The Annual Village Community Newsletter

Our local newsletter, le bulletin municipal, is an annual publication that showed up in my mailbox at some point between December and January. Given that it’s marked Numéro 12, Année 2006, it’s apparently only been around this centuries-old village for the past twelve years.

In this latest edition -- which I’ve only recently opened -- the Mayor and the Conseil municipal present an administrative account of their activities on behalf of the village and surrounding hamlets during the year 2006 and send their meilleurs vœux for 2007. Some of the featured articles communicate information on the annual budget, expenditures, taxes, improvements made to local roads and community properties, social activities and volunteer work done by the inhabitants of the village and outlying areas.

There’s a page dedicated to entrepreneurs new to the community. The village’s one and only café changed hands this past year. A photo of the new owners, a young couple from Paris, headlines the short article announcing the changing of the guard. There seems to be some kind of buzz surrounding the former owners and their decision to sell. Now and then I hear, “The X’s don’t really belong here.” Whether or not that’s true, the X’s are still here. Since selling the café and the home attached to it, they’ve been living in a rental house just next door, while looking for another café they can afford elsewhere in France. Every once in awhile I hear one of the elderly women in the village declare in a lowered voice that “Their” rental contract is nearly up and that “They” will have to leave by the end of May because the property owner will be coming to spend the summer months in the house. The outgoing owners are ostensibly named a such, but that’s all -- no farewells, no well wishing for future ventures. The “best of luck” expressed is for the newcomers only. The three-line article is great reading, with an exquisite tension between what’s expressed and what’s omitted. The caption “Jeunesse et enthusiasme” above the new owners’ photo just begs to be interpreted.

Being an outsider myself, I can’t help but think of Dr. Seuss’ Star Bellied Sneetches, and a star on my belly I surely have not. This shortcoming doesn’t keep me awake at night, though; in fact, I feel that I’ve been warmly welcomed here. I was surprised when the conseiller fiscal at the Post Office, who’s French but not native to these parts, asked me a couple of months ago if I didn’t feel that the people here were cold and closed off. That hasn’t been my experience. However, when I mentioned the conversation to my partner, whose family has lived in this mountainous region for centuries, I learned then that the people who had so easily befriended me had come here themselves from other regions of France. According to him, the banker, who has since left, was right on the money. JP attributes the somewhat suspicious nature of the people here to the region’s history of religious conflict between Catholics and Protestants. I’d say it’s pretty common in small communities of all types and nationalities. We human beings seem to have a need to delineate “us” from “them” and to assure ourselves that “they” just don’t measure up to our standards. Montesquieu wrote a great little book in the 18th century called Les Lettres persanes that takes a serious yet tongue-in-cheek look at our perception of others and their cultures. From the viewpoint of Persians visiting France for the first time, Montesquieu criticizes French society and showcases just how relative one’s norms are – anyone who’s spent time in another country (with an open mind) knows that it’s a great way to clarify our vision of ourselves and our own culture. I highly recommend the Montesquieu book: even if you’re not into philosophy, it’s a fun read. Back to the bulletin…

...which tells us that the second 2006 arrival to the world of village commerce was our new electrician and handyman, a local fellow returning home after being certified in plumbing, heating, and apparently all things electrical and solar as well. His business card showcases a long list of qualifications and skills. This same kind of touché-à-tout may still exist in the USA, but my guess is that the American tendency to specialize has whittled the numbers down considerably. Here in this isolated mountain village, even the do-it-yourselfers were happy to see Joachim take up residence. The rest of us were ecstatic.

Next to the photo of Joachim on the job is a box marked “Quoi de neuf?" Inside the box are the following village statistics for 2006: 5 marriages, 3 deaths, 4 births.

The page that really caught my eye, however, is the one exclaiming Comité des Fêtes en peril! The Party Committee is charged with a serious mission: to keep alive the social life of the village. Last year one of the headlines congratulated the new Committee and wished its new President all the best. This year, with incredible understatement, the article announces that 2007 is looking dismal for the Committee… since the entire board has resigned. The French are discrete: there is no explanation. This is a very small community where nothing goes unnoticed or unknown, so there’s no need for an explanation anyway. There’s a call to fill the vacant seats, all six of them. In justifiably dramatic language -- there’s not much to do here without the activities organized by the Committee --, the stakes are laid out: the death of the Committee will entail the end of the chorale, the Nature Festival, Story Nights, the Folk Dance, the Belotes Competition, the fall Mushroom Feast. The Easter Egg Hunt will disappear and Father Christmas will no longer visit the children of the village. Two pages of photos of smiling villagers happily participating in these events during 2006 illustrate what we are on the verge of losing.

The village rallied and filled the seats, with the baker and his wife at the helm. They just pulled off a very successful and altogether fun Easter get together that included a terrific chocolate egg hunt. Religious rites and pagan tradition mix easily in this village: after church services, villagers and visitors alike took advantage of the occasion to mingle and catch up after a long winter, as the children scurried around the park looking for the chocolate eggs that had been hidden earlier that morning. Beverages of all kinds were sold for the modest price of 1€, after which dozen after dozen of eggs were cracked to make omelets for all present. This part of the festivities had been billed as a giant omelet, but when it came right down to the practical aspects of making an omelet for a sizable crowd, the giant omelet was transformed into many smaller ones. We all laughed about it and no one had a negative comment about the change in plans. I can’t remember ever having enjoyed myself more over a plate of eggs.