Commentary: An Evening’s Education In Paris
By John Krull
TheStatehouseFile.comÂ
PARIS, France – The two young people settle into a table by the window of a café just across the Seine from Notre-Dame.
The man, an American, is the younger of the two. He has the determinedly unkempt look of the aspiring Bohemian. A wispy beard feathers his jawline. His button-down shirt is untucked beneath a light brown sweater.
John Krull, publisher, TheStatehouseFile.com
The woman is French and three or four years older. Her hair and makeup have been done with a subtle and assured touch. Every now and then, a hint of her perfume, something spring-like, floats over to where I sit, one table over.
Across the café, another man of my vintage, gray-haired with a light blue sweater draped over his shoulders, reads a tattered book as he drinks a glass of white wine. Before each sip, in a practiced gesture, he flicks his wrist to give the wine a little swirl. His eyes never leave the pages.
At the table next to him, two Asian teenagers – a boy and a girl – sit focused on an open laptop computer. Plates once filled with crepes have been pushed to the edges of the table to make room for the computer. Occasionally, they point at the screen and discuss something they see on it, their voices and language a kind of melody from a world away.
What are they looking at? Is it work or play?
There is something so seductive about people-watching in one of the world’s great cities.
The man with the book and the elegant swish of the wine could have been a figure from a hundred years ago. But the Asian youngsters with the computer are characters of this present age, reminders of the way the globe has shrunk, and time has accelerated.
At the table next to me, an ageless dance unfolds.
The young American leans forward toward the French woman. He speaks excitedly, determinedly, in French. The woman’s smile as he talks is warm, gentle, reassuring. When it is time to order, she is the one who catches the waiter’s eye.
The young man talks to impress her. He does not know that it is not his assurance that allures her. It is his innocence. He has not yet learned how to be indifferent. She is charmed not by how much he knows, but how eager he is to learn.
Whether he knows it or not, in this relationship, she is the teacher, he the student.
I chuckle to myself. Many – perhaps even most – men have been where he is now. His education into the joys and mysteries of life is about to be enriched.
She orders more wine. He leans back in his chair. She leans forward. Her tone is soft, intimate, kindly without being condescending. The young man smiles. His pleasure in her company radiates.
The evening has begun to fade into the night.
The older man with the tattered book finishes his wine, settles up and steps out into the dark. Asian teenagers stay locked on their computers.
The French woman signals for the check. The young American man pays the bill. They look across the table at each other and smile, then walk to the door.
Just outside the café, she starts to slip her arm in his. He turns toward her. They kiss, then walk into the night, arm in arm.
This world is in a constant state of revolution. The new and the old joust for attention and space every moment of every day of every week of every year.
So many things change.
Some thank goodness, do not.
FOOTNOTE: John Krull is director of Franklin College’s Pulliam School of Journalism and publisher of TheStatehouseFile.com, a news website powered by Franklin College journalism students.
oliday season.
