The Bell Curve:

I just watched my dear French friends, Howard and Françoise Appel, drive off on the next leg of their visit to a wet California in order to escape the frigid winter of Provence and create new memories with old friends. They stayed in my home for 18 days, and I will miss them sorely in the mix of sadness and momentary relief that always follows a visit from those you love.

I’m not completely out of company. I’m in my office with two dogs, my Gia and my daughter’s Rainn, a boarder while the head of her household spends several days in Las Vegas. The dogs, sprawled out quietly around my desk chair, seem to sense my mood, revisiting the past weeks and savoring the one essential quality beside love that made it work. That quality was pervasive humor that introduced peanut butter into their lives and where opinions cast in concrete were balanced by the art of listening.

When local friends were surprised that we weren’t at each other, after the first weekend morphed into the next week, we explained that the first few days were a pilot program, after which we just applied what we had learned. One of the first lessons was allowing space, when it was needed, to read or nap or just breathe our damp air. Not everything had to be a group activity. Early morning walks, for example. Or watching football on TV. Whatever the daytime activity, we could count irrevocably on convening at the cocktail hour for a fixed menu of martinis, gin-and-tonics and multicolored wines. And good talk that had no visible boundaries except a failure to show respect for differing opinions no matter how incredulous.

The guest status was changed to family after the first weekend, when we began to take turns in preparing meals and picking up checks. When the weather drove us indoors, we saw a passel of movies, but very little TV — except for the speech of our president, which took on an extra element when seen through French eyes. Our visitors were distressed to see firsthand the depth of anger directed at Obama and the deepening divisions within this country.

The respect and support for Obama is much greater, they said, in the nations of western Europe than in his own country.

They were also surprised to learn that the alleged poor performance of existing government health-care programs — including France — was being used to prevent it in the U.S. Their experience with French national health care has been the opposite. Both have suffered bad falls that have been cared for quickly and efficiently, as have other previous health problems.

They will be gone for the next six weeks, visiting other good friends, made during the years they lived in Southern California.

Then they will be back for a last martini or two before they return home to enjoy spring in Provence, leaving behind a powerful awareness of the importance and warmth of good and caring friends.

The Pilot gave extensive coverage to the successful effort of land owner Kim Megonigal to get permission to build a 3500-square-foot “dream” house on a steep, narrow plot overlooking the ocean that will cut off a good portion of the view of visitors to Begonia Park and home owners around the park.

The Newport Beach City Council granted that permission in a 5-2 vote several weeks ago, despite a petition signed by 1,200 Newport Beach citizens wanting to preserve the view.

I won’t rehash the pro or con arguments here. They have already been offered in the Pilot, including opinion on behalf of the land owner, which is not my position. I didn’t respond earlier because I have an obvious bias. I lived in one of the homes where the land now to be built on was our opening to the sea. Newport Beach has a long record of protecting such openings. Why they should change course in this instance I don’t know.

I spent 25 beautiful years in that house, and one of the things I remember best is the bench that once rested above our opening to the sea. A lot of life decisions were made sitting on that bench. It’s gone now, replaced by wire fence and high grass.

The last time I looked, a Time Warner Cable truck was parked there, sizing up the situation. Soon, I understand, that spot will overlook the roof of a garage.

JOSEPH N. BELL lives in Newport Beach. His column runs Thursdays.