Free Write - Muddy Boots

 

We are getting closer to when the Free Writers will be in Geneva in the same café. Despite the separation we still managed to share the prompt and our ten minutes work thanks to the internet. Sometimes the writing gets done at a different time on Tuesdays, but that is unimportant. What is important is that there are people writing together in their heads and sharing. 

D-L's Free Write 

Frank carried his muddy boots in his left hand. In his right was his cane, an improvement over his crutches and a definite improvements over his wheelchair and sling over his hospital bed holding his broken leg.

The boots had been with him since high school, through uni and two jobs. They had hiked in the mountains and along river paths.

He has almost thought of them as buddies until that rainy day when he'd slipped and rolled down that steep hill. He was found the next day unconscious.

All he wanted to do now with the boots was to get rid of them. 

"Why not give them to someone?" his sister asked.

He was going to give them to the dumpster behind the supermarket. Placing them on the top he turned his back without a goodbye,

Less than a half hour later, a homeless man spied them. "Just my size," he mumbled. He knew just where to wash them.

Rick's Free Write

It had been a long, exceedingly hot day working in the ditches in the village, laying new fiber optic cable so people could have faster internet and brighter television images. Irony – he didn’t have a computer or a TV.

He’d taken off the muddy boots and changed into sneakers, then he and Jake and Bluto had walked to a nearby bar for a couple of cold brews that tasted really good.

Jake had given him a ride home, and dropped him off to his eager retriever, Digger.

It wasn’t until he was cleaning up and climbing out of his filthy overalls that he realized he’d left his boots behind. He could picture them sitting on the stone in front of the iron fence. But it was much too far to walk. If he was lucky, the boots would still be there in the morning.

He sat down to another solitary supper. Some cereal. Half of a leftover banana. Tap water. Digger got kibble, and was glad of it. It had been a long time since either had had meat.

He started to read a Reacher novel, and had almost fallen asleep in the ragged recliner when he heard a truck drive up.

Jake walked through the door without knocking and set the boots, cleaned, next to the chair. “Found these in town. Thought you might need them. See you at 7.”

 Julia's Free Write 

 "These boots are made for walking, and that's what they're gonna do". Shades of my teenage years. And the more famous song probably by, hmm Nancy Sinatra, I believe. I can't remember though who wrote this.

That was the first thing that popped into my mind when I saw the prompt for today.
Then I thought no get serious.

They were worn, they were used: they looked like just recently, although the mud had had time to dry.

There had been no rain for days. So, when it first finally did rain, one had to take advantage of it by all means possible.

He had always loved working outside and in the garden, but as he aged, it became more and more a necessity.

 Recently, the advent of grandchildren in his life had made him rethink gardening, and all of its’ fun.

His grandsons could literally dig in a patch of dirt for hours on end. Sometimes they made hillocks, sometimes they just strew the dust and the dirt, and it landed where it would. Other times they thought about building something with the dust, but they had yet to learn that one must mix it with water.

So somehow what was very satisfying to be able to put on his boots again. Go out and make a new patch for those beloved grandsons. As the old patch would soon be holding a huge sun umbrella to protect the winter garden. 

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/ 

 

The Dog Box

 

 

In our French village people walk with their dogs. We meet in cafés, restaurants, sit on benches and chat in French, Catalan, and other languages. They walk with their dogs of all breeds and all mixtures who greet each other with different levels of fondness or restraint.

Rick and I have biscuits with us to share with most of them, much to our dog Sherlocks's discontent even though he gets the same treats. The dogs know us, especially French Bull Dog Nelson who thinks nothing of jumping in our laps to wait for his due.

However, Marie and her dog Chloe are special. She lived in San Francisco so is bilingual, although Chloe, her dachshund  speaks two languages neither English:

• French

• Buttons

Marie has buttons for certain words such as walk, food, play that the dog presses depending what she wants. Sometimes they even argue. Marie say no it's not time to eat, Chloe say yes it is and over and over, until one gives in. There are other subjects they find themselves debating.

I know Sherlock has different barks for what he wants. We wonder about adding buttons so he can ask for food, ice cream, walk, play, toy, pillow. For the moment he needs to rely on barks. When we don't respond fast enough enough his tone becomes  annoyed.

Meanwhile Chloe always greets us in any cafe, on the street or at the green grocer where she finds us with her imploring eyes that tell us of her hopes for the doggie biscuits in our bag without any buttons needed. Sherlock speaks fluent begging eye too.

 

 

Coat Hangers-The Making of Leona's Sister

 

The Making of Leona’s Sister Gerri

In talking about what threatens legalized abortion today, Jane Gillooly went beyond the pro-life movement into the cost of abortion and health care. Like many women who know or remember about life before Roe v. Wade, she is surprised the same fight continues 44 years later

 

 Each time I watched the DVD, Leona’s Sister Gerri, I cried at the waste.

Gerri wasn’t the only one suffering waste caused by not having safe abortion services available. Her daughters, brothers, sisters, parents and friend were also deprived of Gerri’s warmth and love.

I wondered not just about the woman who had the abortion but about the woman, Jane Gillooly, who made a film about this particular abortion. What motivated her to tell the story of this unnecessary death?

As a journalist, I know it is possible to slant any story by selecting the facts to be printed. The same with documentaries. An ethical journalist, an ethical documentary maker, will be sure to tell the in-depth story without inserting their own prejudice.

Another filmmaker might have taken the point of view that Gerri was wrong to marry a man she barely knew, wrong to stay with him, wrong to have an affair.

Very few people go through life without making bad choices. Gillooly does not gloss over or overly dramatize Gerri’s bad choices. She made mistakes—a fact. She needed to correct her mistakes.

Gerri believed her pregnancy carried a greater risk of death from her abusive husband, from whom she was separated, than death by abortion.

Death is a high price for a mistake. She would not be the first or last woman to seek happiness and believe the promises of a lover for a better life, only to have it evaporate.

On one viewing, I tried watching the film, not only from the perspective of the information, but from how the story was told.

Finding the Filmmaker

Happy endings cannot be created when an early and unnecessary death is the story.  wondered aboutthefilmmakerJane

•      What made her select this as a subject?
•      How did she make some of the editing decisions?
•      What were her personal feelings about abortion?

Since the film had been made in 1995, I wasn’t sure I could locate her. Thanks to social media, it was easier than I imagined.

Her website contained more information, including other films she has made and international recognition of her work in Canada, Mexico and Russia as well as playing in prestigious places such as the Lincoln Center, the Sundance Film Festival and on Public Broadcasting System (PBS) television. She teaches at the Museum of Fine Arts School, Tufts University, Boston/Medford, Massachusetts.

I emailed Gillooly. She responded that she would be happy to do an interview. Between our travel schedules it took a couple of weeks to arrange.

She was an easy interviewee.

I was amazed to learn that Leona’s Sister Gerri was her first film because it appeared to be so professional. Prior to filming she’d been an artist working with images and text.

She had seen the photo of Gerri’s corpse in the motel room, she said, in Our Bodies Ourselves, a feminist classic book about women’s health and sexuality researched and written by a non-profit group in Boston. Used by women all over the world, the book is translated into 29 languages and has sold more than four million copies. It is considered one of the best texts on feminine health care for the non-medical world. The latest edition was issued in 2011. www.ourbodiesourselves.org but their website contains everything the book does and more.

She used the word “horrific” to describe the photo. I don’t see how anyone can look at the photo and not get the same reaction. As awful as the photo was, the details of the person who died were unknown.

She was “stunned” to learn that the mother of her friend, Toni Elka, was Gerri’s sister,

Leona.

Gillooly wanted Gerri’s story told. She approached Leona, but the woman wasn’t ready to talk 

talk publicly. Rather than pressure her, Gillooly said if she changed her mind, please call her. A couple of years later she received the call she was sure would never come.

Jane had never made a film, but she also knew you don’t delay when an opportunity comes up. Although she didn’t have a camera, she bought one, which cost around $2,000, a lot of money for her.

Later she would get a National Endowments for the Art (NEA) grant and financial help from PBS to help defray editing costs.

“Gerri didn’t die of an abortion. I mean technically she did, but she died because she was pregnant by a married man, she was afraid of her estranged husband, she was ashamed and couldn’t speak to anyone about it. She wasn’t intending on having an abortion; it was illegal, birth control was still illegal, and the moral code that everyone was living under forced her to silence,” Gillooly said.

It was not enough to just have Leona speaking. One of Gerri’s brothers, John Twedy, agreed to talk on camera. One of the police detectives, now a lawyer, was willing, another was not, but the detective willing to talk gave the needed depth.

The chambermaid was willing to tell how she found Gerri’s body, but didn’t want her name used, although she was happy to be visible on camera. Jane agreed to not identify her.

The film has been distributed in classrooms and libraries. It was premiered on PBS 1 June 1995. It is available through the Internet (http://abortionfilms.org/en/show/3468/leonas-schwester-gerri/).

In talking about what threatens legalized abortion today, Gillooly went beyond the pro-life movement into the cost of abortion and health care. Like many women who know or remember about life before Roe v. Wade, she is surprised the same fight continues 44 years later.

“Every single woman in the film with one exception—everyone had an abortion, and everyone wanted to tell me about it,” Gillooly said. That included Gerri’s daughter, Judy, who was 15 when she had an abortion. Judy is pro-life and feels she may have to answer for her own abortion, but she does not want to make the decision whether to abort or not for anyone else.

Gillooly also denies that abortion is only a woman’s issue. She says it is a man’s issue too.

And in the film, it is obvious the effect the film has had on all of Gerri’s family and friends.

She has made other films since Leona’s Sister Gerri, all of which she thinks show the human condition, she hopes with a sense of authenticity. Her other work includes:

        Audience of Love and Shame (2015) 70 mins. An unattended camera observes an audience watching her film, Suitcase of Love and Shame.

        Suitcase of Love and Shame (2013) 70 min. This 1960s Midwestern love story is reconstructed from 60 hours of audiotape discovered in a suitcase purchased on eBay.

        Today the Hawk Takes One Chick (2008) 72 mins. In the Lubombo region of Swaziland, three grandmothers become instrumental in defining a new world order dictated by HIV/AIDS.

        Splendor (2005) 2 mins. It illuminates the richness of friendship, the importance of self-determination, and the capacity for growth, even as dementia and death approach.

        Dragonfiles: The Baby Cries (2000) 10 mins. Verging in tone from the coy to the sinister.

        Theme: Murder (1998) 56 mins. In 1968, Boston art dealer Hyman Swetzoff was beaten and left to die in his Bay Village home. The murder remains unsolved.

 

In an interview, Gilooly said, “I can feel the similarity in my films more than I can describe it. I do try to balance a commitment to emotional authenticity against a censorial style of editing driven by evocative images, atmospheres, and sounds. The experience I strive for while making films has sometimes been described as a musical approach to editing—articulating a composition between the poignantly lyrical and the brutally direct. I have not made many films and when I do it is because I feel a real compassion for and deep understanding of the complexities of the human emotion that I try to translate (https://saint-lucy.com/conversations/jane-gillooly/).

As for Leona’s Sister Gerri, she said, “I wasn’t making a film about abortion, I was making a film about shame.

Erasing History

 

These are among the plaques to be removed from the Bunker Hill Monument as part of President Trump's desire to make sure nothing negative appears about the United States.  The removal was triggered by a woman who complained that a statement about women's suffrage was woke. 

The quotes refer to slavery, war, women's suffrage, etc.

Not knowing the truth about the past is dangerous for a democracy. A recent example is the alleged reason for the Iran War. Trump wants Iran to agree to comply to things that they already agreed to and were in a treaty that he annulled. Statements that Iranians hate Americans never include the reasons why. 

A friend who moved to Mexico had a son who studied the Spanish-American War in the US and Mexico. He came home to tell his mother, "Mom, they were two different wars."

In Texas where my visitor husband was heard calling January 6th an insurrection belligerently challenged him calling it a demonstration. I must have watched the insurrection on news stations from Switzerland, France, England and Germany news. That was no demonstration. Nor was it a tour as some have claimed.

At University, a Brit taught the causes of the American Revolution from England's perspective. Like my friend's son said, it was a different revolution.

Massachusetts leaders did not react well to the removal. Governor Maura Healey said, "It is a disgrace that President Trump is attempting to erase voices and perspectives from one of our nation's most important historic sites. . . That's not preserving history. That's censoring it. President Trump doesn't get to decide which parts of our history are worth remembering."

I find many Americans are not aware of some of the most important events in their history. Maybe they don't even know about Bunker Hill. Probably most of them will not go to Bunker Hill in Boston, but if they do, thanks to President Trump they will be denied a part of their history. That's just plain wrong.

Try an experiment. Ask your friends, colleagues about Bunker Hill. Pick some other things from America's past like the Jay Treaty. What was a Democrat-Republican Party and who founded it. Or pick any other brick in the wall of American history and see if they know.

Erasing history verbally doesn't make it go away. The events still happened. 

 

 

Daisy and Mabel

 

No this isn't a Thelma and Louise type story.

Daisy Hodges and Mabel Fairclough were two women who lived on Grove Street in Reading, Massachusetts from the 1920s until the 1960s in their same homes. They married, bought a house and made it a home until they died. A house was a home, not an investment.

I suspect I'm the only person on the planet who remembers them. Very few people who ever lived on the planet are remembered once their families and friends die and are also are forgotten.

Both women were typical of their time and social class: Republicans, Daughters of the American Revolution, professional housewives, "good" Christians, prohibitionists, proper and most importantly wives and mothers. 

Daisy's house was on a slope. I would never have called her Daisy. All my grandmother's friends were called Mrs. (Fill in the blank) . If I ever used their first name it was preceded by "aunt" even without a drop of DNA between us. No one knew about DNA then.

Daisy Hodges was fat at a time when very few people were: chubby yes, well padded yes - but not fat. She had huge breasts. Is my memory clouded by time, but was she able to stick pins in her left breast? As a little girl I tried to avoid being too near her, for she always seemed to be one day too late for a bath.  

Ben Hodges, Daisy's husband, was a thin man who loved photography. He came to my house to take my picture. He sat me on our piano bench covered with an itchy multi-colored throw. He put my legs on the bench so it wasn't a full-on photo, rare for the day. I was four. I still have the photo.

The Faircloughs lived on top of a pine-tree covered hill where Grove Street crossed with Forest Street.

They had one daughter whose framed wedding picture was proudly displayed in the living room. The same living room had window sills covered with wooden planks. Nails stuck out to prevent the cat from jumping up. Outside sills had planks with nails too to prevent birds from landing.

Mabel was in a terrible car accident and fought back to recover when no one thought she would. Many years later she died in another car accident.

My grandmother did not spend a lot of time with them although, they belonged to the same groups. When they met at meetings, they would wear hats and gloves. 

My grandmother was happy to be at home most of the time. Another professional housewife she had much to do keeping her home in top order and her family well fed. In her free time there were books to read and my brother and I to love and play with. 

Sometimes Mabel would visit as a solo drop in. I don't remember Daisy in our house at all. My memories are of being at her house, but I can't think why.

When I think back to these women from my childhood, it is almost like watching a period film or TV show, an Agatha Christie set in Massachusetts rather than the UK and without a murder. 

A sociologist would notice the details of their lives, how they were like other middle class women of their time.They make up the history of the period but without fame.