The Stars and Bars

I was walking tonight on rue Batignolles- looking for a baguette for dinner. All the boulangeries on my block were closed. Kevin was too exhausted to come with me. He had been carrying the groceries from all 5 stops. That's the way  it's done here.  I was stressing because our plan was chicken sandwiches. This is not as easy as it sounds. One needs condiments and fresh bread to go with the two day old chicken left overs or it will be bad- very bad. I decided to take my chances on the Blvd de Batignolles. Les Saveurs des Batignolles, 33Rue Turin, never disappoints. They are open late (8PM) and always make a fresh batch of bread for the tardy crowd. On my way there I passed a group of about 20 coeds in their late 50's. The men all had beards and longish thinning hair. Everyone was wearing black leather. The slender aging women looked pas mal in their leather pants. You go girls. The men all  had large american eagle patches sewn onto the backs of their leather vests. There were about 12 gigantic Harley Davidson motorcycles parked in front of  the Place de Richard Barret. Their riders were yelling loudly and playfully at each other in French- no accent. Then I saw it. A rebel flag on the back of one of the cycles. What. Seriously. You are French- or ostensibly so. Do you even know what this means? I was simultaneously horrified and fascinated. Was this a learning/teaching opportunity? I hadn't prepared a dialogue. What could I say- "Please, you must understand that this object is the symbol of racism, oppression, human breading for your god's sake, the bane of my country's soul." What could I say to make him take it down and put it in the trash can conveniently located just two feet away?  Nothing. I walked up to the group intent on photographing the scene, a still warm baguette in hand. I would say something meaningful to them. I would have an image for examination in repose. I started to speak and then dropped my baguette. One of the bearded guys reached down and picked it up. "Oh  just take off the end, it'll be fine." (en Français) -We met at bread- He seemed so kind. It wasn't enough but I didn't have the words to make the fine distinction between a minor kindness among strangers and deep kindness among persons. I didn't have the words to give what I should have. I went home ashamed.