French Birth Rate Skyrockets

It is never good news to hear about your hometown on the overseas radio. I knew we were in trouble when the BBC reported from Fairfax County, and it was about the wave of shootings this summer. This morning they reported about my alma mater, The University of Michigan. My older son is there and my younger son is not going there. I have a certain personal interest in the affirmative-action admissions case going before the Supreme Court. The President is involved, and that is almost as bad as hearing about your hometown on the World Service.

I was thinking about the impact of my contribution to the American birthrate 1.8 decades ago when an electrifying statistic flew across the airwaves and into my breakfast nook.

The word from the Continent this morning is that French women are now reproducing at the rate of 1.9, the highest in Europe. This is stunning news. French wines are moribund, the economy is stagnant. The World Service reports the dry statistic and then gives depth and texture to it. At this rate, the French will almost replace themselves, a terrifying prospect. BBC reporters talked to maternity experts and economists, who predicted that the increased demand on the health care system will bring rocketing health premiums. But the boom is a two-edged sword and while straining the schools it will also bring new workers to bolster the work force and support the generous state pension plan.

The reporters report that a family friendly France, feel the “F’s” trip off the tongue, is directly attributable to the shorter work week. It seems that the French have rediscovered a traditional means of passing the time. The sounds of young children flood my living room. The unified Germany next door must have a headache, or something, and unless they find a way to creatively deal with their idle hours, their birthrate will continue to decline. I hope they were not listening to the World Service this morning. The last time the German birthrate went up they invaded Poland, looking for the living room. Or Lebensraum. I forget. But more Germans normally means more problems in exactly 1.9 decades. You can set your watch by it.

The French model appealed to me and I resolved to take Friday off. I had covered the office over the Holidays and taking Friday would transform the Martin Luther King observance on Monday into a four day weekend. The prospect of lazing about was inviting, since we have been back to work full time for two straight weeks. Brutal. Thankfully, there is a national holiday coming up on Monday. They say that in the latter days of Rome the official calendar had become so cluttered by State vacations that a working day was as rare to them as a holiday is to us. But they seemed not to have figured out a simple cost effective means to pass the time, relying on state-sponsored bread and circuses. Clearly a culture in decline.

I am resolute about defending the American democracy, and thus intended to use an extra day off for important civic tasks. But it seemed that the possibility of finding a French person to discuss effective recreational activities would be complicated by another woman, Mother Nature.

Doug Hill and Bob Ryan stopped by the apartment last night to give me a quick update. Doug is the weather-guesser from channel Nine, and Bob does that duty on channel Four. They didn’t argue exactly, they are both too gentlemanly to do that in front of me. They had a professional disagreement. And they weren’t here exactly, only in a virtual manner, the way the World Service sweeps in and starts my day. Doug was apologetic when he was here. He pointed to the jet stream highlighted on the screen and said the bulk of the moisture was to the south and would sweep majestically out to sea. Unless it curved in a slightly more northerly manner. Then it would dump several inches of white stuff on my head.

Bob Ryan was more blunt, but he always is. He smiled wolfishly as he stroked his animated version of the jet stream. He knew his prediction would cause people across the tri-state region, the DELMARVA, to head for the Safeway and buy essentials, whether they need them or not. Toilet paper, milk and eggs will sell out today based on his assessment and you can tell that he enjoys it. A weatherman in his element, so to speak, arbiter and interpreter of the natural world. Doug didn’t seem to take the same sort of sadistic pleasure in it. He apologized for his computer models. Maybe that is why Bob is the bigger media star. Doug seems to lack the element of high drama. Bob tortures us with the potential misery to come.

I have things to do on Friday, errands to run while everyone else is working. But if we are buried in snow, I will submit to Bob’s will and stay home. What I must do today is prepare for the contingency. I need to get to the Safeway. And in the event that I am trapped by the blizzard in a public place, find a decent French phrase-book.

Copyright 2003 Vic Socotra