{"id":144,"date":"2024-10-21T09:43:49","date_gmt":"2024-10-21T09:43:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/?p=144"},"modified":"2024-10-21T09:43:49","modified_gmt":"2024-10-21T09:43:49","slug":"remembrance-day","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/remembrance-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Remembrance Day"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

T<\/span>he day is a popular holiday, especially when it helps <\/span>to prolong the weekend. It means that schools are <\/span>closed and people get paid for not working. To ensure <\/span>a good attendance, especially of the young generation who <\/span>is taken there by their teachers, the \u2018Commune\u2019 organized <\/span>the celebration a day early. L\u00e9onine, who had sung with the <\/span>choir while I was with Mme El, reported it was a great success, <\/span>especially given the glorious weather. She looked very smart <\/span>in her black trousers and white top and the blue choir scarf to <\/span>crown it.<\/span>
I wondered to Mme El what benefit the dead had from all <\/span>that. She said spontaneously that they deserved it, didn\u2019t they <\/span>die for us?! Yes, but what does it actually do for them? She <\/span>shrugged her shoulders.<\/span>
Mme El has lost an old friend, Rona, one year younger, in a <\/span>neighbouring village, with whom she used to \u2018do the pig\u2019, that <\/span>is make sausages and all the rest on the annual slaughtering <\/span>day of the home-fed animal, most people had one at the time.<\/span>
This lady died suddenly when getting a piece of meat down the <\/span>wrong channel. \u2018Suffocated! \u2019 L\u00e9onine told me impressed and <\/span>she thought it was quite a horrible death, she wouldn\u2019t want <\/span>her mother-in-law to suffer it, yet is she not in just that danger?<\/span>
Does she not stuff both cheeks with food? It annoys L\u00e9onine <\/span>no end. Gerrer has warned his mother since, I understand, <\/span>and she, L\u00e9onine, has personally entered the death in Mme <\/span>El\u2019s diary in capital letters, refraining, however, from stating <\/span>the cause. Things never happen the way one expects them to, <\/span>\u2018destiny, that\u2019s what it boils down to, isn\u2019t it?\u2019. L\u00e9onine looked <\/span>blank and then asked me to come in the morning of next day <\/span>instead of the afternoon, which would enable her to take <\/span>part in the funeral, help with the mourning, \u2018faire le deuil\u2019, for <\/span>she has known the lady for as long as her mother-in-law, she <\/span>claimed, but I don\u2019t see how that is possible.<\/span>
Mme El for one is glad it\u2019s not her, but only her friend from <\/span>early on and for as long as they could ride a bicycle given the <\/span>distance between the two villages where they lived, one here, <\/span>one there. After that they never met again because friends <\/span>and family didn\u2019t bother to provide transport, nobody cared, <\/span>she said shrugging her shoulders, \u2018es atal\u2019. The friend is gone, <\/span>now, and \u201cmay she have to wait for a long time before I join <\/span>her\u201d, Mme El laughed, je \u2018m\u2019accroche! \u2019 \u2013 I hang on!<\/span>
Two months later Mme El was disturbingly lively, even <\/span>having written voluntarily a few sentences into her diary, <\/span>L\u00e9onine informed me. As soon as I sat down Mme El told me <\/span>she hadn\u2019t been able to sleep during her siesta because she <\/span>had to think about Rona all the time. She said she was dead, <\/span>it had happened two months ago, but it made no difference <\/span>since she was very much alive for Mme El, almost as though <\/span>she was present, all the things they used to do together only <\/span>yesterday and had she been buried in the right place, she <\/span>wondered, there, by the wall, next to the little one, a child of <\/span>hers who died when aged four. I hear that Rona had wanted <\/span>a proper family grave, did she get it? Mme El was indignant <\/span>at the thought that she might not have done. At this L\u00e9onine<\/span>
came in and I asked her about it. Of course, they have their <\/span>own burial site, a big one, she informed me. Mme L went on <\/span>talking about things from Rona\u2019s life, her going to \u2018Allemagne\u2019 <\/span>\u2026 L\u00e9onine interrupted her sharply: Alsace is not Germany, it <\/span>is the \u2018East of France\u2019! Mme El looked defiant, but kept her <\/span>mouth shut.<\/span>
She sees her son through the open door as I am leaving and <\/span>remarks about his hat to me. He hears it, shrugs his shoulders <\/span>and moves out of her sight. L\u00e9onine says her mother-in-law is in <\/span>a \u2018delirium\u2019, confused, erratic, full of ill will. Mme El confounds <\/span>time past and time present, it\u2019s like one for her, everything <\/span>together. She sees so vividly how she was guarding the cows <\/span>with Rona for company. Other pieces of memory: Didn\u2019t she <\/span>have to go to Pamios (Pamiers) now, back to the rest home <\/span>there? I tell her that she stayed for recovery in the old hospital <\/span>seven years ago, the rest home she knows is in Mirepoix. She <\/span>remembers this and remarks that she is comfortable there, <\/span>\u2018je suis bien l\u00e0\u2019. Her nose is running and like in old times she <\/span>reaches for a piece of kitchen roll to wipe it, which she is not <\/span>supposed to do, for the paper will go into her pocket and from <\/span>there into the washing machine, causing a nuisance. The tip <\/span>of her nose is itchy, she wonders why. Funnily enough, mine, <\/span>too, for weeks already.<\/span>
Mme El is combative: \u2018Je ne me laisse pas abattre!\u2019, I won\u2019t <\/span>be knocked out. It had taken all my diplomatic skill and body-<\/span>language to prevent a forceful outbreak by L\u00e9onine who had <\/span>caught from a corner of her eye or ear, as she was leaving <\/span>the room, having served us hot drinks with a stern face, an <\/span>offensive hand-movement or sound from her mother-in-law.<\/span>
A few tense seconds before the door finally closed and Mme <\/span>El gleeful. I told her that L\u00e9onine would remember, but she <\/span>couldn\u2019t give a something.<\/span>
\u2018The voice!\u2019 Mme El says to me. First time she mentions it.<\/span>
Personally I had been thinking for a long time that I wouldn\u2019t <\/span>be able to stand it. With its stridency, a sharp metal blade, <\/span>it could well damage one\u2019s ear-drums, especially at close <\/span>quarters, if not pierce the closed new double-glazed window, <\/span>for it is audible outside in the road. Incredibly loud and <\/span>downright painful. I had to refrain from putting my hands on <\/span>my ears.<\/span>
Mme El was complaining about her ears: she doesn\u2019t hear <\/span>any more the not very shrill telephone in her room. I tell her <\/span>that everything is being worn down and out in life: ears, eyes, <\/span>limbs, anything, and she\u2019s eighty-nine\u2026 She nods. I say, isn\u2019t <\/span>life like a clock: wound up when you begin and then steadily <\/span>winding down, until it comes to the final stand-still. Finished.\u00a0<\/span>
Cemetery.<\/span> She<\/span> laughs<\/span> spontaneously,<\/span> nodding,<\/span> but<\/span> says <\/span>nothing. I challenge her a bit more: What do you think of this <\/span>life? What is it worth? She turns serious and shaking her head <\/span>with determination \u2018Je ne calcule pas\u2019 \u2013 I don\u2019t ponder over <\/span>these things.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The day is a popular holiday, especially when it helps to prolong the weekend. It means that schools are closed and people get paid for not working. To ensure a good attendance, especially of the young generation who is taken there by their teachers, the \u2018Commune\u2019 organized the celebration a day early. L\u00e9onine, who had […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-144","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/144","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=144"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/144\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":145,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/144\/revisions\/145"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=144"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=144"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.d-c-k.com\/mme-el\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=144"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}