I'm watching some of the French Open because a) I enjoy watching tennis, especially the majors, and b) the time difference means it's on TV live when I'm up at 3 a.m. It's played at Roland Garros in Paris. Wimbledon is played at the All England Club in London, and I get that. But where did the name Roland Garros come from?? Always wondered, never looked it up.
Turns out Roland Garros was a French fighter pilot in WW1, famous for both his flying and his role in developing the machine gun that could fire through a spinning propeller. Before being France's most famous early pilot he studied in Paris, was a huge tennis aficionado, and hung out at one of the tennis centers in that city...which was given his name after his death near the end of the war.
Now you also know.
This morning I hauled the truck bed, sitting on Lyle's double-axle flatbed trailer, down to the metal shop where Pete had agreed to weld up some of the holes drilled into it over the years and a rusted through area on each side. He had welded up some holes in the fenders, door, and tailgate earlier in the week and we set up this morning for the same on the bed.
I was there at 7:30 as arranged, went into the shop, and found Pete and two other octogenarians sitting at the big round table just inside the door having coffee and telling stories about their work experiences. I sat down at the table and kept my mouth shut. The young kid should speak when spoken to, and certainly not interrupt the elders at the city gate. So I sat there across from Pete for at least 20 minutes, just listening, and waiting for him to be good and ready to do the welding. About 10 minutes in one of the guys asked me, "What are you here for?" I said nothing, nodded at Pete, and their conversation resumed.
More F-bombs in that 20 minutes than I've heard in the last year. Old guys who worked in the trades.
When he'd finished his coffee and his conversation he stood up, told me to back the trailer up to the rear entry, and walked that direction. I went outside, backed the trailer into position and he went to work welding. Thirty minutes later he was done. During that time I said a few things to him - complimented an 84-year old man who could climb around on that trailer like he did, pointed out one of the holes he hadn't noticed - and he said nothing. Grinned ever so slightly at my comment about his agility, but that was it. At the end I asked him, "How much?" He said, "Oh, $15 I suppose." I gave him $20 because that's what I had, he raised one eyebrow, I said "thank you VERY much,"and he walked back into the shop.
Could'a been the opening scene in a Clint Eastwood movie.
I had a brief conversation recently with someone about visiting other countries. We agreed that some hold an appeal while others generate no interest whatsoever, and that there doesn't seem to be any particular reason for that reaction. I'd like to see China, but Japan is a yawn. Italy yes, France, nope. No particular reason, just the way it is.
And you? Your "please!" and "meh?"
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