The importance of good parenting (Part One)

Recent, grave incidents in France, and indeed across the world, show a troubling disengagement of parents from their most critical role: raising children. This responsibility cannot be outsourced to schools, nor delegated to the screens of tablets and smartphones. 

Parents must recognize that they are not only legally liable for their children’s actions until adulthood, but also morally responsible for shaping their values, resilience, and empathy. Institutions — schools, churches, synagogues, mosques — may support, but they cannot replace the parental role.

What children need most is presence: attentive, consistent, and engaged parents who choose to listen rather than scroll, who model responsibility rather than distraction. Parenting is hard work, but it is also the most irreplaceable investment in the future. 

Liability is only the surface; the deeper truth is that parents hold the privilege of shaping lives in ways no other institution can, and if they relinquish that job no one else will, and it’s disheartening to me when I see that too few voices in politics and in social circles even think that way! 

Modern life is very demanding when both parents have to work in order to afford the lifestyle they want, but somehow there has to be enough room left to pay more attention to the young lives that only have their family to count on in order to follow by example and to gain priceless insights they’ll carry with them all their life. 

It’s certainly not worth leaving that job to the screens of tablets and smartphones, when adults prefer to splurge on senseless social media and TV programs. Next time, we’ll see how a well organized and sound society should deal with that concerning reality.

The 50 year knot!

It’s hard to believe that Evelyne and I tied the knot half a century ago today. I guess heartfelt congratulations are “de rigueur” especially when we did it in my hometown back in France! 

In retrospective it doesn’t seem like a long time ago, but the sense of duration also falls victim of inflation, especially as we reach an advanced stage in life. 

At that moment, I didn’t have a clear path in my mind as to how my life would unfold, except that the next day, in lieu of a honeymoon, we both would be driving to Nevers, smack in the middle of France, where I had been promoted to a brand new job at Look bindings. 

So instead of a well-defined plan, we were thrown into another adventure in the unknown! This said, Evelyne was instrumental in grounding me and giving me a healthy dose of common sense that, over these many years, helped me cement the kind of judgment that would serve me so well. So, here we are 50 years later. 

Beside our sheer longevity, what would make our union last, while many often dissolved over time? It’s hard to make a hard list, so perhaps it’s the quiet accumulation of grace, those many moments when one chooses patience over pride, kindness over correctness, and presence over distraction. 

It’s not just shared joys, but weathered storms, the ability to forgive without forgetting, and to grow without growing apart. Resilience in a marriage isn’t built on grand gestures, but on the daily decision to keep showing up, to keep listening, and to keep loving—even when love looks less like fireworks and more like doing domestic chores together in silence. 

After fifty years, I’ve come to believe that what lasts isn’t perfection—it’s commitment, curiosity, and the gentle art of staying interested in each other’s unfolding story. It’s also a melding of views about about life, the world, neighbors friends and family, but not so tight that there isn’t any breathing and wiggle room left between the two… 

Happy Anniversary to both of us!

Forty years in Park City!

Four decades ago, we entered Park City as a family of four, not knowing how this adventure in the unknown would pan out for all of us. Forty years today, time has flown super-fast and we’re still well anchored to the place.

My wife and I have now spent more than half of our lives in that magical town! This destination that we would now consider “final” has been part of our own version of the American Dream with its share of up and down, where the “Ups” have widely outpaced the “Down”, including only a tinge of nostalgia for very specific “French” things (family, friends, mushrooms and that’s about it). 

It’s true that 250 sunny days a year were part of the convincing part of that equation and that, in insight, this move has been extremely good to us. Even under the Trump regime, we remain convinced that if it doesn’t kill us it will make us that much stronger!

So hard to keep in touch!

If there’s a person who knows a few things about keeping the contact going with old friends and relatives in spite of distance, time, embarrassment and other weird considerations, I must be the one. It’s a subject I know very well for having practiced it over an extended period of time, say, almost half a century! It’s a subtle art of mixing vulnerability, specific intentions, enough forgiveness not to mention a good sense of humor to keep it light. 

This is a short overview of how I’m doing it. It start with reaching-out intentionally. I see something very specific, I think of a friend and say to myself “Robert would love seeing that” and I quickly pass it on to him. It’s also often over special occasions like birthdays or reminiscences of all kinds, or even a random “do-you-remember” day, all these are great excuses to break the silence. 

I keep it warm and simple and my message goes right to the heart of that person. I don’t hesitate either to acknowledge my interminable “news black-out”, instead of avoiding it. I don’t have to apologize as one sincere nod to the time-gap is enough. Most of all, I focus on overcoming embarrassment or “weirdness” factors to address any awkward event that might have happened in the past, like anger, misunderstood feelings or drifting away and just acknowledge with gracious and appropriate humor. 

After a relationship is reignited, I let consistency rebuild it, not intensity as it should redevelop organically. In most cases the “glue” I use is shared interests or memories, things I cared about and shared with that person. Finally, I’m not afraid to challenge my vulnerability by saying why I’m reaching out: Whether it’s nostalgia, needing support, or curiosity, honesty builds bridges and clears up the messiness of the process: “I wasn’t sure how to reach out, but I didn’t want to lose touch!” 

Remember, staying in touch is one the best preventive medicine available to all of us and if you value relationships and want to rekindle old ones, try to follow these steps. At the very least, give it a try!

New Year’s eve, 1974...

Just fifty years ago, I happened to spend New Year’s eve with friends at “Neige et Roc” a popular and perfectly situated restaurant next to the bottom station of the old Avoriaz cable car. The food there wasn't particularly fine, but I had eaten there frequently because of its convenient location. 

My table buddies were Avoriaz ski instructors with their wives and girlfriends and as I was at the end of my first 4 months away from the ski school and into my new Racing Director job with Look bindings I was happy to see my former colleagues again and reminiscing about the olden days with them. 

Present at this dinner in the quality of a buddy of mine’s sister-in-law, was Evelyne, a young lady that would become my wife the following year, and today, we’re on the path of our fiftieth year together. 

That’s right, nearing our "Golden Anniversary," a truly remarkable achievement in this day and age, the testimony of a deep and enduring bond built on love, respect, resilience and commitment. 

A timeline that shows our ability to have navigated life's ups and downs together, to have forgiven, compromised, and continued to nurture the relationship through thick and thin. It will also be a lifetime of shared experiences, memories, and growth. 

It represents a rich tapestry of joys, sorrows, triumphs, and challenges that have shaped our lives together from France to New York and then to Park City. 

The legacy of our 50-year marriage will extend beyond just our couple as we hope that it inspires our children, grandson, and future generations with the hope and possibility of enduring love...

A few days in the desert…

For Thanksgiving our small family, six of us, reunited in St. George a small town of southern Utah, to spend the entire weekend together, into something that has become a yearly tradition. 

Our daughter flew from from Washington while our son, his family plus my wife and I drove from the north in separate car an on very busy roads. 

We all made it okay and were blessed with a beautiful blue skies for the entire time, with the caveat that the temperatures were very low for that southern location ranging from 30 in the morning to 55 in the afternoon. 

Much better than Park City, but still colder than what we would have expected! 

This desert location is always beautiful, framed by red rocks all over and even some fresh snow on the higher elevations! 

We’ve stayed in St. George a few time and on these occasion we explored some areas known for their Anasazi petroglyphs, including some in a spectacular slot canyon and only accessible through some scrambling in a tortuous and very rugged terrain!

At long last, a family visit!

Only my Dad and Mom came to see us in the United States in the 47 years we’ve lived here. My Dad and Mon once in New York, and my mother twice in Park City. They were our only direct family members who made the effort to come and see us. 

That was until my nephew Yves decided to pay us a visit last week with his wife Anne-Lise and their daughter Victoria, following a whirlwind trip through Florida, then to Las Vegas and our southern Utah National Parks.

After dining with our son and his family in the Salt Lake Valley on Halloween night, we tried to show them as much of Park City as we could in the two days they stayed with us. 

We had a wonderful time together, we convinced them of Park City’s uniqueness and from what we could detect, they’ll probably return and settle for good in our town!

No Halloween in Park City!

Even though we got some snow on the ground this year, we couldn’t stay home for Halloween and distribute the goodies we had stocked up for the occasion. 

So there won’t be any stats to review! My nephew, his wife and daughter were visiting and we all had dinner at night at our son’s home near Salt Lake City. 

We sure didn’t totally missed out on the festivities, as we took a stroll in my son’s neighboring streets where we saw Halloween creativity and action in full display. 

Celebrating in Park City has been rescheduled for next year!

 

Family disagreement!

 Ever since I was a tiny little kid growing up in the Alps, I was told that frost was causing leaves to change colors in the Fall and I suspect still many of my contemporaries and even younger inhabitants of my remote valley of origin have maintained that belief. 

My big sister, who is 9 year my elder, not only has lived through the German occupation of France, but has seen and learned many things during her long life. Yet, since she stayed in my hometown all of her life, she still subscribes to the popular belief that that deciduous trees change colors because the frost makes them. 

The other day as we were having our regular phone conversation, I challenged her belief by saying that this change in color was because the photosynthesis. Naturally, she disagreed vehemently and forced me to go into some basic research to build up my argument. 

I found out that both of our perspectives are partially correct, but the primary reason for deciduous trees changing color in the fall is actually due to a combination of factors related to photosynthesis, which as you can guess, made me feel very good.

Still, to be fair, my sister's observation about frost is partially accurate. Frost can indeed contribute to the browning of leaves, as it can damage the cells and cause them to die, however, it's not the primary reason for the color change. My understanding about photosynthesis is closer to the mark. As the days get shorter and temperatures drop in the fall, trees begin to prepare for winter dormancy. 

Gradually their photosynthetic activity is reduced, which is the process by which they use sunlight to produce food. As photosynthesis slows down, the production of chlorophyll, the green pigment that gives leaves their color, also decreases. 

When chlorophyll production declines, other pigments that were present in the leaves all along become more visible. These pigments include carotenoids (which give leaves their yellow and orange hues) and anthocyanins (which give leaves their red and purple colors). 

The combination of these pigments creates the stunning fall foliage we see. So, while frost can play a role in the browning of leaves, the primary reason for the color change is the reduction in photosynthesis and the visibility of other pigments. Both my sister and I have valid observations, but I’d (humbly) conclude that I won that family debate!

Starting our 40th year in Park City

Yesterday marked 39 years since our family got to Park City in the late summer of 1985 and we’re now beginning our fourth decade in that town. In retrospect, this was a wonderful move, but also a very gutsy one in the sense that we left a good job and a wonderful house on the East Coast for an unknown future in the west.

While our daughter was too young to appreciated it, both my wife and 6 years old son hated the treeless, desert-like place and it would require at least a year from them to adjust. Today, both love Utah as much as I do. This milestone illustrates also the power of dreams or the end result of the attainment of goals. 

One of mine was precisely to “own a contemporary home in the best part of the Rockies”. I think I nailed it!

Distance and relationships

My wife and I have lived away from our respective families and old friends for more than 47 years. By away, we mean a continent apart. All of our families and friends were, and still are, in France. Recently, we were reflecting on how such a remoteness affects ties and brings with it a mixed bag of bad and good things. 

If we start with the negative side, it’s the absolute truth that by being apart, we care much less about each other. Talk about the classical “Out of sight, out of mind” and its implications. It’s clear that a lack of frequent personal contact weakens bonds and makes it harder to maintain a close relationships as daily routines, small events, family episodes, good and bad, or even important milestones, may or will be missed. Then there are all the challenges attached to communications.

This was particularly tough during our first 20 years in America before the internet, as phone communications were still very expensive and we missed body language and spontaneous interactions to give us a full picture of what was going on. Conflicts, misunderstandings or family issues were not helped either by the distance. Also, our kids missed out greatly on grand-parental bonding and interactions. 

On the positive side, our remoteness from family helped us grow independently, allowing us to establish our own lives and identities. Living in a different country was also very enriching as it exposed us to another culture, language and experiences, thus broadening our small-town views of the world. It is said that distance can make hearts grow fonder, but that didn’t seem to be the case with our respective families. 

Finally, today’s technology partially bridges the gap: the internet, various apps, and social media help us stay connected and share experiences despite the physical distance. Beyond this, keeping the relationship alive demands lots of effort and attention on the expatriate party (that is us) as the rest of the family doesn’t understand or doesn’t feel as much the separation. 

Sure, the cost of traveling was discouraging; we had to take it all, and the “other side” could rationalize, “We didn’t make the decision to move overseas, so it shouldn’t be our problem to go and visit…” That’s why I do everything I can to pursue regular communication, phone calls, videos, or online messages to stay connected. 

The only problem with this is that many of the family members and friends that are my age aren’t at ease with technology, or just picking the phone up and calling us, to put it mildly. This has a huge impact on communication. There are of course visits that we’ve done regularly in spite of a glaring lack of reciprocal visits by our family and the majority of friends. 

So, you have it, it’s up to us, the expatriate, to remain proactive and constantly put in the effort to maintain some decent relationships, despite the distance...

What makes Marcel Hirscher want to race again?

I was surprised but not quite shocked when I heard that Hirscher, who retired in 2019 while still the world’s best male Alpine skier, plans to return to competition next season for the Netherlands. 

Like many other ski enthusiasts, I’m dubious that at 35 it will be easy for him, especially on the account that he’s ranked 300th in slalom and 777th in giant slalom, so my main question is why do it in the first place? He says it’s passion for the sport, something I can buy up to a point.

Would it be just money? At the end of his career, Marcel Hirscher was making 2 million euros per year, not small change for a skier. When one stops racing at the level he enjoyed, cash can flow out very fast, especially if you contemplate starting your own ski brand, buying a factory for it, and be faced with non-stop financial demands. I suppose that Red Bull is now picking up the tab, but his net worth might have been a bit drained, which is never a heartwarming feeling. 

There’s also the addictive nature of the show biz that sports have become. The constant surge of adrenaline, the adulation of fans, the celebrity status and all the goodies attached to it. Then there are family issues. He separated in 2021 from his wife after thirteen years of living together and two children, something that will cost him both emotionally and financially. 

Rejoining ski racing might be a good way to fill out that significant void that occurred on the heels of Covid. At any rate, my point is that there’s much more than just “passion” for the sport involved in the champion’s decision. I wish him well and hope he can reach the new pinnacle he’s after!

As another Holiday Season ends…

The Christmas and New Year period is something we usually look forward to, but that quickly takes its toll on the most resilient of us. When it’s over, I tend to breathe more freely and reconnect with my precious routine and gladly return to our regular way of living. 

I think that when the Holiday Season is over, and when it involves being hosted, hosting and traveling, it gets the best out of us, leaving us exhausted and depleted. It’s now time to rest and recharge by beginning to take a mental vacation at least of the whole whirlwind of events. 

So, over the next few days, I’ll try to do just that by slowly easing back into my daily routine, without being too harsh about it. I’m now looking forward to the new snow in the forecast to resume skiing in good winter conditions, unlike the one we had to face until now with bad snow and huge crowds. 

One thing for sure is that I will eat and drink much less and that’s welcome news. I will also gently integrate my goals for the new year in taking my time to fine-tune them and make sure they fit well in my normal life. I can appreciate that it's normal to feel a bit down after the holidays, and I plan to be patient with myself and allow my body and mind enough time to recover. 

Hopefully this will work and if it doesn’t, I’ll ask you for further help!

Fun family day

That day saw plenty of time seating around a table, eating and talking, first with my sister and her husband that are older than me, are still very active and in fairly good health and love to work in their huge veggie garden which leave little time for my brother in law to do what he loves most: picking up wild mushrooms! 

Later we returned for the evening near Geneva where we were invited to dinner by my niece, her two kids and everyone’s spouse. 

Even though the later dinner and the ensuing conversations made us miss our bedtime by a long shot and demanded a one hour drive back, getting together was absolutely worth it and both meals were totally priceless. In both instances a great moment of love, appreciation, laughter and a stream of positive energy left us with a huge dose of positive impression.

High-number anniversaries

For my wife and I, yesterday was a big day as it was our 48th wedding anniversary! As we are inching closer to the big “50” celebration in two years from now, God willing, of course, we look at the road we’ve traveled over the years. 

It began with our immigration to the US in 1977, less than two years after we tied the knot, the hardship for my spouse of having to learn English, adapt to a totally different culture and put up with my frequent professional travels. 

These circumstances didn’t make things easy and comfortable for her, from the get go. Not only have we stayed married so far (which is not necessarily a given), but we were also very lucky to raise two wonderful kids that have brought us so much pride and satisfaction. From that viewpoint alone, the earlier sacrifices were well worth it. 

For the most part, we’ve also stayed very healthy, remained active and enjoyed a wonderful quality of life. We also spend a lot of time together and do so many things we like in each other’s company.

We can only hope that our health will continue to be good to help us seize the bull (the bison in that case) by the horns, enabling us to enjoy our retirement years and in 24 months, breeze through our Golden Anniversary and beyond!

Moving, thirty-eight years ago!

On August 21, 1985 a large moving truck left our home in Chappaqua with all of our belongings, headed for Park City, Utah. This would be our sole, official move in our lifetime with all the trappings familiar to so many American households.

At the same time my wife and our two kids were boarding our small passenger car, kind of ready for a long trip. Just before leaving, we had an early pasta dinner at our neighbors, the Chan-Noris family, and I remember that our son Thomas vomited his meal on the entry ramp to I-80 in the Bronx, starting the long journey on a rather alarming note! 

We had entrusted my wife’s small station wagon to perfect strangers willing to drive it for over 2,000 miles as it was quite customary to do in those days. The drivers paid one of the so-called drive-away companies a $100 deposit, got a full tank of gas and received directions to the distant destination. Hopefully, a week or so later, upon reaching destination, they would hand over the car keys to us and collect their deposit back. 

My wife was really sad to leave our beloved home nestled in the trees of Westchester County, not sure if Park City would be as cool as I made it appear. Fortunately, in the end, she ended up loving her new place so much that she says today that she’ll never, ever leave it!

Annie Lanvers, 1943-2013

My sister-in-law, Annie passed away this Sunday. She and my brother Gaston had met during the winter of 1973, when she came as a teacher with her elementary class from Paris, for a month in Morzine, as this was customary in France back in those days. 

They got married in September 1973 and Annie got a job as a teacher in the newly created, tiny school at the nascent Avoriaz ski resort, catering to a handful of kids, before being appointed later on at Morzine, a well established community down valley. 

Annie was a city girl who had to adapt to the rough, rural lifestyle of my home village of Montriond. I never really had a chance to know her well enough since I left the family home in 1974 and France in 1977. 

As a result our relationship was always cordial but not really close. In recent years, Annie ran into some terrible health problems as she had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, had lung cancer and suffered from some horrible pains attributable to a fall in her kitchen. 

In addition, she had to accompany her husband Gaston through his very long and harrowing lung disease, until his death in August 2020.

My last communication with her was a call for help; at the end of December she fell on the floor, was alone, and needed assistance. Some unfortunate circumstances will prevent me to attend her funerals scheduled for Friday, bu I will very much be there in thoughts thinking how her grand-daughter Victoria, her son Yves and all of us will miss her.

Once-a-year re-connection

I enjoyed this Holiday Season a lot, because I finally turned 75 years old and think I got a bit more wiser in the process. 

We also got together and had fun as a small family, and I got in touch with all my friends the world over and most of them showed up for that once-a-year reunion, whether it was on the phone, via video, email or text messaging and all of this it made me feel extremely good.

Staying connected takes a small effort from all of us, and I wish most of my friends whom I’ve not yet heard from would sample the pleasure of showing up in taking just a few moments to express that they’re still there and value our special connection, wherever they might be on our open and so well connected planet!

Lost and isolated by technology

A few nights ago, as we were out on our evening stroll, we ran into two elderly neighbors that we hadn’t seen for a long time. She is 82, he is 88. They are doing the best they can to get out but are visibly much less alert than the last time we saw them and are now moving very slowly. 

We began chatting and they told us that the new Sony TV they bought for their family room isn’t working at all. They said they bought it at Best Buy four months ago and the installers didn’t bother to make sure it worked after they were done hooking it up on the wall. 

I offered to help them and soon found myself inside their home trying without success to get it to work. To make a long story short I asked them “Where’s the cable box?” as I couldn’t locate it. I then called Xfinity and explained the situation. After 34 minutes on hold, I finally got a female agent that I briefed on the situation. 

She asked me to check the two other TVs in the house and locate their respective boxes, which I found easily, and when it came to the new TV there was indeed none and no HDMI plug attached to the TV. Then, the couple explained to me that they gave the old TV to some charity or junk removal service, that must have also removed the box that was there, hooked on the TV.

Over the four-month period, the couple had multiple visits from their kids and grand kids who tried unsuccessfully to get that particular TV to work but no one took the initiative to do something or call the cable company and get the problem resolved. A pretty pathetic tale on how kids treat their elders!

When I think about my Dad...

To my immense regret, I have never spent any time, one-on-one, with my Dad. I guess that I was fearful of him and my parents in general. There was therefore never any opportunity for some close or cheerful dialog. It was mostly corrective and mean remarks that were made to me that characterized our relationship. 

In summary, any communication, when it took place, was mostly negative and none of it encouraged a pleasant exchange. As a result we’ve spent all of my youth ignoring one another and now that I look back to it, I think it’s terrible. 

I don’t remember my father being physically abusive on me, maybe one or two spanking that were totally accepted at the time, but mostly bursts of anger directed towards things I didn’t do right and mostly, disapproving and angry looks most of the time. 

The only times we were really together were when we were sorting the blueberries out from their leaves during harvest season, using a wooden blower designed for wheat, and also once when I drove him to Annecy to see a cardiologist. 

But even during these situations, there was never any meaningful communication I would have welcomed it, but was never expecting it from him. 

To his credit, my Dad must have only simply repeated the treatment he observed and had received from my paternal grand-father.

This was a very dark and regrettable part aspect of my upbringing, experience and memories from my Dad...