French la Vie

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6 responses to “Christmas Past: Memories of Christmas in France”

1. martina

   08 December 2014

   Someone should make a movie of your early years in France. The visual of very pregnant you dragging that tree around Paris and up flights of stairs is quite charming.

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2. g

   08 December 2014

   I adore this story and revel in the grit determination love and joy it contains not to mention the sense of humor-TELL US MORE– TELL US MORE-every stinkin’ detailI could listen for hours upon hours-

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3. Sharon Mattern

   08 December 2014

   Great story of that Christmas tree. My Christmas tree story ends with me covered in poison oak!

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4. Betty Carlson

   08 December 2014

   My first Christmas living in France was in 1990, in Albi.
   I was so totally depressed by the lack of anything festive. We got a tree somehow, but I remember it was quite a feat. I also remember going out looking for some Christmas decorations, and ending up buying a pathetic little wooden goose thingy to hang on a drawer for the outrageous sum of 60 francs!
   And I was also 3 months pregnant and wondering what Christmas was going to be like for my future child.
   I’m glad France has cheered things up a bit for Christmas since then!

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5. WR

   08 December 2014

   I look forward to spending Christmas in Cotignac one year. Looks like our children may not always be with us, one in Chicago the other maybe in Toronto.
   Winter in Provence is calling, calling.

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6. Diogenes

   09 December 2014

   Corey, in your recent post, you asked if we had any Christmas stories to share. The one that comes to my mind took place when I was about 6 or 7 years old.
   We were living in Dallas then, and the houses all had alleyways with the garages in the back. My father had just bought a 1962 Ford Falcon coupe, sky blue. He always parked the car in front of the house on the street; I guess he was proud of it. It was a beauty and oh so sporty.
   On Christmas day that year, as usual, we got up early, dragging our parents our of bed at 5:30 am to open presents. After a few hours my father decided to take a drive in the new car…because after all, it was Dallas and 65 degrees on Christmas day. He went out to the front of the house and the beautiful blue Falcon was gone!! Gone!!
   My father came back inside and got ahold of the Dallas Police right away. They came out and filled out a police report for the stolen car; they sat in our living room in their blue uniforms, amidst the Christmas wrapping paper that we kids had thrown everywhere. The day had taken on a serious tone.
   Before they left, the police took a walk around the outside of the house to see if the thieves had also tried to break and enter. There were no other signs of foul play.
   Later in the day, my father, downcast, went into the garage to throw away the Christmas wrapping paper and there was his car parked inside. Apparently, mom and dad had a little too much eggnog at a Christmas party the night before, and this one time he had parked the car in the garage where it belonged! Neither of them had any memory whatsoever of doing so.

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