This past June we decided to visit friends in England. They were going to have a party in a real castle. You can’t go through life thinking about missing a party in a real castle. Unfortunately, the party got cancelled, but that’s another story. While we were over there, I decided we could spend a couple of days in Belgium visiting my pen pal.
I started writing to Marie-Jeanne Vanhorenbeke from Belgium when I was 18. I was taking French in high school in Toronto. The only problem was that there was no way to practise the language. When I saw an ad in a comic book for pen pals, I decided to write away for one. I found out later that she signed up to practise her English, but when I started writing in French, she decided to simply correspond to me.
In the beginning, we wrote about the usual topics – our families, our interests, the sports we loved. As time went on, we shared the peaks and valleys of our lives.
I visited her when I was 22. Her family adopted me from the beginning. Her mother calls me her Canadian son, and for a good reason. As she states, on my first visit I had the vocabulary of a small child. Each subsequent visit for her was like seeing a child grow into a man. I now am quite fluent in French. In fact, I write her a small letter each Christmas to her in French.
When I was engaged to a girl from France, Marie-Jeanne came to Paris for a day. I marched her around like a soldier, trying to cram every site into one day, and then whisked her away to a small village for my engagement party.
I remember her friendship at this party very clearly. Paté was being served. I found out very quickly that I did not like it. I became very ill. I went upstairs to deal with the sudden violent cramps in my stomach. After many minutes staring into the toilet, I wondered if my absence would be noticed. I heard footsteps. I figured it was my fiancé coming to see what was wrong. It wasn’t. It was Marie-Jeanne.
We tend to write to each other only once a year, around Christmas, and we have been writing to each other for about 40 years. We hadn’t seen each other for 28 years.
What is wonderful about this friendship is that when Marie-Jeanne and I met at the airport, it was like we had seen each other yesterday. It was like putting on an old comfortable pair of shoes. She immediately started teasing me, as she always did, and I kept taking the bait and teased her back. We delighted in the opportunity to make the connection again and to know that miles and years don’t have to erode a relationship.
My hope is that she and her husband will visit us in Canada next year. Her daughter will be in Vancouver. I certainly have a lot of hospitality to repay and I look forward to that. But more than just showing her a good time, I look forward of once again basking in the warm sunshine that the love we have for each other provides. She is a true friend.
I started writing to Marie-Jeanne Vanhorenbeke from Belgium when I was 18. I was taking French in high school in Toronto. The only problem was that there was no way to practise the language. When I saw an ad in a comic book for pen pals, I decided to write away for one. I found out later that she signed up to practise her English, but when I started writing in French, she decided to simply correspond to me.
In the beginning, we wrote about the usual topics – our families, our interests, the sports we loved. As time went on, we shared the peaks and valleys of our lives.
I visited her when I was 22. Her family adopted me from the beginning. Her mother calls me her Canadian son, and for a good reason. As she states, on my first visit I had the vocabulary of a small child. Each subsequent visit for her was like seeing a child grow into a man. I now am quite fluent in French. In fact, I write her a small letter each Christmas to her in French.
When I was engaged to a girl from France, Marie-Jeanne came to Paris for a day. I marched her around like a soldier, trying to cram every site into one day, and then whisked her away to a small village for my engagement party.
I remember her friendship at this party very clearly. Paté was being served. I found out very quickly that I did not like it. I became very ill. I went upstairs to deal with the sudden violent cramps in my stomach. After many minutes staring into the toilet, I wondered if my absence would be noticed. I heard footsteps. I figured it was my fiancé coming to see what was wrong. It wasn’t. It was Marie-Jeanne.
We tend to write to each other only once a year, around Christmas, and we have been writing to each other for about 40 years. We hadn’t seen each other for 28 years.
What is wonderful about this friendship is that when Marie-Jeanne and I met at the airport, it was like we had seen each other yesterday. It was like putting on an old comfortable pair of shoes. She immediately started teasing me, as she always did, and I kept taking the bait and teased her back. We delighted in the opportunity to make the connection again and to know that miles and years don’t have to erode a relationship.
My hope is that she and her husband will visit us in Canada next year. Her daughter will be in Vancouver. I certainly have a lot of hospitality to repay and I look forward to that. But more than just showing her a good time, I look forward of once again basking in the warm sunshine that the love we have for each other provides. She is a true friend.
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