Before it Disappears

I've pretty much always liked the French. Having received an actual education that required copious amounts of reading history and philosophical treatises, I know all too well the French impression left on the world today.

Not all of it is good, or bad. And it would behoove us all to recall the simple fact that if it wasn't for the French, a la Lafayette, L'Enfant and Montesquieu, there wouldn't be an America. Certainly not like it is today.

Yes, we laugh and tease the French, call them "cheese-eating surrender monkeys" and say things like "Peugeot? Sounds like something I stepped in once."
But, at the end of the day, the Parisienne and the Lofty-Angeleno have quite a bit more in common than even they may realise.

Case in point: today I was in the old Terminal Annex USPS building in Downtown Los Angeles, California. As a point of reference this is the last remaining building in the Terminal Annex complex and is absolutely exquisite architecturally and also historically significant as it once housed the largest hand-sorting mail facility West of the Mississippi River. (If you are a Charles Bukowski fan, this building is right next door to the facility where Buk worked for almost 11 years sorting and is also the source for his first novel of experiences, Post Office.)

So, as I wandered in to mail my package I noticed a large group of people all taking photos and taking turns posing with the large building in the background and the beautiful full and enormous metal doors covered with brass fixtures glinting in the morning LA sunlight. When I got closer on my ascent up the stairs to the main entrance, I began to hear better the conversations going on around me and noticed they were speaking French.

All told, there were probably between 30 and 40 people in their group and they were stretched out liberally throughout the building and in line to mail their assorted trinkets and doohickeys back to their homes. When I got into line, a nice young man turned and faced me, "Bonjour. Comment ca va?" I said to him. "Oh! You speak French!" he replied excitedly.
Well, a little. "Un peu," I said. After we exchanged greetings we talked about their trip and all the fun they'd been having, and we became surrounded by 8 or 9 other visitors who were keenly listening in to our chat. I had to ask.

"So. Now that you've been here for a few weeks and been in various large cities and small towns, tourist destinations and freeway rest areas and everything else in between, What do you think of America and Americans?"

The responses surprised me to say the least. One gentlemen mentioned the fact that he found, "You Americans are very VERY clean. Everywhere we went, people were cleaning, had just cleaned, or were about to clean something. And when we saw something dirty, there was even a sign apologising for the inconvenience and saying something like 'Excuse our dirtiness' and explaining when it would be clean again."
I think he meant "excuse our Dust," but the point was well taken.

Another lady mentioned how B-I-G everything was, from cars to churches, bridges to bars, and especially the roads.

The first guy I was chatting with said to me, "I love America! That's why I came. I wanted to see it, before it disappears."

My jaw hit the ground. I knew what the man said, I had heard him very clearly. People around him began to nod. The fear that we feel in our hearts, that things are already past the point of no return and all that isn't uniquely an American opinion any more.

"Thanks, Pierre."