Soar-Dream-France

Truth, Justice and the American Way

 

 

This morning, I had the laptop on because I was going to be facetiming with my brother Jim who lives in California.

We always schedule.

You see, there is a 9 hour time difference.

His 9pm call in California on a Monday night is a 6am call for me on my Tuesday morning.

 

It works for us.

 

 

 

After we finished, I decided to leave the laptop on.

I knew I had some projects to do AND I've begun a "French with Fred" course.

I am doing it daily.

I can work at my own pace.

It's definitely part of everything being more France for me, and improving my French is important to me in the

 

NOW!

 

 

 

In the meantime, I was looking for some photos and stumbled on these. The before the fire shots always grab my heart. These were taken during the few months I was able to be here during 2016. Sammie cat stayed with Mike and John. I continued on, but ended up looking from that point in 2016 forward and into 2017. I stopped way before the fire, but Sammie Cat and I were here together permanently by then.

 

Seven years later, it sometimes seems like yesterday and other times a million years ago.

So much struck me.

First, we all looked so happy in earlier 2016. Little did we know that our whole way of life would be upended in the next election. That election continues to define all of our lives, and the world, to this day. I looked back, feeling the feelings I felt from then through the photos.

 

 

During those times: I was taking care of taking my social security early; I took my road trip through the south eastern quadrant of the US seeing people who are important to me; I returned New Orleans to be on time to serve as the foreperson for a very important trial; it was important to me to go to DC for the Women's March in January; and by May, I was ready to be full time in France.

 

I knew I needed to sort out my life in Cadrieu from France, as BREXIT was unfolding. 

 

Secondly, the loss. It began with Mom, and continued on: losing Sam in the fire; stateside friends and friends from here over time; Dad the first of 2020; COVID; and then, selling Columbus Street and Mike's departure a year ago this month.

Last, but certainly not least, was the realization that I had lived life by a set of core values and beliefs that:

 

 

all people are basically good;

truth prevails; and, 

in striving for justice for all.

 

Long before scrolling through these photos, I knew I no longer believed.

 

 

 

This ultimate loss took hold in 2016.

 

 

It doesn't mean I've given up. It doesn't mean I don't care. I have always been someone who walks the walk. I just don't know what to do anymore.

 

 

Where is Superman when we need him?

 

Or Wonder Woman as the case may be?!?

WE NEED THEM BOTH and MORE!

 

 

Shedding Light to Black and White

 

From my prone perch on the sofa this week, there seemed to be even more time for contemplation and reflection than usual. I wasn't feeling well, so I wasn't beating myself up with all the chores I should have been doing instead of just enjoying the buddleia butterfly view just out my window directly in front of me.

The devastating overturn of Roe v. Wade and it's far reaching implications for all of us as a people weighed heavy on my mind.

 

 

Who'd have thunk that within the profound weight and sadness, mother/daughter enlightenment could be found?

 

Growing up when I did, the advent of Roe v Wade and birth control pills changed my life. I began taking birth control pills during '73, the same year that Roe v. Wade became law.

The oldest of 4 and a girl in college who was living at home, I'd always been a "good girl!"

I got good grades, had nice friends, was involved in lots of school activities, played piano, didn't do drugs and never had any legal problems.

I had never sassed, lied or said no to my parents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Living at home during all four years of college made the whole birth control thing tricky. I told my Mom I was thinking about the pill, but hadn't made up my mind. I asked her if she wanted to know when I decided, and she said: "If that's what you want to do, I don't want to know about it."

 

 

But then, she'd ask regularly if I'd thought anymore about what we'd talked about, and I finally told her I had and I'd been to the OB/GYN doctor and had my prescription.

 

 

From that moment on, I was treated as the "bad" girl. I recognized that this was all new for Mom. I recognized how Mom was raised. She raised me similarly.

 

 

 

 

The message was that the worst thing you could do was to get pregnant when you weren't married. I heard that loud and clear.

But, I was in college and I chose to do the responsible thing. I remember saying something to her at one point: "You don't know what it is to have "bad" kids."

 

 

I remember asking myself where was the "reward" for being the "good girl" for all these years?

 

There is more to this story, but after stepping back this week and taking in the context of the overturn of Roe v. Wade, I was forced to think about just how earth shattering this is to young women today and will be for all women in the future.

It is a whole new world.

What I had never considered, was the fact that the advent of Roe and birth control was just as earth shattering to my Mom.

It was a whole new world too.

She didn't have the tools in that moment to change gears and think about it all differently, even for her own daughter.

I can see it so clearly now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Honestly, not so clearly until just this moment. I wish I could have looked at my Mom and her reaction to me from the perspective of a shocking change for another woman instead of the reaction from my Mom.

Years later, Mom became an "activist" for many causes. I remember when she became a donor and a letter writer for NARAL-the Abortion Rights Action League. I was proud and pleased, but even then, it wasn't enough for me.

I can see clearly now. I wish I could have seen clearly then.

 

Now, it's more than enough!

Happy Saturday! 

 

Searching for Comfort

 

While I'd been out to start cutting grass in front of the barn a while back; rain, scorching temps, and the on and off lethargy of sadness was settling in from time to time. As one of my friends put it, "you are in a time of huge transition."

All of which is true, but yesterday's overturn of Roe v. Wade knocked me off my feet. Too many disasters, pandemics, and white supremacist threats of aggression; have distracted too many from the many many other issues that have been rolling around.

 

 

Roe is one. We have known. We have seen. We have heard what people have promised to do, and now have delivered. While the House has passed a bill to codify Roe, the Senate has let it languish.

Its hard NOT to think we have fallen down on the job.

 

 

As a rabidly, pro-choice feminist; I have talked the talk and walked the walk for at least 46 years of my life.

I was graduating from high school when Roe was passed. During 1978 after receiving my MSW from Tulane, I was one of those who ushered women into the Hope Clinic for Women in Granite City, Illinois.

Our patients had to walk past a priest playing tapes of screaming babies.

He was not alone.

 

 

 

He was accompanied by a pack of women holding up posters of bloody fetuses while they juggled their own baby(ies) in their arms, on their hips, or in a baby carriage. 

No one should have to face that alone.

 

 

Shortly after I returned to New Orleans to work, I learned that our clinic Doctor had been kidnapped by a rabid, radical, pro-life group who I believe were called "Operation Rescue!" I was devastated. 

 

 

Yesterday, I heard from friends and family from all over the world. We cried. We commiserated. We remembered. This is only the beginning. I don't have the energy to go there at the moment. I am despondent and heart-broken that our country has arrived at this place. This is one of many layers of dismantling of many hard fought and hard won battles for so many. Too many I love are rolling over in their graves today, including our Mom and Dad.

 

So, I cut grass. I took pictures. I explored the floor of my barn again, that appears to have more gorgeous stone than I had even realized when I first started digging  and cleaning. There is peace and comfort in my barn, even though it is a time of regrouping and reorganizing to fight these fights again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back when I was working in HIV/AIDS, I went to see a client at a residential facility regularly. I would always ask him how he was.

 

 

His response was always the same:

"I'm upright and moving forward."

Honestly, that's exactly how I feel today. We're putting one foot in front of the other, upright, moving forward, and doing the very best we can with the hand that has been dealt.

 

Here's to being upright and moving forward!

 

Mailing Address???

 

I've made no secret about my love of stamps or the fact that we are (and always have been) big "snail mailers!" Interestingly, I've been amazed when I ask a person for their mailing address. To me, that means snail mail. If I want an email address, I will specifically ask for the "email address" for the person. 

 

 

The last couple times I've asked for a mailing address, I've received the email address instead. In one instance, I explained. The other, I knew I would be seeing the people soon, so their email would do for now. Once again, a sign of how much our times have changed to the point that assumptions to the mailing address question gets an email response.

 

 

Have you experienced this? I'm not giving up! I hope you won't either! Otherwise, I could see us being reduced to everything on line and other things delivered. I love getting cards, letters, and other goodies in the mail. I ask myself all the time, what are we giving up?

 

Happy Monday!

 

Feeling Safe...or not?

 

I confess to having had the luxury (maybe even the privilege) to be able to feel so safe in my life that I didn't even think about it. Being safe was a given condition. It wasn't until I went to an art therapy workshop and we were asked to make two drawings; one where we were happy, and the other where we felt safe. Happy was an easy one for me, my stick figure was standing in front of the Eiffel Tower in a beret with a camera in my hand.

"Safe" was a little harder.

 

 

I had to reach back and feel more than think.

As it happened, "safe" turned out to be me spending time out in the country with my Nannie and Papa. I hadn't really thought about safe, or how truly safe I always felt with them. 

These days, as I watch all that is going on with the violence in the states and in New Orleans, the question of "safety" comes up often. It scares me to see ongoing gun violence and then add in other violence by white supremacists.

 

 

The other morning when the sun was rising out my window over the Lot, I had tears in my eyes. I am often "tearfully" grateful that I am able to be here. But that morning, I was "tearfully" grateful because I felt safe. 

I honestly never thought that being able to feel "safe" would be something to be grateful for. When did being safe become a special blessing and not an ongoing condition of living?

 

Pondering Safety?

Happy Thursday!

 

 

 

 

It's Not a Race

 

There were so many things I had to get done during the stateside time I had on this trip. The house was not the only thing. As I tried to organize and be sure I could get everything done I needed to do, I was reminded that this was not the way I wanted to live my life. This wasn't news. I've known it for a long time. While most of the stateside time I had blinders on so I could keep moving forward and do it all; I realized that many of my friends live this way all the time...scheduling days, squeezing and contorting to get as much done as possible within the time available.

As I watched, I remembered the race all over again. It was a big day when I realized I was racing against myself. I began to make changes. I think they've stuck.

 

Happy Wednesday!

 

 

 

Life Rhythms

 

Sitting at my table again this morning from Cadrieu, I am reflecting. Reflecting is a luxury that was not afforded me during the last six weeks of run, do, blinders, react and respond in the moment. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How wonderful to be able to look back and reflect on the whole twenty years of here AND look ahead.

I've learned many lessons along the way.

 

 

At times, the largest lessons seem to be those I learned during the pandemic times of here. It may be because those times changed our world in a really big way that requires all of us to regroup. I am regrouping. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is a rhythm to all of our lives. Throughout mine, I didn't always pay attention to it or even acknowledge that it was there. I tried to construct, make, and force routines that I was comfortable with, but didn't always work for me. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since this is my "new book," I've decided that the best thing I can do is to allow the rhythm to flow naturally. I have a bad habit of boxing myself in to the point where I don't have that freedom of flow.

 

 

 

I don't want to: run against the ocean waves; swim against the river current; and, not be present in my own life. I want to finely tune my senses to the rhythm's flow and immerse myself in the power that brings.

 

 

The new book begins.

 

 

Happy Tuesday!

 

Meaning-Laden January 6!

Sgt. Aquillino Gonell; Officer Michael Fanone; Officer Harry Dunn, and Officer Daniel Hodges in a shot taken the day of their testimony before the House Special Committee on January 6, 2021. (Not my photo).

 

In the midst off all that January 6 marks in so many of our lives...Epiphany, Twelfth Night, Jean d'Arc's birthday, the start of Mardi Gras (I do realize that some of these overlap); it really only zapped me today that it is also the day of the coup attempt and insurrection. I just hadn't put it all together.

Had it not been for these for men and all the members of their departments and other law enforcement in Washington, DC, we would have lost our democracy. I will be forever grateful and never forget these patriots. I only hope that enough Americans look, listen, pay attention, and recognize that we are still in danger as a democracy. All of the other markers of this day pale in comparison for me.

 

 

That said, I did do something on the 6th to mark the day. I made my special Galette des Rois that I'd ordered from Thiriet just so it would be ready for the day. It did need to be baked in the oven. When I took it out of the box, the crown was on top in a plastic bag and it was very very flat. I was a bit bummed.

But, in no time all that puff pastry was fluffing up and I had a gorgeous almost 2-inch high treat! 

 

 

 

 

 

I ate too much. I couldn't stop. In fact, I had a piece with coffee and a second piece with tea. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was glad I enjoyed it here in France on the day.

 

 

Because from bed this morning on my morning after of January 7, 2022; I cried hours of tears as I watched speeches, candlelight vigils, and coverage of the 6th on MSNBC from the night before stateside.

The travesty of this day continues. We're going to need a lot more than a Galette des Rois and a cup of coffee or tea to save our democracy.

 

 

I hope as a people, we are up to the task!

 

War on Women

 

A friend of mine from high school frequently uses the phrase "war on women," in many of his Facebook posts. I often cringe at the truth in that statement, but today it went way beyond "war."

I've shared some of my stories and my history here before. Those of you who know me and know me well, know that I walk the walk. I work for what I believe in.

With the State of Texas Bill SB8 being reviewed by the Supreme Court yesterday; I heard a panel of women discussing this bill and what it means for ALL women, not just women in Texas.

 

 

 

So many things that are going on at the state level today make me physically ill.

This bill allows private citizens to sue any woman who gets an abortion and anyone who would help her, for up to $10,000 after 6 weeks pregnant.

First, it is almost impossible for most women to even know that they are pregnant at six weeks.

Second, the bill puts the enforcement in the hands of citizens who could easily turn vigilante.

 

 

Armed with that information, imagine how I felt when I heard the words "Slave Bounties" at the tail end of a portion of Representative Sheila Jackson Lee's comments?

Of course, this bill disproportionately affects women of color and poor women.

Slave Bounties on women are exactly what we have here.

It's the mentality of men who want to keep women "barefoot, pregnant and chained to the stove!"

Make no mistake...that means ALL women!

ALL women who seem to be incapable of supporting each other! 

And what about "our" men?

That's a discussion for another time.

I am stepping down from my soapbox for the moment.

 

 

 

I shall return!

 

 

A Tardy Girl Today

 

This morning's conditions were ripe for a trip into Cajarc on my bike. I needed some essentials that were beyond the stash at the Petit Casino, so after the routine stop at the box at La Poste, I headed directly to the Intermarmche.

Then, I'd head over to Escrozailles for my usual steack hache and 3 escalopes des poules! 

Everything was rolling along smoothly until I arrived at Escrozailles.

 

 

 

 

I will save that story for another time. Let's just say that I have no patience for rude customers. 

 

 

I always feel better if I've scooped some pretty photos. The nearby florist was on full and colorful display and saved the day with distraction!

 

Enjoy! 

 

Happy Wednesday!