Free Write - Winter Wonderland

Three writers, one prompt, ten minutes to write without stopping or correcting. This is a regular Tuesday activity. This week it was in a different tea room in Vesenaz, Switzerland, a Geneva suburb.

Julia's Free Write

Brrrr…. All that snow. Thankfully he was on the inside looking out.

Peaceful – this was what he needed after the year past. A few days to rest and recover before heading into the “New Year.”

By the way, why did everyone he know act as if the simple fact of leaving one year behind and starting a new one, was an automatic erasure of past problems, of aches and pains?

In his experience, the New Year sometimes brought even more.

His kids had found this place, up in the middle of low mountains and valleys.

So, he was determined to make the most of a week “off” in spite of himself.

And you know, looking out on the snow and setting sun almost did the trick. It was peaceful, he could relax.

Now if he could just avoid thoughts of what might be buried under all that snow as the sun set that first day of the New Year.

 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 Free Write 

How did Sandra let herself be talked into this. She was the most unsporty person she knew.

Granted Tom had been enthusiastic. "You'll love skiing."

She did love the place they'd rented near the slopes. 

The sunrises, sunsets with their many shades of pink sent her scurrying for her camera. She would recapture them on canvas when she was back in her studio. OK, landscapes weren't her usual thing, but Picasso and other artists had more than one style.

"Lessons," Tom had said as he introduced her to Jared, the drop-dead handsome ski instructor. "I'll meet you back here for lunch," he called over his shoulder as he headed for the ski lift.

He met her instead at the hospital, her foot in a cast suspended over the bed.

Not even her first run, but her first slide she'd heard the bones crack in her ankle and foot when she fell. A bandage kept her sprained wrist stable.

"My ski experience was three minutes," she told Tom. "I warned you I wasn't sporty."

 D-L has had 17 fiction and non fiction books published. Check out her website at:. https://dlnelsonwriter.com 

Rick's Free Write

They’d been traipsing through the deep snow for several hours, on snowshoes, but it was getting late. The sun was starting to go down over the Jura Mountains, and though the colors were a brilliant orange, red and yellow, when the sun was gone it would get brutally cold.

As they came over a small rise, Josh spotted a house or cabin at the bottom of the slope. There was also a barn-like structure nearby. But no people in sight, no roads or walkways cleared. Was it abandoned? Jill didn’t care: “It’s a place to sleep,” she said.

No locks on the door. No electricity when she flipped the switch. Josh used the light on his mobile to check out the one-room structure. It didn’t look like anyone had been there for months, maybe years. The water had been shut off.

But there was a fireplace. And a bit of stacked wood on the hearth, so they built a much-welcomed fire. Sat at the ancient wood table to eat their tinned rations.

Well after the sun went down, as they attempted sleep in their bedrolls, they heard a sound outside. Soft, like steps through crunchy snow. Then a bark. And another. Then a low growl.

When Josh looked out the window, staring back at him was an enormous gray and black wolf. With several of his mates. And two of them were pawing to get in the door.

 Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices. com  

Conversations with Strangers

 

"I can't help it.

It's in my genes. I strike up conversations with strangers, just like my mother and father did. As a child I listen to them chattering away and after we left the person they were talking to, I would ask who that person was and/or how did they know them. More often then not, they would admit they didn't know them at all.

Today I went into the ladies room at Manora, a grocery store. A woman was washing her hands and she was wearing an ankle-length coat with various shade of brown stripes.  It had a fur collar and reminded of something I might see in the Dr. Zhivago movie.

"Excusez-moi mais votre manteau est beau, magnifique,"

She turned and with a smile said, "Merci."

She said that she'd had the coat for 40 years. The coat was so original, that the most I could hope for was to capture the feeling of the moment of the two of us talking. To ask to take her photo would have spoiled the mood.

We talked about how we kept some clothes for years: they were like old friends with shared memories.

She had been in Switzerland for 40 years and had escaped Czechoslovakia when it was still Communist. I told her about my wonderful Czech neighbors in Geneva who later showed me Prague through their eyes saying similar things about living through those bad years and the freedom of their current lives.

We talked about French accents -- she thought mine was adorable, but I didn't say I thought mine sucked, just I wished it were better.

She was three years younger than I am. She mentioned my almost unwrinkled skin, another tribute to my genes. Her skin was that of someone younger but there was no way would she ever have any surgical or injection, she told me. We agreed that what wrinkles we do have, we earned. They represent memories. 

Her figure was something that any woman would love to have. She exercises regularly to keep her figure, but also to keep healthy. 

The conversation ended as we went to join our husbands.

I owe a debt of gratitude to both my parents. Because of them, I'm not afraid to tell a stranger that she has a beautiful coat which will meld into a moment of sharing, discovery and insight into another person's humanity.

 

Coat Hangers and Knitting Needles

 

For several months after I finished writing Coat Hangers and Knitting Needles, I felt a heaviness, a sadness for all the women who had suffered. Between research, interviews and writing it had taken a year. The book covered abortion before Roe v. Wade. What helped me not descend into depression was a sense at least with Roe v. Wade women's reproduction rights were safe.

How wrong I was.

I knew that my grandmother and her friends, all born in the late 1800s, controlled the size of their families with the "knitting needle solution." I found it hard to picture these very-proper women, who still wore corsets, aprons and sensible shoes, aborting themselves but none had more than two children at a time when birth control was almost non existent.

I knew many friends had had abortions under frightening conditions. 

As time went on and the pro-lifers became stronger, I was scared we would go backwards. I decided to write a book.

My first interview was with Bill Baird, who after seeing a woman die from a botched abortion, became a lifelong fighter for women's reproductive rights including birth control. Baird was in his late eighties, blind and extremely helpful when we talked. Today he is 92.

Day after day, I did the research. I found information on the first abortion trial in Pomfret, CT. A woman in 1742 died from an abortion and her abortionist was tried. 

I found all the ways women tried to abort their children from the dangerous to the ridiculous.

I watched Tim Sebastian on BBC's Hardtalk interview Norma McCorvey, the Roe of Roe v. Wade. If I ever did anything wrong I would never go on the program because Sebastian would go for the jugular vein. With Norma McCorvey, he pulled his punches, was even gentle. Unfortunately, the interview is no longer on Youtube.

I watched video after video of women who had undergone abortions. Gerri Santoro was featured in a film www.pbs.org/pov/films/leonassistergerri/. An abused wife, she tried to free herself. A do-it-yourself abortion left her bleeding to death on a motel floor. The picture of her lying on the floor in her own blood and her story became an article in Ms Magazine. Gerri's story left me crying.

Watching the films of women's families that had died, brought up something seldom discussed. When a mother dies from an abortion her children grow up motherless like the singer with five children who couldn't afford a sixth. Some of their stories. https://www.attiegoldwater.com/motherless-a-legacy-of-loss-from-illegal-abortion

I did interview after interview. I heard from women who were sexually abused by their abortionists. The age of women varied from 12 to 50, married, unmarried, rich, poor, all classes.

A presenter for Romper Room took Thalidomide just as the news broke on it causing birth defects. She was denied an abortion and had to go to Japan for her abortion. The fetus was horribly deformed. At one point, her children needed police protection when they went to school because of people threatening them because their mother had sought an abortion. 

"Back in the 50s and 60s, every major hospital in the U.S. had a septic abortion ward..." according to Dr. David Grimes.

I gathered information from 3000 B.C. to 2017 which proved to me, women will do what they need to do regardless of society.

I self published and mailed copies of the book to every pro-life group, every Supreme Court Justice. I received a few replies threatening me with hell and/or calling me evil.

Neither myself or my daughter are of child bearing age. However, every young woman is at risk should they become pregnant and want or NEED an abortion for personal, financial or health reasons.

The book is available in paperback and Kindle at cost. 

International Eating

 Growing up in Massachusetts my grandmother was a traditional Yankee cook while my mother scoured Gourmet Magazine for recipes. Our choices of restaurants were local and limited: Italian and Chinese nothing else.

There are New England foods I miss: lobster, scrod (fish of various types), fresh apple cider, baked beans baked all-day long in a bean pot, brown bread, New England boiled dinner with red flannel hash as a left over. On visits back there, I now add breakfast at Dempsey's restaurant in Medford near my daughter's. If we're lucky we can go several times for their waffles, eggs benedict, bagels, etc.

As an adult living in different countries and traveling to more, I've developed a love for many national and regional specialties, some gourmet, some peasant and much in between. I get excited about trying out different cuisines or going back another time. My husband also has developed some favorites:

CANADA

My husband has loved poutine from when he lived in Montreal. A friend, whenever she can find the packets for the sauce, buys them. There is usually a Canadian stand featuring poutine, a combination of potatoes, cheese and gravy, at the Montreux Christmas Marchè and we make sure they have a good sales day.

He is also in love with Schwartz, a special seasoning bought from a Montreal restaurant. They don't ship to Switzerland, but will to the U.S. My daughter orders it, so she can send her stepfather a very special Christmas present.

SCOTLAND

There's nothing like being in the 4th floor of a certain Edinburgh store that specializes in kilts where there's a café serving tea and scones while looking down on Princes Street. Granted Pages & Sips, an English book store in Geneva's old town, sells a really good substitute. 

 

Coming out of the car rental at Edinburgh airport, there's an Irn Bru dispenser. Both my daughter, who did a Masters in that city, and my husband, need to stop to buy cans. A few places in Switzerland and Massachusetts do have the drink, but so few that finding Irn Bru is a treat for them.

Mac and cheese, haggis, jacket potatoes, and pub food in general is a must on any trip to Scotland.

SWEDEN

Sure, there's ligonberry jelly which I fell in love with at the House of Pancakes in Saugus, MA. However, in Stockholm there was the jelly on many menus. I found a cinnamon bun that I adored. Talking to my Swiss/Swedish dentist, who goes to Sweden regularly, I am not alone. He too is a fan. In Switzerland our local boulangerie makes cinnamon rolls to order and in Argelès there's a mother and daughter who bring pastries to the marché including cinnamon rolls.

GERMANY

When I lived in Germany for the two years my ex-husband served in an Army band, we did not have the money to eat out, but because the band played many public relations gigs, we were fed. I developed a love of hot potato salad which we were served almost every time. 

Sauerkraut? 

Great the first three or four times, but after the fifth and definitely after the 25th, not so much.

I would save up so at lunch time I could go to a stand and buy a wurst with mustard and brotchen maybe twice month.  

Only after I left Germany did I realize that the butter was so good because it wasn't salted.

When my housemate and I drove to northern Germany from Geneva, we both had a long list of things we wanted to eat. She had developed a love of German food from her German husband.

CARCASSONNE, FRANCE

Cassoulet, the bean, duck, sausage and other things that is typical of the region. I suspect that meal developed from leftovers which would explain the assortment. It is a must whenever I'm in the walled city with or without friends. 

SWITZERLAND

 

Our local dishes have become part of our family eating be it at home or in a restaurant: fondue, raclette, rosti, preferably black chocolate. Asparagus in the spring, chestnuts roasted by street vendors in the fall.

SYRIA

Having a Syrian neighbor who fed me regularly made me fall in love with everything I tasted. Her tabuli and hummus are fantastic. Lentils? Oh yes. When I visited Damascus there were more delights, a garlic soup-like dish - wow. 

Now days almost every nationality is available in any good sized city. In Geneva I can find various African cuisines, Japanese, Thai, Indian (although Indian neighbor neighbors spoiled me with their home made meals), Pakistani. 

Just writing this makes me hungry. I'll sign off and see what's in the fridge.

Clergy support abortion

 

Judson Memorial Church in New York, NY, the site of an organization that would help hundreds of women to get safe abortions rather than risk their lives with butchers or do-it-yourself methods.

Imagine ministers and rabbis in 38 states helping women get abortions?

Impossible?

It wasn't before Roe v. Wade.

In 1967, 21 Protestant ministers and Jewish rabbis met in the Judson Memorial Church. They formed the Clergy Consultation Service on Abortion (CCS). 

Their existence provided women with places to get safe abortion.

By the time abortion became legal in 1973, there were 3,000+ clergy who helped some 450,000 women find safe abortions. Some were local, others had to change states or countries.

Rev. Howard Moody (photo above) spoke for the group. After his first interview appeared in the 27 May 1967 New York Times giving names of the first 21 participating clergy, hundreds of women responded.

The service required an in-person interview, making referrals unavailable to women from states other than New York. CCS realized they needed chapters in other states. Some 3,000 “counselors” volunteered. 

Pretending to be pregnant Arlene Carmen (photo above), who worked for the Judson church, along with other women, visited doctors. They maintained a list of approved and non-approved doctors. They based their decisions on methods and attitudes.

The question isn't will abortion be eradicated.  The question is will women be able to control their own bodies. Women who want an abortion will find a way to get one. The other question is how safe will it be.

D-L Nelson had written Coat Hangers and Knitting Needles about abortion prior to Roe v. Wade beginning in Colonial America. It is available at http://books.google.com. www.amazon.com, www.goodreads.com