Pierrot passed away on June 23 at age 78. We grew up together as we went to the same grade school, but I didn’t know much about him. I for sure never played with him. His parents were Julien and Olga and he was the elder of three kids in our village baker’s household.
I’m not writing this because we literally grew up at the same time, but because our childhood happened in two very different silos. He didn’t seem to be a great student and one day his parents must have told him “You’ll be a baker like your Dad, and one day you’ll take over the family business…” without asking what he liked and what he wanted to be. Either fireman, carpenter, airplane pilot or dentist.Nope, I can comfortably assume that the question was never asked and he was given no other option. True, none of my parents either asked me that question. What would have Pierrot done if he had the option to pursue his true aspirations? No one will know, but still, he was put to hard work at 14, he spent his life making bread, baking it and feeding us and the growing number of visiting tourists.
Over the years, I’ve seen him many times waiting on customers behind his counter when his wife Henriette or his mum weren’t available. For lack of a good reason we had not interaction other than “Hello, thank you, goodbye”.
At retirement, he was totally exhausted, he closed down his bakery and continued living in the same building and complemented his retirement and savings by selling firewood he had prepared for our visitors.
Did he die happy, fulfilled and having accomplished everything he ever dreamed of? I don’t know and will never have the answer to that question. Adieu, Pierrot!





