In 1967, Expo year in Montreal, Christopher Cordeaux was living in an apartment on DeCarie Boulevard. He'd been loaned to the National Film Board of Canada by the Australian Film Board to help the NFB make its first feature film, I learned from Carolyn, his wife, who introduced herself as I was helping her choose fabric at Marshall's on St. Catherine Street, where I'd been hired as a sales clerk. When Carolyn invited me home to visit with her and Daniel, I was so charmed I could not refuse.
Stepping inside the door of their apartment on DeCarie certified my impression that I had met people with whom I would be "friends for life." The refrigerator was an icebox: (how they found ice in mid-summer Montreal is a mystery I've yet to solve). The screen of the TV, kicked to smithereens by Chris in a moment of pique, had been replaced by a Beatles album cover., Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Carolyn got me giggling to the point of tears when she told me about her encounters with les grandes dames of DeCarie Street while she and Chris were looking after a friend's aardvark: Pregnant at the time with their firstborn, whenever she wheeled the wee beastie up the street, tucked into an old fashioned wicker pram, les grandes dames could not help but peer into the beautiful antique, expecting of course to see a drop-dead adorable human infant...
The following year, back in Arizona at Cosanti, stationed in the bell area assembling clay bells, on hand to greet visitors who might want to walk around with a guide, as was typical with visitors, I noticed a young woman who was with her architect-husband and their two young daughters. Naomi and Tony, she told me by way of introduction - from Sydney, Australia.
I did not get their last names, alas, but what happened in those few moments we spent together was that I could not help but say to her: "You know Christopher, don't you? Christopher Cordeaux?"
Naomi demurred at first but I was insistent, could not be dissuaded. "You know Christoper?!" I said repeatedly until finally it seemed she heard me, glanced at me straight back, saying as if from a long ways away: "I do know one Christopher. Christopher Cordeaux."
"Yes! That's the one!" I flipped back at her, relieved. I can't imagine what she thought of my insistence but her assent was enough, Although I have no idea how I knew, I just knew she knew Chris. I also knew it was important that I let her know I had sensed that she did. (If anyone wants to or can Go Figure This One, Please Please By All Means, Please Do...
It's been a good many years since that day, but if anyone reading this happens to know Naomi, please to let her know that I'd very much like to hear from her, to know how she's doing? Oh gosh, Yes, I would...
Stepping inside the door of their apartment on DeCarie certified my impression that I had met people with whom I would be "friends for life." The refrigerator was an icebox: (how they found ice in mid-summer Montreal is a mystery I've yet to solve). The screen of the TV, kicked to smithereens by Chris in a moment of pique, had been replaced by a Beatles album cover., Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
Carolyn got me giggling to the point of tears when she told me about her encounters with les grandes dames of DeCarie Street while she and Chris were looking after a friend's aardvark: Pregnant at the time with their firstborn, whenever she wheeled the wee beastie up the street, tucked into an old fashioned wicker pram, les grandes dames could not help but peer into the beautiful antique, expecting of course to see a drop-dead adorable human infant...
The following year, back in Arizona at Cosanti, stationed in the bell area assembling clay bells, on hand to greet visitors who might want to walk around with a guide, as was typical with visitors, I noticed a young woman who was with her architect-husband and their two young daughters. Naomi and Tony, she told me by way of introduction - from Sydney, Australia.
I did not get their last names, alas, but what happened in those few moments we spent together was that I could not help but say to her: "You know Christopher, don't you? Christopher Cordeaux?"
Naomi demurred at first but I was insistent, could not be dissuaded. "You know Christoper?!" I said repeatedly until finally it seemed she heard me, glanced at me straight back, saying as if from a long ways away: "I do know one Christopher. Christopher Cordeaux."
"Yes! That's the one!" I flipped back at her, relieved. I can't imagine what she thought of my insistence but her assent was enough, Although I have no idea how I knew, I just knew she knew Chris. I also knew it was important that I let her know I had sensed that she did. (If anyone wants to or can Go Figure This One, Please Please By All Means, Please Do...
It's been a good many years since that day, but if anyone reading this happens to know Naomi, please to let her know that I'd very much like to hear from her, to know how she's doing? Oh gosh, Yes, I would...
