Incredible things are happening with technology as we speak. The internet is growing exponentially. I find it almost impossible to stay up to date. And sure enough, once in a while, I find out that I have indeed fallen behind.
It was the case this evening. Having looked up the French town of Anjou on Google Maps while Skyping with Marie earlier, I was left with an open browser and beautiful France smiling at me. I began to zoom in and traveled south. A little orange icon looking like a person attracted my attention on the interface. It looked like the « Street View » icon, a very cool new feature in Google Maps that shows you street level images of a location. But I thought I remembered Street View only being available in select US cities. I checked further, zooming in on Marseilles.
Surprise. Street level views were everywhere. My heart started beating faster. What if? I scrolled, scrolled and scrolled, disoriented at first. I missed la Bonne Mère, found le vieux port, climbed back up the hill and spotted the name I was looking for. I dragged the little icon and held my breath.
And this, is what I got.
I was blown away - that ruelle, boldly labeled an « avenue », is the smallest street one could ever imagine; the hairpin turns below and to the left (once in street view, click and drag to turn around) are so tight and narrow that most small French cars miss and have to back-up once. And yet, there it was, on my screen and out of a decade of dust collecting, duly photographed and archived by others onto the internet. 69 Avenue David Dellepiane. Google sent me tumbling down the memory lane.
How many times had I written that address on an envelope? The squeaky metal gate would open into a small empty terrace, and then the door, to the right, lead via a long corridor inside one of the smallest (and darkest) apartments I had seen before arriving in Vancouver.
There, lived my father. He spent the end of his tumultuous life smoking and drinking himself to oblivion, and he stayed at 69 D. Dellepiane until the end. The sight of this house is an amazingly sad one, filled with the heavy burden of guilt and regrets. But at the same time, I catch myself smiling at the memory of such a colorful man. I chose, long ago, to remember all the extraordinary moments he filled my youth with, rather than the sadness of an unavoidable end.
Isa, if you ever read this, my love to you and everyone around you. 
As it was said somewhere else:
- Instead, I will tell you how he lived.
...
»
« When I first read the quote, I didn’t notice that there was a question and an answer. I read: « Tell me how he died, I will tell you how he lived. »
Date of comment: 2008-12-01 05:42 •I thought that was so unspeakably cruel. But ok, now I get it. »
« Ok, I cheated and altered the unspeakable quote.
»
Date of comment: 2008-12-01 07:36 •« Ok, I admit it. I went and look for my landmarks. Antibes, of course, Freeport, Bay St-Louis... Pretty cool though none so precise as 69 David D. »
Date of comment: 2008-12-01 16:48 •« When I first met him, he had the world in his eyes... and a kind of sadness that never left. His war youth, the absence of a denied father, atrocities in Algeria
Date of comment: 2008-12-02 04:56 •waged war within himself and ordinary life had become difficult, if not impossible. »
« Oh, Sweetie (sorry) - I have been so wrapped up in deadlines and Stuff that this is the first time I checked your blog in a few days - I came to look at your pictures and to breathe a bit. Now I am sitting in tears at 210 Forsyth Street
with night drawing in and a million miles to go. I love the quote. It is so much you. You are teaching me to react differently. Instead of to rage. Thank you.
Date of comment: 2008-12-02 15:07 •»
« Well, if my esteemed readers are going to start writing stuff that is even deeper and more thoughtful than my own blabber, I’d better watch out and plan carefully.
)
»
Date of comment: 2008-12-02 15:44 •This post was a « think out loud » kind of post, not really meant to send anybody else tumbling down the memory lane. However, thank you all for commenting and my apologies if this was all too serious. Such is life, at times. (Nah, I won’t quote Pagnol here, one quote per entry is enough, and that’s a really sad one...
But I can promise you a completely silly and 100% superficial post very soon.
« No, don’t apologize. Life is not only smiles and gurgles.
Date of comment: 2008-12-02 18:07 •Your posts touch us deep down and that’s wonderful.
That’s how it should be, at times. We need both sides
of the epic adventure that life is. »
« I know which quote. Let’s pass. »
Date of comment: 2008-12-03 09:55 •«
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Date of comment: 2008-12-03 09:59 •