A lot of you guys have asked how we’ve fared here in Paris, after the shootings on Friday the 13th.
I thank you for that. It was thoughtful, considerate… and heartwarming… to hear from so many people. At last count, probably over 350 or so, between Facebook, emails and calls.
We are fine.
Rattled and sad about it all… but fine.
When the shootings happened, we were out to dinner with friends, about a mile from the attacks. We heard the news when our waiter brought our bill. We high-tailed it home, on side streets, to get back to the kids, who were without a sitter. (They’re getting just old enough.)
Everybody we know here is okay too, though some live close — about 100 meters — up the street from on of the deadliest cafe shootings… another lives near the Bataclan… and one more friend, a journalist, was at the stadium covering the game.
Friends of friends weren’t as lucky. It seems like everybody knows somebody who was killed or injured at one of the sites.
We’ve also been asked many times since what we think about the events and what we expect will happen next. I gave an interview about it to a friend, on national radio. But the truth is… I have no idea. Nor does anybody.
Save for outpourings of grief and sympathy, I’ve heard little that seems like a just response.
Not the political solutions, not the podium pounding, not the peripheral paranoia.
And yet, here in Paris… Already, the cafes are full again. So are the streets and busses. We’re back to business as usual. And I think, but can’t be sure, that’s a good thing.