StanleyWheeler

A certain Duke of Normandy who moonlighted as the King of England  had a castle built upon a cliff towering over a great bend in the Seine. It must have been quite magnificent even during the 100 years war. Now, it consists of a formidable pile amid the ruined remnants of a once great wall. Imagine the smile of an old school hockey player who enjoyed chewing on gravel. There aren't many teeth left in that smile. The place is, nonetheless, beautiful. A small French town is literally nestled between the bend in the Seine and the white chalk cliffs. The ruins are  Le Chateau Gaillard, and the town(s) is (are) Les Andelys . We drove to the ruins from Amiens, having skipped my planned stop at Beauvais because the time was "Slip Sliding Away."  I had been to the cathedral at Beauvais many years before; that seemed like the best stop to eliminate. I'm certainly glad that we didn't skip Chateau Gaillard. It was one of the most picturesque places we saw...and w...

Daughters are strange and magical creatures. Absolutely nothing is more adorable than a baby girl. Whether she’s laughing, or staring questioningly from beneath the bowl of oatmeal that she has just poured over her head, she’s a tender, fragile, and lovable manifestation of the goodness in humanity. Unfortunately, she soon embarks upon a steady course to gradually, almost imperceptibly, shed all that is sweet and lovable. At thirteen, the slow process is rushed to completion; the slow melt becomes a deluge. Almost all that is sweet and lovable is swept away. A cold, barren, bitter blade covered with thistle, shrouded in a cactus, and wrapped in barbed wire remains. Fortunately, this state is only temporary. Once again, slowly, imperceptibly, sweetness, with an alloy of maturity, begins to accrue.  By the time she reaches sixteen, she shows definite human characteristics…many of which are good. She retains the light, doe-like grace of her early teens, adding to it the beaut...

It was black. It wasn't what I had ordered. I didn't care about the color. My order never specified the color. I had specified the type of car that I wanted. This was a KIA. I had requested fine European engineering. I got something from the land of fermented cabbage and cheap electronics. I told the girl at the rental company that it wasn't what I had ordered. She said this was a comparable substitute. I said it was fine. I was so excited to get behind the wheel to speed about the French countryside, that I might even have accepted a  Deux Chevaux  without objection. What did it matter if the car's make, KIA, was also an acronym for Killed In Action?  She said, "Baby, you can drive my car."  And that was enough for me. Perhaps I should've pondered those letters more closely. But I didn't.  It was just the three of us...me and two unforgettable babes...my wife, and the sultry disembodied voice of the Google Maps gal. We were on a road trip in ...

Sylvie called. She wanted to know where we were. I told her that we were at the chateau. She hadn't read my earlier email about taking the bus. She thought we were still at Pierrefonds. I told her we were in Compiegne. She said supper would be at 7:00 p.m. She would pick us up at the hotel. We needed to get back to the hotel to clean up a bit before Sylvie picked us up. We left the gardens. On our way back to the hotel, we stopped to explore a church. I can't remember now whether it was Eglise St. Jacques, or Eglise St. Antoine. We enjoyed the little detour, and following the directions from the Great and Terrible Google, we found our way back to the hotel. We had covered a lot of miles from Versailles to Compiegne to Pierrefonds, and back to Compiegne, but the best part of the day was yet to come. Sylvie had prepared a superb meal. She presented us with crab cakes and salad. We devoured that, enjoying every bite, and she raised the stakes with a very tasty and filling ...

In Compiegne did Louis XV a stately residence decree: Where l'Oise, the sacred river, ran through regions so dear to this man in the land of Picardie. We got off the bus in Compiegne at the palace, or Chateau de Compiegne . I had been there many years before. The chateau is tremendous inside; it is fabulous. I like it even better than the palace at Versailles. (There are a lot fewer people for one, and it has a lot of 1st Empire stuff which I enjoy, for another. Napoleon had the place restored and made it an imperial palace). We had hoped to be in time to tour the palace and then visit the beautiful and expansive gardens. And we nearly did. Did you ever notice that if you add the word "nearly" to a positive statement, it turns the statement into a negative. It's really just a softer way of saying something failed. For example, saying that a ballplayer nearly caught the ball, sounds much better than saying that he missed the ball. "Nearly" creates ...