Free Write - Memories

Julia gave today's Free Write Prompt, Memories. Hopefully, next week, we'll be back in the same country, Switzerland together, sipping coffee, tea and/or hot chocolate in one of our favorite cafés as our pens rush across the paper for ten minutes.

Julia's Free Write Memories

The good, the bad, the indifferent: oh no, that means I am thinking of Old Westerns!

But who cares, I’ve accumulated them over the thousands (28’052) of days that I’ve lived.

Some became highlights, some faded into insignificance, but the mind is a wonderful thing and can pull out some from its’ multitude compartments in nanoseconds, in fact so many that I haven’t a fighting chance of listing them all, even were I to live another 100 years and we all know how unlikely that is!

It is interesting that one often first remembers the difficult or challenging only by dint of true application does one recall the outstanding, in my case perhaps because there have been more good than difficult.

Then there are those of life-changing moments and decisions.

But, regardless, I gather them all, like a shawl around my shoulders: Memories, proof that I have lived.

Julia has written and taken photos all her life and loves syncing up with friends. Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

D-L's Free Write

Whenever she heard the word memories, she immediately thought "turn your face to the moonlight" and the blasted song from Cats rang through her head the rest of the day.

Usually when she heard the song for real, something bad happened: she'd lose her keys, get a flat tire, etc.

On the other hand, when she heard the song Willow Weep for Me, something good happened: an old friend called, she'd find $50 on the sidewalk and no one was around to return the money to.

At the risk of sounding Sesame Streetish, memories and music both started with the letter M.

As she drove to work, the radio played Memories. Five miles later there was an accident. Damn it, the memories curse was holding true. 

Visit D-L's website https://dlnelsonwriter.com

Rick's Free Write

I have only good memories.

Thanks to my ability to block from my mind any negative events.

Memories, it seems, reside somewhere in the deep recess of the mind and only come to the fore when triggered by something we see, something we hear, someone we meet.

We all, I think, have a litany of stories that we retell, especially when talking with someone new. I sometimes suggest we need fresh friends because the current ones have heard all my regular stories and jokes.

But sitting here, trying to write about specific memories, my mind is oddly blank. No triggers.

Childhood? Milestones? Marriage(s)? Children? Grandchildren? Friends? Travel? Places I’ve lived? Politics (no more)? Food? Animals?

Too many to choose.

Yet nothing comes to mind.

Visit Rick's website https://aviationvoices.com

 

FlashNano2024 No. 9 – Your grown daughter texts you – Fox please help

 

FlashNano2024 No. 9 – Prompt Your grown daughter texts you – Fox please help

When Gracie sent the message, “Fox, please help,” I phoned her immediately. She didn’t answer, which didn’t worry me all that much.

I used to joke that Gracie was independent from the time she walked out of the womb. Now she was a presenter on France2’s Télémartin. Last week she had been in Sete broadcasting from a cookie factory and this week, she was in Toulouse filming at an art gallery. During these times she shut off her phone.

Although Gracie never asked for help, she often would tell me her plans then ask, “Did I miss anything?” I’d been a single mom since I was widowed when she was five. We got along great.

Three hours later she called.

“What’s up??”

“I’ve been offered a job at double my pay with real reporting. Covering political news.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“For Fox News.”

I bit my tongue before I could say, “That’s not wonderful.” Although I’d lived in France since before Gracie was born, I still followed U.S. news closely. I hated Fox News with a passion and Gracie knew it. I was in public relations and could recognize manipulation.

“Are you going to say anything?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.” Gracie not knowing was unusual.

“I’ll back your decision, whatever.” It hurt to tell her that, but my daughter was 28. I could only hope that ethics would prevail over money and desire to be a “real” journalist, if reporting for Fox was real. Maybe it would lead to a post at France24 or TF1. I was sure she had thought of that, but again, it had to be her decision.

“I have to run, the camera guy is waving at me. I’ll let you know.”

Three days later Gracie called. “I’m staying with France2. When I told them of my offer, they upped my salary. They didn’t match it. I also asked to be switched to the news-news. No opening now, but at least they know I’d like that.”

“Wonderful.” I sighed in relief. All my brainwashing on ethics must have worked.

 

News Detox Day 1

 No U.S. Political News Leaves a Hole in the Day

Usually when we got up, the first thing we did was to put on U.S. news. This morning was a little different. We were in The Nest, my studio, which we use for a guest room. Our American dog sitters still were sleeping in our flat around the corner. An hour later we drove them to the airport in Perpignan. They were expressed fears for the future. Like us they were turning off what was happening for sanity.

Once back in our flat, we unpacked and did all the settling in things that are normal after being away. Before the election, we would have had the news on. Instead it was music. Some of the things we want to play: Leonard Cohen, Il Divo, Garou, Carmen Burana, Beethoven, Bach and much more. 

We have five days until we shift to Geneva for the winter.

We ate at a restaurant at the end of our street. Unlike yesterday, when many people in the neighborhood wanted to talk about the election, no one asked us our opinion. We didn't volunteer either. We said too many time that "Our birth country as we know it is dead. We are shutting down on everything connected, detoxing."

Normally we watch Smercornish at 3 p.m. I told Rick I debated printing the bald guy's picture and pasting it on the TV for an hour.

There is American visiting the village whom we heard was devastated by the election. We invited her to join us for a mint tea at Mille et Une. Like us, she is doing a mental news block out not wanting to face it.

A former schoolmate Facebooked me that I was wrong about the election, I have blinkers on and that I would see how great America would become. His ignorance is frightening. He said had I not given up my nationality I would be a traitor. 

We watched the new season of Diplomat on Netflix sharing vanilla pecan ice cream.

When we went to bed to read, I divided my time between Gray Wolf by Louise Penny and War by Bob Woodward, which isn't breaking the no news detox, but recent or current history.

Today is Sunday. Nothing planned but enjoying our last days here in France. Rick is making his special Sunday breakfast, I'll do home made tomato soup and a croissant cheese sandwich like we had in Portugal. Both of us may do some writing. We need to find my backgammon set. I know where the Scrabble is. Games to occupy the hole left by news will become part of our future.

It seems strange not to be following every political utterance, on the many channels in many countries. We aren't anti-other news, but the pain of watching our birth country self destruct is too much to indulge in it minute by minute.

FlashNano2024 No. 8 -- Conversation in a grocery check out line

 

Snow hovered in clouds, spitting out flakes on the Stop and Shop car-jammed parking lot. People were stocking up for the weekend and the projected blizzard.

Megan and Jaquie were doing their monthly shopping. Usually, they did it on the second Tuesday of the month when there were fewer people, but last Tuesday Megan had to have dinner with a client and Jaquie was working on a brief that just never seemed right to her so they postponed it to the weekend.

Jaquie had inherited her parents house which included a freezer in the basement, allowing them to do mega-shopping and only stop for things like milk, juice, fresh bread and butter in between.

Because they worked so hard, they much preferred to cook dinner at home, eat in their PJs, and either work more in their respective home offices or watch a Netflix.

They stood in line that went from the register to halfway up the canned goods aisle. Each had a shopping cart filled to the brim with meats, frozen veggies, canned goods, microwave popcorn, cookies and even ice cream.

Megan walked ahead leaving her cart with Jaquie.

Only one cash register was open.

Two men stood watching and talking. Their jackets had their names written on their pockets and their titles: Manager and Assistant Manager and the words Stop and Shop.

The cashier, a woman maybe in her forties, her late forties at that, looked frazzled.

Megan approached the two men. “Excuse me, are you the manager?”

The older man pointed to his name badge. “That’s what it says.”

“Do you think, you might be able to open another register?”

“We are a little short staffed today.”

“In your training did you learn how to operate the computer to tally up the groceries?”

“Of course.”

Megan would have sworn he smirked. “Then perhaps, you could check out groceries and move the line faster.”

The manager rolled his eyes. “Young lady, I’m a manager. Managers don’t do that.”

“Then how about your assistant?”

“Assistants don’t do that either.”

Megan started to walk away. No way, she thought. She walked back to the two men. “Look, halfway up the canned goods aisle. There’s a woman in a pink puff jacket with two full grocery carts.”

He nodded.

“Since you are a manager, I’m sure you know how to put all those groceries back. I suspect  we’ve spent well over $1200. And you better do it fast because there’s lots of frozen stuff including ice cream.”

Before he could answer the people closest to the cash register and who had been listening, broke into applause.

Megan signalled for Jaquie to join her, leaving both carts full. There was more applause as they walked out.

In the car, Jaquie said, “You do realize we still need to buy all that stuff.”

Megan nodded.

“But it was worth it to see his face.”