Free Write - If it Were History

 

Julia, Rick, and D-L take turns in offering weekly prompts. This week Julia made a change from the usual photo or sentence that we use to get our creative flows going. "Give me a word," she said to Rick. 

He hesitated, then said, "History." 

Julia worked it into a sentence, "If it were history..." 

Julia's Free Write

It was a beautiful sunny day, mid-morning and before recess. He was bored. Why, oh why was he stuck here, listening to his classmates drone on and on, reciting times tables.

It was a mixed-grade class, so these were the older kids: himself he was glad that he had finally caught the trick of adding 10 to any other number and writing it properly.

Then there was reading and writing. He had always loved books and words so that was almost fun. Even his grandmother thought that he wrote well – high praise indeed from someone so old that she hadn’t even had a tablet or cell phone when she was in school!

Spring was just around the corner so looking out the windows was somewhat distracting; watching the buds and leaves starting to form or unfurl.

Was it not almost time for the bell and recess!

Now, if only it were history: he loved hearing about the “olden” days; the re-constitution of naval battles or even medieval times and the clash of swords.

If only it were history: that he would enjoy.

D-L's Free Write

Dr. Goler* was called before the university president. "There's been a complaint about your course."

Dr. Goler tilted her head.

"You aren't teaching the approved curriculum," he said.

"I didn't agree to it. I showed the committee documentation that proved it wrong. They rejected it."                                   

"That doesn't matter."

Dr Goler looked at the president. He was a good-looking man in a business suit and a graduate of some podunk Southern religious  college.

His appointment?

It was bought by a hefty donation that pulled the college back from bankruptcy.

"Okay, I'll teach the approved shit." Dr. Goler almost never used bad language.

During her 2 p.m. Wednesday class, she taught the approved material.

Five minutes before the class ended, she told them, "Tear up what you just wrote. What I just gave you was fake history." She handed out a paper to them with her original lecture. "Real history, provable history, is what I just gave you."

She knew she needed to look for a new job.

Rick's Free Write

History is a record of things that happened and real people. Unfortunately, history is written from the bias of the historian. And subject to revision by other historians or politicians who control what gets cancelled or overwritten to suit their ideology.

But what if, in the future, possibly the very near future, almost nothing is real? If words and images and sound and video are non-real, artificial? And we can’t tell the artificial from the real?

Is it history? Or is it simulation? And if you are interacting with AI, for example an online chatbot avatar, is your side of the discussion or sensual experience real? Or imagined?

Some years back, I took my grandkids horseback riding. A real experience. But it was raining so I didn’t get any photos as keepsakes. My daughter remarked, “If it’s not on Facebook, it didn’t happen.”

We’re rapidly reaching a point where we can’t trust anything. Certainly not the government. Probably not social media. Maybe only our closest family and friends. And even then…

And now we can’t trust history.

*I used the name of a late history professor history. She was the best history teacher, I ever had.

Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.com, a weekly newsletter reporting the top stories about the airline industry. 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/ 

To become an Alien

 

There is a new move for the TSA to consider/call every non-U.S. citizen entering the United States an alien...not a tourist, not a business person but an alien.

Welcome Aliens - Not.

It's enough those from many countries need to pay an extra fee. Never mind the billions of dollars that are being lost.

If I were to go to the U.S., which I will not unless my daughter is dying, I would be considered an alien.

Î am also Swiss. I am also Canadian. I renounced my U.S. nationality because the U.S. with its FATCA laws made financial normalcy as an expat anywhere in the world, almost impossible, even something as simple as a deposit/withdrawal account. 

There is a great feeling of sadness. This is my birth country that I'm watching self-destruct, that are hurting its people and with its anti-climate stance the planet. 

I grew up in Massachusetts during what would become a golden age. Not that there weren't major things to be corrected, but I saw the passage of civil rights legislation and laws that gave me a better chance at the good things which as a woman were denied me. Climate problems were recognized. Improvement seeds were planted for international co-operation and some were budding. It was a start. 

The future is visualized by the current U.S. administration is for the white male world that will do anything to enrich themselves and the rest of humanity be damned.

The Hamburger that Wasn't

 

Sometimes I teeter on vegetarianism. Sometimes not.

Every now and then I eat at McDos, the French nickname for a well known hamburger chain.

When my daughter was a toddler and my mother took us to eat at a nice restaurant, my daughter threw a tomato slice over her shoulder. It landed on a bald man's head. 

I knew she needed to learn how to eat properly in public, but with a limited budget we went to McDos.

Living in Switzerland a few decades later, I'd be writing in my second floor bedroom. My housemate would be working in her basement office below. Infrequently on a Sunday, I'd get a text, "Wanta sin?" Translate McDonald's. We would.

That's all history. It's been a long, long time since I've eaten at any.

My husband Rick and Sherlock, our dog, were driving back from Southern France to our Swiss home, a six-eight hour drive. There are many good Autoroute food choices, but many don't allow dogs. To add to the hunger problem on Sundays many non-Autoroute restaurants are closed.

We were really, really hungry. We decided on McDo to buy something and eat in the car.

The drive-up was easy to find, and we stopped at the first to check out the menu. A voice kept ordering us to move up. At the next drive-up the order taker did not understand our French and turned us over to an alleged English speaker. At least he tried.

We gave up on parts of what we want to order, corrected the order more than once. We were told our number was 14, and finally advanced. Food was in my future, I thought.

I was wrong!

Next problem. There were no signs, on the ground or on the building where to pay, so we followed the line that might lead us to pick up. The car in front of us stayed, stayed, stayed after the cars in front of him received their bags from staff. 

I went inside to check. One of the employees told me where to pay, but the kid at the counter didn't want my money. He couldn't find any order 14. I had to go to the pay-up line outside. He gave me instructions on how to find it. 

My stomach was growling.

We finally found the right window, reordered because they had cancelled our order and paid. We received two bags marked 14 and found a parking place.

Oops...my smoked hamburger was a chicken wrap, barely edible, the French fries limp, the Coke watery. Rick's hamburger was passable. There was some other drink we didn't order. List 14 was correct, but the items weren't. 

We'd bought a Happy Meal for Sherlock. Our spoiled pup loves hamburger. He ignored it. 

All we could do was laugh.

We drove on, hunger abated. "At least there's a game with the Happy Meal," Rick said. 

Moving Day

Patrick, Bill, Elise, the judge, four-nine-year olds and their families are moving out of my French home. They are characters in my novella Sugar and Spice. I serialized them on this blog and on Substack. 

I was thrilled with all the positive comments I received. 

Lexington: Anatomy of a Novel, was published in 2022, but I will start to serialize it soon as well as part of the 250 anniversary of the birth of the United States. It is three stories. 

1. James Holloway, British baker and widower, frustrated with his life in Ely, England, joins the British Army. He did not expect himself to be in the middle of the start of the American Revolution.
2. Scottish historian and wife of the British Consul to Boston, Daphne Andrews, who in trying to fill the void in her marriage, lines up with her counterpart from the French consulate to investigate the Battle at Lexington from a modern point of view.
3. I love when writers tell me how and why they wrote something the way they did. The third part of this book tells the story of the writing of Lexington. 

When I'm working on fiction, the characters live with me. They stand next to me as I cut up veggies. They interrupt books I'm trying to read. Sometimes in the middle of the night, they follow me to the bathroom and back to bed, where they tell me what they should do and say the next day.

Today, I waved good bye to my sugar and spice friends. Then I looked around the corner where I saw Margo, Heather and Bethany. They were waiting for me to start my new novella, The Ring. Although I started it a couple of decades ago, I could never get it right. I realized the novel became lost in a memoir. Now with new characters, the base story is flowing.

Tomorrow we do our normal trek to our main home in Geneva. Margo, Heather, and Bethany have agreed to sit in the backseat along with Sherlock our dog. It's a six to eight hour drive with pee and lunch breaks. 

They'll tell me their ideas. 

I'll introduce them to my husband, also a writer and I'm sure he'll have questions for them.

The first thing I'll do in Geneva is to set up my laptop and get to work. The small flat will be crowded with three new friends, but we'll make it work.

Bondi's Contempt

If anyone had any doubt about The Administration's contempt for Congress and the American people, watch one of the many videos of Pam Bondi's appearance before the Congress discussing the Epstein files. The videos are all over the internet.

Although as a feminist, I hate saying these things against a woman, especially one who has attained position and power. I can make an exception for Bondi. I watched a spoiled, rude brat.

What did she do?

She talked over her questioners, which in itself is not unusual for a politician. What she said was often ridiculous mostly in contemptuous tones at too high a volume that shows no respect for where she was and more importantly why she was there. 

In a question about the victims, she replied how well the stock market was doing. 

Let me think. If I had been sexually abused as a child, would I think, "This violation of my body was okay, because the stock market is great?"

Bondi kept throwing in remarks how Trump was one of the best presidents ever, non sequiturs of the type like if someone ask sbout the weather and the response is, "there's a new film on Netflix" only there's no new film.

Many of the victims were in the room seated. I cannot speak for her, but why wouldn't she look at them, talk to them, agree to meet with them, something the DOJ has refused to do? Why? Why? Why?

She used the Trump trick of trying to demean others. One example: She called Congressman Jamie Raskin a "washed up failed lawyer."

Committee Democrat Becca Balint walked out of the hearing in disgust. She couldn't take it any more, she said. 

Apparently Bondi hadn't done her homework when she went off on a rant about antisemitism not knowing Balint's grandfather had died in a WWII concentration camp. Antisemitic? I doubt Balint is. 

A reporter was able to capture a photo of Bondi's "burn book" which had information to taunt committee members. I guess whoever prepared the "burn book" didn't know about Balint's grandfather.

Think of the people that have been named so far. If you have a daughter, would you want her to be raped by any of them? If you are a woman, think back to your teenage years or early twenties. Can you imagine having sex with these men?  

Sex between consenting adults within or without marriage to the partner is fine...but sex with minors is not. Sex slavery is not. That Epstein was involved in a sex trade, has been proven.

The people who were his "friends" and participated are allegedly your leaders whose decisions in government and business affect you directly or indirectly. 

Scum bags and perverts run  aspects of your life. They are supported by some in Congress. 

Are you going to do anything about it?

Happiest Day and Other Lies

According to the Washington Post, Trump lied 34,000 times in his first term. He even lies in his contradictions. Or perhaps we should call all his statements, Facts of the Moment or even Facts of the Second. 

Politicians lie. Take Mitch McConnell saying different ways when and how a Supreme Court Justice during a president's term should be appointed. One example out of hundreds of thousands of false words delivered daily by humanity.

Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny are lies we are told as kids. They are lovely lies.

Lies in relationships can hurt but maybe sometime even help. How things are expressed can be unlies... "Dear, I think your blue tie, would look really lovely with that suit," vs. "You're not going out with the ugly tie. Yuck." 

There are unspoken lies. Does a spouse need to know you've broken off with your lover? Better yet, not to have a lover. Best, don't go to an Epstein type party.

One lie that annoys me on a personal level vs. political lies that hurt large groups of people is, "Your wedding day is the happiest day of your life."

Good grief, I hope not. 

My first wedding was an elopement and at the end what I felt was relief that my mother didn't find out until it was too late.

My second marriage some 50 years later was a commitment ceremony attended by 40 friends from seven countries. It was followed a couple of years later by the real ceremony in the mayor's office attended only by two friends who were our witnesses. Both were wonderful days. 

In many countries the only legal ceremony is the one at city hall. One can have a priest, minister, rabbi all conduct the ceremony hundreds of times, but the marriage won't be legal.

I'm pleased to report after 12 years of marriage we've had everything from calm happiness to outright joy even during the normal problems of living.

Weddings are often seen as times of great stress to get everything right. Some are so expensive that the couple must forego other things for decades. 

None of the stress of wedding details are the reason I don't like thinking of it as the happiest day. 

One might get married in their 20s, 30s, etc. Then they may live another 40, 50 years of more. Sure they will have ups and downs, but it's sad to think that one day was the best ever and everything else is a lesser degree of happiness working its way down to maybe misery.

Each day can contain happiness be it little or tiny. We have one life, make it count.

Free Write - Glass Recycling Unit

Free write 10 Feb. 10 2026 –  The Glass Disposal Unit

This week the three Free Writers are still in two countries (France and Switzerland) despite bad weather, they produced three pieces about a routine glass recycling unit. With luck, next week they will all be in Switzerland in one of their favorite tea rooms.

D-L's Free write

When Laila received the letter from the Homeowners Association (HOA) she was furious. It said the color of the flowers she had planted on the walkway to her front door were not on the approved list. Red!

She hated this house which her husband loved, a new McMansion. She missed her Victorian house with its history of previous residents embedded in its walls.

Today she needed to get rid of all her glass bottles. There was a disposal unit behind the HOA Community Center. The gray cement container was boring, ugly.

Laila loved color. Her old blue car had butterflies painted on its hood and door, much to her husband's disgust.

Laila was an artist, known by another name at her husband's request. She was beginning to have some success. 

That night she hatched a plan. One week later when her husband was on a business trip at 3:08 a.m., she went to the glass disposal unit with stencils and spray paint. Quickly, she turned it beautiful.

The HOA was apoplectic. They repainted it gray.

Laila repainted her art work on the container.

The HOA when they repainted the unit this time, installed a camera.

Laila disabled the camera and then repainted it.

Laila's husband sided with the HOA.

As Laila sat in her kitchen with no character, she felt she had two choices: Repaint or get a divorce.

Note: I ran out of time, but I didn't have an ending that I liked.

Rick's Free Write

Infrastructure for utilities can be bland, ugly, or beautiful, even educational. Telecom boxes, electrical wires and poles, trash and recycle stations…

When I worked at Nortel Networks, a major customer was BellSouth. They insisted that their streetside junction boxes all be painted a light sand color – supposedly to blend in, or at least not stand out, from their surroundings.

At the time we had pioneered a concept called “fiber to the curb” (kerb for my Brit friends). It was the era of 2G internet, transitioning to 3G. (We’re now at 5G, moving to 6G.)

I used to tell people I was waiting for “fiber to the brain” – and now some companies are claiming “neural” brain implants, i.e. Bluetooth to the brain.

In Europe, they tend to decorate utility boxes – artists and photographers layer their designs on all sides as street art. Brilliant. An array if colors, historical images, varied styles.

Over the years we’ve taken dozens of photos of the boxes, especially around Geneva. Talked about collecting them in a coffee-table book.

Do people still have coffee-table books?

Ok, maybe a calendar.

Julia's Free Write

He had woken up that morning full of energy – for once.

Of course over breakfast as he ruminated, he thought of all the things that he wanted to do: taking a long walk as the weather was finally decent, planning lunch with the expats who had arrived three days earlier; tending to his wee garden plot; planning his next trip to somewhere at least 100 kilometers away (the winter had been long); reading the new book.

All those lovely thoughts disappeared as he turned his head to see the overflowing laundry basket; the dust everywhere (remember the sun that he was admiring earlier?): thoughts of sorting and tossing all that accumulated “stuff.”

Oh, stop already he muttered to himself – it’s depressing.

Ah, a ray of sunlight: he could do one thing of each: take the accumulated glass to the recycling container. A good excuse to at least get that walk.

Rick Adams is an aviation journalist and publisher of www.aviationvoices.com, a weekly newsletter reporting the top stories about the airline industry. 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/