Come to my boudoir

My Russian friend Vladimir sent me this video and the comment on it from a London newspaper:

"Poor old Russia: the rigged elections, that chronic alcohol problem, those journalists who keep dying mysterious deaths. But Russia isn't going backwards in every respect: it at least has Peter Nalitch, who has become the nation's first YouTube sensation with the delightfully shoddy video for his sort-of English language folk song, Gitar.

Much of eastern Europe has already fallen for the 26-year-old Muscovite, his "guitaaaaaaarrrrrrrrr" and his invitations to "jump to my Jaguaaaaaaar (bab-eh)". According to German news magazine Spiegel you can now hear the deliberately terrible lyrics being sung in pubs all over the former Soviet bloc. Listen to the song once and you too will find yourself putting on a Russian accent, urging people to "come to my boudoooiiirrr" and trying to Cossack dance along. Even the most official YouTube version has already been viewed over 400,000 times."

I've adjusted my attitude to speeding

I drove 35 miles an hour in a 30-mile-an hour speed zone (it was 7:15 on a Monday morning, and I wasn't fully awake yet) so I had to attend a speeding course at a police station to 'adjust my attitude to speeding.'

Almost three hours I spent listening to statistics on road deaths due to speeding, taking driving tests on a pc to see how well I responded to hazards while driving (I was below average) and watching videos of dummies being hit by speeding cars.

Then the teacher got to the real incidents. She showed us where an accident was going to occur. We saw it from the driver's perspective, then from the pedestrian's. Then she showed us where the car hit the person, where he landed first, the skid marks as the driver frantically tried to stop, then the next place the pedestrian hit after he flew up into the air from the impact, then where his head went through the car's window.

This driver was only driving 26 miles an hour too, and I had been doing 35 when I was caught.

But the real kicker was that the kid who was hit was a 14-year-old boy walking home from school one sunny afternoon.

MY son is 14 and walks home from school everyday. I felt sick when I heard that and vowed right then and there:

I will never speed again!

O stricken heart, remember

Today's post comes from my friend Elizabeth in Detroit:

"I absolutely love the writing of Robert Louis Stevenson, and this poem in particular. Recently the young grandson of a colleague of mine drowned. I can never think of what to say beyond 'I'm sorry,' in such moments, so I sent a copy of this poem."

In Memoriam F.A.S.

Yet, O stricken heart, remember, O remember
How of human days he lived the better part.
April came to bloom and never dim December
Breathed its killing chills upon the head or heart.

Doomed to know not winter, only Spring, a being
Trod the flowery April blithely for awhile,
Took his fill of music, joy of thought and seeing,
Came and stayed and went, nor ever ceased to smile.

Came and stayed and went, and now when all is finished,
You alone have crossed the melancholy stream,
Yours the pang, but his, O his, the undiminished
Undecaying gladness, undeparted dream.

All that life contains of torture, toil, and treason,
Shame, dishonour, death, to him were but a name.
Here, a boy, he dwelt through all the singing season
And ere the day of sorrow departed as he came.

Today I love the NHS

I went to see my doctor because I felt like I was cracking up from the strain of trying to keep going with normal life while my mother is dying. He was very kind to me and even took the time to explain to me exactly why my mother will die (she has cor pulmonale). Her lungs are filling up with fluid because she's been bedridden for so long with Multiple Sclerosis, and her heart is working harder and harder to no avail. Then the pressure builds up, and basically, it has nowhere to go.

"Your mum has no doubt suffered for years and years," he said, "and there should be an end to this." He told me that doctors give morphine to alleviate the pain in patients like her as she is suffering inside as her organs start to lose their fight.

It was like a tonic, to have a doctor sit down and explain this and reassure me that this is for the best because she has suffered too long.

Everyone criticizes the NHS in England, but finding this doctor is like striking gold to me.

Flowers -- full of promise and hope

I was just going to blog about how much I love it when the daffodils bloom in England. It's still cold over here, but when the daffodils come out, it gives you such hope -- they are a harbinger of spring.

So I was putting up a daff pic when Simon Elkins came over with a bag. Inside were tulips from Jacqui Gates to cheer me. She knows I'm suffering from this sort of death watch, waiting for my mother's suffering to end, yet not wanting her to go.

Simon explained that he was far too cool to be seen carrying tulips in a girly vase around the office, so he got Jax to cover them up for the trip to my desk.

These acts of kindness from my friends have bolstered me so much. I spend all day trying to be normal at the office, but my head hurts all the time, and I'm jumpy -- I keep thinking the next phone call or email could contain the news I'm dreading to hear.

What will the workers do now?

Reading, Berkshire, where I live is losing a huge brewery (see excerpt from article below) where families have worked for generations. There are no other manufacturing jobs for them to go to in this area. I thought this incident reflects what is going on globally. Manufacturing jobs are going away or being outsourced to countries with cheaper labour costs, leaving only service-industry jobs for those left unemployed. I am always interested when I travel in America to see how many people are working in sales or marketing for products made in China.

You wonder what jobs will be left soon -- you can stack shelves in a supermarket or be an entrepreneur or be in 'the professions' as they call them in England (doctor or lawyer) -- but where will the jobs be for the people in the middle who used to work in manufacturing?

"BERKSHIRE Brewery staff worked in stunned silence on Tuesday after Scottish and Newcastle (S&N) announced its closure.

The Worton Grange plant will close in 2010 and 362 people will lose their jobs. Union bosses claim the closure will have a detrimental impact on the whole town and says plans to retrain staff are unrealistic.

Mike Pollek, Unite regional industrial organiser, said: “Everyone is in a state of shock. It has come completely out of the blue. I have concerns about the offers to help staff gain training. There is no manufacturing industry left in the town and there is no other work for these people to go into.

“It is okay if you have got a degree in computing or want to work in a supermarket. We are talking about putting a lid on 250 years of brewing history in Reading, it will have a significant impact.”

Mother's little darling

Today's Times gives me the reason why my cute adorable son has turned into a moody teen:

"A little-known region of the brain has been pinpointed as a key factor in the transformation of mother’s little darling into a rude and moody adolescent.

Scans of adolescent brains have shown that the length and intensity of their tantrums correlates directly with the size of their amygdalas. The bigger the amygdala, a region linked to anger, the bigger and more aggressive the rows with the parents are likely to be, according to research.

Teenagers with smaller amygdalas were likely to be delights to have about the house but those with an expanded version were identified as real nightmares."

So it's the amygdala that has turned the sweet little boy pictured here:

into a irritable teen (below) who spends all his time up in his room listening to music!

(OK, so he's smiling here and looking cheerful; that's 'an atypical result' as the disclaimers in weight-loss advertisements say.)

No space to express yourself

Karen Blakeley made this comment on a post in this blog recently:
"There's a radio programme called 'Any Questions' in the UK where an invited audience ask a panel of politicians, the great and the good questions relating to current news items. One 16 year old lad asked the panel what they thought of a recent spate of suicides amongst young people in Bridgend in Wales. The panel answered and then asked the boy what he thought. He put it down to 'monotony'. He claimed that there was no space left for the young to express themselves, to create chaos and rebel. Everything had been taken over by the corporate juggernaut. You are told what to think, what to do, what to wear, what to buy, what to say."

How prescient Karen is because today in the Times is an article about how the pressures of consumerism are making kids depressed. Rosemary Bennett writes:

"Pressure on children to have the latest designer clothes and computer games is making them miserable, according to a study of modern childhood.

It concludes that the consumer society and failure to protect children from commercial pressures is partly to blame for deteriorating mental health among young people. Rates of depression, anxiety and other mental illnesses have risen in the past two decades with one in ten children now suffering from a diagnosable condition."

And we adults get the pressure too. I drive around a ten-year-old Toyota with 116,000miles on it with rust on one of the doors. The car drives like a dream, even though the CD player broke years ago. I am sort of embarrassed about it but am trying to resist changing it when it's not broken, even though a mother at my son's old expensive private school once said to me, "You don't see many cars like yours in the school carpark." When I asked exactly what she meant she said, "Cars with rust on the doors."

Oooh, I was embarrassed but at least my car is paid for!!

A shot of relief

I know it's all been doom and gloom in my blog lately but that's because I am trying to prepare for the worst with my mother, and I'm getting all of you to help me be strong for the future. Today I was on tenterhooks at work because I hadn't heard anything about my mother today and couldn't get her nurse on the phone.

After work, I went to my dermatologist and got some Botox on my forehead to ease the haggard look I have developed recently. By the time I got home, the creases in my forehead were gone, and my attitude had improved. (I've had Botox before so the results show up fast for me.)

My doctor and I always discuss investments and how we are going to make a killing on the stock market. Except we never do, of course. Today he told me how he was going to buy a Merrill-Lynch Indian fund, and I was able to advise him against the move since I just bought some myself because I was so sure that India telecoms was going to take off with the introduction of new $12 cell phones. And how is my pick doing? Tanking. In fact, my husband just said to me over the weekend, "That's quite a dog you bought." And I thought I heard a tinge of smugness in his tone.

There is no place on earth where death cannot find us

I am ruthless about throwing out books that displease me -- the fiction is flabby or the story is mawkish -- so when I need to find a book that has meant something to me in the past, it's easy to find because it's one that has survived. My prize books are on the bookshelf on my side of the bedroom. All others can be stored somewhere else in the house but the best ones have to stay nearby.

One of the books that has survived several literary purges in my house in The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche. I'll probably mention this more in the coming days and weeks. I don't pay any attention to the parts about reincarnation; it's the Buddhist idea of death being such an important part of life that interested me.

One of the passages in the book quotes Montaigne:

There is no place on earth where death cannot find us - even if we constantly twist out heads about in all directions as in a dubious and suspect land … If there were any way of sheltering from death's blows - I am not the man to recoil from it … But it is madness to think that you can succeed …

Men come and they go and they trot and they dance, and never a word about death. All well and good. Yet when death does come - to them, their wives, their children, their friends - catching them unawares and unprepared, then what storms of passion overwhelm them, what cries, what fury, what despair! …

To begin depriving death of its greatest advantage over us, let us adopt a way clean contrary to that common one; let us deprive death of its strangeness, let us frequent it, let us get used to it; let us have nothing more often in mind that death … We do not know where death awaits us: so let us wait for it everywhere. To practice death is to practice freedom. A man who has learned how to die has unlearned how to be a slave. -- Michel de Montaigne 1533-1592

Goodbye credit crunch. Hello fabulous new entourage

I've written about the style magazines that come with the Sunday newspapers in England before, but they are really starting to get embarrassing to read -- especially when you find yourself in the middle of an economic slowdown -- you're not sure that your job will be there long-term, your house is going down in value and your investments are tanking.

I thought magazine editors were supposed to be in front of trends, but they don't seem to be capturing the zeitgeist of life in 2008 in any way. I think we are headed into a time of greater austerity and reflection on our past over-consumption myself.

Today in You magazine there's an article called "Get a Furniture Face-lift." You'll need to do this if the upholstery on a piece of furniture is "looking tired and outdated." You can go to Squint, for example, "a seriously zany design company, with prices starting from £2,400 ($4,800) a chair."

(Remind me to call these people first thing on Monday morning!!)

In Style magazine (comes with the Sunday Times), we are treated to an article about how rich people need a "fleet of staff to cater to their needs...pilots, publicists, art dealers and bodyguards have become de rigueur, as have fake-eyelash technicians, personal record producers and jewellery curators. So, goodbye credit crunch, hello fabulous new entourage."

Time will not be ours forever

My friend Karen Blakeley gave up her Saturday afternoon at home yesterday to drive to Reading (30 minutes from her house) to take me out for coffee in a bookshop. "I'm going buy you a book," she announced. Because we have both spent so much time raising kids and working recently, spending a few hours having coffee and looking at books and music seemed like a decadent thing to do.

But Karen wanted to do something for me. And boy, did she! As we talked over coffee and cake, she told me that her father's recent death (just before her birthday last October) had profoundly changed her way of looking at life. Two things in particular struck her:

1) Her father was part of a strong community. The church could barely contain the number of mourners on the day of his funeral. Karen felt that many of us overlook the building of a strong community while we focus on our jobs or business-related networks.

2) There isn't as much time as you think! Karen felt that she needed to re-focus some of her time on things that she loved doing, such as teaching. Her father's death was sudden, unexpected, and it made her realize that our lives go so fast.

Which gives me a great excuse to trot out one of my favourite quotes of all time:

Time will not be ours forever -- Ben Jonson

We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile

I've been listening to a sweet and sad recording of the Red River Valley lately and thinking of my mother. Here's my favourite verse:

From this valley they say you are going
We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile
For they say you are taking the sunshine
That has brightened our pathways awhile

I can't figure out how to embed a song in my blog yet so I've uploaded the song to a shared website. Go to this link, then click on Red River Valley.wma file to download it.

http://www.speedyshare.com/663584114.html

John McCain -- a good greeter at Walmart?

This is from my friend Elizabeth Applebaum, who is a devout Republican:

"My own mother just called to tell me how wonderful, magnificent, incredible etc. Barack Obama is. And she sent me an insipid quote from Toni Morrison talking about how wonderful, magnificent, incredible etc. Barack Obama is.

She told me McCain would be really good, though -- as a greeter at Wal-Mart. (She always introduces me: 'This is my daughter, the Republican. I don't know where I went wrong.')"

Speaking of Republicans, I just saw this video that I know Linda Monk and Karen Blakeley would like:

Celebrating life in the midst of death?

You know, I have this major birthday (it's one of those horrible numbers that can't be mentioned in public) coming up in early March and have a party scheduled for next weekend.

My friend Amy Meeker in Boston had told me earlier that I had to do something to mark this old-bag milestone, and not to pretend it was just another day or else I'd feel worse. But that was before my mother became so ill.

My husband said I have to go ahead with the party, and that I couldn't retreat from life, no matter what was going on in Tennessee. I know my mother wouldn't want me to cancel anything because of her either. So, I'll do my best next Saturday to be cheerful.

Mom's last battle

My mother, Laura Scanlon, is on morphine now to help her with the pain and help her rest. My sister-in-law went to her room and noticed her sleeping peacefully for the first time in days. She noted that my mother no longer had a 'stressed look on her face' from fighting so hard to breathe.

In the meantime, my aunt Susan has tracked down my mother's best friend in Natchez, Mississippi. "I think she would like to know so she can help your mother with her love as Laura struggles with this last battle," she said.

Natchez is a beautiful place, full of antebellum homes, and when the azaleas bloom in the spring, it feels like an enchanted place. My mother was just talking about Natchez and how she loved it the last time I was visiting her. Here's a pic of a Natchez home in the spring.

She can still smile

My sister-in-law wrote me that my mother "can talk a little and smile some," and my niece gave her some chocolate pie yesterday that she ate but she is still very weak and struggles for breath, despite having oxygen.

Then my aunt Susan wrote that when she and my mother were young, they loved to eat Krystals (these little teeny onion-steamed hamburgers in the South that are totally addictive) then my mother would always get chocolate cream pie. So good to think she just had a little of her favourite dessert yesterday.

My friend Linda Monk went to great lengths to find out where my mother lives and send her the most gorgeous pink roses to cheer her. My mother can't turn her head to look at the Tennessee sunshine outside her window anymore, but now she has roses so pretty that my niece said people at the home have wondered if they are even real, they are so perfect.

Elizabeth Applebaum has sent me a quote today that makes me think my mother's life was a success, despite all the tribulations she has faced:

"To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived - that is to have succeeded." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

The way people leave our lives

"The ways in which people we love leave our lives are so varied. My father died on the way to the hospital after I had been trying to get in touch with him for four days (we were in different states), since there was a blizzard there and the phone was out at my mom & dad's.

I never got to speak to him at all, and basically he died while I was trying like crazy to call. That had its upside and its downside, like all things. You do have a teensy little upside with your mother in that you're not sitting there thinking everything is absolutely fine and then one minute you'll get a phonecall that shocks you, and then you have to think about all the things you should have asked her, or told her. I send this only with love, hoping that a different perspective might give you a little bit of peace."

Isn't this a beautiful message that my friend Lisa Raspopovich sent me? I'm keeping all the wonderful anecdotes and thoughts everyone has sent me here in the blog so I can easily read it all again and again for comfort. You all have been so good to me.

When life is finally measured in months, weeks, days, hours

I've been observing the different reactions to my mother's final illness of friends and family members. It seems to me that some of us can look on sickness and suffering and somehow be able to bear it, but others can't. Others want to avoid the sick person or hearing about her because they can't stand the pain.

I don't think we should judge those who can't bear it. They are suffering in their own way but are silent about it.

My friend Dr. Judy Curson (who has a lot of experience with these issues of life and death that we've been discussing) has sent me a contribution to post. Thanks Judy.

"When my life is finally measured in
Months, weeks, days, hours,
I want to live free of pain,
Free of indignity, free of loneliness,
Give me your hand,
Give me your love,
Then let me go peacefully
And help my family to understand"

What would I do without my friends?

My friends have been tremendous support to me during this hard time in my mother's illness. My friend Jacqui Gates, who has a small baby at home, took the time to bake me one of her famous fruitcakes that people in the office beg her to make. Once you taste this delicacy, you can't stop eating until the whole thing is gone. That's why we all fight over her cakes in the office whenever she makes one. But this one, she said, is all mine! I don't even have to share one slice of it. How thoughtful is that?

Another friend, Elizabeth Applebaum, is making it her job to send me one email a day with something that will cheer me up. This morning I found this stunning piece of writing waiting for me in my Inbox:

"In first grade, Mr. Lohr said my purple tepee wasn't realistic enough, that purple was no color for a tent, that purple was a color for people who died, that my drawing wasn't good enough to hang with the others.

I walked back to my seat counting the swish-swish-swishes of my baggy corduroy trousers. With a black crayon, nightfall came to my purple tent in the middle of an afternoon.

In second grade, Mr. Barta said, 'Draw anything.' He didn't care what. I left my paper blank, and when he came around to my desk, my heart beat like a tom-tom while he touched my head with his big hand and in a soft voice said, 'The snowfall. How clean and white and beautiful.'"

Rocking to Russian hits

My Russian friend at work has sent me a link to Moscow FM on the Internet so I can listen to Ruskie hits while I work. It's really taking my mind off my troubles. Why don't you listen for a minute too?

http://www.moskva.fm/artist/гражданская_оборона/

Waiting and hoping

This waiting for my mother to get better or worse, it's horrible. Wanting her to stay with me here on Earth, yet knowing she wants to go because the pain and misery of MS has become so much to bear.

My brother Kevin wrote me something that reflects this. He said, "I just don't want to feel like an orphan in the universe any time soon. I know she wants to go, but I have selfish reasons for keeping her around. It's hard to put a good spin on this, to rationalize it neatly away."

I wrote him back: "I agree with you. I felt like a big wave was engulfing me with grief. But just think that you'll always have me on the planet here with you too, and I share so many of your memories. I looked in my baby book the other day and from Day One of my life, Mom wrote, you were interrupting my naps." :)

No special pass

I had a reprieve just now. I got my husband to call the nursing home in Tennessee to check on my mother (I'm at the office now, and he's at home with the flu), and she's better. She's breathing more easily and trying to get a little food down.

In the meantime, my friend Elizabeth Applebaum has sent me a wonderful message. Here's part of it:

"In Judaism, we don't have a concept of heaven and hell, and we don't think that God has a special pass for Jews and no one else in the afterworld (we're not, in fact, supposed to be doing too much thinking about the next life; we're supposed to be dealing with our behavior in this one).

Instead, we believe that the righteous of all religions are reunited with God, so I have no doubt - none - that your mother will be safe in the world to come. But I'm not really thinking about that right now. These days, I'm just keeping her in my heart and in my prayers, where I keep you. "

We have been happy. Happy now I go.

My mother is hanging in there so I have forced myself to come to the office today to take my mind off of things. I have on her childhood bracelet that is made of copper and big blue stones, and that comforts me. I just hope no one at the office says one kind thing to me today or I will burst into tears.

As I was driving very slowly through the fog on the way to work, I reflected how everyone goes through these sorts of things everyday but we don't realize it, and I need to have more compassion because everyone has their secret struggles and heartaches.

Yesterday, I started calling friends in America that I hadn't spoken to in years just to hear their voices. By the end of the day, it felt like they had all been sitting in my living room, giving me their friendship and support. How warm that made me feel, even with the coldness of my sorrow.

On the way to work, listening to a piano concerto on the radio, I realized that all their voices from yesterday had formed a sort of concerto in my life -- all of their words of comfort and attempts to amuse me to distract my mind were like the different notes in the concerto -- and the end result was music that gave me solace and made me feel like I wasn't alone in my grief, even though I live three thousand miles away from them now.

My daughter Katie wants to contribute a poem to this grieving process that we are going through for my mother:

Farewell

by Robert Nichols

(Written on Expeditionary Force Leave, 1915)

For the last time, maybe, upon the knoll

I stand. The eve is golden, languid, sad.

Day like a tragic actor plays his role

To the last whispered word and falls gold-clad.

I, too, take leave of all I ever had.

They shall not say I went with heavy heart:

Heavy I am, but soon I shall be free,

I love them all, but oh I now depart

A little sadly, strangely, fearfully,

As one who goes to try a mystery.

The bell is sounding down in Dedham vale:

Be still, O bell: too often standing here

When all the air was tremulous, fine and pale,

Thy golden note so calm, so still, so clear,

Out of my stony heart has struck a tear.

And now tears are not mine. I have release

From all the former and the later pain,

Like the mid sea I rock in boundless peace

Soothed by the charity of the deep-sea rain....

Calm rain! Calm sea! Calm found, long sought in vain!

O bronzen pines, evening of gold and blue,

Steep mellow slope, brimmed twilit pools below,

Hushed trees, still vale dissolving in the dew,

Farewell. Farewell. There is no more to do.

We have been happy. Happy now I go.

Tell him I am coming soon

I happened to catch my sister-in-law on the phone when she was walking to the nursing home to see my mother, and she put the phone to Mom's ear for a moment. I could barely hear what she said but Mom whispered that she was fine about everything. She told me she would be seeing her own mother soon and would tell her that we were all OK down here on Earth.

When I was there visiting her two weeks ago, my mother forced me to take her childhood Jesus picture back with me to England. "But I can't do that," I protested. "You've had this picture with you your whole life. If I take it away, it'll be like you are going to die."

"But I do feel like that," she'd said. "I need to give my things away."

And now, on the phone, I reminded her that I had Jesus now, and he was on my bedroom wall. "Tell him I am coming soon," my mother said.


(That's Jesus there behind my daughter taken one Christmas morning we spent at the home.)

A Mother's Day card she'll never read

I just realized that Sunday I sent my mother a Mother's Day card she'll probably never read. It'll take a week to get to Tennessee from England, but she's dying now. (She just loved getting British Mothering Sunday cards because they always have 'Mum' on them, rather than 'Mom' and that amused her.)

I was crying about my mother last night, and I didn't want to go to bed because I was scared when I woke up, there'd be no more Mom on this Earth.

I called the home, and she's hanging in there this morning though.

Strength is born in the deep silence of long-suffering hearts; not amid joy. -- Felicia Hermans

The tightening grip of mortality

I've been at home sick today and turned my computer on to check if I had any work messages when I saw a message from my aunt in New Orleans saying my mother had been taken to the hospital because she couldn't breathe. I was so upset, thinking this was the end. (My mother has had Multiple Sclerosis for 35 years and been in a nursing home for 15.)

I called the nursing home, and she's back there now on oxygen. I've been dreading and fearing this moment for so long, even though I know she wants peace and an end to her suffering. Also, I'm in England, and she's in Jackson, Tennessee, so not a good situation.

I've been looking at a book called How We Die by Sherwin Nuland.

One passage in it is about this painting (below) The Doctor by Luke Fildes, a Victorian painter who had seen his young son die.

Nuland writes that in this painting we see the grieving parents and "the pensive empathetic physician keeping his bedside vigil, powerless to weaken the tightening grip of mortality. When the artist was interviewed about this painting, he said, 'To me, the subject will be more pathetic than any, terrible perhaps, but yet more beautiful.'"

It helps me so much to blog about this. As Laurence Sterne said:

Writing is but a different name for conversation.

A Russian's view of England

What do you think about the points made in a new book called The UK For Beginners by a Russian immigrant? Olga Freer says that the British:

- Habitually scratch their bottoms in public places
- Never remove the price stickers from the soles of their shoes
- Fail to iron their clothes
- Are obsessed with TV programmes about buying and selling houses

She says the country is full of "prudish, arrogant people who eat healthy food for breakfast – porridge or bacon and eggs. But in reality the nation suffers from obesity". Some 60 per cent of the female population wear size 22 clothes, she says.

I asked my daughter, born and raised in England, what she thought about this, and she replied that she never scratches her bottom in public!

Junior League elects black president

Linda Monk asks if a black president of the USA can be far behind?

From the Wall Street Journal:

When Gena Lovett, the chief operating officer of a Manhattan hedge fund, was named president of New York's Junior League chapter in January, it made news. "Junior League Appoints Black Woman as President," the New York Times headline blared.

Here's the rest of the story:

http://online.wsj.com/article/SB120243044026852135.html?mod=taste_primary_hs

The Junior League has been trying to broaden its membership for a while now. In Jackson, Mississippi, one of their recent cookbooks was titled "Come on In" to show their new openness.

(photo above is from a Junior League tea in 1934)

Cloverfield nausea

I was feeling a bit down yesterday, and my husband suggested going to a movie. Cloverfield had good reviews, and my husband loves the TV show Lost (produced by the same guy) so we went to that.

After 20 minutes, I felt like throwing up. It was like I was on a scary ride at an amusement park that I couldn't get off of. I had to run out of there, and go sit down in the lobby and wait for the movie to finish. No way could I go back in. I thought it was just me being a total wimp but others have had the same problem --See below:

OKLAHOMA CITY, Jan. 23 (UPI) -- Two Oklahoma City cinemas have posted notices warning moviegoers that the hit horror film "Cloverfield" may cause rollercoaster-like nausea.

...movie theaters posted warnings that the J.J. Abrams-directed movie, which was shot to mimic a home video recording during a monster invasion in New York, may cause some viewers to feel sick to their stomachs, KOCO-TV, Oklahoma City, reported Wednesday.

"Due to the filming method used for 'Cloverfield,' guests viewing this film may experience side effects associated with motion sickness, similar to riding a rollercoaster," the notices read.

Some moviegoers have demanded refunds or other compensation from theater managers after experiencing sickness during the film."I heard a few people kind of whining about it," said moviegoer Thomas Dozier. "They were talking about, like, 'I have got to get out of here.' Everyone around me was freaking out."

Marching against war in 2003

It was five years ago today that Karen Blakeley and I (and my family) went to London to march in protest of the impending invasion of Iraq. What an exciting day it was. We felt like we were making our feelings known, and maybe the politicians would take notice. (Fat chance -- Tony Blair said we were misguided.)

We did have a champagne socialist moment though -- we'd been marching and marching and it was so cold that we decided to have a lunch break -- we went to the nearest place -- an upscale Italian restaurant. We hestitated before going in -- would they get upset at having anti-war protestors come in? But we ventured in anyway, parked our big "Don't Invade Iraq" placards politely near the other diners' coats and umbrellas and had a pizza and a bottle of red wine to recover our energy.

Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree. --Martin Luther King

Running a quick errand during lunch

Made a quick trip to the supermarket during my lunch break. Was in the express checkout line when the cashier told the man in front of me that her sister had just died in a three-car pileup, and she was so upset. He was very sympathetic then when it was my turn, I spoke to her too.

"Her seat belt was on but the crash was so bad that it broke on impact, and my sister was thrown through the window and died instantly." I felt like I couldn't leave her now, even though there were loads of people in the line behind me. "There was no one I was closer to in the world than my sister," she continued. I made some sympathetic responses but finally I had to say: "Could I have some cash back on my card please?"

But didn't I feel petty for wanting cash when she feels her life is over.

A woman's remote

As you can imagine, a MAN sent me this....

What do you think? True or false?

Valentine's Day -- celebrated differently in UK and US

I have noticed how different England and America are when it comes to celebrating Valentine's Day. In America, it involves everyone -- you send Valentine's cards to whomever you want, wish anyone you want a Happy Valentine's Day, and so on.

But in England, it's just a private thing with your significant other. My British husband said he was so surprised when I received a Valentine's Day card from my own mother when we were first married, and kids in school exchange little cards with every other class member.

When I was a student in England, I received several anonymous Valentine's Day cards because that's what they do here. It's the day for receiving secret declarations of love and you have to try and figure out who they are from. It's a lot of fun.

I was driving home from the office yesterday and was listening to a classical music station and the posh announcer said he'd been interviewing a soprano and speaking to her entourage earlier and was shocked that they all wished him a Happy Valentine's Day. He told his listeners that he found the experiencee bizarre.

I knew then that they must have all been American. When I got home from work and turned on Fox News (the only direct feed from American TV that I can get), they were all wishing each other and us, their viewers, a Happy Valentine's Day.

What is this 'Iraq war' charge on my bill?

You have to watch this!

Scenes from the lives of people at the office

Nokia, where I work, has employees from all over the world so I can learn about different cultures just from working alongside them.

Today a woman is sad because she has just come back from Nepal where she left her three-year-old son with her mother for her to raise. Apparently, it's a cultural thing.

Another friend, Simon Elkins, at work has posted on the Nokia employee blog giving his novel idea for reducing time-wasting at the office through excessively long tea breaks. He calls it the Biffa Employment Plan. (Biffa is the same as America's Waste Management company for those of you needing a translation.)

Here it is:

"Nokia should implement the following 'Biffa' Employment Plan, where one of their red lorries comes in and trawls the coffee area to remove excessive waste (slothful employees). If waste has been static in the coffee area for 40 minutes, an alarm sounds, Biffa are alerted and thus, a lorry is sent to cast a net into the coffee area to remove said waste from the company. Think of the money saved in salaries!"

Report from Virginia

"It was bitter cold on Tuesday morning at 5:30 a.m., with a wicked wind blowing, when I went to set up the Dem table at my precinct. Couldn't sleep the night before from excitement at being part of history-making, at the thrill I get when people join together in a common cause and I am among them. Stood there for four hours, til I couldn't feel my legs anymore, getting names of potential volunteers. Turnout was record-breaking in Virginia, as elsewhere across the US in the Democratic primaries, and folks were showing up at the polls in our county just to *register* to vote. (They wouldn't be able to actually cast a ballot for another 30 days. Several said they hadn't voted in more than 10 years.)

I can't tell you how full my heart is tonight. For almost eight years, my faith in my country and what it stands for has been sorely tested--no small thing when that's what you've made your life's purpose. It's like We the People have been given our aspirations back--for without them we Americans are lost. Some say Obama supporters are consumed by a cult of personality, but that's not what I see. I see a throng of people who yearn to believe in themselves again, and that's why they believe in Obama."

This report is by Linda R. Monk, author of The Words We Live By: Your Annotated Guide to the Constitution http://www.lindamonk.com

Worms in Valentine's Chocolate

Fox News did a news item about worms being in Valentine's chocolate, and while the footage of the worms crawling around in unsuspecting choc nuggets was bad, the face of the woman doing the report was far worse. I couldn't take my eyes off the horror of her overdone plastic surgery. She could barely close her eyes, they were pulled back so tight. Take a look for yourself, and please remind me, when it comes time for my facelift, not to use her surgeon!

A Certain Age

I just heard a woman ask a man at work how he enjoyed a concert last night, and he replied, "It was full of women of a certain age."

And that bothered him? He's so young; how does he think the women feel?

I just looked this up in an idiom dictionary, and it says that this phrase is "used to avoid saying that a person, usually a woman, is no longer young but is not yet old."

How often are men over 40 spoken about as being "of a certain age?"

Maybe the government should fund plastic surgery for those of us who are starting to offend the younger elements of our society?

Excerpt from a recent Noam Chomsky interview that I found interesting

"Take Bill Clinton. He had a doctrine too, every president has a doctrine. He was less brazen about it than Bush, didn't get criticized a lot, but his doctrine was more extreme than the Bush doctrine if taken literally. The official Clinton doctrine presented to Congress was that the United States has the unilateral right to use military force to protect markets and resources. The Bush doctrine said we've got to have a pretext, like we've got to claim they're a threat. Clinton doctrine didn't even go that far, we don't need any pretext. With markets and resources, we have a right to make sure that we control them, which is logical on the principle that we own the world anyway so of course we have that right.

You're going to have to look far in the political spectrum to find any deviation from this. So if the oil-rich countries were to try to really take independent control of the resources, there would be a very harsh reaction. The United States, by now, has a military system; more is spent on the military system than the rest of the world put together. There's a reason for that. That's not to defend the borders."

Parody of Obama YouTube video but for McCain this time

Look at the Black Eyed Peas Obama video earlier in my blog, then watch this parody of it. It's hysterical.

Overheard on the London Underground

What people have been overheard saying on the London Underground recently:

"Whenever I'm using Mr Sheen I think of the West Wing."

"We were in the doctors waiting room and there was this old woman with this evil, alien voice. She was probably ill."

"Wallace and Grommit. Is there ANYTHING more annoying?"

"Last week I noticed that all the seats were taken by men and everyone standing up was a woman."

"Why are Egypt in the African Cup of Nations?"

"Have you tried the olive tapenade? It's glorious."

"Do you remember when the Fantastic Four saved the London Eye? I saw it on the news."

"How can people get so upset about the death of some guy that they never even met?"

"That man just stuck his tongue out."

Read more at http://themanwhofellasleep.com/gossip.html

The Maharishi RIP

My brother Mike has been doing Transcendental Meditation since the 1970s, and lives in Fairfield, Iowa, home of The Maharishi Open University. I asked him what was happening there since the Maharishi died last week, and this is what he said:

"To mark the passing of Maharishi I attended the group program in the Maharishi Patanjali Golden Dome of Pure Knowledge just as I do most weekends. Also spent some time watching the Maharishi Open University channel on the Internet. I have pasted the link below if you want to see it. Channel 3 has some reporting on his passing and the rites in India."

http://news.mou.org/

Saving money for your drug dealer

This is a photo of my daughter and her friends collecting money for charity during RAG week in Covent Garden, London. RAG means 'Receiving and Giving' and is something a lot of college students participate in during this week in England.

A couple of interesting things about this experience of hers:

Every girl in this photo is going to be a doctor. I thought that was great -- are young women finally getting somewhere in the gender wars?

They approached a celebrity walking through Covent Garden to donate some money. (Can't name him -- libel laws in England are so strict.) He said he couldn't spare a cent because he was just on his way to his drug dealer and needed the money to give to him.

Bomb Iran video -- Ron Paul mix

My brother Mike Scanlon voted for Ron Paul in the Iowa caucus. Check out the Ron Paul mix about John McCain's "Bomb Iran" remark:



Thanks to the anonymous contributor who sent this.

Write your life story in six words

In the 1920s, Ernest Hemingway bet ten dollars that he could write a complete story in just six words. He wrote: "For Sale: baby shoes, never worn." He won the bet.

Now an online magazine is asking its readers to sum up their own lives in just six words. See link below but also put your six words in a comment in this blog so we can read it too.

BBC Radio 4

Here are some more examples:

Head in books, feet in flowers.
Heather Thomson

Trust me, I did my best.
Ray Kemp

An embroidered sampler, with some unpicking.
Sian Martin

Wrong era ,Wrong Class, Wrong Gender.
Patsy Wheatcroft

Best selling author? Instead there's this.
Ann Cummins

Wasted my whole life getting comfortable.
Richard Merrington

Is it Chicken Kiev??

My team failed miserably at the Quiz Night at my son's old school last night. Here are some of the questions we got wrong -- see if you can do any better. Put your answers into a comment so I can see what you think:

1. Which chicken dish is named after one of Napoleon's battles?

2. Who played the part of The Architect in the The Towering Inferno?

3. Which racing driver was know as "The Professor" and "The King of Rio"?

4. Which chemical element is represented buy the symbol Hg?

After you guess, I'll tell you the answers in another post.

There's nothing like a trip away to make you appreciate home

One thing I forgot recently that I love about England -- you can walk places. My son and I went to the gym this morning. He was doing 100-pound weights on some machines then when I wanted to try them too, he set the weight to about 10 pounds, and I could barely handle that. So embarrassing.

Afterwards, we walked home, and the sun was shining (a miracle in the UK sometimes). We stopped at a bakery to get some bread, then a coffee shop for some lattes, then went to another place for a newspaper. Then because we were walking, we had an actual conversation (my son is a typical teen now and never tells me anything. Just plays music loudly and grunts in response to my questions).

I'm so happy to be home and back with my family again (even though I miss my mother). I find it hard to be by myself in a hotel room every night.

Last night my son set up a video conference call with my daughter so I could show her all the cool items I bought her from Aeropostale and American Eagle (trendy clothes stores) when I was in the US.

Medical student's disease

Today's post is from my daughter Katie, a student at King's College, London:

"Today I caught the medical student's disease.

Now, for those of you who don't know what that is, that's when you suddenly begin to exhibit symptoms of the disease(s) you're currently studying. It's a real phenomenon and usually occurs when one's studying neurodegenerative disorders.

Nothing so exotic for me. After a week of studying breathlessness, I suddenly find myself displaying apneusis when making toast and using my desk as a bracer during tutorials just to be able to breathe.

(For the uninformed uneducated masses :), apneusis is when though you breath out quickly, breathing in occurs over a period of several seconds.)

If I've already caught the medical student's disease...I'm in for some fun over these next few years..."

Medicare coverage in a nutshell

The phone rings and the lady of the house answers, 'Hello.'

'Mrs. Sanders, please.'

'Speaking.'

'Mrs. Sanders, this is Doctor Jones at Saint Agnes Laboratory. When your husband's doctor sent his biopsy to the lab last week, a biopsy from another Mr. Sanders arrived as well. We are now uncertain which one belongs to your husband. Frankly, either way the results are not too good.'

'What do you mean?' Mrs. Sanders asks nervously.

'Well, one of the specimens tested positive for Alzheimer's and the other one tested positive for HIV. We can't tell which is which.'

'That's dreadful! Can you do the test again?' questioned Mrs. Sanders.

'Normally we can, but Medicare will only pay for these expensive tests one time.'

'Well, what am I supposed to do now?'

'The folks at Medicare recommend that you drop your husband off somewhere in the middle of town. If he finds his way home, don't sleep with him.'

My sister-in-law Anita Bradbury sent me this. Thanks Anita!

Scenes from the lives of my friends

I was on the phone making plans to meet friends tonight.

"Where shall we meet?" I asked.

"That's a bit tricky," my friend replied. "My husband and I aren't speaking so I'm not sure where he wants to go. We had a huge fight yesterday that ended up with him trying to throw himself out of the car while I was driving on a busy roundabout."

I expressed surprise.

"Well, I wasn't about to let him win the argument by killing himself," she said, "so I pulled him back into the car and kept driving."

Singing their praises

I was just thinking I wouldn't really be able to handle going into London after work to rehearse with the Philharmonia chorus from now on, even though I was so excited that I had actually got in -- it would be too difficult, too tiring -- when my friend Elise Rasmussen Ace called me.

"Oh Elise," I whined, "I'm so tired after working all day. I think I'll just forget about the Philharmonia. It'll be too much for me. I don't know what I was thinking of when I auditioned."

She told me that I had to go. "You get outside and catch your train to London."

Now when Elise orders a person to do something, they usually hop to it. The authority in her voice propelled me outside.

"I hear that front door slamming shut," she said. "That's a good sign. Now you keep going. You can't quit because I don't want to miss any of your concerts."

Then, ever pragmatic, she asked: "Do your friends get deals on the tickets or do we have to pay full price?"

That made me laugh, and I couldn't believe that her phone call led me to get on the train after I had talked myself into giving up.

But when I got to the rehearsal, it was a whole other story. Those singers are so good, so professional, so intimidating. I couldn't even follow the score -- had to keep asking what page we were on, or what measure in the music.

So even though Elise ordered me to the rehearsal, I was going to give up again just because the experience terrified me and because I saw the rehearsal schedule and the concerts coming up like one in Cardiff with Bryn Terfel and one in the summer with Loren Maazel conducting. I didn't think I'd even be able to get through any of those -- it was all too frightening.

I called my husband on the way home and told him it would all be too much, and I wasn't going to continue. When I got off the train in Reading, he was waiting at the platform for me, and he told me that I must continue, that I must work through my fear and give it all a chance.

"But how could you encourage me in something that will mean such inconvenience for you," I asked. "You know that means fewer meals I'll be cooking after work, and that you'll have to live on meat loaf some weeks. Why would you tell me to go ahead with all this?"

And he replied, "Because I love you."

(You all think I just made up this ending so my post has a neat finish, but I didn't.)

Finally! A Republican speaks.

"Here at the office we got a notice that we should keep our political views private, so of course we talk about them all day. Lots of Hillary Clinton fans here. Giuliani was SO my guy - conservative on terrorism, liberal on social issues, and I'm pretty depressed, but not surprised, that he's out.

I've grown to accept Hillary, but I feel uneasy at the prospect of Barack Obama as president. He is not experienced enough to run this complicated world. I do like McCain (Huckabee and Romney are not for me), and of course I'll vote for him. He's kind of the Kruschev of American politics, though. The guy has got such a temper. Can't you see him taking off a shoe and banging it if he didn't agree with someone's remarks?"

At last, we have a different political viewpoint on this blog! Thank you Elizabeth Applebaum for this contribution.

Exercise takes nine years off you

Did I mention that I'm going to the gym during my lunch break today?? :)

"People who take exercise are biologically younger - by up to nine years - than those who don’t.

This striking finding may explain why exercise reduces the risk of heart attacks, diabetes, cancer, and other degenerative diseases. It actually suggests that active adults have cells that are measurably 'younger' than those of inactive ones.

A team from King’s College London looked at biological molecules called telomeres that act as a clock, measuring the passage of the years. Telomeres are the caps at the end of the chromosomes, designed like the tips of a shoelace to protect them from damage.

In youth, telomeres are long, but they get shorter as we age, leading to a growing risk of damage. In the new study published in Archives of Internal Medicine the King’s team, together with colleagues from New Jersey, have shown that active people have longer telomeres than inactive ones."

The best qualified?

From my friend Linda:

"Here's the best video statement of why Obama is better qualified to be president than Hillary, especially at this point in the history of America--and the world. It's by a rising star in the filmmaking world from the Washington area. You will definitely be hearing more from her in the future:"

What's not to like?

You should have seen the look on my boss's face when he picked up a Reese's peanut butter cup from the area near my desk where I'd put a bunch of chocolate from America for my work colleagues to enjoy.

"What is this?" he said suspiciously as he took a miniature PB cup out of the bag.

"It's a Reese's peanut butter cup," I said. "An American institution." He looked dubious.

"I shall investigate," he said, popping one into his mouth. Then his face looked like thunder, like someone had punched him.

"You don't like it?" I asked.

"Perhaps I should have left the paper wrapper on," he said. "It would have tasted better."

I can't believe these English people! What's not to like about Reese's?

You should have seen them with the bag of Hershey's kisses too. "What is this kiss?" they would ask, holding up one like it was poison.

I'm a good sport about trying their stuff, especially the Finnish chocolate that people bring back from meetings at the Nokia HQ. Now that stuff is gross -- it has vodka in it.

Tornados and technology

I can't believe that I just left my mother in Jackson, Tennessee, then tornados blasted through the area. Thanks to the innovations of the 21st century, I could text my mother's nurse at the home and find out that she was OK. Then I e-mailed my sister-in-law to find out about the rest of the family.

Isn't technology wonderful?

Here's a YouTube video of the twister that some tornado chasers made yesterday. I can't believe I was just in Jackson the day before this happened, and that the storm was so bad, and that my family is all safe today.

Political analysis of last night's vote

No Obama sweep, which some had begun to anticipate. However the mix of wins between Clinton and Obama, plus the fact that delegates are assigned proportionally (as opposed to the Republican winner-take-all strategy) means that the Dems are still fighting over every vote. Trend line is that Clinton still leads among women, Asians, and Latinos, while Obama leads among white men and African Americans. Women make up the majority of Democratic primary voters. California was the big prize for Clinton, but Obama has the advantage in the Feb. 12 primaries--Virginia, Maryland, District of Columbia. It will be early March before a nominee could be determined for the Dems. McCain is the Republican nominee: yawn.

This analysis is from my friend Linda in Washington DC. Thanks for this.

Across the Pond (continued)

Linda Monk in the US and Mikey Thomas in the UK discuss Super Tuesday:

Linda says:
Today is Super Tuesday across the pond, where 24 states have primaries and caucuses to vote for their nominees to be president. John McCain is the shoe-in on the Republican side--that is, unless he gets a phone call from Salt Lake City saying Jesus is on the line. That may be Mitt Romney's last best hope--$30 million doesn't seem to be doing him much good.

On the Dem side, national polls show Obama surging, to a statistical tie with Hillary, but delegates are chosen proportionally by congressional district, and then on top of that leaders of the party are chosen as "superdelegates" who are technically promised to certain candidates, but then can change their minds. So the Democratic nominating process is not actually that democratic.

We Obama supporters are taking our inspiration from the NY Giants upset win over the longtime champions, the New England Patriots, in the Super Bowl. "The spirit of upset" is in the air, said one Obama fan at the Meadowlands, the New Jersey home of the New York Giants (go figure).

Obama outraised Hillary Clinton 2 to 1 in January--his $32 million to her $13.5 million. Added to that, the lead singer of Black Eyed Peas, will.i.am put together a musical version of Obama's New Hampshire speech that, believe it or not, is actually good. And with no direct support from the campaign, that video has now become the best viewed spot for Obama, and via free media, so it's a double gift. See for yourself:



Mikey says:
I know that there has been all this rallying for Obama. I think that Obama will do great on Super Tuesday as Democrats are waking up and realizing that Clinton will lose against McCain, so they'll vote for Obama because not only will Republicans cross over and vote for him; he'll have Congressional coattails which means expanded majorities in both Houses of congress. A filibuster-proof Senate is also possible if we elect Obama.

Linda says:
You said it, brother Mikey! The thing is, most Americans vote their gut and not their head. Clinton has the organization, down pat, and that definitely gives her an advantage. But this kind of groundswell for Obama hasn't been seen in Democratic circles in decades. If Obama wins California, he wins the nomination. Even if he just comes close, he's still in the game.

24 things we wouldn't know without the movies

24. It’s easy for anyone to land a plane, providing there is someone in the control tower to talk you down.

23. Once applied, lipstick will never rub off - even while scuba diving.

22. During all police investigations, it will be necessary to visit a strip club at least once.

21. All beds have special L-shaped cover sheets which reach up to the armpit level on a woman but only to waist level on the man lying beside her.

20. The ventilation system of any building is the perfect hiding place. No one will ever think of looking for you in there and you can travel to any other part of the building you want without difficulty.

19. If your town is threatened by an imminent natural disaster or killer beast, the mayor’s first concern will be the tourist trade or his forthcoming art exhibition.

18. When paying for a taxi, don’t look at your wallet as you take out a bill - just grab one at random and hand it over. It will always be the exact fare.

17. Kitchens don’t have light switches. When entering a kitchen at night, you should open the fridge door and use that light instead.

16. Television news bulletins usually contain a story that affects you personally at that precise moment.

15. A single match will be sufficient to light up a room the size of Wembley Stadium.

14. Medieval peasants had perfect teeth.

13. It is always possible to park directly outside the building you are visiting.

12. A detective can only solve a case once he has been suspended from duty.

11. It does not matter if you are heavily outnumbered in a fight involving martial arts - your enemies will wait patiently to attack you one by one by dancing around in a threatening manner until you have knocked out their predecessors.

10. Police Departments give their officers personality tests to make sure they are deliberately assigned a partner who is their total opposite.

9. An electric fence powerful enough to kill a dinosaur will cause no lasting damage to an eight-year-old child.

8. If staying in a haunted house, women should investigate any strange noises in their most revealing underwear.

7. It is not necessary to say hello or goodbye when beginning or ending phone conversations.

6. Should you wish to pass yourself off as a German officer, it will not be necessary to speak the language. A German accent will do.

5. Even when driving down a perfectly straight road it is necessary to turn the steering wheel vigorously from left to right every few moments.

4. The Eiffel Tower can be seen from any window in Paris.

3. You’re very likely to survive any battle in any war - unless you make the mistake of showing someone a picture of your sweetheart back home.

2. A man will show no pain while taking the most ferocious beating but will wince when a woman tries to clean his wounds.

1. If being chased through town, you can usually take cover in a passing St. Patrick’s Day parade—at any time of the year.

My mother the poet

I had to leave my mother today to fly back to England. I was so upset because I worry I will never see her again because she is so ill that I began to cry and hold her hand, saying I didn't want to leave her.

She told me not to worry about her, that she'd been sick for so long that death would be a relief. That made me sob all the more. I looked at her in her bed, her muscles totally wasted from Multiple Sclerosis and thought how hellish her life must be. She is a prisoner in her body, basically.

"When I die," she whispered to me as her voice isn't what it used to be, "just think that I am finally free."

I tried to see her point but all I could think of is that this could be the last time I ever saw my mother.

"But what will I do when you die?" I wailed. "How will I manage when you aren't on the Earth?"

Then my mother turned poet. "You and I," she said, "can talk back and forth in your dreams."

Memphis airport

I bought two hours of wifi at the Memphis airport so am sitting in the window of a Starbucks right next to security, watching the hapless passengers searched and questioned. Petty bureaucrats like TSA workers in airports can be so mean. One time I got stopped in security because they thought the outside of my bag had chemicals on it similar to those used in dynamite. I reached out for the bag, and the TSA woman threatened me and shouted, DON'T YOU TOUCH THAT BAG!

I said, 'all it has in it are tampons!' (That was true because I usually take empty bags to the US and fill them up with goodies from Target/Walmart/Macy's) but she didn't think that was funny at all. Of course when she opened the bag up with great fanfare, that's all she saw -- female products.

I would take a photo of the security operation right now in the Memphis airport and post, but I'll bet they'd lock me up for doing it.

Anyway, it all takes my mind off the leaving of my mother in the home this morning that is the subject of the next blog.

Last Morning in Jackson, Tennessee

Last night I spent with my mother in the nursing home watching the Super Bowl. We were so excited when Eli Manning's Giants won because he is a Mississippi boy.

She also enjoyed me reading to her from the Jackson Sun, our new favourite newspaper. Unique proposals, a story about how Southerners propose to each other, was interesting. Here's Brian Jones to tell it:

"I plannned to propose to her that day, but I had some other things to take care of first." That morning he purchased a new 12-gauge shotgun. He got back from the gun store and showed Melissa his new gun. Then he went dove hunting on the first day of the season.

"I had a wonderful hunt, killed eight doves with my new shotgun....called my future wife to tell her I was back. She was planning on coming over to cook that evening."
Then he asked to speak to her dad because he believes in getting the father's permission to marry first.

Doesn't he sound like a fine catch?? Congratulations Brian!

I continued to look through the paper - then I saw an ad that suggests the perfect birthday gift. Well, I'd been wondering what I'd get my husband this year so here it was, problem solved.

The ad reads:

"If you have no idea what to get her for a birthday or anniversary, imagine how overwhelming making cemetery arrangements would be. Make your arrangements together, as a couple, and give each other a gift that doesn't have to come as a surprise or burden.

Call today and receive One Complimentary Space with purchase of adjoining space at Highland Memorial Gardens. (Monthly payments as low as $29.50 per month.)"

Casey Jones' dream

My brother Kevin Scanlon loves the story of Casey Jones and going to the Casey Jones Museum in Jackson, Tennessee. That's a pic of Kevin above, and below is the story of Casey Jones in a nutshell. (excerpt by S.E. Schlosser)

"Casey Jones, that heroic railroad engineer of the Cannonball, was known as the man who always brought the train in on time. He would blow the whistle so it started off soft but would increase to a wail louder than a banshee before dying off. Got so as people would recognize that whistle and know when Casey was driving past.

April 29, 1900, Casey brought the Cannonball into Memphis dead on time. As he was leaving, he found out one of the other engineers was sick and unable to make his run. So Casey volunteered to help out his friend. He pulled the train out of the station about eleven p.m., an hour and thirty-five minutes late. Casey was determined to make up the time.

About four a.m., when he had nearly made up all the time on the run, Casey rounded a corner near Vaughin, Mississippi and saw a stalled freight train on the track. He shouted for his fireman to jump. The fireman made it out alive, but Casey Jones died in the wreck, one hand on the brake and one on the whistle chord."

My brother has written a song about Casey Jones that is on display in the museum. People request copies when they visit so now Kevin is a Casey Jones celebrity!
Here's a couple of stanzas from his song:

"And people would awaken to his famous whistle’s moans
Turn over in their beds saying “There goes Casey Jones”
And everyone could tell when Fireman Webb rang the bell
That a big eight-wheeler was rolling into town for a spell.

Then one rainy Mississippi night his whistle screamed
By dawn people knew what a true hero could do
When lives were at risk near the town of Vaughan
He chose to die at the brakes of his ole three-eighty-two."

Kevin also makes donations to the museum such as this rare magazine:

Scenes from Jackson, Tennessee

I was driving past a nursing home and saw a man bundled up against the cold in his wheelchair, surrounded by American flags, and waving at everyone who passed by. It was icy cold but he persevered. He was very nice and let me take his picture:

After I took his picture, I had lunch near this church:

Letters to the editor

I will miss reading the Jackson Sun newspaper when I go back to England next week. The headline today is 'Falling Tree Misses Newborn' (there was an ice storm yesterday), and as usual, the letters to the editor give a perspective that you don't usually find in an urban paper:

"I would like to challenge her (Amy Stinnett) to use 'overwhelming proof' for her belief in evolution to answer the following questions:

Does the power of evolution cause the earth to spin itself to keep the oceans from falling off toward the sun? Does evolution teach infants to cry when they are hungry or hurt? Did evolution invent a small flower so that digitalis can be extracted for sick hearts?

Does evolution give the earth day and night, tilt it so we get seasons? How about the sugar thermostat in the pancreas? How does it maintain a level of sugar in the blood sufficient for energy?

The human heart will beat for 70 or 80 years without faltering. How does evolution give the heart sufficient rest between beats? How do kidneys know the difference to filter poison from our blood and leave good things alone? How did evolution give our human tongue flexibility to form words and a brain to understand them, but denied it to all other animals?

I, and perhaps others as well, will be waiting for Stinnett to use her overwhelming proof for evolution to explain why we should share her belief. It has been said, 'I would rather believe and be wrong, than not to believe and be wrong.'"

Another time, another place

Being back in the South is such an experience. I was eating breakfast with my brothers yesterday, and I spotted a picture of Robert E. Lee on the restaurant wall.

Really old Southerners get upset that Martin Luther King's birthday is celebrated and Robert E Lee's is not anymore as they fall on the same day.

The picture of Gen Lee reminded me of when I was growing up in Vicksburg, Mississippi, and spent hours in the old library there. The only pictures on the wall there were of the president of the Confederacy, Jefferson Davis, and his vice president Alexander Stephens. It didn't seem odd at all to me then.