Merry Christmas, from Fra Angelico

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A Writer's American Dream: To Enjoy Fra Angelico in Chateau de Chantilly in Chantilly, France

By Norma Jaeger Hopcraft

Actually, living in France on a creative writing sabbatical was not my dream. It was beyond my wildest dreams. My Higher Power, whose birth is being celebrated at Christmas, made it possible, and I leapt at the chance. He provided the twists and turns of circumstances in my life, presented the opportunity, and I did the leg work to make it happen. We're a team!

With teamwork, I wrote a novel while in Paris! Check out 3 chapters on Amazon by clicking on the cover, to the right.

Not only did I get to live with a family in Paris, I got to travel around a bit. I went to Chateau de Chantilly to see the equestrian show (I'd never seen one before -- it was fabulous) and to see the Fra Angelico exhibit. 

Some of these pictures are also in Le Louvre in Paris.

Fra Angelico is my favorite painter. Look at how each face is finely nuanced and different from all the others. There's a sweetness in his artistic vision that slays me.

The rest of these are by a Florentine artist named de Gozzoli. 

St. Bart's--A Place to Regroup for the American Dream

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American Dreams on Park Avenue

In the course of my job search, I visit New York City every week. These shots are from St. Bartholomew Church, the church that Jackie Onassis saved. Built in the Byzantine style, the church was at risk of being torn down to make room for yet another skyscraper. Jackie stepped in and saved it from destruction. It's been providing spiritual sanctuary since 1903 -- 100 years! Congratulations, St. Bart's.  

It's on Park Avenue, between 50th and 51st, next to the Waldorf Astoria and nestled among towers housing UBS and other banks, some of them midtown offshoots from Wall Street. These are places where American Dreams are still being won and lost. People can go to St. Bart's to reflect, regroup, find resiliency.

Detail of a green marble column inside the sanctuary.

A banner just inside the sanctuary.

Stained glass window shadowed by a skyscraper.

The grill on the front door, looking out onto Park Avenue.

A detail of an exterior marble panel.

The filigree on the front doors.

The famous facade.

In Savannah

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Running around, trying to cover a lot of ground and see lots of historic squares and houses in Savannah, I talked to fewer people.

On a one-hour Savannah River cruise, I met Elizabeth, a nurse who had worked in New York City for years at a frantic pace, trying to make money.  She got sick and decided “financial security” wasn’t worth dying for.  She moved to Knoxville, Tennessee and works there now as an operating room nurse.  She goes to Boston to see her ex-husband once in a while, but she prefers spending time with her parents there.

She was raised Buddhist and believes people are basically good.  I compared that in my head with Jeremiah’s statement that the human heart is desperately wicked and deceitful above all things.  And with Jesus’ statement:  “If you, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children…”  I like people, but we’re a dangerous lot, really.  We all could be like the German people under Hitler.

I challenged her to read the Gospels and see what she thought.  And I said I believed there is Absolute Truth and that we all fall far short of it.  She wanted to give me a hug as we parted ways, and of course I thought that was a wonderful idea.