You may have noticed that I’ve been quiet.
Some of that was intentional. I’ve been traveling since the end of July, staying out of the heat in France, following family stories through England, wandering through old churches and cemeteries in search of ancestors and, as it turns out, a few dead ends. But something else happened while I was away.
The Barefoot Blogger website was hacked.
It’s been repaired. The technical details aren’t particularly interesting, and I’m not sure I understand most of them anyway. What surprised me was how much it affected me. I felt fragile. Perhaps that sounds like an odd reaction to a website being hacked. Websites can be repaired. Files can be restored. Problems can be fixed. But the Barefoot Blogger isn’t simply a website to me.
There’s a real person behind it.
Barefoot Blogger. I’ve carried that name for more than a decade.
It came with me when I abruptly changed my life in the US and moved to France. It has been there through travels and discoveries, new friends and old ones, falls and broken bones, hospital and rehabilitation stays, two heart surgeries, and all the other unexpected things that have a way of changing the direction of a life without asking permission.
Living in France at 80
At 60 or even 70, perhaps I would have regarded the hack as one more aggravation to overcome. At 80, it felt different. This year, when I turned 80, I promised myself—and my family—that I would try to make some decisions about how I want to spend whatever time I have left. That’s not meant to sound gloomy. I’m not gloomy. I’m curious. But I’m also realistic. And lately I’ve been asking myself questions I once found very easy to avoid.
One of those questions is where I want to spend the rest of my life. France has become home, and I’m now fairly certain this is where I will stay.
That decision took on a different meaning recently when France passed a new law establishing, under specific circumstances, a right to assisted dying. After years of national debate, the timing caught my attention. Not because of the politics, but because it made a very personal question suddenly feel real: What does it mean to decide that this is where I will end my days?
Choosing France comes with a price. My family is in America. My grandchildren are growing up there, and an ocean separates us most of the time. I miss being part of their everyday lives. That’s the hardest part of accepting that the country I’ve chosen as home isn’t where most of the people I love live.
And if France really is home, I need to face something else. After all these years, I still haven’t mastered the language. I wonder constantly how I managed to be so stubborn about that. Perhaps finally learning French properly is part of accepting that I’m not going anywhere.
So here I am.
An 80-year-old American who has chosen France as home, who still isn’t fluent in French, whose family is thousands of miles away, and who is increasingly aware that there aren’t unlimited chapters ahead.
A fish out of water — although I should add, a very happy and comfortable fish most of the time.
Life, Family and the Barefoot Blogger
I’ve been thinking a lot about what happens to her now. I don’t have an answer, but I do know that I can’t stop writing, expressing myself, exploring, and being curious. Those things are simply part of who I am.
What I’m less certain about is how all of that fits into the Barefoot Blogger now that I’m 80.
I don’t feel a need to reinvent myself, and I certainly don’t intend to turn the Barefoot Blogger into a blog about getting old. But getting older is now part of the story. So is France. So is family.
And so is figuring out what I still want to do next.
Do I keep writing about the places I discover? About maintaining a life on two continents? About France after more than a decade of living here, rather than France through the eyes of someone who has just arrived?
Probably all of those things.
What Comes Next?
Maybe I don’t need to decide what comes next just yet.
The Barefoot Blogger has changed as my life has changed, and perhaps that’s exactly what it is supposed to do.
The hack reminded me of something I already knew. Websites can disappear. Life can change in an instant. Things happen without asking permission, and I’ve certainly had enough experience with that.
But I’m still here. I’m still writing. And I’m definitely not finished being curious.
I hope you’ll still be here, too.
One More Thing
There was a bit of serendipity in all of this. On the Eurostar from France to London, I sat beside a young American man who works in cybersecurity for a company in Maryland. We started talking and became fast friends—the sort of chance encounter that makes traveling so interesting.
When the Barefoot Blogger was hacked, I remembered this new friend and reached out to him. Without hesitation, he stepped in and spent part of a weekend working with my webmaster to help sort out the problems.
I’m enormously grateful to both of them for the time, patience, and expertise they gave to getting the Barefoot Blogger back on its “bare feet.”
But there’s something else about the experience I don’t want to forget. You never know who you’ll meet along the way, or how that person might unexpectedly enter your life again.
Be curious. And be kind.
13 Responses
Love you Debbie….you continue to forever inspire me! ❤️ Mar
Love you! Wish you would visit me in France someday soon. Big hugs!
Deborah
I have found that you don’t need to be fluent in French but you do need to be “fluid”. Have no fear and just let it flow out naturally. The French vocabulary will appear miraculously but the grammar will definitely suck.
Alex
Fear is exactly the problem. I definitely let it bother more than I should. Just get on with it! Thanks for your encouragement…
I’m delighted always to read your words! Relieved to hear that all is well. And, as someone who has frequently entertained dreams of moving back to France, I gulp your stories, your adventures, your qualms and quandaries. And I look forward to reading as many of these stories–whatever direction they take you–for as long as you keep writing. I hope we catch up in person some day! (And, I’d love to be one of your Teachers, to help you acquire the language instead of learn it. I taught French for many years!)
many blessings,
paula.
Oh Paula, I wish I could take you up on your offer. Come on over and let’s get started! Thank you so much for your kind words. Sometimes I think I share too much… but you are reassuring me it’s ok. I’d love to hear more from you about what interests you. I probably have a story or more that I haven’t written yet. Bests to you!
So good to hear from you Deborah! I had been wondering if things were alright with you and your little dog. Always love to hear about your intrepid exploring and would like to know more about your travels in the UK as well, as I would also like to chase some family history there.
Stay curious!
Hi Maria, great to hear from you, too. Unfortunately, Fanny went over the Rainbow Bridge a couple of years ago. I miss her so much. But now I’ve found that pet-sitting might be a good avenue for me. It’s getting hard to think of traveling with a pet — regardless how small. You really should find time to visit your family’s history, especially if it takes you to fun places. The trip was quite a last minute lark… but so worth it. I can’t wait to tell you the stories. Stay in touch!
I am moved to say that no matter how much time passes by, you have made enough friends to know that we will always want to hear your latest thoughts and opinions. Your curiosity will always make your posts a fascinating read for your many, many readers. As Winston Churchill said; ‘K.B.O’. (-Keep Bu**ering On.)
All the very best,
Simon
First of all… where are you!? I hope I haven’t missed your visit to Uzès. Although it was almost too hot to be here this summer. So happy to hear from you… always. Thank you for your encouragement. We all need it at times. I hope all is good with you. You’re always welcomed here.
Oh no 😟Barefoot Blogger getting hacked must have been terrible. The website is a treasure. I’m glad you are back in operation.
You’re so kind, Carolyn. And you’ve been on this journey with me almost from the beginning. Thank you for your support and your friendship. Hope to see you sometime soon.
Be curious. And be kind. Great words of wisdom Deborah. We are constantly challenged to learn new dance steps.
My 90 year old friend Steve (who is a co-owner in Quarante, France) just wrote me to say he is spending two months there- by himself! A brave delightful man.