Trump: Liar of Ignorant?

 

Trump has claimed the U.S. is the only country that allows mail-in ballots. He's either a liar or ignorant on what the rest of the world does or both.

Since 2006, when I received my Swiss citizenship I will have voted 80 times, 76 by mail and four in person.

When I took my oath of citizenship, the next voting package was already waiting for me on my seat. 

The Swiss mail a voting package to every citizen in the language of their choice: French, Italian, German and Romanish. The format is identical year after year including the colors red for Federal and White for Cantonal. See the photo above.

This package includes: 

• Information on the proposal by the sponsor of the Initiative or Referendum. With enough signatures on petitions voters can say if they want a law be withdrawn or a new issue can be put before the entire country.
• A copy of the law or proposal
• The recommendation of Parliament and why on each item
• How every party, and there are many, agree or disagree
• A list of where to vote, although voting stations are only open a couple of hours because most people vote by mail. In many villages coffee, tea and biscuits or croissants are served. 
• A return postage-paid envelope
• A numbered verification card to sign

As a voter, there are many sources of info on the issues. Results are usually tallied by late afternoon with results being reported on media and else where.

• The voting package
• Television news including round-table discussions
• Newspaper and magazine articles
• The internet
• Posters created by the pro and con parties. They are identical for all languages and are posted in every village.

Saturday I read the package. Sometimes it's hard going. I checked what the parties were saying. Sometimes that helps. What's hard is when the far right and far left agree.

Sunday, tomorrow, I'll rethink it one last time, mark my ballot, sign the verification card and put it in the envelope.

Monday, I'll mail it well in advance of the mailing deadline. The votation in person would be 8 March.

To see a map of other countries that allow mail-in voting. https://www.newsweek.com/map-shows-countries-mail-ballots-trump-vows-ban-voting-format-2115167

For Saturday lunch, to celebrate my 80th vote we had fondue and champagne from the cave in Môtiers, the first Swiss village where I lived 1990-1993. It just seemed right.

Note: Legally they can't call anything not from the Champagne region in France, champagne, but it seemed more appropriate that I celebrate 

Dogs in Restaurants

Many Americans are aghast on their first trip to Europe when they discover dogs in a restaurant, café or tea room. At least in France, Germany and Switzerland it's common.

Sherlock goes with us more than not. At the tea room Mille et Une where we'll have a second morning tea or hot chocolate, he's often part of a doggy conference. 

There are three other dogs who are regulars, especially Nelson (no relation), a black French bulldog. Nelson, like the other regulars, knows that Rick has doggy treats and comes over to let us know his mouth is ready and willing to accept what we offer. 

Depending on the dog, they may be off leash, asleep under the table, or checking out their friends, two- or four-legged.

L'Aurea-B at the end of our street is owned by Cedric. Not only does he know we want Coca Zero with most of our lunches, he always has a plate of sausage and/or cheese for Sherlock. When we walk by, Sherlock wants to greet Cedric who then heads to the kitchen to find a treat for our dog. 

Along the French Autoroute from Perpignan to Geneva, a route we take regularly, most of the rest stops do not allow dogs. However, when a new rest stop is built with elaborate food courts, dogs seem to be welcomed.

In some restaurants Rick will order something he likes to share with Sherlock. In others we order something for our dog. Before it was sold, Sherlock enjoyed the children's menu at Flowers. We ate his fries and his ice cream dessert that came with his meal.

Once at the Bureau, which is like a Scottish pub, we ordered a hamburg patty for our dog. The waitress. who was bilingual, switched to English: "Are you serious?" Since we've seen other dogs in there, we were probably the only one that requested a dog meal.  

We often eat out rather than take time out from our writing to cook and clean up. It is nice to do it as a "multi-species family."                    

I see little difference between cooking a meal with a dog at my feet who will follow me to sit by the table than having a dog(s) in a restaurant. In our village there are many restaurants all within a short walk of our front door. After we eat, we can multi-task by combining our meal with a dog walk. Sherlock has yet to object.

Dentist vs. Shopping

Two appointments, back-to back-days, four plus hours in the dentist chair. Since it was the same procedure both days, it was a bit like Ground Hog Day only better. 

As a teenager, dentist appointments were torture. No Novocaine. And I was uncomfortable when the dentist wiped his fingers on the paper bib over my barely budding breasts. 

Flash forward to my wonderful dentist today, despite his discovering the two huge cavities consuming two teeth under fillings put in by Dr. Horrible Dentist over 60 years before.

My dentist has the name of a city near our place in Southern France. He's Swiss as I am now. 

He explains what he's doing in his perfect English. He shows me X-rays.

Once in the chair, I know if I feel even a quiver of pain, he'll stop and give my mouth another shot.

Above the chair is a television screen. The nature film the first day was all about penguins. I adore penguins. The second day it was African animals. I was tempted to ask him to move his head as he bent over me blocking 10% of the screen.

There was music in the background, including the late Daniel Levy singing from the musical Dix Commandments, a favorite song.

Although he speaks English with me, I understood what he was saying in French to his assistant, a dental student. In the corner, a young woman in a white coat took notes. She was studying to be an assistant. His dentistry lecture was fascinating.

Instead of waiting days for a crown, I loved that he showed me a computer screen, where he designed the crown which was ready in less than 20 minutes. 

People question my sanity when I say I preferred that to going to a shopping mall.

I hate malls. They are basically the same, same stores, almost the same merchandise, stuff I neither need nor want. If I have to go to a mall, I want to go only to the store, find what I want within minutes. If I can't find it and no clerk is there to help, I try and figure out how to do without it and leave. I try not to feel sad at the precious minutes of my life that were wasted or the 30 things I would rather have been doing.

Often at a mall, my husband goes in. I read in the car, or have a tea in a cafe with a lovely pastry. I'll do a bit of people watching.

I know I sound like a COW, a Crabby Old Woman. One of the advantages of COWdom is doing what I want without needing approval of others.

Mimosa Triggered Memories

 

The Mimosa is telling me spring is on its way. The florist has a cart piled high with the flowers, sprigs selling for 3.50 Euros. If I would go into the forest, mimosa covers huge trees. One would almost need sunglasses to look at them.

Growing up in New England, I loved the seasons, especially autumn with all the bright red leaves. Winter with its snow for building snow forts and pouring hot maple syrup on snow to make candy was fun. And listening to the radio for no school announcements even if Reading was low on the list read alphabetically bring back good winter memories. My daughter had it easier when we lived in Boston with its B. Now it's online.

Daffodils, iris, roses, violets all took their turn in our garden.

Living in France and Switzerland the markers are different.

Southern France doesn't offer much in snow. But spring is marked with mimosa and artichokes, which I love. My husband? Not so much.

There are carnivals even in small towns, refreshing because there's nothing commercial about them but done by the locals.

The road to Ceret village is a sea of pink flowers that will turn into cherries. Marché merchants will have tables and tables of cherries in a few weeks. 

For this blog, I decided to post the photo of the cherry-decorated butter dish. We bought it on a cherry-buying-musée visit. Their museum has beautiful Picasso pottery, many impressionist paintings and usually some interesting exhibition.  

Bags of walnuts from Grenoble appear in October as do Christmas lights hung to turn the village into a Christmas fairyland. I know it's early but the same company does all the surrounding villages and has to start early.

I also love the Swiss season markers. If plan well I can manage to enjoy seasonal events in both countries. Someone once called me a cake eater from wanting my cake and eating it too. As far as reveling in seasonal changes in two places I do cake eating very well. 

When I first moved to Switzerland, I was told about the beautiful falls. Hmm... yellow leaves are beautiful, but I still miss the New England reds after three decades.

There's always the first fondues and raclettes of the season. The Canton of Valais has a special dish with the first pressing of grapes, apples, cheese and maybe sausage (locally made of course). The same area is a great producer of apricots in the spring.

Butchers and restaurants announce La chasse est ici. The hunt is here. As an almost vegetarian, I will always feel sorry for Bambi's mother, less sorry for the boar hanging at the butcher's. We have boars in France as well. More than once, they've dug up the small garden with its memorial to the soldiers who died in the wars.

Where I worked, when the Nouveau Beaujolais arrived, we would have a company-wide apèro with the first bottles and other goodies.

Geneva does not have much snow, but it is a short drive up a mountain find sit.

We can see more snow on Mt. Blanc and the Jura in the late fall. All along the lake Christmas trees of all sizes are for sale and Christmas markets with its chalets filled with handicrafts (I've found beautiful handmade pens several times. I swear I write better with them.)

In Geneva, there's the Escalade https://www.facebook.com/GenevaTourism/videos/1986569191851031/ where the city goes back to 1602 to celebrate the city defeating the French who were trying to scale the walls. Lots of hot spiced wine and hot vegetable soup which is a reminder of Mère Royaume throwing a pot of hot soup on the attackers, long enough to give the soldiers time to arrive. Chocolate marmites with marzipan veggies are on sale every where. 

Only in the first couple of months each year can we buy carnivals, a fried and sugared dough. There's some on my counter as I write this, The kettle is boiling for tea.

Throughout the year there are fêtes and carnivals from the simple Fêtes des Fontains in the Vals de Travers where neighbors decorate their nearby fountain to large celebrations like Bern's onion festival.   Zwibel Märit  https://www.bing.com/videos/riverview/relatedvideo?q=onion+festival+bern&&mid=43278CA44C30DD6041BE43278CA44C30DD6041BE&FORM=VAMGZCt. 

So many of the fests and festivals are a celebration of a country's patrimony but they attract people of many nationalities who enjoy the richness of shared cultures.

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.

Putin/Trump What is the Difference?

Is there a difference between Putin/Trump?

I'm not talking between dementia and non dementia. 

I'm talking about their war mongering.

Putin starts a war in Ukraine under the pretense it really should be under Russia control.

Trump has said similar things about Canada, Greenland and the Panama Canal. And although he is not the first American president to forcibly change a South American leader, he is the latest. 

Trump is busy sending aircraft off the coast of Iran. The U.S. has messed with Iranian politics (er oil) since the overthrow of its government long ago. Never mind withdrawing from a treaty that held the seeds of progress. 

Treaty Shmeaty! 

Who cares?

Frankly, I don't see much difference between the two men in their warmongering. Putin's slowness to expand his balliwick to other balliwicks is playing the long game. Trump might be trying to do too much too fast. 

Merriman Webster defines evil as "morally reprehensive, sinful, wicked."  Sending mostly innocent people to their deaths under horrendous attacks can fall into that category for whatever power and wealth they might gain can be described as evil. 

Russia and the United States are run by evil men, one of which is demented.

Does anyone win? Yup. Not people. Not the planet.  Arms manufacturers. 

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/ 

 

Tired of Ignorance

                                                                                    

He needs to work on his spelling a bit, but he's only a dog.

Anyone complaining about Spanish at the halftime Superbowl show with Bad Bunny is proving their ignorance.  

The U.S. has approximately 65.5 million Spanish speakers, making it the second-largest Spanish-speaking country in the world after Mexico.

Trump complained about the Spanish.

I want to live in a multi-cultural, multi-lingual world and for the most part I do.

My husband and I had our official marriage in our village's mayor office two years after our commitment ceremony. Like in many countries, even if a rabbi, minister or priest performed 1000+ marriage ceremonies with a couple, none are legal. 

Unlike our commitment ceremony attended by 40 people from seven countries, the only guests at our legal marriage in our Swiss village, were our witnesses, my housemate and her son. 

Most of the time, although we live in a Francophone world, at home we speak English or French. Just after the restaurant manager poured his gift champagne at our celebration lunch, my housemate and her son started speaking German. My German is rusty. I call it shopping German which means I can communicate on a very basic level.

That's weird I thought. I caught a few words about her picking him up by a certain time and where. Guacamole preparation? It made no sense until five hours later, when I realized they were finalizing details about a surprise party for us. They didn't think neither I nor my new official husband would understand the German.

Most of my friends' families are multi-lingual. Parents who must name a child, also decide who speaks what to their offspring. One couple where the woman speaks French, English, Dutch, German fluently and her American partner, who speaks English, made sure their sons speak English and French. Their three year old son when he met me sidled up to me and said, "I speak English very good."

Another friend (English, German, French) and her husband (English, French, German, Italian) have a daughter who from an early age spoke English, German, Swiss German with the same ease as she inhales and exhales. She is also learning French.

I won't ask you to forgive me for not feeling sympathetic when an American complains about someone singing in Spanish. It shows ignorance when an American growls, "Speak English. You're in America." What they are showing, "I'm ignorant and live in a bubble that shuts me out of all the wonderful things that the world has to offer."

Maybe the woman, who said that the Super Bowl was American so she didn't understand a Puerto Rican being there, didn't know Puerto Ricans are Americans.

Yes, language is tied to identity and culture. Limiting oneself is shutting out most of the world. Sad, so sad.

Even our dog is multi-lingual. We started speaking to him only in English. Then we realized by his responses, he understood, so for things we didn't want him to understand like, "Should we take the dog for a walk," we used French.

Then we realized, he understood the French.

"I started spelling words like "W A L K." He caught on. We knew by his body language.

Maybe we should switch to "Gehen" for walk and other basic German words.

I think my dog is smarter than Trump.

The loss of someone

I heard from my former niece, whom I am still in contact with. Her mother passed away at 92.

I have not had much contact with my former sister-in-law since the early 90s, but it is still a loss. She was an important chunk of my life.

At her wedding, I remember that the ice cream was molded into fruits. My serving was grapes.

Later my ex and I baby sat for their son and daughter. Some times the parents would bring fried clams as a thank you. As a New Englander, I loved them. Only years later did I realize why so many times after baby sitting I was sick. I am allergic.

When my mother insisted I give back my engagement ring (my ex was stationed in D.C.), I gave it to my future sister-in-law who kept it until I could elope. During that period they took me to their New Hampshire cabin, a relief from the tension in my home. 

Because I couldn't swim, I couldn't water ski, but they let me drive the boat for the other skiers. No one drowned.

We went to see Mr. Smith Goes to Washington movie.

For years I used the Corning Ware she gave me.

My in-laws had lots of family gatherings. My sister-in-law  made the best potato salad I've ever eaten. I was invited to these gatherings even after my ex and I separated. 

During the last gathering I went to, I realized that the family was circled around me and my baby daughter. He was isolated in a corner. I had a lot of emotional support from my father and stepmom and friends. He needed his family.

The last time I saw my ex-sister-in-law was at my mother-in-law's funeral back at my ex-husband and his second wife's home after the service. My mother-in-law years before had informed me that she would always care about me. I visited her periodically. That was also the first gathering  I'd attended since I made my decision to back off.

Likewise when I moved to Switzerland, my ex-sister-in-law and I exchanged letters. Why this dwindled off over the years, I don't know. More likely it was one of those things that happen.

One of the sad things on aging, is losing people you know from different periods of life. I used the word "chunk" earlier in this blog. Let me add "treasured" to chunk. 

Faces

We don't select our faces...

They come through the genes the sperm and egg deposit. If we did choose, most women would rearrange their face: high cheek bones, a dimple, blue eyes not brown or brown eyes not blue.

When we look at a face, we can try and guess what that person is really like, although we can't guarantee accuracy from the face.

Our green grocer always has a smile and a happy greeting for everyone. A laugh is never far from her lips. 

An older friend radiates warmth, yet I know she's had many medical problems. Warmth doesn't mean courage, but it does blend with her "what can I do to help" attitude or "lets share (fill in the blank)."

Now let's look at the face of three high ranking officials starting with 64-year old Border Czar Tom Homan. (I will resist playing with his name saying a u was forbidden in place of a o.)

I should say that when I searched for photos almost every one was sour including Homan. When he appears in interviews maybe he thinks sour shows seriousness. His actions I find despicable. 

Forty-eight-year old Tom Cotton, Arkansas Senator, when he appears in an interview, acts as if a smile would be painful. I did find a couple of less serious photos. I will also admit that part of my negative reaction to his face and him, is his political stances are directly opposite to mine.

Now we go to Stephen Miller (40, advisor to Trump). He has been a negative force since high school, decrying multi-culturalism, while being pro-white supremist. He saw nothing wrong with putting immigrant kids in cages. If it is something that would help people, it seems he's against it. 

Being so negative did it affect his face?

Granted, I've no scientific proof about face reading, but I can see the results of actions and the actions of these three men hurt not help their fellow humans. 

Note: In choosing these photos, I had lots and lots of sour-faced pictures to select from and very few relaxed ones.

Mitch Checks In

 

Last week Senator (R) Mitch McConnell checked into a hospital. He had the flu. "His prognosis is positive and he is grateful for the excellent care he is receiving," the statement continued.

How lovely...How nice for Mitch. I bet with his wonderful health insurance through the U.S. Senate, he is not worried about payment.

That's not true for many of his constituents. It's not true for millions in America, some 8% or 27.1 million

"While states like New Hampshire, Rhode Island, Minnesota, Iowa, and Massachusetts boast some of the best health care systems in the nation, ranking high in overall quality, accessibility, and outcomes, states like Kentucky, Georgia, Alabama, Alaska, and Mississippi fall toward the bottom of the list, according to WalletHub.* 

When McConnell could have fought to keep or improve health care, his response not to fight for it, was, "They'll get over it," referring to his constituents.

Now if that isn't disgusting enough, read this  “We're going to focus on bringing down the cost of health care for everybody,” Senator Kansas R Marshall said. “And that starts with our price-tags bill forcing every health care delivery system in America to show patients upfront the cost, turn patients into consumers again, and increase competition."

The need for health care isn't a product. Patients aren't consumers. They are people with a major need.

In the middle of a heart attack when costs are presented in the emergency room to a person with chest pains, that person wouldn't go to other hospitals trying to find the best deal. 

We shouldn't worry about those poor people who can't afford health care insurance. After all, Mitch has his and screw the others.

*Read More:  https://wbkr.com/bestandworststatesforhealthcare2025kentucky-ranking/?utm_source=tsmclip&utm_medium=referral

Traveling Without Moving

I spent almost three weeks with Eleanor Roosevelt via a three-volume biography by Blanche Weissen Cooke. Although I knew much about the period, it was a reminder of how much ahead we are in the rights of blacks, refugees, workers, labor unions and the poor because of her work. We still haven't begun to reach her goals. 

I was in D.C., Hyde Park, New Zealand, Campobello and every other place, this woman travelled through my reading.

I stayed in Virginia and the D.C. area with the book Those Empty Eyes by Charlie Donlea, a murder mystery. There were brief stops at Cambridge University and a Zurich Bank both places I know. Nice to see them again.

I already have the next book on my Kindle which will take me to Maine, Cider House Rules, which I read when it first came out in 1997. It was by John Irving who's new book Queen Esther which is connected in some way. I'll read the new book after I finish. 

Although I never met him, Irving and I lived in Exeter, New Hampshire at the same time. My Masters degree from Glamorgan University in Wales was on repeated symbolism in his work: short people, wrestling, bears, Vienna, etc. As for Vienna, the couple of times I've visited my writing mate in that city we ate little sandwiches at Trzesniewski. I can't remember if Irving ever mentioned the sandwiches along with his other symbols.

After that, I'm not sure what I'll read. There are still lots of books unread in both France and Switzerland. Never mind that we might pass a telephone booth changed into a free bookstore and I'll find something. 

Switzerland has the English Library and the English book store Pages and Sips. If we go in for scones, we find it impossible to leave without a couple of books and maybe ever a literary jigsaw puzzle.

I love books with Boston, New England, Canadian, German, French, Swedish, Scottish, Russia and Syrian settings, etc. Places I've been and may or may not go back to. Equally I love reading about places, I've never been and still want to go. Of course, it isn't just the settings, but the people that inhabit the pages, their problems, their solutions that send me into different worlds. I love being in different time periods and cultures. 

Reading adds a dimension to my life from the comfort of my couch, bed or chair. 

My mother thought that she didn't have to travel if she could read about a place. I disagree. I've had both. I don't care how well Irving describes Vienna. I can't taste the little sandwiches in a book.