The Urn, part two March 14, 2025

THE URN

Part two, April 10, 2000

Illustrated and written

by Elaine Troisi

Given the extraordinary request left by her father, Marin got to work. Bill gave her one week to put her affairs in order, personal as well as business. Of course, he was always there to help. She asked Rachel to pack their bags and handle the minutiae of planning their trip to Paris.

Rachel generally traveled with her, so she was accustomed to the preparations. In the past, she helped them plan their agendas. This time, she, too, was perplexed. What would they find in Paris? A house shuttered for years? How could she prepare an itinerary?

The week flew by. Then she and Rachel sat sipping wine in first class. Well, Marin sipped while Rachel slept soundly. Twenty-five years her senior, Rachel, too, was exhausted from the turmoil of the past traumatic weeks since Marin’s father’s death.

Tears welled up. “Daddy, I miss you so much, “she whispered. “I need your guidance now, more than ever.” She swallowed her sobs with a swish of wine and brushed her tears aside.

Marin had no idea what lay ahead, but she opened her tablet and dug in. She needed to find out what she could in the seven hours before they landed at Charles de Gaulle airport.

First, what arrondissement were they going to? It turns out rue du Trésor is in a very trendy Jewish neighborhood in the fourth arrondissement. “Good to know,” she thought, relieved.

Google Earth revealed a scene of a lovely flower-bedecked, tree-lined street. Bistros, boulangeries, and patisseries just steps from her door. “Ooh, my mouth is watering already,” Marin thought about the luscious pastries just a step away. She would have to curb her penchant for sweets.

Rachel stirred. “Are we there yet?”

Marin smiled. How often had she asked her dad the same question throughout her childhood adventures?

Marin prepares for a future unknown as she sets out to solve layers of mystery
watercolor by Elaine Troisi

“Another six hours, Rachel. You can go back to your dreams, sweetie.”

Just then the flight attendant offered her a refill. “Just water for now. Thank you.”

Marin returned to her tablet. She was happy with her findings thus far. What she didn’t know was the condition of the home.

Google Earth revealed the façade. There were flowers on the terrace. That meant the caretaker was doing her job well. “Looks quite well kept,” she thought, heartened.

The day before they boarded their plane, Bill sat her down."I've been thinking," he said, "about your father's request. I think I can help you understand what he was getting at."

Marin's ears perked up, and she leaned in, eager for any insight.

Bill hesitated, collecting his thoughts before speaking . “Your father was a complex man, Marin. He had a lot of secrets, and I think this urn business is just the tip of the iceberg. But I do know that he was deeply connected to his Jewish heritage, and he wanted you to understand that part of yourself."

Marin's eyes widened as she processed Bill's words. She had always known that her father was Jewish, but she had never really explored what that meant.

He continued. “As a boy he lived in Paris with his parents, your grandparents, until WWII. Your dad was orphaned at age 10. I’m not certain how he got to the US or exactly when. He was so secretive, even to me! Marin, I wish I could tell you more. I’m so sorry. And that urn business …” his words had trailed off into a long sigh.

Marin sat up straight, her thoughts hijacked by what Bill shared just one day ago. Only now was she becoming aware of the new reality of her background. Questions, really.

A revelation. “Good grief, my father survived the Occupation, but what about his parents?”

The flight attendant appeared. “You know, I think I will have thatglass of wine after all.”

She sipped the wine and promptly joined Rachel in sleep, but a little turbulence woke them up a short time later. The flight attendant returned with dinner. “Bon appetit, Mesdames.”

Rachel asked, “Do you speak French, Marin? Because I don’t,” Rachel commented between mouthfuls.

“Well, then, we’ll just hope that more Parisians speak English than not,” she said hopefully. “Wikipedia seems to think so anyway.”

During dinner, Marin shared everything she had learned about the area. “Where the house is located, that is, where my ancestral home is! It’s in the Jewish trendy neighborhood called La Marais. Very near the Seine and La Notre Dame.” She smiled.

“Oh, my! How lovely for you!” Rachel exclaimed.

“For us, Rachel. You are my only family now.” She leaned in and kissed Rachel’s cheek. She’d always thought of her as her mother anyway. Rachel beamed.

“Ah, but what I read about the history of Jews in La Marais is disheartening,” Marin continued. “Apparently throughout the history of Paris, Jews were ejected, then allowed to return, and so it went from the seventh century til now, really.

Then finally came acceptance. Prior to WWII, the Jews prospered in La Marais, bankers, shop keepers, industrialists. Until …”

“I know this part,” Rachel interjected . “Until the German occupation … and the death camps.” She paused, her face a question mark. “It’s not just your heritage, Marin. It’s mine, too. Poland, I think, but I know less than you.”

“We can sort through our mysterious heritages while we are here in Paris. Your story. My story. I’m getting excited now. Mysteries to solve … the urn and us!” She felt the grief and weariness of the past month abate a little, driven away by curiosity.

The flight attendant announced, “stow your gear and fasten your seat belts. Prepare for landing.”

Then the captain, “Bienvenue les amis, the morning is bright, the sky is clear. It is a perfect day for a walk in the Tuileries!” he paused. “And remember, mon amis, April in Paris is for lovers! Oui?”

Smiling passengers replied, “Oui!”

Dear Readers
The adventure will continue on March 28! One question leads to another as Marin and Rachel unravel their personal sagas. How does everything intertwine and lead to revealing the story of the urn? What strangers will come into their lives to bring more mystery and perhaps … love?

More chapters to come. Wish I could paint and write faster for you so you don’t have to wait two weeks for the next chapter.

Let me know what you think!

I’m listening!

Etlainie92@gmail.com

www.elainestories.com

The Urn, part two March 14, 2025

THE URN

Part two, April 10, 2000

Illustrated and written

by Elaine Troisi

Given the extraordinary request left by her father, Marin got to work. Bill gave her one week to put her affairs in order, personal as well as business. Of course, he was always there to help. She asked Rachel to pack their bags and handle the minutiae of planning their trip to Paris.

Rachel generally traveled with her, so she was accustomed to the preparations. In the past, she helped them plan their agendas. This time, she, too, was perplexed. What would they find in Paris? A house shuttered for years? How could she prepare an itinerary?

The week flew by. Then she and Rachel sat sipping wine in first class. Well, Marin sipped while Rachel slept soundly. Twenty-five years her senior, Rachel, too, was exhausted from the turmoil of the past traumatic weeks since Marin’s father’s death.

Tears welled up. “Daddy, I miss you so much, “she whispered. “I need your guidance now, more than ever.” She swallowed her sobs with a swish of wine and brushed her tears aside.

Marin had no idea what lay ahead, but she opened her tablet and dug in. She needed to find out what she could in the seven hours before they landed at Charles de Gaulle airport.

First, what arrondissement were they going to? It turns out rue du Trésor is in a very trendy Jewish neighborhood in the fourth arrondissement. “Good to know,” she thought, relieved.

Marin smiled. How often had she asked her dad the same question throughout her childhood adventures?

“Another six hours, Rachel. You can go back to your dreams, sweetie.”

Just then the flight attendant offered her a refill. “Just water for now. Thank you.”

Marin returned to her tablet. She was happy with her findings thus far. What she didn’t know was the condition of the home.

Google Earth revealed the façade. There were flowers on the terrace. That meant the caretaker was doing her job well. “Looks quite well kept,” she thought, heartened.

The day before they boarded their plane, Bill sat her down."I've been thinking," he said, "about your father's request. I think I can help you understand what he was getting at."

Marin's ears perked up, and she leaned in, eager for any insight.

Marin sat up straight, her thoughts hijacked by what Bill shared just one day ago. Only now was she becoming aware of the new reality of her background. Questions, really.

A revelation. “Good grief, my father survived the Occupation, but what about his parents?”

The flight attendant appeared. “You know, I think I will have thatglass of wine after all.”

She sipped the wine and promptly joined Rachel in sleep, but a little turbulence woke them up a short time later. The flight attendant returned with dinner. “Bon appetit, Mesdames.”

Rachel asked, “Do you speak French, Marin? Because I don’t,” Rachel commented between mouthfuls.

“Well, then, we’ll just hope that more Parisians speak English than not,” she said hopefully. “Wikipedia seems to think so anyway.”

During dinner, Marin shared everything she had learned about the area. “Where the house is located, that is, where my ancestral home is! It’s in the Jewish trendy neighborhood called La Marais. Very near the Seine and La Notre Dame.” She smiled.

“Oh, my! How lovely for you!” Rachel exclaimed.

“For us, Rachel. You are my only family now.” She leaned in and kissed Rachel’s cheek. She’d always thought of her as her mother anyway. Rachel beamed.

“Ah, but what I read about the history of Jews in La Marais is disheartening,” Marin continued. “Apparently throughout the history of Paris, Jews were ejected, then allowed to return, and so it went from the seventh century til now, really.

Then finally came acceptance. Prior to WWII, the Jews prospered in La Marais, bankers, shop keepers, industrialists. Until …”

The flight attendant announced, “stow your gear and fasten your seat belts. Prepare for landing.”

Then the captain, “Bienvenue les amis, the morning is bright, the sky is clear. It is a perfect day for a walk in the Tuileries!” he paused. “And remember, mon amis, April in Paris is for lovers! Oui?”

Smiling passengers replied, “Oui!”

Dear Readers
The adventure will continue on March 28! One question leads to another as Marin and Rachel unravel their personal sagas. How does everything intertwine and lead to revealing the story of the urn? What strangers will come into their lives to bring more mystery and perhaps … love?

More chapters to come. Wish I could paint and write faster for you so you don’t have to wait two weeks for the next chapter.

Let me know what you think!

I’m listening!

Etlainie92@gmail.com

www.elainestories.com

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The Urn, part two March 14, 2025

THE URN

Part two, April 10, 2000

Illustrated and written

by Elaine Troisi

Given the extraordinary request left by her father, Marin got to work. Bill gave her one week to put her affairs in order, personal as well as business. Of course, he was always there to help. She asked Rachel to pack their bags and handle the minutiae of planning their trip to Paris.

Rachel generally traveled with her, so she was accustomed to the preparations. In the past, she helped them plan their agendas. This time, she, too, was perplexed. What would they find in Paris? A house shuttered for years? How could she prepare an itinerary?

The week flew by. Then she and Rachel sat sipping wine in first class. Well, Marin sipped while Rachel slept soundly. Twenty-five years her senior, Rachel, too, was exhausted from the turmoil of the past traumatic weeks since Marin’s father’s death.

Tears welled up. “Daddy, I miss you so much, “she whispered. “I need your guidance now, more than ever.” She swallowed her sobs with a swish of wine and brushed her tears aside.

Marin had no idea what lay ahead, but she opened her tablet and dug in. She needed to find out what she could in the seven hours before they landed at Charles de Gaulle airport.

First, what arrondissement were they going to? It turns out rue du Trésor is in a very trendy Jewish neighborhood in the fourth arrondissement. “Good to know,” she thought, relieved.

Marin smiled. How often had she asked her dad the same question throughout her childhood adventures?

“Another six hours, Rachel. You can go back to your dreams, sweetie.”

Just then the flight attendant offered her a refill. “Just water for now. Thank you.”

Marin returned to her tablet. She was happy with her findings thus far. What she didn’t know was the condition of the home.

Google Earth revealed the façade. There were flowers on the terrace. That meant the caretaker was doing her job well. “Looks quite well kept,” she thought, heartened.

The day before they boarded their plane, Bill sat her down."I've been thinking," he said, "about your father's request. I think I can help you understand what he was getting at."

Marin's ears perked up, and she leaned in, eager for any insight.

Marin sat up straight, her thoughts hijacked by what Bill shared just one day ago. Only now was she becoming aware of the new reality of her background. Questions, really.

A revelation. “Good grief, my father survived the Occupation, but what about his parents?”

The flight attendant appeared. “You know, I think I will have thatglass of wine after all.”

She sipped the wine and promptly joined Rachel in sleep, but a little turbulence woke them up a short time later. The flight attendant returned with dinner. “Bon appetit, Mesdames.”

Rachel asked, “Do you speak French, Marin? Because I don’t,” Rachel commented between mouthfuls.

“Well, then, we’ll just hope that more Parisians speak English than not,” she said hopefully. “Wikipedia seems to think so anyway.”

During dinner, Marin shared everything she had learned about the area. “Where the house is located, that is, where my ancestral home is! It’s in the Jewish trendy neighborhood called La Marais. Very near the Seine and La Notre Dame.” She smiled.

“Oh, my! How lovely for you!” Rachel exclaimed.

“For us, Rachel. You are my only family now.” She leaned in and kissed Rachel’s cheek. She’d always thought of her as her mother anyway. Rachel beamed.

“Ah, but what I read about the history of Jews in La Marais is disheartening,” Marin continued. “Apparently throughout the history of Paris, Jews were ejected, then allowed to return, and so it went from the seventh century til now, really.

Then finally came acceptance. Prior to WWII, the Jews prospered in La Marais, bankers, shop keepers, industrialists. Until …”

The flight attendant announced, “stow your gear and fasten your seat belts. Prepare for landing.”

Then the captain, “Bienvenue les amis, the morning is bright, the sky is clear. It is a perfect day for a walk in the Tuileries!” he paused. “And remember, mon amis, April in Paris is for lovers! Oui?”

Smiling passengers replied, “Oui!”

Dear ReadersThe adventure will continue on March 28! One question leads to another as Marin and Rachel unravel their personal sagas. How does everything intertwine and lead to revealing the story of the urn? What strangers will come into their lives to bring more mystery and perhaps … love?

More chapters to come. Wish I could paint and write faster for you so you don’t have to wait two weeks for the next chapter.

Let me know what you think! I’m listening!

Etlainie92@gmail.com www.elainestories.com

Attribution

Contact Form

Dear Readers
The adventure will continue on March 28! One question leads to another as Marin and Rachel unravel their personal sagas. How does everything intertwine and lead to revealing the story of the urn? What strangers will come into their lives to bring more mystery and perhaps … love?

Let me know what you think!

I’m listening!

Etlainie92@gmail.com

www.elainestories.com