On Their Way to Paris

When we took the folks to Logan Airport at the end of their winter visit, we had no idea that we’d be seeing them again so soon. They knew more than we did: according to Mammy’s missionary journal, they had been anticipating a call to preside over a French-speaking mission ever since the preceding June. But they couldn’t say anything about it, yet.

So we had the honor of their company again in June, 1967, as they headed for Paris. Rather a different weather picture, this time around, and we were able to treat them to another whole set of familial and touristic delights.

By then, Rick had graduated to a leash for his perambulations on what he would soon call “Sycamore Sidewalk.” Some thought we were abusive in this regard, but we judged this approach a lot kinder than any alternative we could devise.