Perhaps the only thing that would have provided a better bit of symbolism for the start of the Roadie in Denver would have been a different car. The name: Ford Escape Hybrid provides its own bit of irony (or coincidence) for a 38-year-old American man driving around watching baseball in 2009, but a GMC Envoy may have been just one notch better on this night.
Some of my earliest recollections of the term envoy bring me back to the Reagan administration when it seemed like Jeane Kirkpatrick, James Baker, or Jesse Jackson was going somewhere, officially or not, trying to get things back to normal for the United States.
However, since I was not able to watch from the cheap seats and I was more enamored with the game up there anyway, I needed to get the Roadie back to normal and find another story to augment that of the charitable hawker. A stranger in a strange land had to deal with the changed initial conditions and now had five innings to act.
Merci, Poincare
The chaotic order of the Seven Game Roadie is probably not dissimilar to repeating the exercise with perfect strangers on airplanes, doctor’s waiting rooms, or bellied up to a bar. The people, topics, and time covered are all a result of the previous course of action.
Simply, it always changes. And I want it to always change. That’s my strange attraction to this; and in Denver, home to the very successful private software company, Quark, it makes sense to recognize, just what the hell is going on here.
I’d like to believe that the trip is a dynamical system unto itself, if not in the strict quantum physics definition. Were it not, I would never have met Bernard et Mireille.
Right, back to that sound that found my ears. A very nice woman two seats to my left, leaned in to tell her husband that her Cracker Jacks were “tres sucres,” or very sugary (sweet). Now, the thought of a French person eating Cracker Jacks is mind-blowing enough. She either knew what they were or she was immersing herself fully in the baseball experience. But that she found them sugary (literal: sucres) and not sweet (colloquial: doux) meant I had a live one.
During the next inning break I asked, “Tu parles francais?” We were off and running.
Thrilled they finally had a connection to what they were seeing in front of them, we got along well. They had absolutely no idea what was going on in the game. They were on vacation, a la the movie ‘The Holiday’ where an American and a Brit swap houses and find love. (Kate W., the house next door to mine in San Francisco is empty right now, just in case…)
Pour cinq semaines (five weeks), Bernard et Mireille would be in Boulder, while a Coloradoan couple enjoys chez eux (their home) in Montpellier – 168 km ouest de Marseilles – on the south coast.
Now, the last time I spoke French at great length was at a wedding in Napa, Calif. two years ago. The groom was born in Saint-Jean-de-Luz on the Atlantic coast, but was essentially raised in St. Louis, MO (a marvelous coincidence as I publish this story in that town). My wife and I sat with members of his family including son papa et sa grand-mere. It was a delight for me, et j’espere cet etais pour eux (and I hope it was for them too).
Bernard knew enough English to help me with my questions to him in French. The words were so difficult to recall. Besides, I can’t speak a lick of ‘baseball French’. This would have been handy. Memo to Coors Field: Get WiFi!!!
I finally had a chance to play ambassador in a baseball context. I was a special envoy for the commissioner conceived elsewhere, yet I had to confront familiar realities in a foreign context. Brilliant! I was able to get the basics across: 9 innings, no time limit, 4 balls, 3 strikes, 3 outs, fair/foul, runs. Double switches, sac bunts, and the 7th inning stretch were going to have to wait however.
Honestly, we spent more time talking about other things. They were the obvious strangers, but they fit right in. It was so enjoyable to get to know these people and see another part of the world from a different perspective.
Bernard enjoys mountain biking and Boulder is perfect for that. Their daughter is also traveling in the United States and is doing some things in that regard independently for the first time. They also love to ski (Bernard a snowboarder), but like me, they have yet to experience the Colorado powder.
Since everything was “on sale” for them they were paying for everything after euro conversion, I asked the only question I thought relevant outside of baseball suitable for this forum.
Les francais: Obama ou Sarkozy?
Obama.
If I understood him right, Bernard indicated that Sarkozy is more to the right than originally advertised. His attempts to revitalize the French economy may be taking them too far away from happy balance of the socialized plans of Mitterand and the pro-business Chirac. Mais, as advertised, anyone else different from Bush marche avec eux (is alright for them).
He was surprised to hear that Colorado went blue in 2008. He laughed out loud when I asked about the politics of his first lady, Carla Bruni. La reponse de Mireille etait parfait: Elle est tres jolie, non? (Mireille’s response was perfect: She’s very pretty, right?)
After the game we exchanged hugs, pictures, and parted ways. I am not sure that Bernard and Mireille will ever watch a baseball game again, but at least for one night they were digging something purely American.
We’re comin’ back, baby! There’s definitely some charm in that.
Note: For expediency, this entry was published originally published without proper French grammar and will be corrected.
Note. The Camus/L’etranger/absurd/existential angle was considered, but ended up on the editing room floor because the Heinlein/sci fi/quantum physics stuff was too good to pass up. Hope I did my physics-professor-uncle proud.
Papillon
Photo Credit: motleypixel, Flickr
Un autre papillon
