Step back in time to midsummer in Paris, 1945. After five years of German occupation, the war in Europe had ended. Paris had been liberated the previous August.
At first the city was full of joy again. Despite the Bavarian corporal’s orders, it had not been burned and was full of lights again.
Despite it, by summer malaise had a grip on the city. There were still shortages of everything, tourists had not yet returned and there was political uncertainty. Those who remained in Paris were tired, frustrated and depressed.
“We went through so much for what?” some asked. “This is not the Paris we once knew.”
One day a plain-looking woman with a common name, Marie, did something to lift neighbors’ spirits, buying a six-foot-long baguette and putting six bottles of cheap wine into a basket.
Then she set out walking through the streets, stopping whenever she saw someone to offer them fresh bread and a bump or two of wine from the bottle. She kept doing it, day after day.
People were caught off-guard by Marie and offerings. Smiles and “mercis” (thank yous) followed. Recipients were still smiling as Marie headed down the street for the next person.
People began talking about the bread and wine lady. The gendarmes questioned her about her about her motives. Marie explained it was her gift to thank people for their strength and survival, their unity and resilience.
Others began imitating her, sharing bread and wine with strangers on the street. Paris started coming back to life again.
Such simple acts of love and kindness built on the pleasure of serving others mean a lot even now.
The great Covid shutdown caused many dis- and miscommunications. So has our preoccupation with electronic devices rather than making face-to-face connections.
Sometimes, while waiting for my wife Pat, I see almost everyone, including couples, exercising their thumbs on devices; no one talks to anyone else. It’s not good for us as a nation. We seem to have lost the initiative to launch projects, even simples one like Marie did, on our own.
Perhaps it’s because authorities — ranging from political leaders to “influencers” — want tight control over everything. For them, every idea and thought has to go through a committee or two, be endlessly discussed, reconsidered and modified, and maybe put into action. Or, to block it, they find a clause or rule in their Best Practices manual.
Had that happened to Marie, her bread would have gone stale and wine turned to vinegar. So much for lifting spirits.
We’ve become intimidated by cancel culture’s broad umbrella. Nuts to that. As the Dowager Countess said in in the British drama series “Downton Abbey,” “Just because you are offended does not mean you are right.”
Her attitude might have worked a century ago, but today anything that can be construed as offensive goes directly to social media. Then come trolls who claim it is racist, gender-insensitive, ageist, lookist, ableist or something else.
Marie the Bread Lady had a heart of compassion and gratitude for others. In winters my nephew, who has a snow blower on his garden tractor, is the first person up and about, clearing off the sidewalk and all of the neighbors’ drives.
The world needs more people like them, willing to do something kind for others.