Worldwide Signs -- November 7, 2020





Open mics in general are incredibly friendly. Humble. Supportive. Everyone wants everyone else to do well. Players who are strangers talk to each other and pat each other on the back. In Paris it’s the same. Except there are players from all over the world.  

In the summer of 2017, I was in Paris for several weeks, and one Sunday night I went to the open mic at Café Klein which is hosted by
Riyad Sanford
 and Robin Ood who are particularly welcoming. I was sitting at the bar waiting for my turn and I got to talking to a young Australian man who was there to watch his girlfriend play. For some reason we started talking about Barrack Obama. We both loved him. I was telling the Australian that when President Obama was first elected I watched his every move. I couldn’t bear to take my eyes off him. I was on the edge of my seat for every cabinet appointment, every press conference, every appearance. The Australian said he was the same way. We were having a good time comparing notes to see who was a sillier fan. He asked how I was doing since Trump was elected. I said I was heartbroken. I told him that I had stopped in Washington D.C. to visit my daughter on the way to Paris and that, as the cab drove past all the monuments and the capitol, that I had been overcome with emotion and started crying because I was so sad and fearful for my country. I said that I loved my country so much. The Australian said he loved my country just as much, and he got choked up when he said it. He said he loved what the United States stood for and that the whole world depended on us as model of freedom. He said, “Donald Trump is not just the President of the United States; he’s the President of the whole world. The whole world is heart-broken and scared. It’s not just you.” And both of us cried and comforted each other. I don’t know his name, but I know I’m crying again today for different reasons, and I’m willing to bet he is, too.
In Paris the bells are ringing.



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