The Snyders in the France-Paris Mission

Despite their international reputation for aloof coldness, especially toward tourists of the ugly American variety, the French are a very polite people who place great value on common decency and consideration. While the famous motto of the French Republique, “Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité,” posted throughout the country may have an ideological influence on proper behavior and speech, I think their politeness stems from more pragmatic concerns.  D riving in France, for example, requires everyone’s cooperation because of traffic on narrow streets with unusual right-of-way rules, alternating side-of-street parking, non-intuitive international signage (with the exception of STOP),  and roundabouts of wide-ranging size from the multi-lane étoile [star] that goes round and round the Arc de Triomphe to residential streets circling elevated cobblestones the size and shape of a old-fashioned trash can lid. Even the major autoroutes, with their extremely short entrance and exit lanes, a...

A few months into our time serving in the France Paris Mission, Delys pulled up the mission roster listing all the missionary companionships, their locations, their assignments (Sister Training Leaders, Zone Leaders, District Leaders, Office Elders, and so forth), and their individual status as junior or senior companion. Usually, the more experienced missionary is designated the senior and the less experienced missionary the junior. When I served in the France-Belgium Mission from March 1972 to March 1974, it was a very big deal to “go senior” because, in those days, the senior companion ran the show, while the junior companion was considered a sidekick, like Tonto to the Lone Ranger or Robin to Batman. The junior companion was subject to pranks of various kinds, especially during the first few months, and relegated mostly to keeping the daily door-to-door tracting records. When the companionship had a productive week and achieved some success, it was the senior companion who rece...

When I was young I had long red curly hair. My red faded just when red became fashionable again and lots of people were dying their hair to obtain it, and I like natural color rather than dyed, so I am left with just curly hair.  But my hair isn’t curly enough to leave it naturally curly, so I blow dry it every day.  Then I walk out into the humid Paris air, and within minutes it all turns curly again! So I was especially delighted to find out that in our area of the Île de France is known as the Boucles de Seine. I translate “boucles” as the curls of the Seine, the place the river Seine turns back and forth on its way eventually to the ocean. Nevermind that others translate “boucles” as the turns or loops of the Seine. The title “Curls of the Seine” is more picturesque for the activities that happened in this part of France.  This area was a gathering place of impressionists. Two kilometers down the road from us is the Île des Impressionists, an island in the Seine where...

 Some Thoughts from the Snyders for the New Year 17 January 2025 Happy New Year from Paris. We continue to flourish here in Chatou (a semi-exclusive suburb of Paris with almost as many pet dogs as people) doing a hodgepodge of missionary activities, the highlight being some actual humanitarian work.  As I write, in fact (“en fait” in French), Delys is busy at work online with Sister Debbie Lamb (a good colleague and friend from the area office in Frankfort) completing the requisite proposal forms for a project in connection with a women’s conference scheduled for March in Brussels. Sister Lamb will present the proposal for approval Monday afternoon, so they must ensure they’ve covered every “jot and tittle” of the proposal form.  (Google the phrase, folks, if you don’t know it. Your effort will be well rewarded as you’re overwhelmed by the sublime genius of my word choice.)   [Historically, this is the point where Delys, in her proofreading of my writing, usually rai...

  Joyeux Noel from Phil and Delys Snyder in Paris. Christmas in Paris means streets full of lights, dark days (today is the shortest day of the year, the sunrise coming at 8:40 a.m.), Christmas markets full of food and trinkets, shoppers everywhere, fresh Christmas trees with log stands, cold and rain, tourists and traffic at every turn. Phil likes listening to Mary Chapin Carpenter’s Christmas album Come Darkness, Come Light and God Shuffled His Feet by Crash Test Dummies and Son of Dad by Stephen Wilson Jr. Can you guess which one of the three albums I tolerate out loud and which two he listens to with his air-buds?  (Thanks Heidi and Travis for adding him to your Snyder family Spotify subscription. It keeps him sane and serene no matter what’s going on.) We have a new apartment in Chatou, a cute suburb of Paris where we have a Wednesday and Saturday outdoor market, about two train stops closer to Paris than before. We have two huge windows with a long balcony, a gorgeous v...