Kloncke

The Chamaillard and Loncke families have a long history together.  Forty years ago, my dad met Patrick Chamaillard at law school, and the two became lifelong friends.  Dad visited the Chamaillards in France many times; he still remembers the stories Patrick’s father (who, coincidentally, taught at Harvard as a visiting professor in, like, 1929) used to tell about kings and banquets and eels. I myself am named after Patrick’s late wife, a luminous, beloved, big-hearted woman who died of cancer before I was born.

As teenagers, in the early nineties or so, the three Chamaillard children — Melanie, Laure, and Guillaume — each spent a summer with our family in California.  (I was wee so I don’t remember too much about it, but to this day Melanie can still recite our address.)  And now, all the children have children of their own.  This week was my chance to meet the new generation.

Laure gave birth to beautiful twins: Bastien, on my lap in the photo above, and his brother Hugo.  So sweet and curious.  Can’t hardly feed ’em in the high chair, they’re so busy looking around the room.

Melanie has a wonderful baby daughter, Juliette.  Alert, full of smiles; loves it when you whistle. I stayed overnight and she didn’t cry even once, bless her heart.

And Guillaume’s daughter, Thelma, three-and-a-half, eluded my camera, on account of we were too busy reading and playing games with dad and granddad.  (Girl has got some energy.  Destined for soccer, just like her papa.)  We read a couple English Roger Hargreaves books (whose covers, to my delight, have started appearing on t-shirts lately), the French versions of which were some of my very first reading material as a little tyke.  And the circle of life continues…