Confirmed. Something was wrong. It was obvious from the x-ray. At my appointment, I told my doctor that something was wrong, but he disagreed. He told me to flex my knee (it flexes perfectly). He smiled and said, “SUPER!!”

No. It was not super. Something was wrong. I just KNEW something was wrong. I told people early on that I thought something was wrong, but no one believed me. “Give it time!” “It is just swollen.” “Walk more!” I waited. I walked. I exercised. I went to a physical therapist regularly. And, the more I did, the more I was convinced that something was wrong. I could not walk without a limp and, usually, a cane.

So, on March 22, 2019, I got the name of another orthopedic surgeon and resolved to get a second opinion to look at the x-ray and, hopefully, tell me that I was wrong and that my knee was fine. A friend gave me the name of another doctor who had a good reputation working with sports injuries. I had to wait a month to get in to see him. I thought that was a good sign.

I went to see the second surgeon a week ago, on April 24, 2019. I was/am right!!! Something is wrong. I have the wrong prothesis in my knee for a woman of my age (82). The one I have is for a much younger person. It is 13 degrees off and turning out. It must be replaced. And I am doing harm to the tendons when I walk. Ouch!

So, I must go through this process a second time. Needless to say, I am still processing this information. After a panic attack the next day, I am slowly getting used to the idea. I have commitments until the end of June (my son Craig and my daughter-in-law Jean are coming to visit!!! Can’t wait!). So, after that…. Wait for it!!! Pollyanna, here:

“With everything that has happened to you, you can either feel sorry for yourself or treat what has happened as a gift. Everything is either an opportunity to grow or an obstacle to keep you from growing. You get to choose.” – W. Dyer— (compliments of my son Blake and his wife Joy)

Or Annie’s sun that will come out tomorrow…..

BEST, Jay

SOME PÂQUES THOUGHTS – 2019 IN NICE, FRANCE

At this time of the year, I find my soul searching for answers – something definite that I can hold onto. And my mind works overtime, waiting for the rest of me to catch up. (sigh). So, today – a férié in France (holiday), I decided to write this week’s blog. And, I am filled with more questions. What?? Write about what? I wanted to write about things that are in my heart, but there are so many there, I don’t want to choose just one. I want to choose twelve or fifteen or twenty-four.

No way. Not doing that. So, I will tell you about how I am spending some of my time this Easter season. I am taking action. How? By continuing to let go. That is not easy for Ms. Control- Freak, here. Haha. As many of you know, I have saved things from Day 1 “because I might need it one day”. Now, I am trying to “let it go”, whatever it is. For me, that means many things. Yet, I see that as the best way for me to go to experience rebirth at this joyous age. Hold onto those things in my heart that mean a lot to me, then let go of the rest. Create the void. Make room for the new – whatever that turns out to be. I have a list, but as Steve always said, “If you want to make God smile, tell Him your plans”. So, I am posting favorites from the past few weeks. Many thanks to the Facebook posters, whoever you are.

Love from Missy!!

And, a thought to leave you with …

BEST, JAY

THE JOURNALS

OK, this is more than you ever wanted to know, AND more than I ever thought I would expose. It is true confessions combined with book promotion. Haha. Grab a coffee! Here goes…… When I was in my 30’s, I moved from a relatively small southern town in Georgia to Los Angeles, California. July 1968. All hell was breaking loose in the world. No matter. I was consumed with trying to find a reason to live. I can give you the reasons that I believed at the time and that I told everyone, but the real reason motivating me was that I was very unhappy. I wanted to die and had fantasies of throwing myself out a window or out of the car. I did not really want to die. I wanted change. Change of everything I knew at the time. I won’t bore you with what I had come to know, but I will tell you about my attempts to change.

First of all, I discovered that I could not “change” without “changing. Haha. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? Like, “duh”. No. Rather like, how? I did not know. At that time, I knew nothing about much of anything. I had lived a comfortable – rather sheltered – life. Now, if you had told me that then, I would have tried to argue you down. Not true. I had traveled. I had gone to the Midwest to college. I had experienced life in its entirety. NO! NOT TRUE!!! I knew nothing. OK, maybe a little. But, not much.

It became especially painful when Gregory Peck helped me to get into The Actors Studio and my acting coaches did not know what to do with me. I was very uptight. That is how it began. As time went on, I began to change. Verrrrrrrry slowly. First, I tried gestalt therapy. And when my therapist asked me what made me happy, I didn’t know. I said, “snowflakes, the smell of jonquils, and the smell of fresh-mown grass”. And, in 1969, an acting friend introduced me to Ira Progoff, a leader in a journalistic approach to depth psychology. He had studied with Carl Jung. At the time, that meant nothing to me. I just knew that I was unhappy and making my family unhappy. Oh, great! Ugh. I had succeeded in making ALL of us unhappy. Not funny!!!

I started going to weekend retreats every now and then in San Jacinto, California. People were very patient with me and my naivety. My acting coaches were very patient with me and my naivety. Little by little, I began to change. And, I began to keep a journal. I vowed to write a book one day. Maybe I could help other desperate women and/or men see a way out of unhappiness.

Many years later, in 2012, when I was 75, I published my first journal “Journal of Janet Tallulah, Volume 1. In it, I used real names. It was a literal transcription of what I had written when I was 33. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect what happened as a result of that publication!

Needless to say, it was a negative reaction from people I had known all my life because I had used real names. I lost many “friends” as a result. So be it. It wasn’t about them. It was about me. But, I was not deterred. It has now been carefully edited for the time being. The good stuff is still there.

I then wrote Journal of Janet Tallulah, Volume 2. Every time I edited something out, I felt like I was “betraying” the integrity of my Journal. But, I did it anyway. As I said, the “story” and good stuff is still there. And real names.

Then, I wrote “Janet Tallulah”, combining the two journals into a unified whole, adding material to flesh it out, and showing how I was jumping out of the frying pan into the fire while beginning to “make it” professionally in film and television. Ugh. What painful, wonderful memories.

Oh, to be young again!!!! Haha. “I told you so”. Sound familiar??

I am very proud of my Journals . Many readers have told me how much they have enjoyed reading them. I agree. I still enjoy reading them.

In total, I have written and published seven books: The three Journals (listed above); “The Origins of George Bernard Shaw’s Life Force Philosophy”; “Moments in Time”; “Capturing Beauty”; and “JAYSPEAK on the Cote d’Azur”. In paperback and e-books. I am currently working on another book, with the working title “After Steve Died”. It will be based on the journal notes that I have written here in Nice, France, since August 31, 2016, the day that my life took an about-face. Reminds me of “Hedda Gabler” – for you theatre history folks.

“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” ― Gilda Radner

BEST, JAY

REMEMBERING Agnès Varda

In the 1980’s when I was working as an actress in film and television in Los Angeles, I joined Women In Film. During my active time as a member, I served on the Board of Directors and ran for President against Marion Rees!! Needless to say, she won!!! Haha. But, I did it anyway. I met many wonderful women during my time there, many of whom I remain friends with to this day.

Currently, I am still on the mailing list and get emails regularly about all the amazing women in film as our presence in the Industry grows and grows!! YES!!! This week – yesterday, in fact, I received a well-written piece about Agnès Varda that I want to share. It was written by Laila Hashemi, WIF Development and Communications Coordinator. Since I now live in France and am becoming more familiar with French film, I have received several articles about her from contacts in Paris and Nice. I particularly like this one. Enjoy and learn about an amazing woman who penetrated the “glass ceiling” before the others!!

“This was the first photo I saw of Agnès, and it struck me instantly. A woman operating a camera, standing on a man’s back. I was introduced to her films in my high school French class and decided that I wanted to be a filmmaker as well. This experience, significant in my life, is shared by many women who were similarly inspired by her.

Just days before the end of Women’s History Month, we lost a pioneering female filmmaker. On March 29th, Agnès Varda passed away at her home in Paris. This week, we celebrate her 64-year-long filmmaking career, which charted the course for generations of female filmmakers that have followed her lead.

Commonly referred to as the Mother, Grandmother, or Godmother of the French New Wave, Varda was undeniably a trailblazer; the only female filmmaker during the influential film movement of the 1950s and 1960s. “I know I was a pioneer,” she told The Hollywood Reporter in November 2017. “I made a radical film [La Pointe Courte] in 1955, and what they called the New Wave started in ’59, ’60, those years. When I made my first film, I was out of the world of cinema and I didn’t know anybody around and I didn’t even see film. So out of the blue I invented the film, and I succeeded to make very little money, but it was something I wanted to do.”

LA POINTE COURTE came out five years before the debut of films widely recognized as New Wave classics, like François Truffaut’s THE 400 BLOWS or Jean-Luc Godard’s BREATHLESS. While the movement challenged form, narrative, and cinematic style, Varda’s male contemporaries maintained tradition in their depictions of women. Cinephiles, too, traditionally revered the work of these male directors, who achieved more fame and financial success. Varda spoke about being omitted from history books and from special issues of Cahiers du Cinéma, the hallmark publication dedicated to French cinema. “I was just plain forgotten,” she said. She kept going even if, as she admitted in 1986, with each film she had “to fight like a tiger.”

Varda was a driving force of feminist filmmaking, creating a female cinematic voice and giving agency to her female protagonists. Her 1961 film CLÉO FROM 5 TO 7 gives its female protagonist her own vision and agency, rather than a typically objectified portrayal through a male gaze. Varda’s 1977 film ONE SINGS, THE OTHER DOESN’T explores the budding feminist and pro-choice movement in France through a lifelong friendship between two women.

Perhaps her most feminist work is VAGABOND from 1985, a drama about the death of a young female drifter, dirty and wandering around with a tent on her back, de-fetishizing the female body from the male perspective. Of her protagonist in VAGABOND, Varda said, “In all women there is something in revolt which is not expressed.”

Varda became more widely-recognized in the U.S. in her later years. In 2017 the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences awarded her an honorary Oscar—the first to salute a female director—for “compassion and curiosity [that] inform a uniquely personal cinema.” A few weeks after receiving that honor at the Governors Awards, she was nominated in the Best Documentary Feature category for FACES PLACES, making her the oldest person ever to be nominated for a competitive Oscar at the time.

We were privileged to honor her at the Women In Film Oscar Nominees Party last year. This class photo, taken that evening, feels especially symbolic of her impact. Agnès, standing front and center, surrounded by a group of female filmmakers who are also being celebrated for their achievements in filmmaking. Surely, in the ’50s and ’60s, Agnès would be the only woman in that photo. Women in the screen industries would not be where they are today had it not been for the the path that Agnès led with her will and her art.

For me, Agnès is cinema personified. What I’ll continue to celebrate and admire most about her is that her films are so uniquely her own and challenge what can be possible in the medium. With each film, I’m looking through her eyes, and I can see her calculated influence through every shot and movement. In her autobiographical documentary THE BEACHES OF AGNÈS she says, “In here, it feels like I live in cinema, cinema is my home. I think I’ve always lived in it.”

Her legacy, her light, and her force survive her. Thank you, Agnès.

“Life is short, the ephemeral is everywhere, so we go on making art.”

All the best,

Laila Hashemi
Women In Film
Development and Communications Coordinator

Best, Jay

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