Under the Ice

under the ice
This is not a photo of a person under ice, although it sure looks like it.

Such a pretty girl...How old did you say? 

Not sure who she is, what her name is, twelve years old.

Do they know yet what happened?  

They?  You mean the detectives?

Who else would I mean?  Yes, the detectives.  Them.

They don't know. Some kid found her in the creek, under the ice.

She....Vicky? The girl in the ice?... That's her name, right?--Vicky, and must have floated downstream...

       Then the ice froze over her...Vicky, yeah that's her name...her folks had waited for so long...

How are Ken and Sheila--Vicky's parents, right? holding up?

Okay, I guess. Can't look at them.  We're taking food in for the family.

  The church always takes fried chicken and peach pie. For her, what's her name again? Vicky? That's the name, right?

I wonder if or when they'll ever figure out...find out what I did? God, I hope not.  I didn't mean to...the car swerved..Vicky... just appeared and...

You must, you have to tell them what happened.

      She was so scared...at the end...Vicky was crying

 She was scared before that...you could have saved her...Vicky would still be alive.

       Father Paul, I wasn't thinking...
     
Time to own up, Tim...Time to give Ken and Sheila peace. Vicky. Time for you confess. Time for you seek forgiveness.

       Scared...so scared.  I am so scared.

So was she, Tim. So was she.

Whether it is Covid Virus or any other disastrous event, nothing nothing is more horrible and evil than what happens to some other Vicky, a little girl playing one moment then dead the next. 

Darkest Hour is just before the Dawn

Ode to a Platitude

Karen growled and muttered an assortment of foul words in her car, driving over speed limit.  Her visit to Mom and Grandma had not provided the affirmation and comfort she had hoped it would.

Bill had packed up his stuff in the night and was gone before she woke up.  Note:  I’m outta here, bitch…and the last word was written in bold letters. Now, Karen needed to share her pain.

She had been in Mom’s kitchen, sipping on peach herbal tea.  Mom was kneading bread, taking loaf after loaf from the oven.  These would go to the homeless shelter.  Grandma was sitting quietly while knitting baby blankets for preemies at the local hospital.

Karen had been trying tell of her woes and ask for advice when the litany began.

“You know, honey, the darkest hour is just before the dawn. You’ll do fine.” This one came from Mom.

“Such is life,” Grandma added. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger!” She dropped a stitch, but caught it time.

Mouth open, Karen had looked from one face to the other, listening with disbelief.

“Yes, sweetie. God has a plan for you…you just don’t know it yet!...and then…It is what it is…Time heals all wounds…Life doesn’t give you things you can’t handle…It could be worse…It wasn’t meant to be…There are plenty more fish in the sea…Everything happens for a reason..

When Karen’s grandma said “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen”…

Karen had leaped to her feet and raced to her car.  She skidded out the driveway, narrowly missed the mailbox.  This found her flying along the freeway with profanity tailing after her.  Her thoughts were not kind.  If she ever heard one more mindless platitude, she would vomit.

Source

The italicized and underlined phrase is from Wednesday Words, where bloggers can play and experiment with the words or prompt.

These words or prompts are provided each week by Elephant's Child and fellow blogger River

Many thanks to Delores, who created this idea.  This is a re-post from 2014. I hear and read those cursed gems all the time.

Chocolate on an Icy Day

Abuelita

Violin music scratched from Miss Violet Ramsey’s record player, volume turned up high, pouring music directly at her head. Her deaf ears scarcely heard even a note, which did not seem to be a problem.

By the window where Miss Violet sat, she stroked her calico kitten and sipped hot cocoa topped with melted marshmallow.  "How about we have another, Kitty?" as she set a fresh cup next to six empties. It had been a long cold day, and six cups were nothing.

Violet had barely taken a sip, when she cried out, “Oh, look, Kitty!  There’s another one!”  Even with her glasses steamed and fogged, Miss Violet did not miss a man  in a dark overcoat as he rushed by on Albany Lane, now a very slippery street.  

When he tumbled and cursed, Miss Violet giggled and marked another hash mark on her writing tablet. “That makes 13 today!” Marshmallow spittle splattered onto Kitty, who was not in the least bothered by it.  

Her joy was disturbing on so many levels.

This is a re-post from Nov. 29, 2012.  The italicized underlined words are from a Wednesday Word challenge, established by Delores, who stepped away from blogging. Delores handed the torch off to Elephant's Child and Drifting through Life.  New word challenges can be found at their sites.

Do not remain silent.

My generation, ones who were in their teens and 20s back in the hippy age, Laugh-in, and Star Trek, remember Simon and Garfunkel as voices of our conscience. Paul Simon has such a gift for pulling language together. Such talented young men, writing brilliant meaningful lyrics, Simon and Garfunkel reach into my memories.

YouTube with Simon and Garfunful

written in 1963 and 1964

My granddaughter Lily recently queried me if I knew "Silence" by a group, Disturbed.  And, "Grandma, have you ever heard of a song, 'Sound of Silence'?"

What?? Sound of Silence? You betcha--Simon and Gar...

"No, Grandma!  By Disturbed?"

I grew silent, as she did magic on my computer and pulled up this video.

YouTube

 Paul Simon endorsed this album. "Really powerful performance on Conan the other day.  First time I had seen you do it live. Nice. Thanks."

Few songs have stirred up goosebumps recently.  This performance nailed me to my chair and my eyes to the screen.  As Lily moved to close the site, I pushed the play arrow once more and then once more. 

Simon and Garfunkel's version was one of my youth, where it wove gently through my opinions.  David Draiman, vocalist of Disturbed, sang this version of my adulthood, where my emotions reflect the knowledge acquired.  

All that had been seen through decades was reflected by his voice, singing this song.

This was a post from April 2017. Just heard it played in an ice skating competition. The people in the bleachers watched, gasped, then stood, and then clapped.

Holocaust Remembrance Day

April 20-21 is designated as Holocaust Remembrance Day.  Please watch the following.

German citizens are visiting Buchenwald Concentration camp

where they see what happened

About 5 minutes long. Watch it.

Not much to say.

We are not now or then alone.

Will this be a statement for all of us.

We all look at history and wonder about all the things we are thinking in our own time. Nothing was easy to see and the ones who were facing their own disasters.

This is a newspaper article when our gr-gr-greats read what was their own pandemics. 

This was on a FB site that my hometown had displayed.

A FaceBook photo

The doctor and an assistant would travel through the county to diagnose and treat. My Grandma Cardiff went with him. For some reason, she did not catch it.

We are not alone. We have each other, even though we have to distance ourselves from those we love and know.

Gravity is not my friend.

wedding-venues.co.UK

I have nooo idea where I found this. A few years ago, I shrugged it off. Now?

I found a hair there under my chin,
And I yanked that sucker out,
But wouldn't you know, the very  next day,
Two more began to sprout.
I don't know what's happening;
It's a perplexing change of pace,
My arms and legs are going bald,
But I've gotta shave my face.

It's such a rotten travesty;
My tummy once was flat.
But now my hourglass is mostly ass,
And my waist has turned to fat.
My body's slowly sagging,
And I don't look so hot;
If a man wants to ogle my bosom now,
I'm afraid he'll have to squat.

But that's okay, 'cause I'm still here,
Of life I'm still a part.
So what if when I bend or stretch,
I leak a little fart?
I've lots of life and love in store,
Though I'm not young and shiny;
If ya wanta know the truth,
Old age can kiss my heinie.

FaceBook, American in the 1950s

Hopefully this will not offend those who read this.  While it is aimed straight to females, I am absolutely positive a male can nod with understanding. Perhaps he could write a male version of this?

With all luck, use of this poem will not violate some copyright or what-not.

BFG by Roald Dahl

Roald Dahl

Roald Dahl may not be known by many adults outside a child’s world. Oh, they might recognize movies that came from his books: James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Matilda, BFG, The Witches, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and … But many adults may not know anything about his BOOKS.

Roald Dahl was prolific, and creativity poured from him, a fountain that children enjoyed for decades. My students were always enthralled 
when I read James and the Giant Peach aloud.

Which of his books surprised me?
The BFG surprised me. Can't tell you why,  I won’t give the synopsis because I really want you Bloggers to check it out.  A tender story with courage and love, The BFG (Big Friendly Giant) gives the reader hope and humor.

As too often, movies made from great books are often trash, as they are slashed, removing essential story lines. I won’t list those movies as they shouldn’t be watched by anyone with any sort of discerning taste.

But, The BFG, it was not trashed.

Here is a trailer of the movie:

The actor is Mark Rylance. Some may recognize him from other movies.

In my writing group years ago, most teachers taught older students. They did not value the earlier books such as these. These books established the writing their older students would do. 

Every building needs its foundation stones. Books like The BFG are part of those stones.

Let It Ride

A Person's Timeline

When the highlight of my life is going to the drive-thru in McDonald’s, then I realize things are getting desperate. When driving on the freeway on a rainy day is exciting, then I know my standards for “a cheap date, fun time” have really plummeted.

This is the year 2020, one that will never be forgotten. While 1939-1945 will never forgotten for the massive loss of life, those years were during a horrific war. The same can be said about WW1, Civil War, and all the way back in time. Some years will never be forgotten.

But, again this is 2020. This is the year when a massive pandemic has wrapped itself around the world and randomly chosen its victims, ones that are part of communities. Librarians, mechanics, babysitters, and more can be added to the numbers as part of statistics.

The thing is that technology collects every number and statistic running, every decision and when it was made. There is the evaluating secrets or re-writing history just to fit in the puzzle of politics.

Let it ride. Let it ride and let time show. Be noble. Be the best of yourself. 

One Day More

So, then. We are watching YouTube and finding entertainment, some chuckling. It's a switch from vacuuming and laundry.

Here is one you might enjoy.  

YouTube: One Day More

from Les Miserable 

We will have beef stew for dinner. It is a break from our usual fare. Did you know that Fridays are "Fried Bologna Fridays". Give it a shot.

Live well, eat well, walk around the block. Read good books, change out of pajamas.  

God loves us. He is the One in Charge. Don't forget that. Happy Easter.

...Oh, Surely Not!

Strong gravity around planets

I have been told by people that I do not look my age.

“I am 68…

“Oh surely not…you look about 55…really..no, 47?

And, I have been “hit on” by men not my husband or relative. They are in the upper senior level.

Here is the thing.  I know I still hold onto that by a thin piece of fleshy fabric.  I know that in a brief bit of time, I will get up, go to the bathroom mirror, and let go a silent scream.

I know that all cells in my body have probably formed a revolution, organizing through each inch of skin and fascia.  They have whispered, “Okay—tomorrow, every one simply lets go and gives into gravity.  Let'r all drop!”

I’ll let you know.  It is just around a corner.

P.S.  I suffer from severe migraines. These migraines had become so severe that the only viable solution is having BOTOX injections--not on my face, (except one in each eye brow)  however. Temples, various places in the scalp, down the back of neck, into the shoulders. Thirty-eight injections  are unimaginable in the pain factor. But the face? It is thinking about joining the revolution.

Please don't hate me because I'm beautiful...

                   YouTube, about 45 sec.
Not really. Go ahead...

Babies have all the talent.

The best comedians in the world are small and sweet, without an agenda.

Pinterest

You got it.

Pinterest

Pinterest

Pinterest

Pinterest

Okay, this could go on forever, so I will stop.

The Eggs not Found

Source etsy

This event was before the Superman Travesty, back before I knew just how low and evil my brothers were, and would become.

It was Easter, maybe 1960 or 1959.  Church was over.  Ham dinner was eaten and done. It was time for the egg hunt.  Hard boiled and dyed eggs had been hidden in our vast lawn after we all had fallen asleep.  It was never questioned by whom.

Source

It was a brutal competition, with lots of screaming, shoving and pushing. There may have been some scratching and punching as well. There are no memories about who garnered the most eggs; the hunt was not so much about speed—it was about who was most devious. 

Then Easter was gone, baskets were packed away for next year, and deviled eggs were supper. With no holiday to anticipate, a veil of tedium settled over our farm in a pre-summer heat.

In the middle of the night, something woke me, something like a POP!  I rolled over, catching just a hint of chocolate.  Then a new smell came in waves---foul, recognizable, nauseating.

It was the distinctive odor of rotten eggs.  Rolling out of bed and looking under it, I spotted a lone Easter basket with the remains of an exploded egg.  One of my three brothers had placed it there before I went to bed. (My bedroom was that clean...seriously...even under the bed...)

Opened the window…threw the Basket out…and heard the muffled giggles from my brothers’ rooms.  They were waiting for my own explosion. 

Well, they did not get it.  I tiptoed down the stairs and slept on the couch.  The rotten egg smell did not limit itself to my room; it traveled to their room as well.

Justice and revenge would wait for another day.  I was the soul of patience.

Those bastards....


This is a post from 2015, rewritten and re-posted 2019. Rewritten and here it is now. 

My brothers (whom I love dearly now) were miserable bastards in my youth. They were mean to me most of the time. Revenge will be mine. 

Just what we need

Remembering Lilacs

To say we live in perilous times is an understatement. There have never been such horrific events happening in the age of technology. We made the supposition that we are in a state of invulnerability, thanks to this age of science and research world-round in our mutual lifetimes. The timeline of tragedies can be pinned on a map. This map will now a deep black hole burned into it. 

Depression and anxiety are like a seeping gas. When it starts to get to me, I seek that which can fill me with peace.

 Claire Cosby and daddy 

At age 4

YouTube site

Seeing such love, talent, and joy between Daddy and daughter, well, is 

just what I need, what we need.

Sing. Pray.

Pandemic  by Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

YouTube

about about 1.5 minutes

What if you thought of it

as the Jews consider the Sabbath—

the most sacred of times?

Cease from travel.

Cease from buying and selling.

Give up, just for now,

on trying to make the world

different than it is.

Sing. Pray. Touch only those

to whom you commit your life.

Center down.



And when your body has become still,

reach out with your heart.

Know that we are connected

in ways that are terrifying and beautiful.

(You could hardly deny it now.)

Know that our lives

are in one another’s hands.

(Surely, that has come clear.)

Do not reach out your hands.

Reach out your heart.

Reach out your words.

Reach out all the tendrils

of compassion that move, invisibly,

where we cannot touch.


Promise this world your love--

for better or for worse,

in sickness and in health,

so long as we all shall live.

--Lynn Ungar 3/11/20

lynnungar.com

The Joy of Flying

Okay, Harold.  We made it to the clock, and yes! I see the time.  It’s not my fault we’re late.

Oh, come on, Joyce!  You are always making us late.  How far have we traveled today…and how many times have we waited for you?

Harold, if you keep this up, I will not allow you to dive into a plate of crostino in a wine garlic…

Hey, you two!  We have had enough of this!  If we had known how you bicker non-stop, we would not have invited you on this trip!

Sorry, Leticia!  Harold is so erratic; I can never take him anywhere.  On the flight over, he made me drop my shrimp…

Okay, ladies!  Here we are!  See the 3:25 tour bus!  I get the fat bald guy; Joyce, you take out the big redhead.  Leticia, you hit the skinny guy with the comb-over. 

Annnnd, it is time to show humans just who is in charge. Let 'em drop!

This is photo prompt in 2014. Seagulls fly into our south California at winter and hang out. In the warmer time, the crows take over. 

Lunch yard where my students had lunch ignored them after a while 

We Can Do It!

Many of the Rosie the Riveters

Sometimes a person passes on and no one knows or cares about it. Not our families, but people had a impact on society long ago. Who were some of them?

“Keep ’em flying to avenge our husbands’ deaths.” That was the motive they lived by.

"Just six months after that first group of women walked into the Nebraska plant, more than 2,000 women were working in Martin plants in Omaha and Baltimore. By the fall of 1942, the aircraft industry as a whole had added 63,000 women to its roster, mostly in aircraft assembly plants. By November 1943, aircraft industry employment peaked at 2.1 million workers, with more than 486,000 women accounting for an astounding 37 percent of the industry labor force." Lockheed Mart

Ordinary women went from being housewives to being huge contributors to ones who provided important equipment to win WW2

Naomis ParkerNaomi Parker

One of the many Rosie the Riveter

Women are needed.

Vera Davis

 It is impossible tell the stories all have to tell. Here is a great site above under Vera Davis' photo.

These ladies may have or could have been ones who know.

Below is a cookbook to see some recipes these awesome women donated. 

National WW2 museum
Some of these are excellent. 

I like Cereal-Cheese Casserole, pg. 64
and Honey-Cocoa Cake, pg. 189.