Four languages, one tiny country

 

The German and French speaking Swiss television stations air their news at 19:30 every night. When we tuned into the French station news one night, we were surprised.

Our regular presenter spoke a few words of French before explaining the two stations were doing a special program with him presenting in German and the German presenter speaking French.

Her French was wonderful. I describe my German as "shopping German" and I couldn't judge his German but he spoke with no hesitations.

The special program discussed what it is like to have a parliament where the members had to deal with multi languages. 

There is a debate in various cantons on teaching other national languages and also English. Some question the need for bilingual schools.

Parents who come from different countries try to decide which language(s) should be spoken in the home. I'm prejudice on that. Had I been allowed around my French-speaking grandparents, I might not have had to spend so much energy in my forties learning je parle, tu parle,etc. 

Before I was granted my Swiss nationality, I attended a session of the Swiss parliament and was impressed that it worked despite different languages. Most Swiss speak two, three or four languages, not including English which about 60% of the population speaks in addition to other languages.  

The Swiss also have many parties. The colors represent how many members are from each party. Within each party there are variations of the languages. I tried to imagine the U.S. Congress doing as well. Mind boggling. 

When I return to an Anglo-only environment, I find it hard to concentrate in comparison to my daily life in Geneva and Argelès where there is a babble of tongues. This is not a complaint. It is a richness.

  

Free Write - Glass Painting

 

Prompt: Painted glass windows

 Rick's Free Write

It was the 1st of December, and with it came the 1st serious cold snap of winter. No snow, but then Geneva didn’t often get snow. Just damp, damp cold. The kind of cold that made people layer up with thermal underwear, sweaters, heavy jackets, scarves and knit ski caps.

But the cold was no problem for elves, who were used to the weather at the North Pole.

Hoar Frost, Jack’s nephew, decided to take a ride on the Bise – the Swiss wind from the mountains – and landed in the Old Town, not far from the Mairie. There he spotted a large window, plucked his paint brushes from the brim of his cap, and set to work, decorating the glass with a flourish of frost.

Gracefully curved stone buildings. An electric tram. A café table and chairs. A bicycle. Familiar objects, which would melt away with the next sun.

“Where have you been?” Uncle Jack demanded when Hoar returned to the Pole.

“Painting Geneva white,” replied the smiling elf.

 Julia's Free Write

December when the lights are lower; the sun comes up late and goes down early. What I call the somber part of the year.

If there was ever a good reason to have Christmas, Noel, Weihnachten or whatever one celebrates at the end of December, this would be it. To lighten up. The dark.

Christmas lights seem to be going up earlier and earlier and I know, personally, how reluctant I am to taking them down in January.

In recent years, here where I live, I have noticed a new type of decoration.

Window painting.

White painting on any glass surface. One I saw was the profile of alps with a forest below, and in honor of the season, an elf in the corner.

This one was more intricate and perhaps meant to remain beyond the holiday period: a round facade of a building with flower boxes under the elaborate windows. Details of everyday life down to a bike leaning against the wall and even a garbage can by the door. On the other window, probably the entry to a coffee shop – to come? A chair already in place – how long will it last?

D-L's Free Write

Rachel ran from her law course to her art class. She arrived panting and to the scowls of the teacher. "See me after class," he said.

"You're always late."

"M-my law class."

"You told me you want to be an artist," he said. 

"My father wants me to be a legal assistant." She didn't say how disappointed he was she wasn't going to be a lawyer like her brother Kai.

Kai had confessed to her that he hated the 60-70 hour weeks. and how boring it was seeking facts for this or that case. He had wanted to be a scientist, a biologist. 

The teacher looked at Rachel. "You have one life to live. Don't give it to your father. He has one of his own." He paused, "Can you find a few hours a week?"

He didn't charge her for his class but had her create small white paintings on glass. He shared an exhibition with her and from that they won a contract to do a store window.

Rachel fought with her father - and won. At least he didn't throw her out of the house.

About the three Free writers:

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/ 

 

 

 

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Flash Fiction 29 - The Edge

Flash Nano  29: Write a story that takes place on the edge. This is the next to last day where writers are given a prompt and they write a piece of Flash Fiction,

The first time Beth had the dream was her high school senior year. The next day she was due to take her SATs.

In her dream, she sat on the edge of a cliff, her legs hanging over. Below waves broke on rocks. She jumped but woke before she fell into the water.

As for her SATs, she didn’t do as well as she expected, but she had never tested well. Her first two college choices rejected her, but she was accepted at her third choice. She blamed the SAT scores.

The next time she had the dream, where she was on the edge of the cliff, was the night before her senior prom. Instead of jumping off the cliff, she spread her arms and floated among the clouds. The prom was like magic.

The night before she married, she had the dream, but for the first time she hit the rocks instead of waking seconds before landing. Her arm hurt throughout the ceremony from where she’d fallen in the dream. The marriage lasted three months.

Beth dreamed of being on the edge and wanting to jump when she was offered two jobs. In one she landed on the rocks. A Havelock Enterprises box floated in the water. In the next dream she flew with a flock of ducks heading south where Maxi Products was headquartered. She rejected the Havelock offer.

At Maxi Products, she moved up the corporate ladder quickly. More importantly, she loved her job.

On one October Saturday, she sat on the porch swing. She’d rented an old Victorian house. It was just cool enough for her to need a sweater. Her landlady’s cat jumped into her lap and serenaded her with purrs.

She thought about the cliff dream. Over the past eight years, she must have had a variation of the dream at least a dozen times. The dreams always happened before something important or she had to make a big decision.

When she landed on the rocks or into the water below, whatever she decided had an under-wonderful result. However, whenever she took off from the edge and flew among the clouds reveling in the blue of the sky and puffy white clouds, everything in her waking life fell into place.

“Don’t be stupid,” she said to the cat. “If I tell anyone, they’ll think I’m nuts. I can’t base life decisions on a dream.” The cat shifted position slightly. “I suppose, I could factor it into whatever else I was considering." 

The edge dream as she called it, went on all her life. She used the landing vs. flying to make her decisions. Stupid or not, it worked. 

Flash Nano 28 - The Solstice

 THE SOLSTICE

Flash Nano PROMPT DAY 28: Write a story that includes a bizarre ritual. 

Ciah (See Ah) was aghast when she entered her mother-in-law’s house where she and her new husband were living while finishing their degrees.

Her full name was Boudicca, after the British warrior queen.  Ciah’s mother had given it to her so she would be a strong woman.

Originally Ciah didn’t use an H in her written nickname, but kids teased her about being a U.S. government agency.

Because her mother, who taught pagan cultures at a small Vermont liberal arts college, Ciah’s childhood had been different from the majority of modern children.

Although not a witch, her mother followed regular wicca holidays in honoring the cycle of the seasons with special events. Ciah planted and harvested, watched the days growing shorter and longer, made corn dolls and tiny maypoles throughout her childhood and loved every minute of it.

Had she not met Jonathan, she’d still be in Vermont instead of Brookline, Massachusetts and living with her in-laws. He had attended the college where Ciah's mother taught. He was intrigued by their philosophy while still standing in that of his own childhood.

Their love for each other made them decide to work through both cultures, not that different from a Jewish girl marrying a Catholic boy.

Ciah worked at the Brookline library while pursuing a Masters in Library Science at Simmons. Her mother had also created an overwhelming love of reading in her daughter. Thus when confronted with her in-laws’s lifestyle and a major city, she embraced both while feeling nostalgic for the natural rhythms of the planet.

She’d been looking forward to the winter solstice as much as her mother-in-law was looking forward to Christmas. However, when Ciah walked into the living room on December 1st, she did not expect to see a Christmas tree, an aluminum Christmas tree with only blue decorations. 

Jonathan sympathized with his new wife but felt she was overreacting when she told him that without bringing in a green tree on the 20^th, they were threatening the return of the sun.

The morning of the 20^th they woke to see out their bedroom window. Snow had fallen, not a lot, just enough to make the world look new and beautiful.

Ciah dreaded this day, remembering the joy of all her other solstice celebrations. “It’s like my heart has a chamber missing.” She was in bed watching Jonathan dress. Classes were over and she wasn’t scheduled to work.

“Get dressed,” he said.

They caught the T to Quincy market. Evergreens and decorations were everywhere. Taking her hand, Jonathan led her to a tent filled with trees for sale.

“We want the tiniest tree you have,” he said.

The man showed them ones that was still too big to pass his mother’s exacting standards for her house.

As they were about to leave, a woman who worked there said, “Wait.” She brought out a live tiny tree in a pot. The tree was more like a twig.

Jonathan and Ciah exchanged glances.

“We could keep it in our room,” he said.

“I could take it home when we visit for New Year’s.”

“You could replant it in your mother’s garden. Or in the woods behind the house.”

Ciah threw her arms around him.

Twenty years later, Ciah and Jonathan lived in Vermont on a small farm. She was the village librarian. He'd given up law school and become a farmer and did odd jobs.

There were 19 evergreens planted in various stages of growth, creating a small grove on their back land. Those trees had helped the couple celebrate each solstice of their marriage. 

Another evergreen their first, one that was twenty years old, was taller than their 17 year old daughter.The tree was happy behing behind Ciah's mother's house.

Flash Nano 27 - The Stolen Cupcake

Flash Nano 27 The Stolen Cupcake

Based on a true story

Diana, age 13, knew the second she opened the door that Dar, her grandmother, had been baking. She and her eight.year old brother Jeffy lived with Dar, who ran the house while her single mom worked.

Leaving her books and coat in the hall, she checked the kitchen.

Yup, she was right.

Twelve vanilla cupcakes were cooling on a rack. On the stove was a warm hot chocolate sauce. The dessert was Aunt Leah’s recipe and of all the good things Dar made, this was the family favorite.

All four of them had their own way of eating their allotted three cupcakes of the culinary treasure. That night they each had a cupcake for dessert. 

Her mother took her last two cupcakes to work along with her sandwich and a container of the sauce to warm in the company microwave. 

No one knew how Dar ate hers. They were just gone.

Diana ate her remaining two the next day. Jeffy rationed his to one a day.

Diana came home to a quiet house. Her mother was at work, Dar was reading in the living room, and Jeffy was in the yard playing with his buddies, Carl and Stevie.

In the kitchen she saw Jeffy's last cupcake sitting on a plate. Opening the fridge, she removed the small bowl of remaining chocolate sauce and microwaved it.

She had taken the first bite when Jeffy appeared. “Stop!”

Diana smirked and took another bite.

Jeffy ran screaming to the living room. “Stop her, Dar! Stop Diana! She’s eating my cupcake! Come quick!”

Dar stood up. “Your sister wouldn’t do that.”

“Quick! It'll be gone!” He was screaming, waving his hands, stamping his feet.

“Calm down, Jeffy.”

Jeffy grabbed Dar’s hand to lead her to the kitchen, but Dar sat down. Jeffy  grabbed Dar's hand again and bit it. 

When Dar went to the kitchen to wash her hand, Diana had the cupcake plate, the chocolate sauce bowl washed and put away and was in her room starting her homework.

The Case of the Stolen Cupcake went into the family history to be retold when cupcakes were once again made, but only years later after Diana confessed. Jeffy never forgave his sister, but apologized for biting his grandmother.

Carpe Diem All Over the Place

 When my Dad died at age 69 and one day, I vowed that when I reached the same age, that I would seize each day and live a life of carpe diem for him and for me.

Part of it is to try to enjoy small things: peeling a carrot and liking the shade of orange, holding a special pen to write a grocery list - simple things. Some are more special, a violet growing in the crack of a sidewalk or a clever, well-written sentence in a book.

Then there are days that are beyond normal carpe diem like yesterday. 

As we waited for the bus, I chatted with an older woman who told me about a new service offered by the TPG, the Geneva bus company. Taking the bus avoids traffic and you don't need to find a parking space. Plus it's great for people watching.

Once downtown, Rick and I wandered through the Geneva Marché de Noël. Little chalets were set up along the lake front. The Jet d'Eau was on. Boats bobbed against their moorings.

It was cold, the way a Christmas market should be.

We were killing time before noon when we would meet a writer friend at Le Cottage restaurant.  

It was still too early for some of the chalets to be opened, but we appreciated the wood-burning spots, the decorations, especially one ceiling. 

Best of all we found an open Canadian chalet and it had the packets of poutine gravy. My husband loves poutine from his days in Montreal. The vendor was from Montreal. In chatting we discovered they were both connected with aviation.

In the restaurant, the waiter remembered I liked my Coca-Cola zero without ice. 

My writer friend arrived. We go back to the nineties when we met at the Geneva Writers Group. I like her and respect her on so many levels that any time together is a treat.

It was a soup kind of day, and the restaurant has nontraditional soups, which we all ordered. It was also a good dessert kinda day too: pecan pie, chocolat moellux and cheesecake. They were presented with blueberries and a mint leaf. 

Besides the food, the enjoyment of just sharing in the restaurant, looking out the book-lined window to dogs playing in the park added another dimension. 

Our next stop was the renovated English Library which occupies three rooms of the Emmanuel Church. The church looks like it was moved from an English village and set down near the lake.  

The library occupies three rooms in the church.It has fed my reading habit since 1993.

The two women working were ecstatic about the beautiful parquet floor found under the old, ugly green rug. The casement windows, and a huge Paddington Bear made me smile. A change of desks made the library seem bigger.

Our final stop was Auer Chocolates. Just entering the shop is a treat with the chocolate aroma and the counters filled with little chocolate squares, both dark and light. Some are decorated with a nut, a gold squiggle, or a decorative design.

It's our tradition to buy 24 of their chocolates for our Advent Calendar bought at Auer over a dozen years before.Watching the woman pick them one by one with her gloved hand, I could imagine the pleasure Rick and I will have opening a box each day. We halve them so we don't miss any tastes.

The 33 bus was waiting at Rive, warm contrast to the chilly outdoors.

At home, Sherlock greeted us and we settled into our cozy flat for the night. 

On this Thanksgiving evening, I'm more aware then usual of the blessed life I have with so many carpe diem days. Not all are blog worthy, but even the simplest, where I my fingers fly over the laptop keys putting down words as I want them, the dog snuggling next to me, the hot shower relaxes me, my husband sitting by my side watching Netflix film is a carpe diem moment for me and my Dad.

 

 

 

Flash Nano 25 One Wish

 

PROMPT DAY 25:
You have been granted one wish.

Nathan had always said, if a Genie ever appeared and told him he would grant him one wish, he would wish for unlimited wishes.

He was in his office, a marketing-public relations agency where he worked as an account manager. He had three clients: A grocery store chain, a cigarette company, and a manufacturer of furniture. He had one pro bono client, a charity that rescued animals.

Had was the right word. The CEO came in and told Nathan they were dropping the pro bono work. When the bastard left, Nathan turned his chair to look out the window. Looking down to the street below he could see the top of trucks. One had writing on top that said “Genie movers and shakers.”

Clever way to make every space commercial he thought. I’d like to have a Genie at my beck and call.

There was a whoosh.

A genie appeared in his office. “Hello Nathan.”

“Er, hello.”

“I guess you know why I’m here.” The Genie gave a sigh. “I’ve become such a cliché.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.” The Genie sighed again. “My name is Omar. Could you tell me your wish. You're my last client today. I wanta go home.”

“I’ve thought about this possibility for years. I want unlimited wishes.”

“Damn. You’re a greedy one.”

Nathan sighed.

“No, I’ll do it. It’s in my Genie Contract, although I can’t do any thing that will hurt or kill people.”

“OK, here goes. Replace my boss with a woman who allows pro bono work.”

“Done.”

Nathan glanced at his computer. There was a company announcement that a Marilyn Lake was going to be the new CEO. It was followed by her statement of the new direction of the agency. Half pro bono. Also, they would only deal with companies that practiced the highest ethics.

“Wow. I’d like to be able to go home and surprise my wife.”

Nathan found himself in his kitchen. His wife was in the living room with the writer from next door. Instead of the cliché of finding a spouse in bed, they were only holding hands.

The writer left, Nathan and his wife argued and she stormed out.

Nathan realized he hadn’t eaten at all that day. He imagined a three course meal which he liked from his favorite restaurant. Walking into his dining room, the table was set for one: linen, china, a candle. The meal from the restaurant was complete. “Not bad, Omar.”

“Ya, I’ve got the duplicate in the kitchen,” the Genie said. "A Genie has gotta eat, you know."

Nathan learned that he had to be careful. When a man cut him off in traffic, he wished the police would catch him. Two blocks later he saw a police car had pulled the guy over.

He wished for his wife to come back and forget about the writer. She did. He wished his mother-in-law wouldn’t come for Thanksgiving. The woman won two free trips to Florida and she went with her best friend rather than spend the holiday with her daughter and son-in-law.

He continued to work, but his clients were all ethical and even paid on time. When he played golf, his handicap improved. He did wish for holes in one but to have a score of 18 pissed off the other golfers so he wished they would forget it happened.

Having unlimited wishes became boring and at the same time he had to be careful that he really wanted what he wished for.

“Omar, come back."

The Genie appeared. “Now what?”

“Could I wish for only one wish a day.”

“Thank goodness,” Omar said. “I’m exhausted. I have no time for anyone else.”

The next morning Nathan tested his limited wishes. He wished his wife had made waffles and she had. It was raining. He wished for it to stop.

It didn’t.

Visit https://dlnelsonwriter.com 

Thanksgiving Memories

 

Thanksgiving is the only time I am homesick.  The solution is to take out the good memories and relive them.

My grandmother, Dar, is in the kitchen. The house smells of roasting turkey.

My brother and I share a piece of apple pie. He eats the apples, I eat the crust.

Going to the traditional Reading High vs. Stoneham High football game is a must. I cheer for my daughter's traditional Boston Latin vs. English High game. Decades later, I still search for the scores.

As an Army wife in Stuttgart, Germany, I invited people for Thanksgiving dinner with no idea how to roast a turkey. I went to the commissary and asked the kindest looking woman I saw how to do it. She gave me exact instructions. The turkey came out fine.

After eating all the traditional food at my father and stepmom's at a table with aunts, uncles and cousins they played penny poker.

Several years we drove to my housemate's Aunt Millie in Connecticut and loving Eva's tiny meatballs made with Welch's grape jelly almost as much as the rest of the meal. I wish I had the recipe. I'm not sure that I could find the jelly or least I couldn't the last time I looked.

Payerne, Switzerland. My boyfriend at the time had a separate little house for entertaining. My former Bostonian housemates came for a traditional Thanksgiving meal. My daughter brought the turkey from the army commissary. At the last minute, he wanted to invite several of his friends. We did, stressing to not dress up. They never thought that turkey could be so moist.

An English used bookstore did a Thanksgiving meal. Wonderful.

The mother of a woman who worked for me baked me an apple pie after her daughter told her that I felt sad about not having a traditional meal. 

My housemate and I proved two women can work together to put together a huge meal in the same kitchen with no disagreements, just good team work. We did it more than once.

My landlords decided to do a meal with many expats.

This year, my former landlords will do a meal but not until next month when they return from Cambodia.

My husband decided I should have Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving. We will have cranberry sauce, hot turkey sandwiches,which is the treasured meal the day after,  and in place of stuffing rösti, a traditional Swiss potato dish. I am looking forward to it and maybe it will be a new tradition. 

As for all my other memories, I can tuck them away in the drawer marked happy times.

 

 

 

Flash Nano 23 The Hidden Lyric

 

Flash Nano 23  Use a line from a song in your story, but DON'T call attention to it.

ROSES

Sally, a single mom, knew her daughter Melissa had problems. As a little girl she didn’t like to be held and when things didn’t go her way she threw all kinds of tantrums, which Sally called wobblies.

Although Melissa didn’t talk until almost three she spoke in complete sentences when she started. What she said, was far more complicated than most three years old.

Melissa was fascinated with flowers. Most of her days were spent with flowers. Sally bought packets of seeds. They planted a garden. When Melissa checked  it several times a day she was upset that sprouts did not peek out of the ground.

Sally found lots of books with pictures of flowers.

Sometimes Sally could barely stay awake to get into bed. She worked as a legal assistant for one of the many law firms in D.C.

At the same time, Sally needed to spend time with her son, Brett. He was ten

On Monday, when he saw on the TV news that Sally had on in the background that the East Wing at the White House had been destroyed, he wanted to go see it.

Trips with both children were at best exhausting, but Brett asked for so little, that on Saturday she took the Metro to the White House telling Melissa they would look for flowers.

Brett sighed. “I want to go inside.”

“Tours have to be reserved.” Sally arranged for one and once again they made the trip.

They were with a group of ten.

Melissa was calm until she heard a woman talk about the Rose Garden.

“I want to see the Rose Garden.” Sally recognized an approaching wobbly and asked the guide if the Rose Garden was included. The guide nodded, "but it is different."

The tour looked out on the cement area with tables.

“Where have all the flowers gone?” Melissa asked.

The guide tried to explain.

“I want to see the roses.” Melissa went into a full-blown wobbly.

The older woman, who asked about the garden, looked at Sally. Her eyes were kind, understanding. “I agree.” She said.