Today's Date:

Washington, La Maison Française, September 28, 2005

Now my turn has come to speak, and I must say this is not an easy task, considering the outpouring of talent, humor and eloquence that preceded me. So I will follow the advice of a wise though sarcastic French saying: “Puisque ces événements nous dépassent, feignons d’en être les organisateurs,” which translates roughly as: “When you’re overtaken by events, pretend that you’re the one who’s organizing them.”

Distinguished guests, dear friends, my dear Art Buchwald,

In the life of an Ambassador, there are many good moments – yes, even for a French Ambassador in Washington – and there are a few exceptional highlights. Tonight is one of them, and for one good reason: Art Buchwald’s party has drawn a crowd of hundreds to La Maison Française, and yet we still feel like we’re “en famille” . All those who came are dear friends of Art Buchwald and, I dare say, all of them are dear friends of France. I see many familiar faces and I am pleased and honored to welcome all of you here. Your presence vindicates an assertion I read in one of Art’s columns : “If you attack the establishment long enough and hard enough, they will make you a member of it.”

You chose La Maison Française to celebrate Art Buchwald and there could not have been a better choice: For a man who, as he has rightly written, “will always have Paris,” it’s only fair and the least we could do to transform La Maison Française into his house tonight. To me, Art, you are sort of a colleague: Through your columns and your books, you have served time and time again as an Ambassador of France to the United States, explaining my country to your fellow citizens with accuracy, humor and affection. Long before it was fashionable to write long, best-selling novels such as The Da Vinci Code (which, by the way, is now being turned into a movie in Paris), you managed to describe the Louvre, the French palace and museum, in just a few sentences, in your “six-minute Louvre race”: running from the Mona Lisa to other famous artworks in the museum, making excellent time under, I quote, “perfect conditions, with a smooth floor, excellent lighting, and no wind.”

Not only are you a perfect Ambassador of France to the United States (and I should have consulted you for advice to help me keep my sense of humor during some recent eruptions of French bashing), but I guess that Sargeant Schriver, whom I am delighted to see here tonight, will not contradict me if I say that you are also an indispensable American Ambassador abroad, and especially in my country. Can anyone here imagine how helpful it is, when you first come to the US, to keep in your pocket, for emergency use, Art’s explanation of the Thanksgiving Day tradition for the French? Every French person who arrives in this country can easily get through his or her first end-of-November knowing that the celebration is about a time “when the Pélerins were killing the dindes, the Peaux-Rouges were killing the Pélerins, and there were several hard winters ahead for both of them.” Bearing these simple words in mind, one can enjoy what you call “the only time during the year when American families eat better than the French do.” And at a time when public diplomacy is so trendy, I hope my friends and colleagues in the State Department will recognize you as one of the Founding Fathers of this new art: What else should we call traveling to the Soviet Union, as you did, in a chauffeur-driven limousine to let the Soviet people see what a real capitalist looks like? I am certain that any piece of advice about today’s efforts of public diplomacy will be welcome.

Dear Art, tonight is an evening of celebration full of affection, joy and good memories. It is also an evening about the present times, a celebration of America as it is and as we love it. I know that you are not found of nostalgia, and neither am I. I remember reading you: “Everyone seems to think that yesterday was better than today. I don’t think it was and I would advise you not to wait ten years before admitting today was great. If you’re hung up on nostalgia, pretend today is yesterday and just go out and have one hell of a time.”

That’s wonderful advice, and I suggest that we follow it by raising our glass of champagne to you, Art, and to your eightieth birthday :