It has been a couple of days since my sisters and their husbands left Paris. David and I were grateful to have a chance to get to know Larry, Rebekah’s husband, since he is new to the family.
In a nod to his German lineage, one of Larry’s favorite sayings–and several decibels louder than his normal voice– is “Vhat is zee meaning of zhis?” Before the week in Paris was up we would, of course, be speaking this particular brand of German with him.
He picked up our restaurant tab so often that Joan and Tom took to calling him “Dad”. Since David had learned a little German in college albeit 43 years ago he decided to show off and call Larry “Mein Vater” (my father) but instead called him “Mein Führer”, in the restaurant where we were dining. So not cool.
Quite by coincidence we had another German encounter when we bought a Berlin embroidered hat at a flea market along Canal Saint Martin. We had gone there to eat on a Sunday when the streets are closed to automobile traffic which makes for a pleasant stroll along the canal. The hat is for my 4-year old great-nephew, Fox. I hope he likes it (though I know he’s not a communist).