Route Inondée

Some general observations, nothing profound:

• Many French people burn wood for heat. I noticed this in the Vosges Mountains and also along the banks of the Meuse, where I am presently. The air is redolent with the smell of a wood fire and there are chimneys everywhere smoking lazily.
• I am amazed by the presence of moss in a lot of places. Moss on the trees, of course, but also on stone walls, concrete telephone polls, etc. The colors are vibrant: bright green, tumeric yellow and mushroom brown.
• As is usually the case when I'm in Europe, I am struck by the ancient and the old being smack up agains the modern. In the city of Toul yesterday I saw a medieval tower against which had been built a building in the 18th-century against which in turn had been a built a building in an art deco style of the 1930s. Most of the farm buildings I've seen have to be at least 2o0 years old or more.
• The Meuse and many other rivers/creeks have overflowed their banks due to melted snow and rain. This is normal, I guess, for this time of year, but it's a little disconcerting to me. Many smaller country roads are closed because of flooding.
  

On Saturday the weather cleared up considerably. There were patches of blue amongst the clouds and I could see the mountaintops. The temperatures were higher than they had been; the thermometer in my car didn’t keep warning me about the dangers of ice!

I decided to take advantage of the clearer skies to visit the Epinal American Cemetery and Memorial on a bluff overlooking the Moselle River. There is a family connection buried here--a cousin by the name of Edward A. Everett. Known as Ted, he was my mother’s first cousin and her favorite, according to her. Tenderhearted, artistic and fun to be around, he was killed on October 2, 1944, just a few days after the Americans liberated Remiremont and Epinal from the Germans. He couldn't have been more than twenty-two. He survived marching up the boot of Italy and invading the south of France, but died somewhere near the Moselle. Naturally, I never knew him, but grew up around his sister and brother who live on still.

When I pulled up to the visitors’ building at the cemetery, it was obvious I was the only visitor. There was a bright-eyed American named Shane in the office who offered to show me to Ted’s grave. Shane had been in the US Air Force but now works for the American Battle Monuments Commission. As we walked we talked about my grandfather project, about Ted Everett, the cemetery and World War II. Shane had thoughtfully brought along a bucket of sand and a wet sponge. He explained that by rubbing sand into the inscription on the grave marker the lettering stands out much more than the bare marble. I was grateful for the extra attention this young man gave me.

Due to a miscommunication (my fault) I had to spend Saturday night at another chamber d’hote, but the cultivatrice Bernadette Desmougin helped me by finding me a room with a colleague down the road. This new host provided a great meal Saturday evening for a reasonable fee. All the food for the meal was either grown in their own garden, preserved by them in some way or purchased locally. This is very hard to do in New York City.

Sunday I left the Vosges and made my way in the northwesterly direction to the department of the Meuse. I stopped in several towns where Grant had been in 1917-18: Neufchâteau, Gondrecourt-le-Château and Vaucouleurs. I'm in Joan of Arc country town; strange that Grant doesn't mention her in his journal. I'm staying just up the road from the place where Joan claimed to have received a message from God to save France from the English. There's a basilica on the spot. One may also visit her birthplace.

I'm spending three nights in an 18th-century bourgeois house in a tiny town called Maxey-sur-Vaise. The family that runs the chambre d'hote welcomed me warmly; they don't get too many visitors in February. I have a little apartment all to myself with a separate entrance. Yesterday evening they invited me to dine with them and it was fun. We discussed the region, history and politics while eating, what else, quiche lorraine!

Today I am off to see several places where Grant found himself in the spring and summer of 1918.