A White Woman Looks at Success

 

I'm a white woman by accident.

My father's sperm, which contained the white DNA of generations that we know of going back to 1640 Nova Scotia swam to meet my mother's egg. Her known white DNA goes back to the English ship the Blessing also in the early 1600s.

There was luck that I had the parents I did. I was loved. I was raised in a middle class household that valued education, books, right and wrong, manners and creativity.

Sure - they may have been overly proud of being WASPs and Republicans and didn't like FDR and worse his wife, but they also believed in democracy and treating all people equally.

I was given opportunities by the accident of my birth. The first was a private school in West Virginia, run by a mega bitch of a teacher that in two years covered four years of studies. We discovered that when we returned to Massachusetts. I was put in the third grade which was boooooorrring.

I had a mother who had her own business before becoming a journalist giving me a role model unheard of the 1950s. She was also anti-feminist thinking if she could do it anyone could totally ignoring the reality of the society around her. I combined the idea of doing what I wanted despite society around  me.

I had a chance to be a cub reporter, my dream. 

By marrying too young, I ended up in Europe with an Army musician husband. To finish upon my return, the Massachusetts state university system gave me an excellent education at an affordable price.

Despite a divorce and being a single mom I've had incredible luck that has let me write and publish books and live in a number of European countries. If I'd been born rich would I have had more success, a better university, better opportunities? 

Probably, but would I have taken advantage of them? Who knows?

If I had been born black, would the same opportunities have come my way. There are some incredible people who despite their color have archived success, far greater than mine. It would have been harder.

And what is success? Is measurement in setting a goal and reaching it work wise, family wise, knowledge wise ... ? 

Success varies with each person, but there is a certain cultural norm that many blindly follow. I wear this brand and not another. I drive a VW or a Tesla, all arbitrary and people buy into those norms. In fact status symbols are mainly bullshit.

So, as a white woman, I have had more opportunities than a black woman only because I'm white. I am not superior or inferior no matter how the societies I move in may look at me.  

My life is the result of an accident because of one brave sperm and one come-hither egg that put me in a time and place that allowed me to take advantage of opportunities. 

 

 

 

 

Free Write Woman by a Lake

We have several writers who receive the prompts. Some share their writing with us, although we only publish the three published original Free Writers here. 

 Rick's Free Write

There’s something incredibly peaceful about a placid lake ringed by protective mountains. No wind. Mist rising from the cool water in the early morning sunshine. Reflections of trees on the surface.

Both places where we live feature large bodies of water and majestic mountains.

The Med in the south of France is fine, but the sea stretches across the horizon; you cannot see the land beyond the shore.

I prefer the Swiss ambiance. The lake is large, the largest in Europe, confined. I can see the other side. I can walk (or drive) around the entire perimeter in a day, viewing different angles of the Jura and Alps, cities and villages.

Though we no longer live very near the lake, we revisit it whenever we return to the area. It’s the same, and ever-changing. The stones on the shore. The ducks and geese vying for crumb-begging territory. The rowers and power boaters on a nice day. The sun setting in brilliant orange over the peaks to the west.

I did not grow up near water, but I live here now. And never will leave.

D-L's Free Write

The lake was so still it looked as if it could be walked on. Yesterday the wind from the north had churned up surfboard riding sized waves.

Sharon sat on the bench and stared at the snow covered mountain. She tightened her scarf around her neck.

What a difference a day makes, 14 little hours as the song went.

Yesterday she was a married woman. She didn't say happily, but she wasn't unhappy either. She just was.

Tom asking for a divorce surprised her. 

Her watch showed she had 94 minutes before her appointment with a divorce lawyer.

Overhead a branch from a tree dropped on last leaf. It had hung on through storms and snow and now gave up. 

Sharon picked up the leaf. Its purpose was over. Mine is just beginning she thought. She walked to her car. 

She didn't want to be late to the lawyer's office.

Julia's Free Write 

Her world had been crazy for a while now.

On top of world affairs, wars, earthquakes, floods, mountains falling down and the usual crimes here, there and everywhere, her personal world had also had its ups and downs.

She tended to be more Pollyanna than not, but what with the night news (she limited herself) and all the social media postings, as well as newspapers and magazines, she was kept well aware of goings on – sometimes in places so remote that she would never be involved.

Still, it hurt to realize how evil man could be to man.

How to survive without crumbling?

She had a trick or two.

Immerse herself in an easy-read romance; take a day off, and I mean a day “off” – as in get away from all family, friends or even acquaintances. No social interactions.

One of her favorite grounding methods? Find a bench facing a lake, a mountain or in the middle of a forest. Solitude was her salvation!

 About the Free Writers

Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.com, a weekly newsletter reporting the airline industry  top stories . He is the author of The Robot in the Simulator. AI in Aviation Training.  

Visit D-L.'s website  https://dlnelsonwriter.com, She is the author of 15 fiction and three non fiction books. Her 300 Unsung Women, bios of women who battled gender limitations, can be purchased  at https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/300-unsung-women-d-l-nelson/1147305797?ean=9798990385504 

Visit Julia's blog. She has written and taken photos and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/ 

 

 

 

 

That 9/11

 A little after 3 p.m. in my office in Geneva, Switzerland, I check the news on the internet as I do each day. A plane has just hit the World Trade Center, probably off course, I think.

Within a short time a second plane hits another building. The horror that will last for another 25 years and on has begun.

We have no television in my multi-national organization. One of the other two Americans I work with finds the most information on the El Pais newspaper website. 

I live close, rush home, check CNN, BBC and other international news stations. 

My Syrian neighbor and her American guest watch with me. The guest will not be able to go home until American skies open. I will not be able to reach my daughter, my beloved stepmom either, the first time since I moved to Europe. Compared to what people in New York are experiencing, that's nothing. 

A Muslim woman who lived in my building and with whom I'd never spoken to other than "bonjour" expressed her deep sorrow. There were tears in her eyes. I tried to comfort her. She did not fly the planes.

George Bush urges return to normal, to "shop." The clean-up begins.

For the families of the 2,977 victims, 372 of them  from 61 countries, it will never be over. The loss is forever. 

The total includes 343 firefighters. More died in an attack on the Pentagon attack and a planned suicide flight that the passengers aborted in a Pennsylvania field.

For the 145,000 sick and almost 10,000 dead from bad air quality after  9/11 it will never be over. How much suffering, how many deaths could have been prevented if the government hadn't lied about the air being safe? That will never be known. Their lies killed more Americans than 9/11.

There will only be small private memorial ceremonies for them.

A revenge war in Afghanistan killed 1,910 American soldiers nevermind some 46,319 Afghani civilians. None of the attackers were from that country although the organization was allegedly based there.

Some 3,519 American soldiers died in the related Iraq war based on the lie of nuclear weapon threat. The estimate of violent Iraqi civilian deaths is 151,000.

Another revenge war for another attack in another place include 70,000 and counting in Gaza. Every child who has suffered may seek revenge if s/he lives to grow up. We are just learning that the leader knew in advance.

Without proof of crime, America bombs small boats. They bomb Iran for reasons that vary if not daily as least weekly. Iran retaliates attacking American bases but numbers of American dead...who knows? Private hatreds may give way to revenge private or group in the immediate or distance future.

The ceremony at the 9/11 site with it bagpipes and bells was beautiful and fitting. I watched, fighting the tears although I knew none of the victims. It does not bring back those killed on 9/11. It does not bring back all those who have died since then as a reaction to 9/11. It is the human tragedy, the waste.

It goes on. Too many unnecessary deaths by power-hungry men and those who will make their fortunes from weapons sold. 

The cause for the enemy crimes is almost never examined. Revenge begats revenge. It is profitable. 

Mail in voting

Rick and I voted in the Swiss votation today, sitting on our couch in southern France. After breakfast we we will walk to the post to mail our ballots. We need postage, but in Switzerland there is no postal charge for the ballots.

Every Swiss citizen gets a ballot package in the language of their canton. My first was handed to me within minutes of taking my citizenship oath in 2006. I've voted in all but one of the four annual votations since then.

No matter what canton, the packages are identical except for language. The colors are the same. Federal voting information is in the brown booklet, cantonal in the white. There's a blue envelope to seal the white verification card and keep it separate from the white ballot. 

The booklets are information packed, including the law wanted to be rescinded, the new law  or regulation to be taken up by parliament. Pros and cons are given. That includes the government's position.There's a two-page list of all the parties and groups with their oui or non. 

 

To get more information in Switzerland there's TV and newspapers. There are the rows of posters. Proponents design posters that they put up in every community. The only variation is the language appropriate to the canton. Some are quite amusing, some boring.

Rick and I discuss the issues, read up on an issue on the internet, check a vocabulary word or two or more. We check all the party and group stances. Normally, whatever the far right UDC wants, we disagree, but we don't automatically agree with the center to center left.

The most important federal issue this time is Swiss neutrality. The second is about food and water. On the cantonal level is free contraception and a 39,500,000 CHF appropriation and modification of a housing law. 

We sign the verification slip and give our birth dates. Our names are already printed on them. We put the slip in the blue envelope. I am not worried about confidentially. 

A few times in the past we've taken the ballot package to the polls which are open only a couple of hours. Very few people vote in person. In both villages where I have voted we were offered tea, coffee, cookies and croissants. This is not done everywhere.

Rick's first vote included the volunteer poll workers taking a photo as he put his ballot in the box and welcoming him. We vote by mail most of the time even when we aren't traveling. 

One of the few times Swiss outside the country had trouble getting their ballots was during Covid which had nothing to do with the process and a lot to do with quarantines all over the world.

I am grateful to be a citizen/resident of a country where voting is encouraged and efficient.  

The results of the votation will be early evening after the polls close.

 

 

 

People Watching

 

From our perch at the Mille et Une tea room's sidewalk, we're in a perfect spot to view the people visiting the local Saturday marché. Rick drinks his hot chocolate. I drink my tea. Sometimes we have croissants, chocolatine, pain au raisin. 

The tea room is at a crossroad but the marché is on several streets selling veggies, olives, cheese, bread, clothes, shoes, jewelry, toys, plants and more.

During July and August when the tourists pour in, usually they are families with school-age children who take advantage of the beach and many activities.

In late August to the end of October, the wrinklies arrive. Gray hair, varicose veins, pot bellies replace the slimmer younger tourists. If there is a young child it is pre-school or an obviously adored grandchild. We are wrinklies ourselves, although we still work but on our own time table.

We sometimes count things that pass us by. How many baseball hats, New York T.-shirts. We counted canes today. 

We also have counted dogs. Although Sherlock loves to sit in our lap at an outdoor café on marché day there are too many feet to walk him through the crowd. People ask, "Ou est Sherlock?" before they greet Rick or myself.

This was our first marché back from the summer in our Geneva home. 

The dobblegänger of my father and his girl friend see us and come over to say hello with big smiles. We tell them Geneva was as hot and sometimes hotter than Argelès. Next summer we may try north Scotland, Sweden or maybe the North Pole. 

I resist asking him about his 97-year-old mother, one of the Retirada who escaped Franco by walking across the Pyrenees in January 1939. I'm always afraid, although she is alert and peppy, she may have died. 

In early morning the locals go out to buy their lunch veggies and meat. They all live up to the stereotype of French carrying baguettes.

The marché is on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Set-up begins around 7:00. Trucks or caravans pull in, unload stands, tables and merchandise. Owners then sit at a café for a last minute coffee. They will have no chance to rest until noontime when they bring back their trucks or caravans and reload.

Some of the merchants go from village to village. Others, like the brownie lady, only come to our village every Saturday. We are good clients. 

I had hoped to people watch at this Wednesday's marché, but it is raining. Not a complaint. After eight canicules (heatwaves) blanketing Europe, the need to wear a sweater and raise an umbrella is wonderful.

 

Free Write - Reality

 

Julia's Free Write 

Some days just never end.

I often wonder how, over the centuries, any one of a people being rounded up and killed have felt.

Through no fault of their own they were persecuted, rounded up, slaughtered, simply because they existed and belonged to the wrong group at the wrong time.

The current reigning culture decided that they were the “chosen ones”, all others having no merit.

In the past 100 years we have recorded many genocides, the extermination of a people, religion, culture.

Was it right that Jewish persons, along with the handicapped, the nomads, the Roms were killed by the Nazis? No! Is it right that the Palestinians are currently being exterminated by certain Jews? No! Was the genocide in Rwanda O.K.? No!

It’s easy to label eradicating entire populations a genocide afterwards and a few brave souls always lose their lives in the process.

But the human being seems never to learn.

Witness the rise of the far right throughout the world.

“Lost Reality” indeed.

Rick's Free Write

Em stood in the shallow water, not quite sure why. The dog had wanted to romp in the sea, and at this point she just didn’t care.

Emily was adrift in life, having broken up with her grunge rock drummer boyfriend because he spent too much time chatting up other girls at their gigs in low-class dives.

She wanted something different. She wanted to travel, see things beyond this depressed area filled with farmers and summer tourists.

Maybe she’d go back to school, learn a trade. Not hairdresser. Maybe dog grooming. She liked dogs. She took good care of Watson, didn’t she?

Em heard a noise behind her and turned to see a small brown and white terrier bouncing their way. Now owner in sight.

“Where did you come from, little one?” she asked. “Are you lost?”

She was about to pick up the pup and take him to a lifeguard when she heard a young man calling: “Prince! Prince! Ah, there you are.”

“Thank you, Miss, for watching out for him. What’s your dog’s name?”

D-L's Free Write 

Anne said if she hadn't been awake when her twin daughters were born, she would have thought one of them had been switched with a baby from another family.

As adults they were even more different.

Thank goodness both had their father's dimpled chin and widow's peak.

Marcia lived with her own reality. She saw the world the way she wanted it. The saying "when lives gives you lemons make lemonade" was made for her. Her reality was unreality.

Sheila, on the other hand, dealt in a world of mathematics, formulas and facts. 

At least the girls got along. Anne was grateful for that. 

At monthly lunches, each taking a turn to select a restaurant. The reality was all three liked good food.

About the Free Writers 

Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.com, a weekly newsletter reporting the airline industry  top stories . He is the author of The Robot in the Simulator. AI in Aviation Training.  

Visit D-L.'s website  https://dlnelsonwriter.com, She is the author of 15 fiction and three non fiction books. Her 300 Unsung Women, bios of women who battled gender limitations, can be purchased  at https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/300-unsung-women-d-l-nelson/1147305797?ean=9798990385504 

Visit Julia's blog. She has written and taken photos and loves syncing up with friends.  Her blog can be found: https://viewsfromeverywhere.blogspot.com/