Le Collier: Mom receives a symbolic necklace
Thursday, January 16, 2025
A story of old friends and the necklace that connects them--and all of us.
TODAY'S WORD: LE COLLIER
: necklace
A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse
When our friends Charles and Martha arrived from Florida, they came bearing gifts: bottles of wine for Jean-Marc, Worcestershire Sauce and giant jars of beurre de cacahuète for the family, and a whimsical necklace for Jules. “Hopefully we’ll see her tomorrow …” our friends hinted.
“Oh,” I stammered, “I hope so too!”
I pictured my mom, next door, hiding beneath a pile of covers. Ever since she came to live with us, nearly seven years ago, she’s enjoyed the comfort and privacy of her little studio. Thinking of Mom’s quiet life now, it’s hard to believe how many challenges she’s faced in the past...
At 16, living in Utah, she was kicked off the cheerleading team and out of school for getting pregnant. There followed divorce and years as a single mom (in which she briefly remarried in time to have me, in the Philippines). In Phoenix, where she brought us up, things didn’t slow down when Heidi and I flew the coop. Mom left her job at the ski shop to work herself to the ground in real estate, where she became a top seller. Burnout came after she married her fourth husband who was as in dire straits as she once was. Mom lost everything when they moved to Mexico and her husband sold sandwiches on the street. John (author of “Barefoot in Yelapa”...) went on to sell time shares, managing to build a nest egg before he passed on.
No sooner had her husband died than the landlord raised the rent, forcing Mom out of the condo they had shared for years. Next, she learned her marriage license was not filed after the ceremony, therefore she was not legally married and would not benefit from her “husband’s” social security.
How did Jules react to all of this? Même pas peur! Not even scared as the French say—Mom’s cup of faith always runneth over. Fearless (and probably in shock), she immediately rented a shack with a corrugated steel roof in her housekeeper’s neighborhood on the outskirts of Puerto Vallarta—the slum to some, a heavenly jungle to Jules. In no time, the neighbors became her fifth husband: the support and love she needed--if not the complete protection...
No matter how strong Jules was, she was vulnerable. After the roof fell in she moved up the dirt road, dotted with pigs and chickens, only to be robbed while building her new nest. After that, troublemakers camped outside her door, blaring music all night. Finally, it was all too much. Mom agreed to move in with us here in France.
Initially, just like back in Mexico, Mom enjoyed the occasional ”people spree”—brisk outings in which she met a few locals—but she always looked forward to returning to her quiet refuge, a former garage around the corner of our house. (We converted it beautifully before her arrival, but she jokingly tells everyone she lives in a garage–even though she considers it paradise.) For years Jules has embraced this tranquil space, preferring only to see close family members. While we all respect Mom’s wishes, we try to encourage her to sortir. Back now to our story....
After delivering Charles and Martha’s gift to Mom, I added, “They’d love to see you…” With that, I left Jules to open her present, fancifully wrapped from the Galeries Lafayette in Paris. The next evening we gathered with Charles and Martha for dinner and lively conversation. As we listened to our guests recount their trip to Paris and St. Remy de Provence, I enjoyed the contrast in the couple’s accents: it’s “north meets south” with Charles’s Boston brogue and Martha’s Alabama drawl. Charles, especially, has a way with words; his colorful speech includes the playful use of terms like “folksies”…you folksies, we folksies, which I find amusing, though when he says “brain fart” it makes every hair on my neck stand up. I guess that makes me a word prude. I was about to admit to as much... when all eyes suddenly darted to la baie vitrée.
There stood Mom with her dazzling sourire, waving for me to hurry and let her in. She was dressed in her silver All-Star high tops, black slacks, and a black cashmere turtleneck. Worn by Jules, a plain woolen cap took on the elegance of an exotic turban. Around her neck, an eclectic string of…wine corks… It was the wonderful necklace our friends had offered her.
If Mom had come this far out of her comfort zone this was serious business. “Charles,” Jules began, “I am here to tell you what an important role you have played in Jean-Marc’s life…you are like a big brother to him!”
As Mom addressed Charles, I thought back to our first meeting via email: Charles was a reader of my French Word-A-Day newsletter, having found it through Adrian Leed’s Nouvellettre. He signed up to my journal thinking a few extra French words wouldn’t hurt as he was headed to France to explore more vineyards.
Back in 2007, Charles, retired from the IRS, was studying to be a sommelier when he contacted me. Did I know anyone with a wine connection to the Rhône? Did I? We were on the verge of moving to Sainte Cécile-les-Vignes, where Jean-Marc had found a vineyard. I put the two men in contact and before you could say vendange! Charles became our first partner. (We needed several to secure le prêt bancaire.)
Only, months before our first harvest, which he was dying to attend, Charles had an unexpected quadruple bypass surgery! This did not stop him from boarding a plane, soon after, in time to begin harvesting. That’s when Charles became Jean-Marc’s right-hand man, Jean-Marc became “Chief Grape” and Mom, who flew out from Puerto Vallarta, became our resident cheerleader in what was one of the most intensive harvests of our lives as grape dwellers.
When Charles returned from la vendange, still kicking after all he put his post-op heart through, he proposed to Martha, his sweetheart. Soon we had the chance to meet Martha, and happily adopted her into our hearts, too!
Back in our living room, gathered around the fire, I sat admiring my beautiful mom who had settled beside me on the couch. “I couldn’t find my earrings,” she smiled. No problem—the avant-garde collier de bouchons tied her outfit together nicely, just as it had pulled us together for a long overdue toast to our friends. Seeing Jules wear that whimsical necklace with such flair was a reminder of the love and effort it takes to show up—for each other and for the moments that matter.
Having thanked Charles and Martha and, after several hugs and kisses, Mom slipped away, returning to her cozy studio to be surrounded by her books and her paintings. She carefully hung her new necklace on the lamp near her bed, where she could remember all the folksies out there who care so deeply for her.
That necklace will always be a precious souvenir of our eternal connection. Like Jules, we all need our space and privacy, a buffer zone represented by the corks strung between the shiny perles. Those shiny beads, like Charles and Martha, are the lovely people we encounter in life. And the string is the mysterious force–l’amour–that ties us all together. We can rest assured that whether we stay in or venture out, we are never truly alone; even more we are loved and remembered.
***
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Related stories:
"My beau-père passed away"
The wine cork necklace, strung over a lamp Mom brought in her suitcase all the way from Mexico. You should have seen what else she managed to pack!
FRENCH VOCABULARY
Sound File: Click here to listen to Jean-Marc pronounce the French and English words below
le collier = necklace
le beurre de cacahuète = peanut butter
sortir = go out
même pas peur = not even scared
la baie vitrée = sliding glass door
le sourire = smile
le sommelier, la sommelière = wine steward
la vendange = grape harvest
le prêt bancaire = bank loan
le collier de bouchons = wine cork necklace
le souvenir = reminder
la perle = bead
l’amour = love
Mom, in her cozy studio, with Ricci.
Jean-Marc, Ricci, and Charles in La Ciotat, after lunch at the delicious Molto Mucho restaurant in the little square Sadi Carnot.
REMERCIEMENTS
Heartfelt thanks to the readers who contributed after my last post. Your support means so much and helps keep this journal alive and thriving—I couldn’t do it without you!
John M.
Judy W.
Charla C.
Marcy W.
Gwen Y-S
Ophelia P.
Cynthia R.
Michael H.
Marilyn W.
Roberta M.
Kathleen L.
The ORIGINAL CORK NECKLACE
Do not miss the story of another cork necklace, a veritable work of art given to us by Charles and Martha's dear friend, Nan, years ago. Click here to see it!
In the opening photo, from years ago, notice Mom's fish purse on the table. Here it is again. She got it in Mexico a long time ago. Recently, we took it to the cobbler, to replace the zipper. Good as new.
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For more online reading: The Lost Gardens: A Story of Two Vineyards and a Sobriety