Luxeuil les Bains is an old town, and not just for its abbey, started in the 6th century by
an Irish monk, Saint Columbanus, or for its archeological dig in the city’s center.
It’s a village filled with people old enough to make us feel like young whippersnappers. And that’s not easy.
They are here for “the cure,” the thermal baths, and perhaps, too, for a little action in the city’s casino. Today, with temperatures rising into the mid-90s, neither the old-timers nor anyone else was moving terribly fast.
I’d come to prepare for interviews tomorrow at France’s oldest hand-blown glass company, La Rochere, dating back to 1475. But I get restless sitting in the heat.
So we wandered into town this morning to buy a picnic lunch and see what’s there. That’s when we heard the huge pipe organ inside the church, the Basilique Saint-Pierre. The organist and an oboist were practicing for a summer recital they’re scheduled to give on June 29. The organist was particularly good.
We walked around inside the church, then stopped and sat. The church’s acoustics are superb. When the two musicians played Tomaso Albinoni’s Adagio, a somber, moving piece that we played repeatedly 15 years ago in the room in which my mother lay 
dying, tears welled in my eyes.
There’s no particular reason we found our way to this little village in the middle of nowhere. We needed a reasonably priced hotel, and it had several. Since arriving, we’ve struggled with a spotty email connection and too much heat (our hotel has no AC). But slow-lane magic takes many forms. Today’s was music.