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| Photo by Trish Hooper |
And from our archives: excerpts from Janet Hulstrand's journal from the first workshop.
DAY ONE March 23, 2008
The group has arrived in Essoyes for the first Writing from the Heart workshop.
It's Easter Sunday, early this year, and they are greeted with a beautiful,
wintry scene.
When I awoke this morning the ground
was covered with a thick, wet snow, perfect for snowballs. By noon most of the snow had melted, the sun was out, the
sky was blue, and the spring flowers were shining through the snow.
It is a dynamic group and geographically diverse, having come from California, Wisconsin, Washington D.C., and Vienna
(Austria), with a variety of agendas. One woman, a short-story writer, is curious to learn whether her father, who served
as a doctor in the U.S. Army during the liberation of France in 1944, may have spent time in this very village. Another, a
woman who spent many happy years in France in her youth has come here to work on the autobiography she is working on for her
grandchildren and for everyone else too; a third wants to find a way to turn her graduate work on the work of Murray Bowen
into a "user-friendly" format that will help ordinary people better understand his theories about the functioning
of family systems and thereby change their lives for the better. Another has only been to France once before for a brief
visit, and doesn't know what she wants to write. But a voice keeps whispering in her ear that she ought to write something.
What courage and imagination she has shown in coming here! How lucky we are to have her...to have them all, really.
DAY TWO March 24, 2008
A rich, full, magical day. The participants have already sunk into the kind
of amazed contentment that characterizes life spent at the Hotel des Canotiers. M. et Mme. Chenut and their staff have made
them all feel so welcome and so well cared for. The view from the hotel restaurant overlooking the village and the surrounding
hills is stunning no matter what time of day or kind of weather; but last night there was a particularly beautiful sunset.
The food is delicious and its presentation a visual delight. And of course there is a rich variety of local champagnes and
other fine wines, aperitifs and digestifs to choose from, to complement the cuisine.
After petit dejeuner we began the first class by telling each other
the stories of how we came to be here and where we hope to go from here. Inspiring words from Anne Lamott, Brenda Ueland,
Julia Cameron and others provided a launching pad for our discussions.
The first journal prompt prompted a sharp intake of breath from participants that made me wonder if maybe I was going
too fast too deep too soon. But after only a minute or two there was the wonderful sound of pencils and pens scratching
paper, and the industrious clicking of keys on a laptop to fill the room with the sounds of writing.
Lunch at Our French Ranch consisted of quiche aux epignards and a
taboulleh salad prepared by the local charcuterie. We were joined for lunch by M. et Mme. Cintrat, friends
of our family, and unofficial welcomers to the town; Maurice Goyard, doyen of the village, brought a fine rose
to share. And Bernard Pharisien, local historian and author of several books on local celebrities--members of the Renoir
family and the Heriot family of Parisian department store fame (and builders of a local chateau) was also an honored guest.
After a champagne toast to Franco-American amitie we were off and the room was somehow filled with sparkling conversation,
despite the fact that only three people in the room spoke both French and English. A wonderful tribute to the power of human
communication and joie de vivre even when linguistic challenges arise.
After lunch M. Pharisien told us stories and showed us pictures illustrating the serpentine threads that connect
France and America through complicated family histories, good and bad fortune, times of war and peace. We ended up with a
visit to the graveyard where we paid our respects to the Renoirs, but also to the Heriots and to Louis Morel, another local
artist whose sculpted femme nue has to be one of the most beautiful as well as most unusual graveyard decorations
in the world. (The fully clothed and equally beautiful statue of a World War I soldier that graces the monument to the
war dead in the Place de l'Eglise is also by Morel.)
While
in the graveyard we saw Denis Herbillon, local artist, and his 14-year-old stepdaughter, Adelie, who, giggling and with our
permission, took pictures of us from a respectful distance. We enjoyed the novelty of being American tourists in this little
village where that is a rare breed.
Later in the week
we saw what they had been up to; creating unique and wonderful souvenir postcards for each of us. What a kind and wonderful
gift!
Essoyes,
in the Heart of France...by Trish Hooper
Not many tourists drive through the part of France that is the rocky home of Essoyes. And if they
do, they hurtle through the narrow streets - the car brushing the sides of the old stone houses. Just one of many hundreds
of seemingly forgotten small villages, Essoyes looks abandoned, forgotten, and part of the rolling hillsides of the lower
champagne country.
That's the face Essoyes presents to the speeding world. Behind its
façade of narrow streets, and shuttered windows, lies a vibrant life of vintners, artists, shop keepers, pastry makers;
the living, breathing, working visionaries of the heart of France.
This IS the heart of France.
Champagne is the result of hundreds of years of working with knarled strong hands in the labyrinth of tenacious roots, of
picking the heavy-laden vines by hand, of churning and pressing and praying as the liquids become part of the golden miracle
of their fruit and then as another winter approaches, the pruning of the harvested vines.
Essoyes
is home. Essoyes is where the weary return, and the stews are fragrant, the cheeses ripe, the bread crusty, and the
old stone houses of Essoyes house those who have nursed those cocoons into the butterflies that flitter through our dreams
- champagne and France.
And for a brief spell, we are a part of Essoyes, whose stones are warmed
by friendship and welcome and our own hearts have been expanded and accepted into part of the heartbeat of France.
Trish
Hooper participated in the first Writing from the Heart workshop in Essoyes in March, 2008. She brought the manuscript of
her autobiography, which she had titled "I'm 85, and You're Not!" to Essoyes, and worked on it there. After the
workshop she asked Janet Hulstrand to work with her as her editor. She published her book, now titled, "I'm 87, and You're
Not!" in the spring of 2010, and died in June, a few days short of her 88th birthday. Trish brought passion, zest, and
extraordinary energy to everything she did, and her actions were motivated by both love and a deep sense of justice. She will
never be forgotten by the friends--both French and American--that she made in one short week in Essoyes.
