We stayed (bed-’n’-breakfast style) in the homes of Temple neighbors. The beds had edredon (eiderdown) comforters, a new experience. And the breakfast featured wonderful Swiss cherry jam, called confiture de griottes. Yum.
We spent at least a whole day (I’m fuzzy on the actual duration) in the Temple. I got to administer the ordinances, in French, to each of my companions who were still in the mission. A marvelous experience, spiritually, fraternally, and linguistically.
Then back to the buses…
One more memory, without which this spotty collection would be but a fragment. Once again, it’s about
Valerie and about Elder
R Chris Fee, my esteemed and final companion in my first French Mission.
Seems that as the day of my departure approached, my darling fiancée, always a very faithful correspondent, redoubled her sweet output, and a letter came to our apartment in Tours each day for more than a week. Elder Fee claimed that this largesse perturbed him. On my penultimate day, he announced that if Valerie sent me a letter the next day, he’d throw me from our (second-story = première étage) window. I believe he was big enough to make good on his threat without help. But that’s all right: I didn’t get a letter from Valerie on my last day in Tours. I got three.
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