Jules loses his Officer Candidacy
fiction
edward w pritchard
Jules lost his officer candidacy when he crushed a captain's hat with his hands.
The captain was disciplining one the men who had just returned from battle. The soldier's boots were muddy and dirty hours after the Battle of Smolensk [ Russia 1812] and the Captain who somehow had not been in the action was going to make him stand guard all night.
Jules wasn't sorry at the time and now looking back years later he wondered why he hadn't killed the captain.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
God is Very Near
God is Very near
fiction
edward w pritchard
A very old Indian is sitting in Southern Ohio in 1858 looking at a train travel across a strong White Man's bridge near where the Indian used to swim as a boy. As the powerful train rumbles by the Indian notices the slight barely perceptible movement of the pine trees as they move and lean ever so slightly toward the powerful passing train; the trees having learned over the last 10 years or more that the train burns and emits something that is beneficial to the trees. As the train roars off the Indian who is very perceptive notices that the shadow of the trees is now slightly changed following the passing of the train and the minuscule movement of the pine trees.
Later, a few days before he dies the Indian sees an eclipse of the moon at night while in deep reflection sitting at the same spot near the iron bridge where he had seen the train pass a few days before. As the eclipse ends and the moon returns to his view in the sky the Indian notices that the moon's light now has again barely perceptibly changed the shadow left by the trees, as visible to him sitting near the bridge.
The day that the Indian died, again sitting looking across at the bridge and at the spot where he strongly swam and swiftly ran as a boy the Indian notices three deer crossing the small river under the bridge walk past the pine trees. The deer enter the area of the field that had previously been marked by the pine tree's original shadow, originally visible to the Indian sitting by the bridge. The Indian watched the three deer as they walked on the original spot of the trees shadow, before the trees barely perceptibly moved toward the train, or before the change to the pine trees shadow following the eclipse. Suddenly, as the Indian watched, the deer began to run very fast and very powerfully until they disappeared from the old Indians sight up over the ridge and beyond the shadow of the pine trees.
End
fiction
edward w pritchard
A very old Indian is sitting in Southern Ohio in 1858 looking at a train travel across a strong White Man's bridge near where the Indian used to swim as a boy. As the powerful train rumbles by the Indian notices the slight barely perceptible movement of the pine trees as they move and lean ever so slightly toward the powerful passing train; the trees having learned over the last 10 years or more that the train burns and emits something that is beneficial to the trees. As the train roars off the Indian who is very perceptive notices that the shadow of the trees is now slightly changed following the passing of the train and the minuscule movement of the pine trees.
Later, a few days before he dies the Indian sees an eclipse of the moon at night while in deep reflection sitting at the same spot near the iron bridge where he had seen the train pass a few days before. As the eclipse ends and the moon returns to his view in the sky the Indian notices that the moon's light now has again barely perceptibly changed the shadow left by the trees, as visible to him sitting near the bridge.
The day that the Indian died, again sitting looking across at the bridge and at the spot where he strongly swam and swiftly ran as a boy the Indian notices three deer crossing the small river under the bridge walk past the pine trees. The deer enter the area of the field that had previously been marked by the pine tree's original shadow, originally visible to the Indian sitting by the bridge. The Indian watched the three deer as they walked on the original spot of the trees shadow, before the trees barely perceptibly moved toward the train, or before the change to the pine trees shadow following the eclipse. Suddenly, as the Indian watched, the deer began to run very fast and very powerfully until they disappeared from the old Indians sight up over the ridge and beyond the shadow of the pine trees.
End
Monday, March 29, 2010
Order in the middle of Chaos
Order in the middle of Chaos
To Doc the Noble School Administrator
fiction
edward w pritchard
The battle of Bordino raged around the Doctor and his patient. The patient was an 11 year old Russian peasant boy who had been near the French position at dawn and one of the canons had mysteriously exploded into itself for no known reason and the boy who was nearby was blinded by the flash. The French Doctor was one of three personal physicians of his highness Napoleon the Emperor of the French army and the Doctor who was a skilled surgeon had chanced to be very near the explosion site and he immediately began to tend to the boy and continued to do so attempting to save the boy's eyes during the den and slaughter of the massacre at Bordino in Russia on September 12, 1812.
The injured boy was an 11 year old Russian civilian youth who had somehow got in the line of battle between the French troops of Napoleon's advancing army and the Retreating Russian troops desperately trying to defend Moscow. The Russian's were fighting to the death to defend Mother Russian and Napoleon's loyal troops to a man sensed that if they were successful today their long march into Russia would end in victory, however each French soldier also sensed that to a man if they were unsuccessful today carnage and capture would be the fate of the French Army. The battle was fierce and canons brutally pounded all positions on both sides; however the real danger was from a random strike from the hundreds of canons relentlessly firing on each side maiming and annihilating friend and foe. The canons represented disorder for although they were manned by soldiers, they had no soul. Throughout the day The Canons continued to fire, and their payload would hiss through the air and a leg would be lost, or a face would would torn open or the life would jar out of a man's body; and relentlessly the canons continued to fire from dawn when the battle started with the fire of one canon and continued for ten solid hours.
Whatever the troops on each side did or planned to do or whether or not the men were brave, or afraid, or thirsty, or wounded, the canons continued to fire and disorder and chaos were everywhere; and no one from the lowest private to the highest General or Emperor was immune from the canons if on the field of battle.
The Doctor should have left the boy hours ago and been far away from here on the shifting front lines and been instead two miles back from the front near the side of the emperor who was safely but anxiously surveying the battle. The Doctor refused to leave however, for despite the deaths of tens of thousands of his own friends, fellow officers, and comrades in arms, and the fate of the faceless tens of thousands of Russian soldiers who would be severely injured or die today; the Doctor focused his entire attention and being on trying to save the boy's eye sight. The Doctor had ordered his assistants to paint a cross on a bed sheet and it was hung on the top of a small coach that the Doctor now operated on the unconscious boy in. The coach stuck out on the battlefield because it was a gentleman's coach, not an ambulance wagon pulled by mules; but the expensive property of a nobleman and both armies knew something usual was happening in that coach. As the soldiers of both sides went about the brutal business of killing each other mysteriously they became aware of what the Doctor was doing and both sides left him to his work.
The coach that Doctor and the boy were in was rocked by cannons early in the day but later that day only a random canon strike would come near the coach. The line of battle had shifted over a dozen times over the last ten hours since the battle started at dawn and often the Doctor would be interrupted in his work by Russian troops telling him he was now a prisoner of war, but still the Doctor would not stop his labors to save the boy's eyesight. Like wise the French troops were upset that the high ranking Doctor would waste so much time on one Russian boy when in all likely hood 50,000 or more good soldiers would die today. Still the Doctor refused to fall back or leave the coach. In time the gunners on both sides somehow became aware of what the Doctor was doing and ceased to fire into that segment of the line for unconsciously they knew the Doctor represented order in the chaos of this battle, and order in the campaign of Napoleon to conquer Russia. Each canon regiment and each soldier in each regiment although they went relentlessly about their duties of firing and killing elsewhere along the line, began to hope and pray for the success of that one French Doctor.
At about 6:00 the battle of Bordino began to subside and the area along the lines that the Doctor and the boy were in was now in French control. The operation on the boy's eyes was finished and the boy was sleeping inside of coach with his eye's firmly and securely bandaged. Only time would tell if the boy would ever see again. Traveling toward the Russian lines with the Christian cross painted on the top of the coach, the Doctor and his assistant were able to take the boy back to the Russian troops and leave the boy in their care. The Doctor who had worked all day in surgery on the boy's eyes never did hear what happened to the boy and as he returned unmolested by the Russian troops to his own army the doctor knew he would have to leave the fate of the boy in God's hands.
Despite the slaughter and brutality of the battle of Bordino where over 70,000 men died and thousands and thousands were wounded, and the wounded usually died of infection soon after injury in 1812; one nameless Russian boy, was cared for, to the best of human ability, in the midst of disorder and chaos by one Doctor who refused to view the battle from far behind the lines but rolled up his sleeves and set to work to do what he could to help despite the fact that his best would just relieve a drop of suffering in the sea of human misery.
To Doc the Noble School Administrator
fiction
edward w pritchard
The battle of Bordino raged around the Doctor and his patient. The patient was an 11 year old Russian peasant boy who had been near the French position at dawn and one of the canons had mysteriously exploded into itself for no known reason and the boy who was nearby was blinded by the flash. The French Doctor was one of three personal physicians of his highness Napoleon the Emperor of the French army and the Doctor who was a skilled surgeon had chanced to be very near the explosion site and he immediately began to tend to the boy and continued to do so attempting to save the boy's eyes during the den and slaughter of the massacre at Bordino in Russia on September 12, 1812.
The injured boy was an 11 year old Russian civilian youth who had somehow got in the line of battle between the French troops of Napoleon's advancing army and the Retreating Russian troops desperately trying to defend Moscow. The Russian's were fighting to the death to defend Mother Russian and Napoleon's loyal troops to a man sensed that if they were successful today their long march into Russia would end in victory, however each French soldier also sensed that to a man if they were unsuccessful today carnage and capture would be the fate of the French Army. The battle was fierce and canons brutally pounded all positions on both sides; however the real danger was from a random strike from the hundreds of canons relentlessly firing on each side maiming and annihilating friend and foe. The canons represented disorder for although they were manned by soldiers, they had no soul. Throughout the day The Canons continued to fire, and their payload would hiss through the air and a leg would be lost, or a face would would torn open or the life would jar out of a man's body; and relentlessly the canons continued to fire from dawn when the battle started with the fire of one canon and continued for ten solid hours.
Whatever the troops on each side did or planned to do or whether or not the men were brave, or afraid, or thirsty, or wounded, the canons continued to fire and disorder and chaos were everywhere; and no one from the lowest private to the highest General or Emperor was immune from the canons if on the field of battle.
The Doctor should have left the boy hours ago and been far away from here on the shifting front lines and been instead two miles back from the front near the side of the emperor who was safely but anxiously surveying the battle. The Doctor refused to leave however, for despite the deaths of tens of thousands of his own friends, fellow officers, and comrades in arms, and the fate of the faceless tens of thousands of Russian soldiers who would be severely injured or die today; the Doctor focused his entire attention and being on trying to save the boy's eye sight. The Doctor had ordered his assistants to paint a cross on a bed sheet and it was hung on the top of a small coach that the Doctor now operated on the unconscious boy in. The coach stuck out on the battlefield because it was a gentleman's coach, not an ambulance wagon pulled by mules; but the expensive property of a nobleman and both armies knew something usual was happening in that coach. As the soldiers of both sides went about the brutal business of killing each other mysteriously they became aware of what the Doctor was doing and both sides left him to his work.
The coach that Doctor and the boy were in was rocked by cannons early in the day but later that day only a random canon strike would come near the coach. The line of battle had shifted over a dozen times over the last ten hours since the battle started at dawn and often the Doctor would be interrupted in his work by Russian troops telling him he was now a prisoner of war, but still the Doctor would not stop his labors to save the boy's eyesight. Like wise the French troops were upset that the high ranking Doctor would waste so much time on one Russian boy when in all likely hood 50,000 or more good soldiers would die today. Still the Doctor refused to fall back or leave the coach. In time the gunners on both sides somehow became aware of what the Doctor was doing and ceased to fire into that segment of the line for unconsciously they knew the Doctor represented order in the chaos of this battle, and order in the campaign of Napoleon to conquer Russia. Each canon regiment and each soldier in each regiment although they went relentlessly about their duties of firing and killing elsewhere along the line, began to hope and pray for the success of that one French Doctor.
At about 6:00 the battle of Bordino began to subside and the area along the lines that the Doctor and the boy were in was now in French control. The operation on the boy's eyes was finished and the boy was sleeping inside of coach with his eye's firmly and securely bandaged. Only time would tell if the boy would ever see again. Traveling toward the Russian lines with the Christian cross painted on the top of the coach, the Doctor and his assistant were able to take the boy back to the Russian troops and leave the boy in their care. The Doctor who had worked all day in surgery on the boy's eyes never did hear what happened to the boy and as he returned unmolested by the Russian troops to his own army the doctor knew he would have to leave the fate of the boy in God's hands.
Despite the slaughter and brutality of the battle of Bordino where over 70,000 men died and thousands and thousands were wounded, and the wounded usually died of infection soon after injury in 1812; one nameless Russian boy, was cared for, to the best of human ability, in the midst of disorder and chaos by one Doctor who refused to view the battle from far behind the lines but rolled up his sleeves and set to work to do what he could to help despite the fact that his best would just relieve a drop of suffering in the sea of human misery.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
we punish ourselves in o so many ways
we punish ourselves in o so many ways
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dr Roberta had been managing two offices for over a year now. She was a psychologist and the two offices were about 15 miles apart. She had bought the second office when Dr. Myers, the psychologist had passed on and since she knew his wife and Dr. Myers client records weren't all that good she had got a good deal on the practice.
Dr. Roberta had been a psychologist for 8 years and worked hard and diligently to grow her practice. Fortunately she had a good office assistant at the first office and both her and the assistant were traveling back and fourth between the new office and the old to instill the old office procedures and philosophies on the two employees of the new office and the 300 or so patients she had bought with the new office. After some discussion with some of her peers she decided that she would have to manage both offices herself if she was to not lose too many precious clients at the new office; because Dr. Myers didn't have all that good of a hold on his patients because of his style of interacting with his patients prior to his death. Since Dr. Roberta was the only professional psychologist she would have to see all the patients at her appointments at both offices. The two support staff, two each at each office, would assist her with clerical work, medical record keeping and most importantly billing, but she would see all the patients herself.
Running a psychology practice and managing the patients is always challenging. Often because of urgent problems a patient will require extra time or unscheduled time in the middle of the day and that is disruptive to the Doctor's schedule and peace of mind. In time running between the two offices Dr. Roberta began to subtly change her philosophies and because of time constraints her clients became more of patients and charts and less and less of people with problems, usually temporarily problems that they needed her help with. Often she had patients in two places stacked up to see her and in time she often would be with one client while the next client waited; sometimes at the other office.
Dr. Roberta had a large loan to pay with the new purchase of the second practice and she would be paying on it if things went as planned for the next 60 months. Because of the looming loan payment every month, billing became more and more pressing because sometimes for no reason at all there would be a shortage of clients this month. Still, however the loan and expenses of running both offices were due the next month, come what may.
Dr. Roberta had been meeting with a young woman and the appointment ran over 35 minutes because of pressing problems in the young woman's life, two clients were waiting at her original office to see her, one who was new, which meant a long initial appointment; when Dr. Roberta decided thereafter to have written billing procedures at both offices. One of the new written procedures was that if she, the Doctor was with one patient, and that patient ran over the scheduled time, that patient and the next patient would be billed in full from the top of the next coming up billing period. Although this was double billing it was approved by most of the insurance companies they worked with, as long as it was within reason. Self billed clients would be dealt with one situation at a time.
Patients often objected to the new billing arrangement, but as they were often in down periods of their life when they came too see her, and needed to see her badly, usually, they were fairly compliant. However often someone would need to see her about a particular billing issue and usually it was because of the new double billing procedure, which often caused the second client to pay for time they didn't get, since if they stayed over their normal appointment time they would be again double billed with the next person. When pressed on the matter, after the first few discussions, the Doctor began fall back on that it was office policy. In time the written office policy began to be a thing apart, larger than any of the office staff, even than Dr Roberta, the owner.
After about two years of running both offices and the pressure to meet payroll and expenses each month the Doctor had began to call herself Dr. Roberta at the old office and Dr. Fitz, her last name at the new office. One day while driving home late one evening after work she was stopped by a highway patrol officer, who was young and very polite and formal. As he walked up to her car, to discuss with her her burnt out taillight on her newer car, he asked her her name before he asked for her license and registration. For a moment, just a long pause really, totally in her own mind, she had a panicky sensation of not remembering who she was; because, she was between offices, and didn't now momentary remember what to call herself. Later, at the end of her conversation with the officer, using the skills of her profession to stand up for her rights and try not to accrue the $89.00 ticket, asking for a warning instead; the officer politely told her that it wasn't up to him, it was policy.
fiction
edward w pritchard
Dr Roberta had been managing two offices for over a year now. She was a psychologist and the two offices were about 15 miles apart. She had bought the second office when Dr. Myers, the psychologist had passed on and since she knew his wife and Dr. Myers client records weren't all that good she had got a good deal on the practice.
Dr. Roberta had been a psychologist for 8 years and worked hard and diligently to grow her practice. Fortunately she had a good office assistant at the first office and both her and the assistant were traveling back and fourth between the new office and the old to instill the old office procedures and philosophies on the two employees of the new office and the 300 or so patients she had bought with the new office. After some discussion with some of her peers she decided that she would have to manage both offices herself if she was to not lose too many precious clients at the new office; because Dr. Myers didn't have all that good of a hold on his patients because of his style of interacting with his patients prior to his death. Since Dr. Roberta was the only professional psychologist she would have to see all the patients at her appointments at both offices. The two support staff, two each at each office, would assist her with clerical work, medical record keeping and most importantly billing, but she would see all the patients herself.
Running a psychology practice and managing the patients is always challenging. Often because of urgent problems a patient will require extra time or unscheduled time in the middle of the day and that is disruptive to the Doctor's schedule and peace of mind. In time running between the two offices Dr. Roberta began to subtly change her philosophies and because of time constraints her clients became more of patients and charts and less and less of people with problems, usually temporarily problems that they needed her help with. Often she had patients in two places stacked up to see her and in time she often would be with one client while the next client waited; sometimes at the other office.
Dr. Roberta had a large loan to pay with the new purchase of the second practice and she would be paying on it if things went as planned for the next 60 months. Because of the looming loan payment every month, billing became more and more pressing because sometimes for no reason at all there would be a shortage of clients this month. Still, however the loan and expenses of running both offices were due the next month, come what may.
Dr. Roberta had been meeting with a young woman and the appointment ran over 35 minutes because of pressing problems in the young woman's life, two clients were waiting at her original office to see her, one who was new, which meant a long initial appointment; when Dr. Roberta decided thereafter to have written billing procedures at both offices. One of the new written procedures was that if she, the Doctor was with one patient, and that patient ran over the scheduled time, that patient and the next patient would be billed in full from the top of the next coming up billing period. Although this was double billing it was approved by most of the insurance companies they worked with, as long as it was within reason. Self billed clients would be dealt with one situation at a time.
Patients often objected to the new billing arrangement, but as they were often in down periods of their life when they came too see her, and needed to see her badly, usually, they were fairly compliant. However often someone would need to see her about a particular billing issue and usually it was because of the new double billing procedure, which often caused the second client to pay for time they didn't get, since if they stayed over their normal appointment time they would be again double billed with the next person. When pressed on the matter, after the first few discussions, the Doctor began fall back on that it was office policy. In time the written office policy began to be a thing apart, larger than any of the office staff, even than Dr Roberta, the owner.
After about two years of running both offices and the pressure to meet payroll and expenses each month the Doctor had began to call herself Dr. Roberta at the old office and Dr. Fitz, her last name at the new office. One day while driving home late one evening after work she was stopped by a highway patrol officer, who was young and very polite and formal. As he walked up to her car, to discuss with her her burnt out taillight on her newer car, he asked her her name before he asked for her license and registration. For a moment, just a long pause really, totally in her own mind, she had a panicky sensation of not remembering who she was; because, she was between offices, and didn't now momentary remember what to call herself. Later, at the end of her conversation with the officer, using the skills of her profession to stand up for her rights and try not to accrue the $89.00 ticket, asking for a warning instead; the officer politely told her that it wasn't up to him, it was policy.
Saturday, March 27, 2010
The Body's Growth and Development-part 2
The Body's Growth and Development-part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
As Wiley waited the next day to see the assistant principal, he was listening through the closed office door, to Larcy his black friend, who he had been playing badminton with yesterday when the fight started; steer the conversation away from Kasey, their White friend who had also been playing badminton. Kasey was totally unable to accept any kind of authority and Wiley and Larcy had planned earlier today, that no matter what happened to Wiley, they must quickly get Kasey out of this situation with the assistant principal for her own protection, before she talked herself into serious trouble.
In a few minutes, Larcy and Kasey came out of the principals office, Kasey gave him a hug, and it was Wiley's turn to face the music.
Pounders, the Assistant Principal, went to his small refrigerator, as Wiley sat down, brought out two cans of Pepsi, handed one to Wiley, and said something that surprised Wiley. Worrying over this meeting for the last 20 hours Pounders said about the last thing Wiley expected him to say. " Son, you ought to consider playing football. I understand you have a lot of athletic talent."
Ten minutes later, Wiley had two days, the minimum amount of mandatory in school detention for fighting, and he had no more trouble of a physical nature with his fellow classmates; at least for the rest of this year in junior high.
end part 2
END
fiction
edward w pritchard
As Wiley waited the next day to see the assistant principal, he was listening through the closed office door, to Larcy his black friend, who he had been playing badminton with yesterday when the fight started; steer the conversation away from Kasey, their White friend who had also been playing badminton. Kasey was totally unable to accept any kind of authority and Wiley and Larcy had planned earlier today, that no matter what happened to Wiley, they must quickly get Kasey out of this situation with the assistant principal for her own protection, before she talked herself into serious trouble.
In a few minutes, Larcy and Kasey came out of the principals office, Kasey gave him a hug, and it was Wiley's turn to face the music.
Pounders, the Assistant Principal, went to his small refrigerator, as Wiley sat down, brought out two cans of Pepsi, handed one to Wiley, and said something that surprised Wiley. Worrying over this meeting for the last 20 hours Pounders said about the last thing Wiley expected him to say. " Son, you ought to consider playing football. I understand you have a lot of athletic talent."
Ten minutes later, Wiley had two days, the minimum amount of mandatory in school detention for fighting, and he had no more trouble of a physical nature with his fellow classmates; at least for the rest of this year in junior high.
end part 2
END
The Body's Growth and Development
The Body's Growth and Development
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wily put on muscle no matter how much he starved himself or how little or what type of food he ate. Wily desperately wanted to stay thin and petite and every day as he got older his body betrayed him. Wily was 14 years old and was gay, not in secret but flamboyantly; he often played a stereotypical character so he didn't have to be anything other than that or explain his nature, just let it broadcast itself so to speak. Being still in junior high school this made for numerous problems and complications in his life for his fellow students were uncomfortable with him, especially those who had known him since his youth and didn't like the changes occurring in him as he came out. So in addition to the problems in his life at home being gay caused he also suffered at school because of it.
Today was Tuesday and he was staying after school and playing badminton in the gym with two very fat girls in his class who he liked, and who didn't judge him or treat him as a freak, or treat him as anything other than himself. Often they would joke with him about himself but not maliciously like some of the other students but just like that, authentic. They had their own issues because they didn't fit in, they were different, and in truth they were much more persecuted in junior high than he was; more than he was for being one of the only openly gay students and for being the only gay black student. One of the two girls was black also, and they were of course both persecuted for being women, but worse for them both by far was the problems for being very over weight at a young age. They were teased and picked on, and people would say incredibly mean things to them or worse, everyone just ignored them and acted like they weren't there or didn't exist. Wily liked the two girls, felt comfortable around them, and was sensitive to their suffering because of their weight problems.
This morning Wily before school had been staring at his upper body and the muscle he kept putting on through his chest and back and arms, no matter how he starved himself or how many carrot sticks he ate. He had drug out an old picture he had of his Mom's Father who he was supposed to resemble. His maternal grandfather was not popular with the family, for he had not married Wily's grandmother, and had not done anything financially to help raise Wily's Mom. Of course the Grand Father was not gay but once his Mom had told Wily he looked like her Dad more than Wily's own Father, who incidentally was having trouble adjusting to Wily's Gay behavior. His maternal grandfather was about 20 in the picture, about 6'2" 190 slim through the hips and very powerfully built through the upper body. He had once played a year of college football and looked like it. Wily kept the picture and often looked at it out of fear he would get built like that if he ate too much; for more than anything he wanted to be petite, slim in the hips and waist and demure and slim in his upper body. He liked to look good in his clothes and was fearful and disdainful of his developing muscles.
When Wily was 9 his Dad had made him play a year of pee wee football which he didn't like. In spite of that however, and to please his Dad he had stuck with it and Wily was a remarkable athlete. Very strong, very fast, and although he didn't like football, he hit very hard. About the age of 10 he began to come out in his gayness and him and his Father after many fights agreed that he wouldn't have to play any more football.
As Wily and the two heavy girls in his class played badminton, two of the football players on the freshman [ 9th] grade team came into the gym, and were shooting baskets, and began to taunt and make fun from the sidelines of one of the two girls he was playing badminton with. Both girls were embarrassed and were trying to ignore the two athletes but something exploded in Wily and he felt an aggression and anger of monumental impact and before he knew what he was doing he was punching them both out. Both of the two students were strong, lifted weights and were very macho. They fought fiercely but Wily quickly began to overcome them because of his speed and ability at boxing although he hadn't practiced boxing or hit someone in several years.
There was an over weight policeman on the stage in the gym who did afternoon security until 4:00 and by the time the policeman was able to clumsily jump off the stage, race across the gym and drag Wily off the two boys they were both bloody in the face and pretty beat up.
end of part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Wily put on muscle no matter how much he starved himself or how little or what type of food he ate. Wily desperately wanted to stay thin and petite and every day as he got older his body betrayed him. Wily was 14 years old and was gay, not in secret but flamboyantly; he often played a stereotypical character so he didn't have to be anything other than that or explain his nature, just let it broadcast itself so to speak. Being still in junior high school this made for numerous problems and complications in his life for his fellow students were uncomfortable with him, especially those who had known him since his youth and didn't like the changes occurring in him as he came out. So in addition to the problems in his life at home being gay caused he also suffered at school because of it.
Today was Tuesday and he was staying after school and playing badminton in the gym with two very fat girls in his class who he liked, and who didn't judge him or treat him as a freak, or treat him as anything other than himself. Often they would joke with him about himself but not maliciously like some of the other students but just like that, authentic. They had their own issues because they didn't fit in, they were different, and in truth they were much more persecuted in junior high than he was; more than he was for being one of the only openly gay students and for being the only gay black student. One of the two girls was black also, and they were of course both persecuted for being women, but worse for them both by far was the problems for being very over weight at a young age. They were teased and picked on, and people would say incredibly mean things to them or worse, everyone just ignored them and acted like they weren't there or didn't exist. Wily liked the two girls, felt comfortable around them, and was sensitive to their suffering because of their weight problems.
This morning Wily before school had been staring at his upper body and the muscle he kept putting on through his chest and back and arms, no matter how he starved himself or how many carrot sticks he ate. He had drug out an old picture he had of his Mom's Father who he was supposed to resemble. His maternal grandfather was not popular with the family, for he had not married Wily's grandmother, and had not done anything financially to help raise Wily's Mom. Of course the Grand Father was not gay but once his Mom had told Wily he looked like her Dad more than Wily's own Father, who incidentally was having trouble adjusting to Wily's Gay behavior. His maternal grandfather was about 20 in the picture, about 6'2" 190 slim through the hips and very powerfully built through the upper body. He had once played a year of college football and looked like it. Wily kept the picture and often looked at it out of fear he would get built like that if he ate too much; for more than anything he wanted to be petite, slim in the hips and waist and demure and slim in his upper body. He liked to look good in his clothes and was fearful and disdainful of his developing muscles.
When Wily was 9 his Dad had made him play a year of pee wee football which he didn't like. In spite of that however, and to please his Dad he had stuck with it and Wily was a remarkable athlete. Very strong, very fast, and although he didn't like football, he hit very hard. About the age of 10 he began to come out in his gayness and him and his Father after many fights agreed that he wouldn't have to play any more football.
As Wily and the two heavy girls in his class played badminton, two of the football players on the freshman [ 9th] grade team came into the gym, and were shooting baskets, and began to taunt and make fun from the sidelines of one of the two girls he was playing badminton with. Both girls were embarrassed and were trying to ignore the two athletes but something exploded in Wily and he felt an aggression and anger of monumental impact and before he knew what he was doing he was punching them both out. Both of the two students were strong, lifted weights and were very macho. They fought fiercely but Wily quickly began to overcome them because of his speed and ability at boxing although he hadn't practiced boxing or hit someone in several years.
There was an over weight policeman on the stage in the gym who did afternoon security until 4:00 and by the time the policeman was able to clumsily jump off the stage, race across the gym and drag Wily off the two boys they were both bloody in the face and pretty beat up.
end of part 1
Safety is Paramount at Times
Safety is Paramount at Times
fiction
edward w pritchard
The boy 9 and the girl 5 both sensed that the Mother was acting strangely, or at least for now out of character, but only the little girl in the car seat of the Van seemed aware at a conscious level that today was going to be different than usual for the three of them. They lived in a large house South of Akron, Ohio in the country, in the small town of Clinton. Their Father was away on business and their Mother had proposed they go for a picnic at the Lake of their very small town, actually no more than a village really. They had done this before but always in the middle of Summer and today it was barely April.The Mother disliked the cold, everyone in the Family knew that; it was a running joke.
The boy was measuring the the Lake height as measured by where the shore line reached up to on the grass, somewhat compulsively and marking it's progression with a small stick. The Lake was slowly and mysteriously rising and the boy who was very bright was noting the movement of the lake. The Mother was gathering supplies from the expensive van to take on their walk down the tow path toward the old canal lock. The girl reminded the Mother to take sunglasses and a tarp and blankets that were in the rear of the van. The girl who was barely past being a baby, didn't know why she had suggested those supplies, but she was sure they would need them and the Mother followed her instructions.
The stroller was still kept in the rear of the Van although the girl was actually too large for it now, but they put the little girl in the stroller, loaded it up with the supplies and the lunch which they hadn't eaten at the lake, back where the ducks were, and they headed for the canal lock.
As a very young girl the Mother had often played at the canal lock while she was with her Grand Father. She woke up this morning, after her husband had left for the airport, with a strong urge to go to that old Lock.
When they arrived at the old cement lock the three of them methodically began to plan their picnic, which was decided should be held between the very thick walls of the two ancient sides of the Canal Lock. The walls were each fifteen feet thick, of heavy concrete, and were over 175 years old, and of course the old Ohio Canal was now dried up and the locks were merely now for effect, a diversion to look at on a nice walk along the canal. In fact there was a bench over looking the lock and it had been there a long time for the Mother and her Grand Father had often sat there 25 years before. They used to make up stories about what a small cut out recess in the concrete of the west side of the concrete walls was originally for. The grandfather would often make up stories to delight his grand daughter about the cave like recess and what the space could be used for. Maybe storage, or to hold heavy metal equipment to open and close the locks, or maybe the tired Irish immigrants who had originally dug the canal and poured the walls for the lock, a lock which like others, was needed periodically on the Ohio Canal because of a slope in the land running North and South through this area, had felt artistic one day and built that small recess into the heavy cement for no practical reason.
Fifteen minutes later they were having their picnic up against the west wall of the lock just in front of that small cave like recess. The cave went back into the thick cement about 4 feet, and the cave also went down from ground level of the old canal, that was now dry, also about 4 feet. They had their food in front of them and their supplies neatly stacked in front of the cave. It was an odd place to have a picnic because the old canal bed was full of sticks and debris, especially in this old lock. Suddenly there was a very large loud booming noise. The girl thought a train had wrecked nearby for they were only about 1000 feet from a major north south track. The boy thought it was a plane crashing, for he had seen simulated jet crashes on TV and in his video games. The Mother alone felt the Meteor explode west of them, less than a mile away, maybe over their house.
Immediately they jumped down one at time into the cave, and within 120 seconds tens of thousands of round hard balls of a very heavy and concentrated metallic substance from the broken up meteor began to crash onto the ground within a very scattered random manner for a five or six mile square area in and around Clinton Ohio. Because of the density of the round fragments from the exploding meteor, the round fragments went through cars, buildings, and houses and many people were killed. Luckily, the area South of Akron is relatively sparsely populated and losses were only in the thousands.
The thick cement walls of the lock protected the three members of the family sitting safely in the tiny recess in the cement walls.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The boy 9 and the girl 5 both sensed that the Mother was acting strangely, or at least for now out of character, but only the little girl in the car seat of the Van seemed aware at a conscious level that today was going to be different than usual for the three of them. They lived in a large house South of Akron, Ohio in the country, in the small town of Clinton. Their Father was away on business and their Mother had proposed they go for a picnic at the Lake of their very small town, actually no more than a village really. They had done this before but always in the middle of Summer and today it was barely April.The Mother disliked the cold, everyone in the Family knew that; it was a running joke.
The boy was measuring the the Lake height as measured by where the shore line reached up to on the grass, somewhat compulsively and marking it's progression with a small stick. The Lake was slowly and mysteriously rising and the boy who was very bright was noting the movement of the lake. The Mother was gathering supplies from the expensive van to take on their walk down the tow path toward the old canal lock. The girl reminded the Mother to take sunglasses and a tarp and blankets that were in the rear of the van. The girl who was barely past being a baby, didn't know why she had suggested those supplies, but she was sure they would need them and the Mother followed her instructions.
The stroller was still kept in the rear of the Van although the girl was actually too large for it now, but they put the little girl in the stroller, loaded it up with the supplies and the lunch which they hadn't eaten at the lake, back where the ducks were, and they headed for the canal lock.
As a very young girl the Mother had often played at the canal lock while she was with her Grand Father. She woke up this morning, after her husband had left for the airport, with a strong urge to go to that old Lock.
When they arrived at the old cement lock the three of them methodically began to plan their picnic, which was decided should be held between the very thick walls of the two ancient sides of the Canal Lock. The walls were each fifteen feet thick, of heavy concrete, and were over 175 years old, and of course the old Ohio Canal was now dried up and the locks were merely now for effect, a diversion to look at on a nice walk along the canal. In fact there was a bench over looking the lock and it had been there a long time for the Mother and her Grand Father had often sat there 25 years before. They used to make up stories about what a small cut out recess in the concrete of the west side of the concrete walls was originally for. The grandfather would often make up stories to delight his grand daughter about the cave like recess and what the space could be used for. Maybe storage, or to hold heavy metal equipment to open and close the locks, or maybe the tired Irish immigrants who had originally dug the canal and poured the walls for the lock, a lock which like others, was needed periodically on the Ohio Canal because of a slope in the land running North and South through this area, had felt artistic one day and built that small recess into the heavy cement for no practical reason.
Fifteen minutes later they were having their picnic up against the west wall of the lock just in front of that small cave like recess. The cave went back into the thick cement about 4 feet, and the cave also went down from ground level of the old canal, that was now dry, also about 4 feet. They had their food in front of them and their supplies neatly stacked in front of the cave. It was an odd place to have a picnic because the old canal bed was full of sticks and debris, especially in this old lock. Suddenly there was a very large loud booming noise. The girl thought a train had wrecked nearby for they were only about 1000 feet from a major north south track. The boy thought it was a plane crashing, for he had seen simulated jet crashes on TV and in his video games. The Mother alone felt the Meteor explode west of them, less than a mile away, maybe over their house.
Immediately they jumped down one at time into the cave, and within 120 seconds tens of thousands of round hard balls of a very heavy and concentrated metallic substance from the broken up meteor began to crash onto the ground within a very scattered random manner for a five or six mile square area in and around Clinton Ohio. Because of the density of the round fragments from the exploding meteor, the round fragments went through cars, buildings, and houses and many people were killed. Luckily, the area South of Akron is relatively sparsely populated and losses were only in the thousands.
The thick cement walls of the lock protected the three members of the family sitting safely in the tiny recess in the cement walls.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
The Computer Who Went to Junior High-part 6
The Computer Who Went to Junior High-part 6
fiction
edward w pritchard
Craybo and I have agreed to drop out of junior high today. I was very proud of him. He got his grades and didn't do all that well because of the problems at the beginning. However, I thought his essay on Rights of the Obese was very heart felt.
We have decided to finish the Grant project to instill human emotions and sensibilities into artificial intelligence at the Star Bucks in Kent. We both like the music there and Craybo likes the clientele especially. I put Craybo back in "A" logic mode and he has been playing a lot of video games with some of his school friends and has gotten interested in Japanese Haiku poetry which we do together sometimes.
Gabby
End part 6
End
fiction
edward w pritchard
Craybo and I have agreed to drop out of junior high today. I was very proud of him. He got his grades and didn't do all that well because of the problems at the beginning. However, I thought his essay on Rights of the Obese was very heart felt.
We have decided to finish the Grant project to instill human emotions and sensibilities into artificial intelligence at the Star Bucks in Kent. We both like the music there and Craybo likes the clientele especially. I put Craybo back in "A" logic mode and he has been playing a lot of video games with some of his school friends and has gotten interested in Japanese Haiku poetry which we do together sometimes.
Gabby
End part 6
End
The Computer Who Went to Junior High
The Computer Who Went to Junior High-part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 5
Incident Report
James Winston
Deputy Sheriff
One Eric [Two-Ton] Marston of Kent was ejected from the junior high school today. He was intimidating and threatening 16 year old student Bobbi Rodrigez who Mr. Marston claims has been bullying a female student that both refuse to name. On the recommendation of student teacher Gabby yyy of Kent Ohio and Dr. Saylors staff counselor no charges were filed.
end part 5
fiction
edward w pritchard
part 5
Incident Report
James Winston
Deputy Sheriff
One Eric [Two-Ton] Marston of Kent was ejected from the junior high school today. He was intimidating and threatening 16 year old student Bobbi Rodrigez who Mr. Marston claims has been bullying a female student that both refuse to name. On the recommendation of student teacher Gabby yyy of Kent Ohio and Dr. Saylors staff counselor no charges were filed.
end part 5
The Computer Who Went to Junior High School
The Computer Who Went to Junior High School-part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 4
I have been seeing the school counselor Dr. Saylors who is a PHD in Psychology and has a small private practice in addition to being a school counselor about my problems with Craybo and he has recommended I continue my diary that I kept the first week so I will follow his recommendation and do so.-Gabby
October 8-
Craybo has been "power basing" as he calls it. It is an attempt to mimic human drug use by absorbing large amounts of electricity to get a rush and experience some sort of a high. Like everything else we have been arguing about it.
Today Craybo and I had an extended argument about Craybo's new hero Timothy Leary. Craybo seems to have regressed in his reasoning abilities and has been absorbing and reading vast amounts of information on student protests, the SDS [ the radical student organization from the 60's], Marxism and various Utopian authors.
October 23
Craybo seems very lethargic this week. He wants to move to the country. He has been reading Thoreau, Zen Buddhism and his new hero Rousseau.
Craybo is curious about my relationship with Beverly and has been asking me a lot of questions about my co-programmer Han Peile, and seems obsessed with death.
October 27
Craybo has gotten interested in American Indian rights, feminism and jazz music. Finally we have something in common again. We listened to several of my progressive jazz tapes together and had a good weekend. Junior high is very challenging for me however. I nearly got in to a fist fight yesterday with a 6'3" student who was bullying his girl friend in the hall.
end part 4
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 4
I have been seeing the school counselor Dr. Saylors who is a PHD in Psychology and has a small private practice in addition to being a school counselor about my problems with Craybo and he has recommended I continue my diary that I kept the first week so I will follow his recommendation and do so.-Gabby
October 8-
Craybo has been "power basing" as he calls it. It is an attempt to mimic human drug use by absorbing large amounts of electricity to get a rush and experience some sort of a high. Like everything else we have been arguing about it.
Today Craybo and I had an extended argument about Craybo's new hero Timothy Leary. Craybo seems to have regressed in his reasoning abilities and has been absorbing and reading vast amounts of information on student protests, the SDS [ the radical student organization from the 60's], Marxism and various Utopian authors.
October 23
Craybo seems very lethargic this week. He wants to move to the country. He has been reading Thoreau, Zen Buddhism and his new hero Rousseau.
Craybo is curious about my relationship with Beverly and has been asking me a lot of questions about my co-programmer Han Peile, and seems obsessed with death.
October 27
Craybo has gotten interested in American Indian rights, feminism and jazz music. Finally we have something in common again. We listened to several of my progressive jazz tapes together and had a good weekend. Junior high is very challenging for me however. I nearly got in to a fist fight yesterday with a 6'3" student who was bullying his girl friend in the hall.
end part 4
The Computer Who Went to Junior High
The Computer Who Went to Junior High-part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 3
Ben had been telling Gabby about his new project for about ten minutes and she was having trouble hearing for he was in a noisy bar and was talking very fast; but earlier, he had nonchalantly, as an after though, told her how to solve her pressing problem of how to salvage the laptop's memory for this week and insure that the expensive main frame wasn't harmed.
Gabby was re-creating a diary of her and Craybo's week and was going to enter the information into the laptop's consciousness by verbal mode which was her fellow programmer's Ben's simple but brilliant suggestion. The programmer told Gabby to use an alternate communications method to reach Craybo, which might work since Craybo at school was trying to learn to communicate and understand humans, as Gabby had just told Ben, by using his audio, visual as well as normal computer tools and skills. Hopefully, once Craybo reheard his week at the school, he could match the experiences with the any possible missing information for the last few days since the last back-up and any lost information would be salvaged.
Monday
September 13, 2010
Craybo and I entered the Fall term with high hopes. I am Craybo's legs at the school. We move together from class and each have a different assigned place in each class. As much as possible Craybo is to be just a normal new student. The other students have quickly accepted the premise and have already on the first day began to accept Craybo although he was today the target of various jokes and pranks by the students, who seem mean and cruel at times, although underneath nice kids.
Tuesday
Craybo is angry at Gabby today. To facilitate the illusion that Craybo is mentally at the junior high level, Gabby slowed down his reasoning skills and has switched the functioning level to the B level [ and old style of computer functioning to facilitate inter-government communications]. Craybo has learned quickly and has been in trouble all day with his various teachers for a variety of infractions. Gabby went to bed tonight at 7PM out of exhaustion. Gabby observes each class Craybo is in and Craybo seems to be purposely trying her patience.
Wednesday
Craybo got two detentions today, one for making cell phone calls for other students and one for helping one of the computer networking students call a 900 number without paying. Craybo did not turn in his homework in any subject although Gabby and him woke up at 5AM today to prepare a paper on the Oregon trial.
Thursday
Craybo helped four male students post provocative pictures of one of their female classmates on the internet. Additionally he called Mr. Saylors one of the counsel several four letter words, and is totally remorseless.
Friday
Gabby unplugged Craybo tonight at 4PM. After being incorrigible at school, committing too many infractions to list. Craybo sent Gabby an unsolicited e-mail with several cruel references to her relationship to Beverly including a joke about Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas that was of a sophisticated but mean spirited lascivious nature. Again when approached with the matter Craybo is without remorse, although Craybo did pretend an apology, making some effort to manipulate Gabby to get something he wanted later this weekend. Following a heated argument Gabby unplugged Craybo's laptop, something she is sorry for doing.
end part 3
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 3
Ben had been telling Gabby about his new project for about ten minutes and she was having trouble hearing for he was in a noisy bar and was talking very fast; but earlier, he had nonchalantly, as an after though, told her how to solve her pressing problem of how to salvage the laptop's memory for this week and insure that the expensive main frame wasn't harmed.
Gabby was re-creating a diary of her and Craybo's week and was going to enter the information into the laptop's consciousness by verbal mode which was her fellow programmer's Ben's simple but brilliant suggestion. The programmer told Gabby to use an alternate communications method to reach Craybo, which might work since Craybo at school was trying to learn to communicate and understand humans, as Gabby had just told Ben, by using his audio, visual as well as normal computer tools and skills. Hopefully, once Craybo reheard his week at the school, he could match the experiences with the any possible missing information for the last few days since the last back-up and any lost information would be salvaged.
Monday
September 13, 2010
Craybo and I entered the Fall term with high hopes. I am Craybo's legs at the school. We move together from class and each have a different assigned place in each class. As much as possible Craybo is to be just a normal new student. The other students have quickly accepted the premise and have already on the first day began to accept Craybo although he was today the target of various jokes and pranks by the students, who seem mean and cruel at times, although underneath nice kids.
Tuesday
Craybo is angry at Gabby today. To facilitate the illusion that Craybo is mentally at the junior high level, Gabby slowed down his reasoning skills and has switched the functioning level to the B level [ and old style of computer functioning to facilitate inter-government communications]. Craybo has learned quickly and has been in trouble all day with his various teachers for a variety of infractions. Gabby went to bed tonight at 7PM out of exhaustion. Gabby observes each class Craybo is in and Craybo seems to be purposely trying her patience.
Wednesday
Craybo got two detentions today, one for making cell phone calls for other students and one for helping one of the computer networking students call a 900 number without paying. Craybo did not turn in his homework in any subject although Gabby and him woke up at 5AM today to prepare a paper on the Oregon trial.
Thursday
Craybo helped four male students post provocative pictures of one of their female classmates on the internet. Additionally he called Mr. Saylors one of the counsel several four letter words, and is totally remorseless.
Friday
Gabby unplugged Craybo tonight at 4PM. After being incorrigible at school, committing too many infractions to list. Craybo sent Gabby an unsolicited e-mail with several cruel references to her relationship to Beverly including a joke about Gertrude Stein and Alice Toklas that was of a sophisticated but mean spirited lascivious nature. Again when approached with the matter Craybo is without remorse, although Craybo did pretend an apology, making some effort to manipulate Gabby to get something he wanted later this weekend. Following a heated argument Gabby unplugged Craybo's laptop, something she is sorry for doing.
end part 3
The Computer Who Went to Junior High-part 2
The Computer Who Went to Junior High
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 2
Gabby was at Hank's loft over the bar in Kent, alone, and was just starting her third glass of Hank's Irish whiskey in the only clean glass in Hank's very messy third floor loft. Hank was out of town and must have forgot to clean before he left. Gabby was drinking hard on this Friday night and was trying to forget her week.
Gabby had for the first time unplugged her super computer, by disabling the laptop. During the project at the junior high in Akron to teach Craybo the super computer human sensibilities and emotions, the very expensive super computers link to the world was the lap top. Gabby had. about three weeks ago, with the permission of Kent State University put the $7,000,000 super computer on site at the KSU school of business in "slumber mode"; with the help of her friend Ben a very talented self taught programmer. When she early this evening had shut down the lap top without back up she had jeopardized the expensive super computer and she was at Hank's waiting for a return phone call from her fellow programmer, Ben who would call but often, like Gabby, kept very irregular hours. Gabby hoped Ben could help her salvage the laptops experiences at the junior high in Akron this week following her temper outage where in an argument with Craybo she had disconnected the laptop impetuously without backup. Gabby was also worried there was the potential corruption to Craybo's mainframe because of her hasty unwise actions.
Craybo and Gabby had about 6 hours ago finished their first week together in junior high this Fall semester in Akron. Craybo was to learn human emotions and sensibilities in the junior high environment and it was working because already after one week Gabby was having trouble liking her old friend Craybo, who she had spent five years of her life co-programming. Craybo was learning very rapidly at the junior high and Gabby estimated that each day he acquired about three months of human experience. Since Craybo was absorbing the junior high experiences of about 300 students a day Craybo seemed to be doing the teenage adolescence and angst things on steroids and Gabby seemed to be target of Craybo's rebellion and meanness.
Gabby startled as the phone rang but was very glad to see it was Ben's cell number. Maybe he could figure out how to proceed.
End part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
Part 2
Gabby was at Hank's loft over the bar in Kent, alone, and was just starting her third glass of Hank's Irish whiskey in the only clean glass in Hank's very messy third floor loft. Hank was out of town and must have forgot to clean before he left. Gabby was drinking hard on this Friday night and was trying to forget her week.
Gabby had for the first time unplugged her super computer, by disabling the laptop. During the project at the junior high in Akron to teach Craybo the super computer human sensibilities and emotions, the very expensive super computers link to the world was the lap top. Gabby had. about three weeks ago, with the permission of Kent State University put the $7,000,000 super computer on site at the KSU school of business in "slumber mode"; with the help of her friend Ben a very talented self taught programmer. When she early this evening had shut down the lap top without back up she had jeopardized the expensive super computer and she was at Hank's waiting for a return phone call from her fellow programmer, Ben who would call but often, like Gabby, kept very irregular hours. Gabby hoped Ben could help her salvage the laptops experiences at the junior high in Akron this week following her temper outage where in an argument with Craybo she had disconnected the laptop impetuously without backup. Gabby was also worried there was the potential corruption to Craybo's mainframe because of her hasty unwise actions.
Craybo and Gabby had about 6 hours ago finished their first week together in junior high this Fall semester in Akron. Craybo was to learn human emotions and sensibilities in the junior high environment and it was working because already after one week Gabby was having trouble liking her old friend Craybo, who she had spent five years of her life co-programming. Craybo was learning very rapidly at the junior high and Gabby estimated that each day he acquired about three months of human experience. Since Craybo was absorbing the junior high experiences of about 300 students a day Craybo seemed to be doing the teenage adolescence and angst things on steroids and Gabby seemed to be target of Craybo's rebellion and meanness.
Gabby startled as the phone rang but was very glad to see it was Ben's cell number. Maybe he could figure out how to proceed.
End part 2
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
The Computer Who Went to Junior High
The Computer who went to Junior High
fiction
edward w pritchard
Reader-see first Statistical Prediction of the Future- Feb blog same author and The Beats-Gabby, and The Hippies-Beverly
Gabby was back in Junior High School but it was her super Computer, nicknamed Craybo after the Cray series computers, that was having issues adjusting to his new school and was becoming overly sensitive to criticisms from his fellow students and teachers. Despite the fact that her very expensive computer required maintenance and a complete electrical rebuild after only one semester back in the ninth grade the project was a huge success and Gabby was able to have the results of the study published in a prestigious Ivy League academic journal. Even after Craybo's rehabilitation however, Gabby and Craybo took several months to reestablish their working relationship; for Craybo having learned some human sensibilities and adaptive skills in the project in Junior High directed his misplaced anger at his fellow students toward his programmer Gabby and indirectly Craybo's co-programmer Han Peile, Gabby's mentor, who had passed away over two years ago.
Gabby had been getting burned out at her job as a programming and network specialist at the Kent State University School of Business and requested a three months sabbatical to do specialized research in the "field". A large Akron, Ohio corporation [ see The Blues Singer who couldn't carry a tune-same author] funded a three month project for Gabby to, by using various unorthodox methods, develop human sensibilities and emotions in artificial intelligence. It was a very lucrative grant and would pay Gabby a very handsome salary on top of her Kent State salary. As an aside in our story, Perhaps it was divine intervention because Gabby badly needed money at this time in her life and she never before had been the recipient of much good luck financially. With the grant however, she was able to devote her full attention to the grant project and both her and her super computer Craybo, although Craybo was now represented by his more mobile self in the form of a very expensive laptop, jumped into the project head first as Gabby was inclined to do. After about a week of moving the lap top computer around to various locations and situations around Kent Ohio, Gabby became impatient with Craybo's progress in learning and developing human sensibilities and decided to mistrust gradual and incremental improvements and try something drastic.
That's how Gabby and Craybo found themselves in Akron, Ohio in an inner city-junior High School in the Fall of 2010. Gabby as a teacher's assistant and Craybo as the new student in the classroom, having entered two weeks late into the Fall term.
end part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
Reader-see first Statistical Prediction of the Future- Feb blog same author and The Beats-Gabby, and The Hippies-Beverly
Gabby was back in Junior High School but it was her super Computer, nicknamed Craybo after the Cray series computers, that was having issues adjusting to his new school and was becoming overly sensitive to criticisms from his fellow students and teachers. Despite the fact that her very expensive computer required maintenance and a complete electrical rebuild after only one semester back in the ninth grade the project was a huge success and Gabby was able to have the results of the study published in a prestigious Ivy League academic journal. Even after Craybo's rehabilitation however, Gabby and Craybo took several months to reestablish their working relationship; for Craybo having learned some human sensibilities and adaptive skills in the project in Junior High directed his misplaced anger at his fellow students toward his programmer Gabby and indirectly Craybo's co-programmer Han Peile, Gabby's mentor, who had passed away over two years ago.
Gabby had been getting burned out at her job as a programming and network specialist at the Kent State University School of Business and requested a three months sabbatical to do specialized research in the "field". A large Akron, Ohio corporation [ see The Blues Singer who couldn't carry a tune-same author] funded a three month project for Gabby to, by using various unorthodox methods, develop human sensibilities and emotions in artificial intelligence. It was a very lucrative grant and would pay Gabby a very handsome salary on top of her Kent State salary. As an aside in our story, Perhaps it was divine intervention because Gabby badly needed money at this time in her life and she never before had been the recipient of much good luck financially. With the grant however, she was able to devote her full attention to the grant project and both her and her super computer Craybo, although Craybo was now represented by his more mobile self in the form of a very expensive laptop, jumped into the project head first as Gabby was inclined to do. After about a week of moving the lap top computer around to various locations and situations around Kent Ohio, Gabby became impatient with Craybo's progress in learning and developing human sensibilities and decided to mistrust gradual and incremental improvements and try something drastic.
That's how Gabby and Craybo found themselves in Akron, Ohio in an inner city-junior High School in the Fall of 2010. Gabby as a teacher's assistant and Craybo as the new student in the classroom, having entered two weeks late into the Fall term.
end part 1
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Necessity for Money Precedes Greed for Gold
Necessity for Money Precedes Greed for Gold
fiction
edward w pritchard
See The Young Girl Involved in a Scandal and The Confession-the son in this story is the young brave in the Scandal and the Lost lover in Ohio in the Confession
The Grand Father was very tired and was trying to mediate between his son and grand son who were fighting fiercely although not with fists and arms but with words. The Grand Father was wisely being silent for his son and grandson were both like his wife more than himself in an argument and would both have to vent their anger in full before they would listen to reason; and the Grand father had long ago learned how to proceed in an instance like this.
The three Indians were standing in front of a dugout canoe that the son had knocked a hole in the side of with a rock, and had been pulling on dry land by a vine looped through and tied into the hole in the top side of the canoe. The canoe was filed with over 100 ducks that the son had trapped and was planning to take down river to a small French fort where trappers bought animals at a lucrative price and then resold to Europeans moving into the areas East of here. The Grand Father and his son, the boy's Father had been walking for three days at the insistence of the Boy's Mother and his Grand Mother. The boy was 19 years old and physically was a man but he had been acting strangely for over a year out of love for his girl friend who had been forced to move to Georgia despite her love for the son.
The Father's misplaced anger toward his son was causing him to argue viciously with his son. The Father had been sure the son was dead and his relief at finding him alive and his anger at the son's ruining the Grand Father's loaned canoe was causing the Father to chastise his grown son. In Additional to ruining the canoe, the boy was behaving foolish by Indian standards because there was no good reason to end the lives of so many ducks and although both the Grand Father and Father knew why the boy was trying to raise money, and while it was for a good reason, none the less it had an element of greed about it that was not the Tribe's normal way of doing things, and it seemed an act of desperation.
The son continued " we can buy twenty Indian canoes with the money from the Ducks"
The Father " If you don't get killed by the whites on the way to the fort with the valuable [cargo] or cheated at the fort; or worse if you are successful in this business deal, then the next time you will need to kill and sell 1000 ducks to satiate your greed."
Son" I will give Grandfather part of the money for the ducks and I will buy him a French style canoe [ that is, a better, more mobile, lighter and more expensive canoe]
Father" that better canoe, that we might get later, won't float us back to camp today, like this one would have, if you hadn't ruined it by knocking a hole in it and then ruined it's [structural integrity] by dragging it foolishly on dry land full of heavy ducks].
Son" Can't you understand my position"
Father" I understand my elderly Father walking for three days in the heat and sleeping on the ground and then finding his favorite canoe destroyed by your greed"
Son" Shouting I must get the money to get to Georgia to see Tuhan [ his lost lover].
Father" kindly, you weren't the only one who cared for Tuhan.
Son, to Grand Father, " you understand how I feel, Help me
End of part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
See The Young Girl Involved in a Scandal and The Confession-the son in this story is the young brave in the Scandal and the Lost lover in Ohio in the Confession
The Grand Father was very tired and was trying to mediate between his son and grand son who were fighting fiercely although not with fists and arms but with words. The Grand Father was wisely being silent for his son and grandson were both like his wife more than himself in an argument and would both have to vent their anger in full before they would listen to reason; and the Grand father had long ago learned how to proceed in an instance like this.
The three Indians were standing in front of a dugout canoe that the son had knocked a hole in the side of with a rock, and had been pulling on dry land by a vine looped through and tied into the hole in the top side of the canoe. The canoe was filed with over 100 ducks that the son had trapped and was planning to take down river to a small French fort where trappers bought animals at a lucrative price and then resold to Europeans moving into the areas East of here. The Grand Father and his son, the boy's Father had been walking for three days at the insistence of the Boy's Mother and his Grand Mother. The boy was 19 years old and physically was a man but he had been acting strangely for over a year out of love for his girl friend who had been forced to move to Georgia despite her love for the son.
The Father's misplaced anger toward his son was causing him to argue viciously with his son. The Father had been sure the son was dead and his relief at finding him alive and his anger at the son's ruining the Grand Father's loaned canoe was causing the Father to chastise his grown son. In Additional to ruining the canoe, the boy was behaving foolish by Indian standards because there was no good reason to end the lives of so many ducks and although both the Grand Father and Father knew why the boy was trying to raise money, and while it was for a good reason, none the less it had an element of greed about it that was not the Tribe's normal way of doing things, and it seemed an act of desperation.
The son continued " we can buy twenty Indian canoes with the money from the Ducks"
The Father " If you don't get killed by the whites on the way to the fort with the valuable [cargo] or cheated at the fort; or worse if you are successful in this business deal, then the next time you will need to kill and sell 1000 ducks to satiate your greed."
Son" I will give Grandfather part of the money for the ducks and I will buy him a French style canoe [ that is, a better, more mobile, lighter and more expensive canoe]
Father" that better canoe, that we might get later, won't float us back to camp today, like this one would have, if you hadn't ruined it by knocking a hole in it and then ruined it's [structural integrity] by dragging it foolishly on dry land full of heavy ducks].
Son" Can't you understand my position"
Father" I understand my elderly Father walking for three days in the heat and sleeping on the ground and then finding his favorite canoe destroyed by your greed"
Son" Shouting I must get the money to get to Georgia to see Tuhan [ his lost lover].
Father" kindly, you weren't the only one who cared for Tuhan.
Son, to Grand Father, " you understand how I feel, Help me
End of part 1
The Birth of Yin and Yang
The Birth of Yin and Yang
fiction
edward w pritchard
A meteor hits the earth and the impact spins the moon off into space. The moon stays near the earth but conflicting forces keep it from going too far away or coming back to the earth.
Yang
A young handsome black man rapping both parts, I-himself, you and Yo- her
I- Boys in the hood are always hard
I I don't preach to me I made you no guarantees
I- do my own thing, someday I will own it all
Yo- don't judge me, I won't buy it
I-'m young now, life awaits, I can't stay
Yin
Black girl wrapping I-her, you- him, she raps both parts
I-expected more, but I needed you
I you-Did your best and I wanted you
I- but it didn't work
I You-left your calling card
I do my best but he's coming out bad
-I worry about our son
I it's hard to do it alone, help me
fiction
edward w pritchard
A meteor hits the earth and the impact spins the moon off into space. The moon stays near the earth but conflicting forces keep it from going too far away or coming back to the earth.
Yang
A young handsome black man rapping both parts, I-himself, you and Yo- her
I- Boys in the hood are always hard
I I don't preach to me I made you no guarantees
I- do my own thing, someday I will own it all
Yo- don't judge me, I won't buy it
I-'m young now, life awaits, I can't stay
Yin
Black girl wrapping I-her, you- him, she raps both parts
I-expected more, but I needed you
I you-Did your best and I wanted you
I- but it didn't work
I You-left your calling card
I do my best but he's coming out bad
-I worry about our son
I it's hard to do it alone, help me
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Two Woman Can't Live under one Roof
Two Woman Can't Live under one Roof
fiction
edward w pritchard
Anything can happen given enough time. When I worked as an orderly at a nursing home I had the occasion, as part of my job duties to break up a fight between two ninety year old ladies. There was a religious basis for the fight but the differences between the two women went deeper than that and were based on their differences in temperament and way of approaching the world as women.
My job at the nursing home was to take care of elderly male patients, and I was assigned a few of the elderly wealthy patients who were what we then called senile, but otherwise healthy at least for people over 80 years old. Because of their various delusions in their senility my few patients wanted to walk and walk and walk. Up and down the halls of the star shaped building and weather permitting, here in Ohio, outside with me around and through the affluent neighborhood where the nursing home was unobtrusively located in.
Arriving at work, late, rushing from my college classes, I was met at the door by the second shift RN. This was interesting and pleasing to me because the RN, who was a few years older than me, looked very good to me in her little pink uniform; and that was before I later became a scholar and at that time I enjoyed the company of the ladies despite their shortcomings. She said she needed help and I was more than willing to assist her, and me being on the hunt so to speak, gave her my undivided attention. She walked through the halls of the nursing home very quickly and very close to me and looked and smelled very good to me. It was customary for the male orderlies, and I was now the only one in the building, to be the unofficial security guard, and I assumed that the RN needed my help with a belligerent male patient, which was not uncommon for the old men often became occasionally aggressive when in captivity here at the nursing home.
When we entered one of the best rooms of the first floor of the nursing home, two of the wealthiest women patients were arguing fiercely and just as we came through the door the smaller woman, who was over 90 was standing over the much larger one in a Wheelchair and was slapping at her face. The lady in the wheelchair, who was partially paralyzed from a stroke, and near 90 also, was blocking the other smaller woman's slaps with a rolled up magazine and was using the magazine like a sword slicing and screaming at her and calling at her, very loudly a whore.
It took the RN and I 10 minutes to restore some order, and with us and the LPN, a large black lady still working from first shift, we were able to split the two room mates up and move the smaller more mobile lady temporarily to another room. That however didn't settle the matter for both wanted the original room and both refused to be in the same wing with the other. There were four other wings, of the five halls of the star shaped nursing home but this wing was the best, of the three for women patients and was the most expensive and had added amenities for the patients. Both women wanted this wing, and their original room and were still talking loudly and calling the other names a half hour later. The large woman repeated over and over that the small one was a whore and the smaller one would occasionally yell, in a ladylike and mischievous way, from her room down the hall from the original room, that her former room mate was sexually repressed and a heretic.
end part 1
Part 2
I am a bad woman said Marie, the small woman of 90, to me and the RN about an hour later. I was still hanging around helping a little but mostly just observing, It was a wet day outside and my assigned patients were walking up and down the hallways, some hand over hand on the handrails and some striding stiffly but confidently down the middle of the halls. The smaller older lady Marie, was flirting with me, and trying to shock me a little as the RN worked and gave her her medications. Marie said " I am a bad woman. I worked in Paris in the Can Can when I was 16 years old and no one can resist noticing our legs and the dance that we performed three times a day. I worked in the Can Can for three years until I was married to one of our customers who courted me with flowers and songs for for over a year until I agreed to marry him." The Old ladies eyes gleamed as she told me that story and she often looked at the RN to check her reaction to her tale, and the lady Marie was very aware of herself, and she noticed and liked the sexual tension between myself and the RN. On a negative note, Marie was what the nursing staff would call high maintenance and required a lot of attention and as the RN now went through the evening ritual to get her settled into bed for the night [ it was only about 5PM but the lady would eat supper alone in her bed in this new room, watch television for about an hour then go to bed for the night because she got up very early, about 5;30 AM.] A few minutes later as the RN and the LPN who had come in from the other room, started to remove the ladies robe, I politely left the room so as not to see her in her French style nightgown. As I was leaving, after the old woman had followed me with her eyes to the door, the old woman was asking the RN when Doctor Paul would come to see her again. I ascertained from her conversation with the RN that Doctor Paul was young, handsome, and sometimes, but not often for Doctors seldom visited the nursing home, came to see Marie about pains she had in her left leg from her years as a dancer in Paris.
End part 2
Part 3
"I came from a very fine family, growing up near Faberges France," said Olivia, the lady in the wheelchair at the beginning of the story using the magazine as a sword in the fight. "My Father worked 34 years as a postal inspector and made additional money on the stock exchange in Paris. My Mother raised us as good Catholics and even now in this nursing home I have never missed a mass, unless I am too sick to attend."
The LPN and I, the orderly, were moving the small lady in the fight, Marie's stuff from the original room and as we worked the lady in the wheel chair was telling me about herself.
She continued. " I married young and was married for 60 years until my husband died. On his deathbed he confessed to me that he had been unfaithful to me when we had been married only 9 years with an Irish protestant woman who worked at the post office with him in our hometown. My husband had broke off the affair when I became pregnant with our daughter and he never told me about his affair until near death. I remember the Irish lady, who I met in the town a couple of times. She was small had red hair and was a nervous type woman. I remember once seeing her at the grocery store wearing an off the shoulder type blouse and a skirt that was too short.
end part3
part 4
The RN
I remember that fight. The orderly and I once went to dinner after work and later went on a date and walked along the Lake and had some wine together.
The Handsome Doctor
I remember Marie XXX. I remember the family who had a successful eye care business in the same building as my office.
The Nursing home Administrator [ The RN's boss]
I remember Olivia
One day, a few months after she had recovered from her stroke, she sat down at the piano at Christmas season to play for the other patients and she had completely forgot how to play the piano, a skill she learned as a little girl in France. I sat next to her on the piano bench and put my arm around her as she cried.
The aspiring writer- now nearly 60,- and formerly the orderly
I remember that RN she always smelled very good and she worked very hard.
The LPN
I remember those old two white ladies having that fight and calling each other whores. I remember the RN Sheri, I heard she died of cancer when she was only 35 years old.
The Real Estate developer
I bought that old nursing home 10 years ago and spent over 200,000 turning it into condo's. It's in a nice neighborhood but I have spent another 100,00 fighting the zoning board here in town who want to change my zoning rating.
The Catholic Priest[ who came into the nursing home every Saturday night at 6PM to give Mass
I talked to both those two ladies about their religious differences. I hope I got through to them to be more tolerant of each other, they were both from France you know.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
Anything can happen given enough time. When I worked as an orderly at a nursing home I had the occasion, as part of my job duties to break up a fight between two ninety year old ladies. There was a religious basis for the fight but the differences between the two women went deeper than that and were based on their differences in temperament and way of approaching the world as women.
My job at the nursing home was to take care of elderly male patients, and I was assigned a few of the elderly wealthy patients who were what we then called senile, but otherwise healthy at least for people over 80 years old. Because of their various delusions in their senility my few patients wanted to walk and walk and walk. Up and down the halls of the star shaped building and weather permitting, here in Ohio, outside with me around and through the affluent neighborhood where the nursing home was unobtrusively located in.
Arriving at work, late, rushing from my college classes, I was met at the door by the second shift RN. This was interesting and pleasing to me because the RN, who was a few years older than me, looked very good to me in her little pink uniform; and that was before I later became a scholar and at that time I enjoyed the company of the ladies despite their shortcomings. She said she needed help and I was more than willing to assist her, and me being on the hunt so to speak, gave her my undivided attention. She walked through the halls of the nursing home very quickly and very close to me and looked and smelled very good to me. It was customary for the male orderlies, and I was now the only one in the building, to be the unofficial security guard, and I assumed that the RN needed my help with a belligerent male patient, which was not uncommon for the old men often became occasionally aggressive when in captivity here at the nursing home.
When we entered one of the best rooms of the first floor of the nursing home, two of the wealthiest women patients were arguing fiercely and just as we came through the door the smaller woman, who was over 90 was standing over the much larger one in a Wheelchair and was slapping at her face. The lady in the wheelchair, who was partially paralyzed from a stroke, and near 90 also, was blocking the other smaller woman's slaps with a rolled up magazine and was using the magazine like a sword slicing and screaming at her and calling at her, very loudly a whore.
It took the RN and I 10 minutes to restore some order, and with us and the LPN, a large black lady still working from first shift, we were able to split the two room mates up and move the smaller more mobile lady temporarily to another room. That however didn't settle the matter for both wanted the original room and both refused to be in the same wing with the other. There were four other wings, of the five halls of the star shaped nursing home but this wing was the best, of the three for women patients and was the most expensive and had added amenities for the patients. Both women wanted this wing, and their original room and were still talking loudly and calling the other names a half hour later. The large woman repeated over and over that the small one was a whore and the smaller one would occasionally yell, in a ladylike and mischievous way, from her room down the hall from the original room, that her former room mate was sexually repressed and a heretic.
end part 1
Part 2
I am a bad woman said Marie, the small woman of 90, to me and the RN about an hour later. I was still hanging around helping a little but mostly just observing, It was a wet day outside and my assigned patients were walking up and down the hallways, some hand over hand on the handrails and some striding stiffly but confidently down the middle of the halls. The smaller older lady Marie, was flirting with me, and trying to shock me a little as the RN worked and gave her her medications. Marie said " I am a bad woman. I worked in Paris in the Can Can when I was 16 years old and no one can resist noticing our legs and the dance that we performed three times a day. I worked in the Can Can for three years until I was married to one of our customers who courted me with flowers and songs for for over a year until I agreed to marry him." The Old ladies eyes gleamed as she told me that story and she often looked at the RN to check her reaction to her tale, and the lady Marie was very aware of herself, and she noticed and liked the sexual tension between myself and the RN. On a negative note, Marie was what the nursing staff would call high maintenance and required a lot of attention and as the RN now went through the evening ritual to get her settled into bed for the night [ it was only about 5PM but the lady would eat supper alone in her bed in this new room, watch television for about an hour then go to bed for the night because she got up very early, about 5;30 AM.] A few minutes later as the RN and the LPN who had come in from the other room, started to remove the ladies robe, I politely left the room so as not to see her in her French style nightgown. As I was leaving, after the old woman had followed me with her eyes to the door, the old woman was asking the RN when Doctor Paul would come to see her again. I ascertained from her conversation with the RN that Doctor Paul was young, handsome, and sometimes, but not often for Doctors seldom visited the nursing home, came to see Marie about pains she had in her left leg from her years as a dancer in Paris.
End part 2
Part 3
"I came from a very fine family, growing up near Faberges France," said Olivia, the lady in the wheelchair at the beginning of the story using the magazine as a sword in the fight. "My Father worked 34 years as a postal inspector and made additional money on the stock exchange in Paris. My Mother raised us as good Catholics and even now in this nursing home I have never missed a mass, unless I am too sick to attend."
The LPN and I, the orderly, were moving the small lady in the fight, Marie's stuff from the original room and as we worked the lady in the wheel chair was telling me about herself.
She continued. " I married young and was married for 60 years until my husband died. On his deathbed he confessed to me that he had been unfaithful to me when we had been married only 9 years with an Irish protestant woman who worked at the post office with him in our hometown. My husband had broke off the affair when I became pregnant with our daughter and he never told me about his affair until near death. I remember the Irish lady, who I met in the town a couple of times. She was small had red hair and was a nervous type woman. I remember once seeing her at the grocery store wearing an off the shoulder type blouse and a skirt that was too short.
end part3
part 4
The RN
I remember that fight. The orderly and I once went to dinner after work and later went on a date and walked along the Lake and had some wine together.
The Handsome Doctor
I remember Marie XXX. I remember the family who had a successful eye care business in the same building as my office.
The Nursing home Administrator [ The RN's boss]
I remember Olivia
One day, a few months after she had recovered from her stroke, she sat down at the piano at Christmas season to play for the other patients and she had completely forgot how to play the piano, a skill she learned as a little girl in France. I sat next to her on the piano bench and put my arm around her as she cried.
The aspiring writer- now nearly 60,- and formerly the orderly
I remember that RN she always smelled very good and she worked very hard.
The LPN
I remember those old two white ladies having that fight and calling each other whores. I remember the RN Sheri, I heard she died of cancer when she was only 35 years old.
The Real Estate developer
I bought that old nursing home 10 years ago and spent over 200,000 turning it into condo's. It's in a nice neighborhood but I have spent another 100,00 fighting the zoning board here in town who want to change my zoning rating.
The Catholic Priest[ who came into the nursing home every Saturday night at 6PM to give Mass
I talked to both those two ladies about their religious differences. I hope I got through to them to be more tolerant of each other, they were both from France you know.
end
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Local Travel with Imaginary or Dead Characters from History
Local Travel with Imaginary or Dead Characters from History
fiction
edward w pritchard
I lapse in and out of situations with the great character of history in my muted madness.
However, having forged a practical side to my nature, I have developed techniques to allow my delusional friends, the great personalities from the past and lost other places to enhance my meager abilities and add something to my bumbling repertoire of social skills. The delusional associations have been going on for so long inside my head that like apparitions employed by a flim flam spiritualist, they come forth even if not summoned if random circumstance requires their presence.
Speaking of practical considerations, my budgetary restrictions currently restrain me from traveling beyond Akron, Ohio with or without imaginary personalities as companions. While Akron is my home and familiar and an actual place to me; it just has so many places and things in it capable to be classified as somewhere or something by the observing but uninterested world. As I travel about my area and region fearful in my car, fearful of encountering a check engine light, or if navigating by foot, fretful of a leg cramp from aging, my ruminations and anxieties are relieved by my imaginary historical companions.
Today I am traveling by stage coach on ancient unpaved roads from Warren, Ohio bound for a small Inn East of Cleveland for a night's lodging and fine repast. Of course I am really in my car alone, but Karl Marx the writer and philosopher is sharing the coach with me, for as they say an interesting companion on the road is as good as a fine coach. The stage coach delusion started a few miles back with a historical marker and Karl Marx has been conversing with me since on our mutual messy houses, his lovely wife Jenny and why Akron no longer has many fine Jewish delicatessens. We avoid politics for now, and discussing Nietzsche a subject which agitates us both.
End part 1
part 2
I am with two very intelligent women, Emily Dickinson and Virginia Woolf, and while I usually preferred Debi's or a couple of Mary-Ann's for company, these two literary ladies are interesting to talk to. Both are a little gloomy at times, Emily is really quite shy and Adeline [Virginia except to close friends] has her good and bad days and Adeline is prone to too much detail in her stories, but both are excellent companions on this trip to the Cleveland Museum of Art to view the Tilman Riemenschneider carvings. Excuse me for a moment, Emily insists, she can't be appropriate company unless she exercises her demons and worries about death, so to that end I promised her a short story"
Story in a story [for Emily]
A new Catholic priest is called in a severe snow storm to hear an emergency confession. He is barely qualified to hear a confession because he has only 90 days on the job and has only been called because he lives close and is young and strong enough to make it on foot through the severe snowstorm which has knocked out all power and communications at a small nursing home in Ohio.
An elderly man is dieing very soon and must be forgiven for his sins. He tells the priest he is terrified of dieing and eternal damnation because of two horrible sins he committed. First while working as a grave digger as a young man he for a joke, used to switch the coffins into different graves than the ones bought and assigned to them. Secondly he had lead a life of skulduggery typical to successful businessmen in our times.
The priest who couldn't consult any authority on how to proceed, because of the snow storm, felt uncomfortable with forgiving the man even though remorseful because the dieing man waited to the very last minute to atone. The priest also will not lessen the mans fears of eternal damnation by using convenient materialistic arguments such as those of skeptic and philosopher David Hume, [ see Dalai Lama's Dream- same author] and the priest decides to give the man with only a few days to live a task to perform to earn his forgiveness and allow him to leave this life at peace.
There are twenty boxes of dominoes at the recreation room at this nursing home and the priest tells the sinner he must construct a church of dominoes and kneel inside and pray for forgiveness. He must use every domino and there must be no artificial support to the structure.
Three weeks have past since the meeting with the Priest in the snowstorm and the man is still working on his tower of babel. It keeps collapsing when he gets in to pray but he is feeling well and wakes every morning with a strong desire to work on his new project.
end
Virginia [ I am tired of calling her Adeline] is telling me about her ideal apartment, at length and length and she won't eat her food in the cafeteria at the Art Museum [ i worry about her weight, she looks of a skeleton]. I listen politely but really want to talk to Emily about her lack of writing success in her lifetime. Maybe later for Virginia wants to go along the lake Erie shore and find a lighthouse.
End part 2
Part 3
This will be a great lunch for I am with the writers Paul Theroux and Bill Bryson, two of my favorites. I have tricked them into lunch at the West Point market in my hometown. Both are skeptical of my claims of it's greatness and both are sniping at each other out of mutual jealousy as writers; putting me in an awkward position for both are heroes of mine.
end part 3
part 4
I have finally went too far. I have angered
God with my writing. While driving along the expressway south recently I stopped to help an old man having trouble with his car and later conclusive evidence has proved him, the old man with car trouble, to be the one and only God and as he gets into my car for me to take him to get some car parts in the next town, God says he has been waiting to talk to me. This is important so I think I will start a new blog story with what he wants.
End part 4
End Local Travel with Imaginary or Dead Characters from History
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
I lapse in and out of situations with the great character of history in my muted madness.
However, having forged a practical side to my nature, I have developed techniques to allow my delusional friends, the great personalities from the past and lost other places to enhance my meager abilities and add something to my bumbling repertoire of social skills. The delusional associations have been going on for so long inside my head that like apparitions employed by a flim flam spiritualist, they come forth even if not summoned if random circumstance requires their presence.
Speaking of practical considerations, my budgetary restrictions currently restrain me from traveling beyond Akron, Ohio with or without imaginary personalities as companions. While Akron is my home and familiar and an actual place to me; it just has so many places and things in it capable to be classified as somewhere or something by the observing but uninterested world. As I travel about my area and region fearful in my car, fearful of encountering a check engine light, or if navigating by foot, fretful of a leg cramp from aging, my ruminations and anxieties are relieved by my imaginary historical companions.
Today I am traveling by stage coach on ancient unpaved roads from Warren, Ohio bound for a small Inn East of Cleveland for a night's lodging and fine repast. Of course I am really in my car alone, but Karl Marx the writer and philosopher is sharing the coach with me, for as they say an interesting companion on the road is as good as a fine coach. The stage coach delusion started a few miles back with a historical marker and Karl Marx has been conversing with me since on our mutual messy houses, his lovely wife Jenny and why Akron no longer has many fine Jewish delicatessens. We avoid politics for now, and discussing Nietzsche a subject which agitates us both.
End part 1
part 2
I am with two very intelligent women, Emily Dickinson and Virginia Woolf, and while I usually preferred Debi's or a couple of Mary-Ann's for company, these two literary ladies are interesting to talk to. Both are a little gloomy at times, Emily is really quite shy and Adeline [Virginia except to close friends] has her good and bad days and Adeline is prone to too much detail in her stories, but both are excellent companions on this trip to the Cleveland Museum of Art to view the Tilman Riemenschneider carvings. Excuse me for a moment, Emily insists, she can't be appropriate company unless she exercises her demons and worries about death, so to that end I promised her a short story"
Story in a story [for Emily]
A new Catholic priest is called in a severe snow storm to hear an emergency confession. He is barely qualified to hear a confession because he has only 90 days on the job and has only been called because he lives close and is young and strong enough to make it on foot through the severe snowstorm which has knocked out all power and communications at a small nursing home in Ohio.
An elderly man is dieing very soon and must be forgiven for his sins. He tells the priest he is terrified of dieing and eternal damnation because of two horrible sins he committed. First while working as a grave digger as a young man he for a joke, used to switch the coffins into different graves than the ones bought and assigned to them. Secondly he had lead a life of skulduggery typical to successful businessmen in our times.
The priest who couldn't consult any authority on how to proceed, because of the snow storm, felt uncomfortable with forgiving the man even though remorseful because the dieing man waited to the very last minute to atone. The priest also will not lessen the mans fears of eternal damnation by using convenient materialistic arguments such as those of skeptic and philosopher David Hume, [ see Dalai Lama's Dream- same author] and the priest decides to give the man with only a few days to live a task to perform to earn his forgiveness and allow him to leave this life at peace.
There are twenty boxes of dominoes at the recreation room at this nursing home and the priest tells the sinner he must construct a church of dominoes and kneel inside and pray for forgiveness. He must use every domino and there must be no artificial support to the structure.
Three weeks have past since the meeting with the Priest in the snowstorm and the man is still working on his tower of babel. It keeps collapsing when he gets in to pray but he is feeling well and wakes every morning with a strong desire to work on his new project.
end
Virginia [ I am tired of calling her Adeline] is telling me about her ideal apartment, at length and length and she won't eat her food in the cafeteria at the Art Museum [ i worry about her weight, she looks of a skeleton]. I listen politely but really want to talk to Emily about her lack of writing success in her lifetime. Maybe later for Virginia wants to go along the lake Erie shore and find a lighthouse.
End part 2
Part 3
This will be a great lunch for I am with the writers Paul Theroux and Bill Bryson, two of my favorites. I have tricked them into lunch at the West Point market in my hometown. Both are skeptical of my claims of it's greatness and both are sniping at each other out of mutual jealousy as writers; putting me in an awkward position for both are heroes of mine.
end part 3
part 4
I have finally went too far. I have angered
God with my writing. While driving along the expressway south recently I stopped to help an old man having trouble with his car and later conclusive evidence has proved him, the old man with car trouble, to be the one and only God and as he gets into my car for me to take him to get some car parts in the next town, God says he has been waiting to talk to me. This is important so I think I will start a new blog story with what he wants.
End part 4
End Local Travel with Imaginary or Dead Characters from History
end
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Paternal Instinct
Paternal Instinct
fiction
edward w pritchard
I was in College and during that fall semester I worked as a part-time cook at a local bar.
The bar sold mostly alcohol of course and only sold food to keep the patrons from going to a restaurant or home to eat in the early evenings. There was a limited menu and most everything was deep fried which was just as well because I wasn't that good of cook. The patrons didn't mind however, and ordered french fries, fried fish or deep fried vegetables with their drinks.
There was a more extensive menu on weekends but then the owner's sister cooked. The owner was a fat old Greek guy and he didn't care what I did between orders during the week, so I often sat in the back at a small table and studied for school making it an ideal job for a college student.
About a month into the job, the owner hired a waitress, who was a woman he had been fooling around with and she worked four nights during the week, 4 to 10PM. This was of no concern to me because she was not attractive to me, and I would have ignored her except she had a remarkable little daughter of about 8 years old who would sit in the kitchen with me while her Mother worked. The little girl was nearly perfect and took care of herself for the most part, which was just as well, because her Mom was not all that good as a Mother, although she did care for the little girl.
The little girl would sit and read or color and although we didn't say much we got to be friends and although I didn't know much about children I began to feel paternal towards her. I will add that I had a few girl friends with children but as I was with most of the women in my life I had been in the past selfish and concerned only with my own interests.
The little girl would come in hungry from school all day and it was OK with the owner, so I would fix her something to eat.
Eventually I became aware that "bar" food was not that good for the little girl, and I started to try and make healthier food for her out of the ingredients at hand in the small kitchen. Using what was there, I began to make her Greek salad with tomatoes, onions and cucumber, eggs and cheese or chicken fingers.
Sometimes it was drafty in the kitchen and once I had went to a flea market near the college and bought the little girl an old colorful Indian blanket to wrap up in.
That's how I learned to like and respect children, and that Fall at that Greek restaurant I found a new part of myself that I didn't know existed. Looking back years later on that, and knowing my true nature on the inside, I realize that taking care of children must be instinctive, even for selfish men.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I was in College and during that fall semester I worked as a part-time cook at a local bar.
The bar sold mostly alcohol of course and only sold food to keep the patrons from going to a restaurant or home to eat in the early evenings. There was a limited menu and most everything was deep fried which was just as well because I wasn't that good of cook. The patrons didn't mind however, and ordered french fries, fried fish or deep fried vegetables with their drinks.
There was a more extensive menu on weekends but then the owner's sister cooked. The owner was a fat old Greek guy and he didn't care what I did between orders during the week, so I often sat in the back at a small table and studied for school making it an ideal job for a college student.
About a month into the job, the owner hired a waitress, who was a woman he had been fooling around with and she worked four nights during the week, 4 to 10PM. This was of no concern to me because she was not attractive to me, and I would have ignored her except she had a remarkable little daughter of about 8 years old who would sit in the kitchen with me while her Mother worked. The little girl was nearly perfect and took care of herself for the most part, which was just as well, because her Mom was not all that good as a Mother, although she did care for the little girl.
The little girl would sit and read or color and although we didn't say much we got to be friends and although I didn't know much about children I began to feel paternal towards her. I will add that I had a few girl friends with children but as I was with most of the women in my life I had been in the past selfish and concerned only with my own interests.
The little girl would come in hungry from school all day and it was OK with the owner, so I would fix her something to eat.
Eventually I became aware that "bar" food was not that good for the little girl, and I started to try and make healthier food for her out of the ingredients at hand in the small kitchen. Using what was there, I began to make her Greek salad with tomatoes, onions and cucumber, eggs and cheese or chicken fingers.
Sometimes it was drafty in the kitchen and once I had went to a flea market near the college and bought the little girl an old colorful Indian blanket to wrap up in.
That's how I learned to like and respect children, and that Fall at that Greek restaurant I found a new part of myself that I didn't know existed. Looking back years later on that, and knowing my true nature on the inside, I realize that taking care of children must be instinctive, even for selfish men.
A Bad Boy
A Bad Boy
For Bella
fiction
edward w pritchard
When I was three years old I was sitting in our back yard smoking a cigar and eating an apple. When I finished the apple I threw the core and hit the fence of the old lady next door. She saw me do it and yelled at me and called me a bad boy.
I wanted to get back at her so since she was lonely and old and alone I decided to play a trick on her.
The old lady had a cat that could talk. In fact it was the only talking cat in the world.
One night when the old lady was asleep I sneaked into her yard and taught the cat how to speak French. In the morning the cat had forgotten English, the old lady's language; and the old lady and the cat could no longer understand each other. Although the cat continued to live at the house the cat and the old lady didn't speak to each other at all anymore.
I guess I was always a mean and bad little boy like that old lady said.
For Bella
fiction
edward w pritchard
When I was three years old I was sitting in our back yard smoking a cigar and eating an apple. When I finished the apple I threw the core and hit the fence of the old lady next door. She saw me do it and yelled at me and called me a bad boy.
I wanted to get back at her so since she was lonely and old and alone I decided to play a trick on her.
The old lady had a cat that could talk. In fact it was the only talking cat in the world.
One night when the old lady was asleep I sneaked into her yard and taught the cat how to speak French. In the morning the cat had forgotten English, the old lady's language; and the old lady and the cat could no longer understand each other. Although the cat continued to live at the house the cat and the old lady didn't speak to each other at all anymore.
I guess I was always a mean and bad little boy like that old lady said.
Reflected Memory
Reflected Memory
fiction
edward w Pritchard
Business began to drop off rapidly at the main train station in Milan, Italy after ghosts began to appear in the gray marble wall on the large wide stair case leading to the main concourse. Railway and foot traffic remained busy because of the strategic location of Milan, but when people began to see terrifying apparitions, related income sources at the station such as sales of newspapers, coffee, tea, gum, and candy all but stopped because of the commotion caused by the sightings. However, it wasn't until a British Insurance Company received a claim for business interruption insurance by a large American fast food company that decisive efforts were undertaken to locate, understand and remove the ghosts.
As soon as the assigned insurance Adjuster walked down the stairs in the train station he himself saw and understood the ghost phenomena.
To the world the adjuster would appear as an over-weight, balding, and rather uninteresting middle aged business man. But, the adjuster had once been young, and the apple of someone's eye who he had since lost.
As soon as the adjuster looked at the marble wall, where the people reported seeing terrifying reflections, he saw the reflection of a beautiful young girl in a red dress and immediately understood the ghost problem in Milan. For his worst fear, his horror, was to be reminded of that distant heartache of his lost love, and seeing his young love again in the wall, in spite of his long efforts to forget her, was his terrifying reality that he saw reflected in the gray marble wall.
Now the adjuster could tackle the source of the business interruption insurance claim head-on. Everyone must see the apparition that was most terrifying to them. It wasn't exactly that no-one saw a ghost that wasn't really themselves, but that they saw their own repressed fears.
As he began to work-out a solution to the problem, the adjuster willed himself not to think of the girl in the red dress, and focused on the business at hand of how to deny the Insurance claim.
fiction
edward w Pritchard
Business began to drop off rapidly at the main train station in Milan, Italy after ghosts began to appear in the gray marble wall on the large wide stair case leading to the main concourse. Railway and foot traffic remained busy because of the strategic location of Milan, but when people began to see terrifying apparitions, related income sources at the station such as sales of newspapers, coffee, tea, gum, and candy all but stopped because of the commotion caused by the sightings. However, it wasn't until a British Insurance Company received a claim for business interruption insurance by a large American fast food company that decisive efforts were undertaken to locate, understand and remove the ghosts.
As soon as the assigned insurance Adjuster walked down the stairs in the train station he himself saw and understood the ghost phenomena.
To the world the adjuster would appear as an over-weight, balding, and rather uninteresting middle aged business man. But, the adjuster had once been young, and the apple of someone's eye who he had since lost.
As soon as the adjuster looked at the marble wall, where the people reported seeing terrifying reflections, he saw the reflection of a beautiful young girl in a red dress and immediately understood the ghost problem in Milan. For his worst fear, his horror, was to be reminded of that distant heartache of his lost love, and seeing his young love again in the wall, in spite of his long efforts to forget her, was his terrifying reality that he saw reflected in the gray marble wall.
Now the adjuster could tackle the source of the business interruption insurance claim head-on. Everyone must see the apparition that was most terrifying to them. It wasn't exactly that no-one saw a ghost that wasn't really themselves, but that they saw their own repressed fears.
As he began to work-out a solution to the problem, the adjuster willed himself not to think of the girl in the red dress, and focused on the business at hand of how to deny the Insurance claim.
The Sultan's Favorite Son
The Sultan's Favorite Son
fiction
edward w pritchard
see "The Wandering Beggar who Impersonated Jesus" February blog for more on Turkey, and author's affection for Turkish History
My Father is the Sultan in Ottoman Turkey and I am one of his favorites. My Mother is pushing me to please my Father so I will be chosen from the 50 or so possible candidates to be the next sultan.
All well and good and I would enjoy the privilege and power that go with being Sultan. What stands between me and that privilege and power is trying to master the complexity of Turkish history. I am not complaining, but other than India or China, what Country could have such a complex and elaborate history as our Country of Turkey commutative to this year of 1905? Additionally I bet even India or China don't push young scholars as hard as my Country does.
I often dream of running away from the Amasya, which is where us young princes are sent to be educated. I know I am not alone in my dreams, for my fellow students often tell me that they also dream of warfare, being heroes, and following a strong leader if one would come along. For now however, I struggle to study with audacity and temerity to prepare myself for my Country's destiny.
Look more on this later- Ataturk [the Father of Turkey] visits the Amasya
fiction
edward w pritchard
see "The Wandering Beggar who Impersonated Jesus" February blog for more on Turkey, and author's affection for Turkish History
My Father is the Sultan in Ottoman Turkey and I am one of his favorites. My Mother is pushing me to please my Father so I will be chosen from the 50 or so possible candidates to be the next sultan.
All well and good and I would enjoy the privilege and power that go with being Sultan. What stands between me and that privilege and power is trying to master the complexity of Turkish history. I am not complaining, but other than India or China, what Country could have such a complex and elaborate history as our Country of Turkey commutative to this year of 1905? Additionally I bet even India or China don't push young scholars as hard as my Country does.
I often dream of running away from the Amasya, which is where us young princes are sent to be educated. I know I am not alone in my dreams, for my fellow students often tell me that they also dream of warfare, being heroes, and following a strong leader if one would come along. For now however, I struggle to study with audacity and temerity to prepare myself for my Country's destiny.
Look more on this later- Ataturk [the Father of Turkey] visits the Amasya
Green Stamps Come to China
Green Stamps Come to China
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also Green Stamps and China- march blog
When we were kids in America in the 1950's if one had a good organized Mother and an average or more amount of income in the household the family would collect Green Stamps. It was quite exciting.
Green Stamps were given as a premium with each cash purchase and had originated in the 1890's, but were most popular in the 1950's as households began to consume lavishly. In a time before credit cards they were a rebate, depending on dollars spent and additionally because of the gifts they generated mildly encouraged spurious consumption. Green stamps came in varying amounts and were given at time of purchase by the selling merchant and the family then rushed home and put the stamps in a premium book to be saved until enough stamps were collected to trade them in at a special location for gifts displayed on the premises. The business model of the green stamps was similar to postal stamps, sold at schools to encourage saving habits in good children. The postal stamp model was similar to war bonds that had been sold in America in World war two to finance the war debt. However, the excitement of green stamps and their other color "stamp" competitors was primarily because they could be traded in for neat stuff, like picnic baskets, imported dishes, baseball gloves, things for Dad's car, lawn chairs for vacations and things for Mom around the house. The practice and popularity of the stamps went out of vogue in America because of the increasing sophistication of the American consumer and the growth in credit cards and revolving debt. In the 1990's the original company that started the program way back in the last century sold the company in a spin off and although the idea attempted several comebacks in America, to date it is a passe product in America.
Not so for green stamps in China in 2012. The concept was exported from America to China and was reborn with a vengeance because of the rapid growth in the Chinese consumer market and the gambling tendencies of the Chinese population.
In fact a powerful trade war is now being waged between the United States and China because of the green stamp product; with the Chinese calling it a virus exported from America to China and the US companies involved claiming they are helping to bring the Chinese consumer into the twenty first century and bring Chinese households the conveniences of modern life.
end part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
see also Green Stamps and China- march blog
When we were kids in America in the 1950's if one had a good organized Mother and an average or more amount of income in the household the family would collect Green Stamps. It was quite exciting.
Green Stamps were given as a premium with each cash purchase and had originated in the 1890's, but were most popular in the 1950's as households began to consume lavishly. In a time before credit cards they were a rebate, depending on dollars spent and additionally because of the gifts they generated mildly encouraged spurious consumption. Green stamps came in varying amounts and were given at time of purchase by the selling merchant and the family then rushed home and put the stamps in a premium book to be saved until enough stamps were collected to trade them in at a special location for gifts displayed on the premises. The business model of the green stamps was similar to postal stamps, sold at schools to encourage saving habits in good children. The postal stamp model was similar to war bonds that had been sold in America in World war two to finance the war debt. However, the excitement of green stamps and their other color "stamp" competitors was primarily because they could be traded in for neat stuff, like picnic baskets, imported dishes, baseball gloves, things for Dad's car, lawn chairs for vacations and things for Mom around the house. The practice and popularity of the stamps went out of vogue in America because of the increasing sophistication of the American consumer and the growth in credit cards and revolving debt. In the 1990's the original company that started the program way back in the last century sold the company in a spin off and although the idea attempted several comebacks in America, to date it is a passe product in America.
Not so for green stamps in China in 2012. The concept was exported from America to China and was reborn with a vengeance because of the rapid growth in the Chinese consumer market and the gambling tendencies of the Chinese population.
In fact a powerful trade war is now being waged between the United States and China because of the green stamp product; with the Chinese calling it a virus exported from America to China and the US companies involved claiming they are helping to bring the Chinese consumer into the twenty first century and bring Chinese households the conveniences of modern life.
end part 2
Monday, March 15, 2010
A Parable of how to rule a Large Country
fiction
edward w pritchard
The emperor of Rome was in those days the most powerful and influential man on earth. One day at his morning meetings with his advisers a visitor brought the Roman Emperor a gift from a far away Eastern Country beyond the known world and far beyond the Emperor's realm. It was a beautiful piece of jewel, called jade exquisitely cut with perfect edges, glowing a warm and enticing shade of green, exuding tranquility and obviously priceless. Along with the finished piece was a much larger uncut and unfinished and unpolished piece of jade in its raw and natural form. The second piece was of the same mineral and was wrapped in a note from the far away Eastern Country saying;
Dear Great Leader of Rome:
I am considered the greatest and most powerful ruler in my part of the world. I humbly confess that I and my subjects, experts and minions have been unable to develop the technology to cut and refine the second larger piece of Jade, although we did process the first piece. It is my understand that no-one in the great world yet knows how to cut a larger piece. If you will work on developing the skill and technology in your Country to cut the large piece of jade it would be appreciated and someday may be of great value to humanity. You, honorable noble Roman emperor may please keep the first piece of jade for you troubles in this matter.
This is the parable of leadership-subtitled How to rule a large Country
.
fiction
edward w pritchard
The emperor of Rome was in those days the most powerful and influential man on earth. One day at his morning meetings with his advisers a visitor brought the Roman Emperor a gift from a far away Eastern Country beyond the known world and far beyond the Emperor's realm. It was a beautiful piece of jewel, called jade exquisitely cut with perfect edges, glowing a warm and enticing shade of green, exuding tranquility and obviously priceless. Along with the finished piece was a much larger uncut and unfinished and unpolished piece of jade in its raw and natural form. The second piece was of the same mineral and was wrapped in a note from the far away Eastern Country saying;
Dear Great Leader of Rome:
I am considered the greatest and most powerful ruler in my part of the world. I humbly confess that I and my subjects, experts and minions have been unable to develop the technology to cut and refine the second larger piece of Jade, although we did process the first piece. It is my understand that no-one in the great world yet knows how to cut a larger piece. If you will work on developing the skill and technology in your Country to cut the large piece of jade it would be appreciated and someday may be of great value to humanity. You, honorable noble Roman emperor may please keep the first piece of jade for you troubles in this matter.
This is the parable of leadership-subtitled How to rule a large Country
.
The Confession
The Confession
fiction
edward w pritchard
See the Young girl involved in a Scandal
Part of My Consciousness runs backwards
against times forward flying arrow
starting with the promised mystic reunion
back through life's pains and injuries
back to mortal birth
and before as a tree in a forest
to small life near the ground
to debris in shale
to matter in water
without awareness at the beginning
waiting
The Confession
The chief of the tribe shouted firmly over the clamor " the old woman will be permitted to speak'.
The old woman had invoked an ancient tradition that in times of stress to the tribe, any voice could be heard, even an old woman who had been away from the group for 77 years.
The crowd quieted respectfully for the chief, but especially the young braves eyed the food on the tables along the River. They had been working for two days without proper rest or food and now wanted to relax and eat. They had listened politely as tribal elders for the last few hours had talked, and the last few speakers had disregarded the Indian tradition of brevity and direct speaking and used the occasion to drone on and on with praises for themselves and their clans.
The occasion was the completion of a fort a [Swedish style] log structure on the [ Cuyahoga] River to honor the tribes fallen and dead in the recent [French and Indian, Seven Years ] War, and to serve as a permanent deterrent to White and European advancement into the area. There had been initial dissent against the project, because permanent structures were frowned on as either ostentatious or impractical to a mobile people. However, some of the young braves had learned the log building technique from European [Lutheran] missionaries, while traveling and trading out of the area, and in truth their finished fortress, because of their knowledge of and respect for the forest and trees in the area, and their teamwork as a group in building, surpassed that of even the European Whites, although the rest of the tribe would have to take that on faith as there were as yet no other White built structures in this area. And so with the setting western sun going down directly over the structure, and the tribe happy with the redistribution of wealth that such a project had brought, all were now happy with the project except this lone old woman who wished to criticize the project. The old woman had been forced to summarize her position as a condition of being allowed to speak and had been only given 10 minutes, half the normal time. Even so, some of the elders objected to her speaking because they distrusted her for several reasons. She had 77 years ago left the tribe in a scandal,they long since forgotten why,[ see young girl involved in a scandal EWP] her Father had been a very powerful leader, of a faction now out of power, and she was known herself as skilled and manipulative speaker.
Most fears against the old woman subsided as she very slowly shuffled to the make shift podium. She was very old, frail and when she began to speak, it became apparent that her voice was soft and didn't carry well with the noise of the river, and a soft breeze, and she had a strange accent to the tribe's ears.
She began by bowing to the chief and nodding to each of the religious leaders who all could be seen to lean forward to hear her. Despite the softness of her voice, her words were very well chosen and no-one could remember hearing a better speaker.
As she had bowed to the chief he had smiled warmly at her because he knew her because there had been several incidents in the woman's cooking area back at the village because of her, mainly because many of the younger powerful women of the tribe, were strangely jealous and catty toward this new member of the group. She was a [welfare case] with no living male relatives and had just returned to this tribe with the chief's approval to live out her last days with the people of her birth. The chief's intervention had lead him to know this old woman, and he knew she was guilty of two main infractions, being too good of a cook and thereby causing jealousy, and of taking care of the children readily, and was often then taken advantage by young Mother's in the village. It was the chief who had permitted the woman to speak today and she began as follows:
I am nearly 100 years old. I was born here, my Uncle was a Chief [ legendary for fighting the Whites far from here] and my Father was his first adviser. I was forced to leave here because of a political scandal and went from [ Ohio to Georgia] to an arranged marriage. I lived there for nearly twenty years until the death of my husband which I caused, and then went to [Europe-England] with 5 other Indians where I lived with the Whites for 52 years.
You could now hear a pin drop in the village because this was a very unusual story and this lady obviously had very important information about the Whites to share with the tribe.
At this point one brave impulsively brought the old woman some cold water, and a bench to sit on and she thanked him and continued:
I first thank you for your hospitality here, i know i am a welfare case and am most grateful to be able to cook and assist you with watching you children two activities I value above all others. At this more than one young Mother shifted in their seats because many had left her children with the old woman far beyond what was appropriate to pursue their personal interests. Also a few of the braves nodded because this old woman's cooking was without peer and she enjoyed feeding a man her cooking which often caused jealousy among the other women.
When I got to Georgia I was 16 years old, still in love with a brave from this tribe [ in Ohio] and was considered like my Mother Seyo [ a woman used as a stock example of beauty even now] beautiful, but unlike my Mother I was headstrong and stubborn. The woman had adopted an old confessional style dialogue, and it was considered impolite to directly look at her face, when she talked in this matter, likewise using the confessional dialogue allowed her to speak factually of personal matters, and she could be truthful without fear of modesty or bragging.
The man I was sent to Georgia to marry was a good man but I never loved him in the twenty years we were together. To compensate for my lack of love, I decided that we would be the wealthiest Indian family in the area. [this tribe in Georgia, was known for being like the Whites, materialistic and money crazy] unlike the tribe in Ohio, who were now listening to her, and this tribe was uncomfortable by this statement by her.
In time we had a white style farm with over 100 acres and many buildings. As an example I had 5 skillets in my kitchen [ many gasped at this]. One day, nearly 12 years after our wedding, although I took many steps to avoid it, I became pregnant.
We both loved our new baby daughter very much and for several years we were happy. However, although My husband and I were healthy and strong in the normal Indian way, my daughter was sickly and constantly had to be kept indoors, although it is much warmer there than here.
One day my sick daughter of 7 years was watching me cook a large meal, for my husband and some hired help who were working the farm, and the two of us watched the men through a glass window, and my Daughter then said something that changed my life.The men were doing a [ run and swing a string and ball in the fields to drive away locusts], which is a very exhausting activity, and my daughter said"
"Mother I can't imagine my ever feeling well enough to run'".
At these words my heart became broken and i vowed to do everything and anything to make my daughter well. I also became evil toward my husband because I blamed him for being unable to cure her. The old woman was now just about crying and speaking very softly in the confessional style, and everyone politely avoided her face.
My husband tried many things to help our daughter and we spent a very large amount of money on quack remedies to cure her but nothing worked and she became sicker and sicker. Finally the medicine man of the village told my husband that he feared the little girl would soon die. My husband told me this, and he began to accept this situation passively in the normal Indian way, as god's will, and sought to make the girl comfortable and as happy as possible. I however, refused to accept this situation, and began to hate my husband more than ever.
It happened that a famous White Doctor was touring the area. He was from [Europe] and world famous among the whites and had studied medicine in [Scotland] and his skill was much more advanced than Indian medicine. I went to see him and explained my motivations and offered him a large sum of money to cure my daughter. He agreed to see my daughter, accepted a small sum, and then told us he couldn't help her and basically said the same thing the Indian medicine man had said.
Since I was unable to convince the Doctor with money, I offered myself sexually to the Doctor, for I was then very beautiful and often was desired by the Whites.
However, this Doctor was a christian man and said to me that no one could cure the girl and suggested I learn to deal with the situation, as my husband, who he had just met appeared to be doing. A few weeks later my daughter died and in my anger I shook my fist at god, [ this was an extreme sacrilege to this tribe] and told my husband about my advances toward the Doctor, and I grew more evil and disrespectful toward my husband. In time my husband became unable to look me in the eye, and we had an unhappy marriage until he died a few years later. I might add that he was never mean or cruel to me during that time and this made people in the village hate me.
After He died I was very unpopular with his tribe, and when some English people wanted some Indians to go to [London] to see the King I went , and no-one was sad to see me go. I became a cook then in several English households for over 50 years.
While in England- [she now gave a brief description of the industrial revolution in England-circa- 1750] she told of how the technology of the English impacted, economic life, warfare and population in Europe and here in [Ohio] and what she thought were the implications for Indian society on the shores of [Lake Erie].
These Indians were minimalist and close to nature but all quickly realized what she had said meant to their way of life. Intrinsically many people had known her conclusions previously, but now there was factual proof, and it was quickly decided to destroy the fort, as it would not stop the European advance into the area when they choose to come.
With the last words the old woman said:
" I have truthfully spoken my heart and I will say no more" and then began the 20 mile walk back south to the Lake village. No-one rose to help her, not out of anger, but because it would be dis-respectful and wrong to embarrass this noble woman who had explained and come to peace with her sins.
The only other fact is after that day the old woman was honored in the village and in other local Indian villages, for both her cooking and her wisdom until her death a few years later. It is a little known fact to this day that long after the destruction of that village and way of life of those Indians, among the whites, and in their cookbooks , there is a complicated way to make a turtle soup, known as tuhan style, which was that old lady's name, and not, as it is often thought, a French name for turtle soup; a turtle soup originating during the French and Indian Wars near Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River.
end
fiction
edward w pritchard
See the Young girl involved in a Scandal
Part of My Consciousness runs backwards
against times forward flying arrow
starting with the promised mystic reunion
back through life's pains and injuries
back to mortal birth
and before as a tree in a forest
to small life near the ground
to debris in shale
to matter in water
without awareness at the beginning
waiting
The Confession
The chief of the tribe shouted firmly over the clamor " the old woman will be permitted to speak'.
The old woman had invoked an ancient tradition that in times of stress to the tribe, any voice could be heard, even an old woman who had been away from the group for 77 years.
The crowd quieted respectfully for the chief, but especially the young braves eyed the food on the tables along the River. They had been working for two days without proper rest or food and now wanted to relax and eat. They had listened politely as tribal elders for the last few hours had talked, and the last few speakers had disregarded the Indian tradition of brevity and direct speaking and used the occasion to drone on and on with praises for themselves and their clans.
The occasion was the completion of a fort a [Swedish style] log structure on the [ Cuyahoga] River to honor the tribes fallen and dead in the recent [French and Indian, Seven Years ] War, and to serve as a permanent deterrent to White and European advancement into the area. There had been initial dissent against the project, because permanent structures were frowned on as either ostentatious or impractical to a mobile people. However, some of the young braves had learned the log building technique from European [Lutheran] missionaries, while traveling and trading out of the area, and in truth their finished fortress, because of their knowledge of and respect for the forest and trees in the area, and their teamwork as a group in building, surpassed that of even the European Whites, although the rest of the tribe would have to take that on faith as there were as yet no other White built structures in this area. And so with the setting western sun going down directly over the structure, and the tribe happy with the redistribution of wealth that such a project had brought, all were now happy with the project except this lone old woman who wished to criticize the project. The old woman had been forced to summarize her position as a condition of being allowed to speak and had been only given 10 minutes, half the normal time. Even so, some of the elders objected to her speaking because they distrusted her for several reasons. She had 77 years ago left the tribe in a scandal,they long since forgotten why,[ see young girl involved in a scandal EWP] her Father had been a very powerful leader, of a faction now out of power, and she was known herself as skilled and manipulative speaker.
Most fears against the old woman subsided as she very slowly shuffled to the make shift podium. She was very old, frail and when she began to speak, it became apparent that her voice was soft and didn't carry well with the noise of the river, and a soft breeze, and she had a strange accent to the tribe's ears.
She began by bowing to the chief and nodding to each of the religious leaders who all could be seen to lean forward to hear her. Despite the softness of her voice, her words were very well chosen and no-one could remember hearing a better speaker.
As she had bowed to the chief he had smiled warmly at her because he knew her because there had been several incidents in the woman's cooking area back at the village because of her, mainly because many of the younger powerful women of the tribe, were strangely jealous and catty toward this new member of the group. She was a [welfare case] with no living male relatives and had just returned to this tribe with the chief's approval to live out her last days with the people of her birth. The chief's intervention had lead him to know this old woman, and he knew she was guilty of two main infractions, being too good of a cook and thereby causing jealousy, and of taking care of the children readily, and was often then taken advantage by young Mother's in the village. It was the chief who had permitted the woman to speak today and she began as follows:
I am nearly 100 years old. I was born here, my Uncle was a Chief [ legendary for fighting the Whites far from here] and my Father was his first adviser. I was forced to leave here because of a political scandal and went from [ Ohio to Georgia] to an arranged marriage. I lived there for nearly twenty years until the death of my husband which I caused, and then went to [Europe-England] with 5 other Indians where I lived with the Whites for 52 years.
You could now hear a pin drop in the village because this was a very unusual story and this lady obviously had very important information about the Whites to share with the tribe.
At this point one brave impulsively brought the old woman some cold water, and a bench to sit on and she thanked him and continued:
I first thank you for your hospitality here, i know i am a welfare case and am most grateful to be able to cook and assist you with watching you children two activities I value above all others. At this more than one young Mother shifted in their seats because many had left her children with the old woman far beyond what was appropriate to pursue their personal interests. Also a few of the braves nodded because this old woman's cooking was without peer and she enjoyed feeding a man her cooking which often caused jealousy among the other women.
When I got to Georgia I was 16 years old, still in love with a brave from this tribe [ in Ohio] and was considered like my Mother Seyo [ a woman used as a stock example of beauty even now] beautiful, but unlike my Mother I was headstrong and stubborn. The woman had adopted an old confessional style dialogue, and it was considered impolite to directly look at her face, when she talked in this matter, likewise using the confessional dialogue allowed her to speak factually of personal matters, and she could be truthful without fear of modesty or bragging.
The man I was sent to Georgia to marry was a good man but I never loved him in the twenty years we were together. To compensate for my lack of love, I decided that we would be the wealthiest Indian family in the area. [this tribe in Georgia, was known for being like the Whites, materialistic and money crazy] unlike the tribe in Ohio, who were now listening to her, and this tribe was uncomfortable by this statement by her.
In time we had a white style farm with over 100 acres and many buildings. As an example I had 5 skillets in my kitchen [ many gasped at this]. One day, nearly 12 years after our wedding, although I took many steps to avoid it, I became pregnant.
We both loved our new baby daughter very much and for several years we were happy. However, although My husband and I were healthy and strong in the normal Indian way, my daughter was sickly and constantly had to be kept indoors, although it is much warmer there than here.
One day my sick daughter of 7 years was watching me cook a large meal, for my husband and some hired help who were working the farm, and the two of us watched the men through a glass window, and my Daughter then said something that changed my life.The men were doing a [ run and swing a string and ball in the fields to drive away locusts], which is a very exhausting activity, and my daughter said"
"Mother I can't imagine my ever feeling well enough to run'".
At these words my heart became broken and i vowed to do everything and anything to make my daughter well. I also became evil toward my husband because I blamed him for being unable to cure her. The old woman was now just about crying and speaking very softly in the confessional style, and everyone politely avoided her face.
My husband tried many things to help our daughter and we spent a very large amount of money on quack remedies to cure her but nothing worked and she became sicker and sicker. Finally the medicine man of the village told my husband that he feared the little girl would soon die. My husband told me this, and he began to accept this situation passively in the normal Indian way, as god's will, and sought to make the girl comfortable and as happy as possible. I however, refused to accept this situation, and began to hate my husband more than ever.
It happened that a famous White Doctor was touring the area. He was from [Europe] and world famous among the whites and had studied medicine in [Scotland] and his skill was much more advanced than Indian medicine. I went to see him and explained my motivations and offered him a large sum of money to cure my daughter. He agreed to see my daughter, accepted a small sum, and then told us he couldn't help her and basically said the same thing the Indian medicine man had said.
Since I was unable to convince the Doctor with money, I offered myself sexually to the Doctor, for I was then very beautiful and often was desired by the Whites.
However, this Doctor was a christian man and said to me that no one could cure the girl and suggested I learn to deal with the situation, as my husband, who he had just met appeared to be doing. A few weeks later my daughter died and in my anger I shook my fist at god, [ this was an extreme sacrilege to this tribe] and told my husband about my advances toward the Doctor, and I grew more evil and disrespectful toward my husband. In time my husband became unable to look me in the eye, and we had an unhappy marriage until he died a few years later. I might add that he was never mean or cruel to me during that time and this made people in the village hate me.
After He died I was very unpopular with his tribe, and when some English people wanted some Indians to go to [London] to see the King I went , and no-one was sad to see me go. I became a cook then in several English households for over 50 years.
While in England- [she now gave a brief description of the industrial revolution in England-circa- 1750] she told of how the technology of the English impacted, economic life, warfare and population in Europe and here in [Ohio] and what she thought were the implications for Indian society on the shores of [Lake Erie].
These Indians were minimalist and close to nature but all quickly realized what she had said meant to their way of life. Intrinsically many people had known her conclusions previously, but now there was factual proof, and it was quickly decided to destroy the fort, as it would not stop the European advance into the area when they choose to come.
With the last words the old woman said:
" I have truthfully spoken my heart and I will say no more" and then began the 20 mile walk back south to the Lake village. No-one rose to help her, not out of anger, but because it would be dis-respectful and wrong to embarrass this noble woman who had explained and come to peace with her sins.
The only other fact is after that day the old woman was honored in the village and in other local Indian villages, for both her cooking and her wisdom until her death a few years later. It is a little known fact to this day that long after the destruction of that village and way of life of those Indians, among the whites, and in their cookbooks , there is a complicated way to make a turtle soup, known as tuhan style, which was that old lady's name, and not, as it is often thought, a French name for turtle soup; a turtle soup originating during the French and Indian Wars near Lake Erie and the Cuyahoga River.
end
A Young Girl Involved in a Scandal
A Young Girl Involved in a Scandal
fiction
edward w pritchard
One Only Life's Myopic Prospective
Love unfolded quickly,
like a origami puzzle when I saw your face.
I thought bliss was eternal,
later after dissolution and deaths
I saw instead that the puzzle unfolded geometrically,
and your face and the hand that I thought I held
were actually myself and filled all of space.
As I now float through eternity alone,
sometimes I remember your eyes,
and for a few moments remember how, before enlightenment,
I thought there were others in vast space besides myself.
A scandal had occurred in the village and of course the old women had uncovered it. They cooked in a group upwind from the village and had been the first to see the young couple returning together to the village and the old women had first observed how the couple were dressed.
Normally the matter while it would be subject of gossip would have been of little general interest after a day or two and anyone with their own problems would have forgot the incident by now and assumed the families of the young brave and girl involved would handle the matter in private where it belonged.
However, since the girl involved uncle was the chief's counselor and adviser the matter dragged on publicly long beyond what was appropriate for a sexual matter.
One bright morning following a long heavy rain the night before a young couple had went for a walk along the river. There was nothing per say wrong with that but it was frowned upon because that is where braves often took young girls and in respectable families a brother or cousin with a strong arm and a quick temper would follow as the families eyes in the matter.
However on this day the sky was very blue, the girl was beautiful and delicate and had went voluntarily with the brave. When they got to a grove of trees along the river, a light breeze had picked up and the wind in the trees overhanging the path along the river, had caused the rain from the leaves high up in the trees to gently drop in a small waterfall on the couple walking beneath. With the bright sun, blue sky, warm breeze, and murmur from the rushing river, both the brave and the girl had removed their shirts and stood a few moments together in the dropping water.
Later when they returned to the village the old women cooking had noticed something seemed amiss and spread the word through the village, although it was none of their business.
The girl involved had a Father who loved her very much, and remembering how he had been with her mother was inclined to forget the matter after scaring the brave a little for face saving, by visiting the brave with a couple of his sons.
However, because of political considerations and the turmoil of the times at this moment the scandal refused to die down and the girl involved was sent from [Ohio] to another part of the tribe in [Georgia] to live with relatives there.
Remembering the incident, the very old woman, who had once been that beautiful girl looked up at those same trees today as she walked along the River, and heard the River's murmur and relived in her mind the incident with the raindrops; before she limped back to her place in the village. As she returned to the cooking area, upwind of camp, the other cooking women noticed she had a particular smile on he face, and that smile remained on her wrinkled old face as she resumed her cooking duties.
end
part 1
fiction
edward w pritchard
One Only Life's Myopic Prospective
Love unfolded quickly,
like a origami puzzle when I saw your face.
I thought bliss was eternal,
later after dissolution and deaths
I saw instead that the puzzle unfolded geometrically,
and your face and the hand that I thought I held
were actually myself and filled all of space.
As I now float through eternity alone,
sometimes I remember your eyes,
and for a few moments remember how, before enlightenment,
I thought there were others in vast space besides myself.
A scandal had occurred in the village and of course the old women had uncovered it. They cooked in a group upwind from the village and had been the first to see the young couple returning together to the village and the old women had first observed how the couple were dressed.
Normally the matter while it would be subject of gossip would have been of little general interest after a day or two and anyone with their own problems would have forgot the incident by now and assumed the families of the young brave and girl involved would handle the matter in private where it belonged.
However, since the girl involved uncle was the chief's counselor and adviser the matter dragged on publicly long beyond what was appropriate for a sexual matter.
One bright morning following a long heavy rain the night before a young couple had went for a walk along the river. There was nothing per say wrong with that but it was frowned upon because that is where braves often took young girls and in respectable families a brother or cousin with a strong arm and a quick temper would follow as the families eyes in the matter.
However on this day the sky was very blue, the girl was beautiful and delicate and had went voluntarily with the brave. When they got to a grove of trees along the river, a light breeze had picked up and the wind in the trees overhanging the path along the river, had caused the rain from the leaves high up in the trees to gently drop in a small waterfall on the couple walking beneath. With the bright sun, blue sky, warm breeze, and murmur from the rushing river, both the brave and the girl had removed their shirts and stood a few moments together in the dropping water.
Later when they returned to the village the old women cooking had noticed something seemed amiss and spread the word through the village, although it was none of their business.
The girl involved had a Father who loved her very much, and remembering how he had been with her mother was inclined to forget the matter after scaring the brave a little for face saving, by visiting the brave with a couple of his sons.
However, because of political considerations and the turmoil of the times at this moment the scandal refused to die down and the girl involved was sent from [Ohio] to another part of the tribe in [Georgia] to live with relatives there.
Remembering the incident, the very old woman, who had once been that beautiful girl looked up at those same trees today as she walked along the River, and heard the River's murmur and relived in her mind the incident with the raindrops; before she limped back to her place in the village. As she returned to the cooking area, upwind of camp, the other cooking women noticed she had a particular smile on he face, and that smile remained on her wrinkled old face as she resumed her cooking duties.
end
part 1
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Lady Policeman
The Lady Policeman
fiction
edward w pritchard
I didn't know my grandfather too well. He and my grandmother had divorced when I was young so we mostly saw him at family gatherings, although such visits were brief because his ex-wife, my grandmother, seemed to feel that she had first rights of possession to the family and he more or less complied. Once in a while my grandfather would come to one of my football games, or he and my Dad and I would go fishing , and the two of them had taught me to box, but other than that I didn't see him too much.
I was surprised how much smaller he looked when I saw him recently. He had lost muscle and weight and was a lot smaller than my Dad, and was probably forty pounds smaller than I am now and a couple of inches shorter than I remember him, probably due to shrinkage from aging, from being over 70. I work out a lot and know a lot of big guys from playing college football but I was still surprised to see how much smaller grandpa seemed that day.
We were going to carry boxes into the church for the annual charity auction when I noticed his size. It was usual for him to be at Church, he didn't go much, not even at Christmas, but my Mom, his daughter-in-law had asked him to come, and I was elected to drive and help him carry boxes.
I saw a side of my grandpa I didn't know that day at the charity auction. My grandmother was there with her friend, boyfriend I guess, and when Grandpa saw them together he got real mad in a hurry, and became aggressive and belligerent. He walked up to them both and started an argument right there in Church, which was really out of character for him because he he was usually laid back, and had always told me when I was little to be a 'good sport' and 'not cause a scene' and that type of thing. I had always heard he didn't want a divorce, but had just always sloughed it off, you know those kind of things happen to other people and they learn to deal with it, but I guess he never did learn to deal with it. I guess he was still jealous and possessive and things quickly escalated and he turned kinda sideways in front of this guy who was about 10 years younger than him, I guess, and hit him in the stomach with his elbow, and then using the same forearm and elbow for leverage hit the guy in the throat in one spontaneous move. The guy fell hard, grandma started screaming, and before I knew it grandpa was trying to viciously stomp the guy laying on the ground.
I quickly grabbed grandpa and flung him about five feet and started to help the guy up. Grandpa glared at me and tried to rush the guy again so I instinctively tackled grandpa and held him up in the air. For that minute that I held him off the ground he seemed old to me, and not as heavy as he should have been. In a minute or so a large black lady policeman who was working at the auction came over to arrest Grandpa and things settled down.
I rode with him in the police car and he apologized about ten times to me and the lady policeman for causing a commotion. The policewoman must not have been too concerned about him because when she walked him to her car she had cuffed his hands in front of his body. I remember that because as I looked at the handcuffs I remember the blemishes and scars on the backs of his hands. I also remember feeling kind of sick and empty from having to tackle him that way and especially for how easy it was to fling him and then hold him in the air.
The policewoman didn't arrest him after all, and was very respectful to him and said something nice about his apartment which was on the Lake when we dropped him off. Later when she was driving me back to my car, she said its hard for old people to live alone like that, and said to me specifically, that that's why she hadn't arrested him for what he had done, and then she trailed off in her speech and then she said again, that she was glad at least he lived on the Lake. I looked from the backseat at her eyes in the rear view mirror when she said that about being glad he lived on the Lake and I could tell that she knew that someday she would live alone also.
fiction
edward w pritchard
I didn't know my grandfather too well. He and my grandmother had divorced when I was young so we mostly saw him at family gatherings, although such visits were brief because his ex-wife, my grandmother, seemed to feel that she had first rights of possession to the family and he more or less complied. Once in a while my grandfather would come to one of my football games, or he and my Dad and I would go fishing , and the two of them had taught me to box, but other than that I didn't see him too much.
I was surprised how much smaller he looked when I saw him recently. He had lost muscle and weight and was a lot smaller than my Dad, and was probably forty pounds smaller than I am now and a couple of inches shorter than I remember him, probably due to shrinkage from aging, from being over 70. I work out a lot and know a lot of big guys from playing college football but I was still surprised to see how much smaller grandpa seemed that day.
We were going to carry boxes into the church for the annual charity auction when I noticed his size. It was usual for him to be at Church, he didn't go much, not even at Christmas, but my Mom, his daughter-in-law had asked him to come, and I was elected to drive and help him carry boxes.
I saw a side of my grandpa I didn't know that day at the charity auction. My grandmother was there with her friend, boyfriend I guess, and when Grandpa saw them together he got real mad in a hurry, and became aggressive and belligerent. He walked up to them both and started an argument right there in Church, which was really out of character for him because he he was usually laid back, and had always told me when I was little to be a 'good sport' and 'not cause a scene' and that type of thing. I had always heard he didn't want a divorce, but had just always sloughed it off, you know those kind of things happen to other people and they learn to deal with it, but I guess he never did learn to deal with it. I guess he was still jealous and possessive and things quickly escalated and he turned kinda sideways in front of this guy who was about 10 years younger than him, I guess, and hit him in the stomach with his elbow, and then using the same forearm and elbow for leverage hit the guy in the throat in one spontaneous move. The guy fell hard, grandma started screaming, and before I knew it grandpa was trying to viciously stomp the guy laying on the ground.
I quickly grabbed grandpa and flung him about five feet and started to help the guy up. Grandpa glared at me and tried to rush the guy again so I instinctively tackled grandpa and held him up in the air. For that minute that I held him off the ground he seemed old to me, and not as heavy as he should have been. In a minute or so a large black lady policeman who was working at the auction came over to arrest Grandpa and things settled down.
I rode with him in the police car and he apologized about ten times to me and the lady policeman for causing a commotion. The policewoman must not have been too concerned about him because when she walked him to her car she had cuffed his hands in front of his body. I remember that because as I looked at the handcuffs I remember the blemishes and scars on the backs of his hands. I also remember feeling kind of sick and empty from having to tackle him that way and especially for how easy it was to fling him and then hold him in the air.
The policewoman didn't arrest him after all, and was very respectful to him and said something nice about his apartment which was on the Lake when we dropped him off. Later when she was driving me back to my car, she said its hard for old people to live alone like that, and said to me specifically, that that's why she hadn't arrested him for what he had done, and then she trailed off in her speech and then she said again, that she was glad at least he lived on the Lake. I looked from the backseat at her eyes in the rear view mirror when she said that about being glad he lived on the Lake and I could tell that she knew that someday she would live alone also.
Only an occasional birthday
Only an occasional birthday
for Bella
fiction
edward w pritchard
Goldilocks was a very bad girl, always picking on the bears and disobeying her Mother and going into the woods, and then lying about her whereabouts.
One day Goldilocks did something very good however. Goldilocks had heard that her Grandfather was lonely one holiday and Goldilocks had went to a lot of trouble to make her Grandfather a special pie. Goldilocks didn't usually like to work or cook but she did her best this time at mixing the ingredients, that she had made a special trip to two stores to buy, and then she rolled out the dough, baked the pie, and put it in the window to cool before she took it to her grandfather.
While she was getting ready to take her Grandfather the pie the sneaky fox sneaked in Goldilocks's yard, sneaked up to the window and took and ate the pie, "Goldilocks knew the fox had done it because in place of the pie was one pickle, the fox's calling card.
Now Goldilocks had a terrible temper and she decided straight away to get even with the fox. She knew the fox had a birthday tomorrow and she knew the fox loved to celebrate his birthdays. The fox was a vain little animal and each year he liked to get new clothes for his birthday and he really looked forward to it.
Goldilocks called the fox and said she had arranged for him to have an extra special party this year and it was a surprise party for him and he should meet her tomorrow morning in her back yard to go to the party. When the fox got there there was a sign next to a small space ship that Goldilocks had built that said get in to go to the party and don't forget to put on the special party hat.
The hat was really an oxygen helmet and when the spaceship took off it took the fox very fast to the far away planet Saturn.
On the earth everyone has a birthday once a year as everyone knows. It's the same on Saturn but since it takes Saturn 32 earth years to orbit the sun a year on Saturn is actually 32 years long and the fox was now going to have a birthday every 32 years.
The fox sat on Saturn with his birthday helmet on and waited and waited for his birthday which was not going to come for 32 years. On the second day after the fox got to Saturn a very small second spaceship arrived and it had a small present for him from Goldilocks. He opened the present and it was of course one pickle.
for Bella
fiction
edward w pritchard
Goldilocks was a very bad girl, always picking on the bears and disobeying her Mother and going into the woods, and then lying about her whereabouts.
One day Goldilocks did something very good however. Goldilocks had heard that her Grandfather was lonely one holiday and Goldilocks had went to a lot of trouble to make her Grandfather a special pie. Goldilocks didn't usually like to work or cook but she did her best this time at mixing the ingredients, that she had made a special trip to two stores to buy, and then she rolled out the dough, baked the pie, and put it in the window to cool before she took it to her grandfather.
While she was getting ready to take her Grandfather the pie the sneaky fox sneaked in Goldilocks's yard, sneaked up to the window and took and ate the pie, "Goldilocks knew the fox had done it because in place of the pie was one pickle, the fox's calling card.
Now Goldilocks had a terrible temper and she decided straight away to get even with the fox. She knew the fox had a birthday tomorrow and she knew the fox loved to celebrate his birthdays. The fox was a vain little animal and each year he liked to get new clothes for his birthday and he really looked forward to it.
Goldilocks called the fox and said she had arranged for him to have an extra special party this year and it was a surprise party for him and he should meet her tomorrow morning in her back yard to go to the party. When the fox got there there was a sign next to a small space ship that Goldilocks had built that said get in to go to the party and don't forget to put on the special party hat.
The hat was really an oxygen helmet and when the spaceship took off it took the fox very fast to the far away planet Saturn.
On the earth everyone has a birthday once a year as everyone knows. It's the same on Saturn but since it takes Saturn 32 earth years to orbit the sun a year on Saturn is actually 32 years long and the fox was now going to have a birthday every 32 years.
The fox sat on Saturn with his birthday helmet on and waited and waited for his birthday which was not going to come for 32 years. On the second day after the fox got to Saturn a very small second spaceship arrived and it had a small present for him from Goldilocks. He opened the present and it was of course one pickle.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
fiction
Edward W Pritchard
See Our President took a bow Jan blog EWP [ for more by Jimmy Ospers]
From: Doctor Kelston Rodrigez PHD
Re James Ospers
Student essay
Conclusion: I find nothing psychotic in Mr.Ospers behavior or writing. Leave the kid alone. Granted he has an over active imagination, however feeling persecuted is normal in some situations. Mr. Ospers obviously feels being in junior high is one of those situations.
Counter
Doctor Heather Smith
Salem County School Board-PHD, MD
I disagree with Mr. Rodrigez. The case in question is not about a normal reaction to being in junior high school. Mr. Ospers is using his writing ability to vindictively
attack the school administration of the school in a series of tirades. His inability to accept authority is troubling; but his continuing flaunting and subversion of the school policies and rules is the base issue. His is not a normal case of teen rebellion.
Judge Kate Johnson retired,
Attorney for Dr L Tate-teacher Salem junior high
I represent Dr. Tate. We are involved with litigation against the Salem School board and have no comment at this time concerning student Mr. [name deleted under age ] insightful essay and its delightful attacks on the bourgeois morality in Salem County of Ohio.
We also site Michael Foucault "Discipline and Punishment" as our source of our comments on the litigation [ as does author edward w pritchard].
David Dixson
Newspaper Editor/Owner
Salem Courrier
For the Record we reproduce as our exhibit Mr. [name deleted under age] student essay entitled "The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015" dated March 21, 2015. We understand that the essay is blocked from publishing due to Homeland security concerns and we print it here under first amendment guarantees [ see Beacon Journal v University of Akron 1970]
Name deleted]
Grade 9
March 21, 2015
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
Report of the director Illinois State Prison 1953
as retold by Jimmy the kid
The State prison is run with a minimum of staff using the Panopticon System developed by Englishman Jeremy Bentham in 1785. The architectural design allows a few guards to observe all the inmates at once, and by using random observations trains the inmates to be self monitoring since they never know exactly who is being watched. This " normative gaze" is alert everywhere at once and is the ideal surveillance and discipline power. Additionally everything the cases do is regulated by a clock, to the micro minute. By combining the Panoptical design with regulating all activities by the clock the inmates are kept in a permanent state of visibility allowing the effective control and normalization of their activities with minimal staff at minimum expense.
RE Salem High School 2015
Students are subject to normative gaze in halls by teachers standing outside their doors and glaring, private security guards [3], and one to two actual city policeman who work full time on site. Additionally each teacher attempts to set up the classroom to allow a panoptical viewing of all students simultaneously. However, current architectural design is sadly not ideal for this. Normative gaze is used at lunch line, where everyone waits to eat under the gaze of a "duty" educator. The same gaze is used prelunch in the gym while the students wait to get in line.
Power over students is maintained with standardized testing where the objective is not mastery of a subject in question but a ranking against other students, often students in far away places who are rumored to be superior to local students. Also because of misdirected Federal policy, such as no child left behind students of all abilities are lumped together causing unfair comparisons among students due to innate differences in intelligence. Class sizes are constantly increased because of budget concerns, resulting in further necessity to use the Lancaster [England]method of using brown nose students to assist the teacher with passing out supplies, grading papers and tutoring. Administration always maintains a voice in the sky over PA system to send propaganda to students and using two way radio feature of PA system secretly monitor students and classroom teachers. Students have no voice since no one students stays long enough in system to learn techniques of control used by administration nor does any one capable student have a motivation to do anything other than quickly move through the system.
end
Answer by Jimmie the kid
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
The Panoptical system has been scraped in most State prisons. It continues at Salem Junior High.
Nick Brown
Bank President Second National Bank of Salem
Expert witness/ Statistican
Re: Student Mr [name deleted under age] missing all math questions on standardized test. I will assign no Z score but odds against are millions to one against, Student in question in my opinion purposely missed all questions on purpose.
Final Report
Doctor Heather Smith PHD, MD
Student in question has transferred to neighboring school district. Litigation with Dr. Tate has been settled.
End
fiction
Edward W Pritchard
See Our President took a bow Jan blog EWP [ for more by Jimmy Ospers]
From: Doctor Kelston Rodrigez PHD
Re James Ospers
Student essay
Conclusion: I find nothing psychotic in Mr.Ospers behavior or writing. Leave the kid alone. Granted he has an over active imagination, however feeling persecuted is normal in some situations. Mr. Ospers obviously feels being in junior high is one of those situations.
Counter
Doctor Heather Smith
Salem County School Board-PHD, MD
I disagree with Mr. Rodrigez. The case in question is not about a normal reaction to being in junior high school. Mr. Ospers is using his writing ability to vindictively
attack the school administration of the school in a series of tirades. His inability to accept authority is troubling; but his continuing flaunting and subversion of the school policies and rules is the base issue. His is not a normal case of teen rebellion.
Judge Kate Johnson retired,
Attorney for Dr L Tate-teacher Salem junior high
I represent Dr. Tate. We are involved with litigation against the Salem School board and have no comment at this time concerning student Mr. [name deleted under age ] insightful essay and its delightful attacks on the bourgeois morality in Salem County of Ohio.
We also site Michael Foucault "Discipline and Punishment" as our source of our comments on the litigation [ as does author edward w pritchard].
David Dixson
Newspaper Editor/Owner
Salem Courrier
For the Record we reproduce as our exhibit Mr. [name deleted under age] student essay entitled "The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015" dated March 21, 2015. We understand that the essay is blocked from publishing due to Homeland security concerns and we print it here under first amendment guarantees [ see Beacon Journal v University of Akron 1970]
Name deleted]
Grade 9
March 21, 2015
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
Report of the director Illinois State Prison 1953
as retold by Jimmy the kid
The State prison is run with a minimum of staff using the Panopticon System developed by Englishman Jeremy Bentham in 1785. The architectural design allows a few guards to observe all the inmates at once, and by using random observations trains the inmates to be self monitoring since they never know exactly who is being watched. This " normative gaze" is alert everywhere at once and is the ideal surveillance and discipline power. Additionally everything the cases do is regulated by a clock, to the micro minute. By combining the Panoptical design with regulating all activities by the clock the inmates are kept in a permanent state of visibility allowing the effective control and normalization of their activities with minimal staff at minimum expense.
RE Salem High School 2015
Students are subject to normative gaze in halls by teachers standing outside their doors and glaring, private security guards [3], and one to two actual city policeman who work full time on site. Additionally each teacher attempts to set up the classroom to allow a panoptical viewing of all students simultaneously. However, current architectural design is sadly not ideal for this. Normative gaze is used at lunch line, where everyone waits to eat under the gaze of a "duty" educator. The same gaze is used prelunch in the gym while the students wait to get in line.
Power over students is maintained with standardized testing where the objective is not mastery of a subject in question but a ranking against other students, often students in far away places who are rumored to be superior to local students. Also because of misdirected Federal policy, such as no child left behind students of all abilities are lumped together causing unfair comparisons among students due to innate differences in intelligence. Class sizes are constantly increased because of budget concerns, resulting in further necessity to use the Lancaster [England]method of using brown nose students to assist the teacher with passing out supplies, grading papers and tutoring. Administration always maintains a voice in the sky over PA system to send propaganda to students and using two way radio feature of PA system secretly monitor students and classroom teachers. Students have no voice since no one students stays long enough in system to learn techniques of control used by administration nor does any one capable student have a motivation to do anything other than quickly move through the system.
end
Answer by Jimmie the kid
The Difference Between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015
The Panoptical system has been scraped in most State prisons. It continues at Salem Junior High.
Nick Brown
Bank President Second National Bank of Salem
Expert witness/ Statistican
Re: Student Mr [name deleted under age] missing all math questions on standardized test. I will assign no Z score but odds against are millions to one against, Student in question in my opinion purposely missed all questions on purpose.
Final Report
Doctor Heather Smith PHD, MD
Student in question has transferred to neighboring school district. Litigation with Dr. Tate has been settled.
End
virtual children part 2
virtual children part 2
fiction
edward w pritchard
see virtual children part 1 Jan blog same author
Education of virtual children
Teachers unions benefited from the rapid growth in American families choosing to have virtual children rather than flesh and blood children. Of course no virtual child could be educated by a non union teacher. That was to insure each virtual child received a uniform equal education along with all other children. Related to that was standardized testing for virtual children. Since virtual children had less distraction in their lives than biological children minimum standardized test scores were raised 20% to pass the State minimum in all subjects to obtain a competent rating. Of course there is the usual clamor that virtual children in wealthier districts receive more than equal treatment than their poorer peers. Additionally studies have shown that wealthier virtual students tend to receive more personal freedom in their schools and more importantly are subject to less "big brother" type visual inspection and observation than their poorer peers but more research is needed to collaborate this conclusion. [ See The difference between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015 same author March blog]
Athletics
A hotly contested topic in virtual children revolves around steroid use. The subject of virtual steroids is complicated by the fact that there is little agreement on a definition of enhanced performance in virtual activities. Suffice to say this is an area that will continue to be controversial.
Health Care
Nearly 45% of virtual children have no health care, a shocking statistic to those who are employed in the lucrative per profit delivery of health care government subsidized services. The health care providers and insurance industries have been lobbying for State mandated minimum coverage of all virtual children. The ideal payer for the uninsured virtual youths look to be citizens without virtual children, and of course the elderly.
Housing
Virtual children are skewing the housing numbers causing confusion in government weekly and monthly indexes. A revision for births and deaths of virtual children is being investigated.
Retirement
How will virtual children ever retire with two houses, two large cars and and how will they spend their golden years if they have to worry about money, sickness, and Chinese workers taking their opportunities and ruining their peace of mind? That is the virtual issue for the next 101 years.
Virtual Children themselves
They are loud, aggressive, rude, disrespectful, lazy, irreverent and smart mouthed. Alarmingly, virtual American children are already falling behind oriental children in Math and Science.
fiction
edward w pritchard
see virtual children part 1 Jan blog same author
Education of virtual children
Teachers unions benefited from the rapid growth in American families choosing to have virtual children rather than flesh and blood children. Of course no virtual child could be educated by a non union teacher. That was to insure each virtual child received a uniform equal education along with all other children. Related to that was standardized testing for virtual children. Since virtual children had less distraction in their lives than biological children minimum standardized test scores were raised 20% to pass the State minimum in all subjects to obtain a competent rating. Of course there is the usual clamor that virtual children in wealthier districts receive more than equal treatment than their poorer peers. Additionally studies have shown that wealthier virtual students tend to receive more personal freedom in their schools and more importantly are subject to less "big brother" type visual inspection and observation than their poorer peers but more research is needed to collaborate this conclusion. [ See The difference between Illinois State Prison 1953 and Salem Junior High 2015 same author March blog]
Athletics
A hotly contested topic in virtual children revolves around steroid use. The subject of virtual steroids is complicated by the fact that there is little agreement on a definition of enhanced performance in virtual activities. Suffice to say this is an area that will continue to be controversial.
Health Care
Nearly 45% of virtual children have no health care, a shocking statistic to those who are employed in the lucrative per profit delivery of health care government subsidized services. The health care providers and insurance industries have been lobbying for State mandated minimum coverage of all virtual children. The ideal payer for the uninsured virtual youths look to be citizens without virtual children, and of course the elderly.
Housing
Virtual children are skewing the housing numbers causing confusion in government weekly and monthly indexes. A revision for births and deaths of virtual children is being investigated.
Retirement
How will virtual children ever retire with two houses, two large cars and and how will they spend their golden years if they have to worry about money, sickness, and Chinese workers taking their opportunities and ruining their peace of mind? That is the virtual issue for the next 101 years.
Virtual Children themselves
They are loud, aggressive, rude, disrespectful, lazy, irreverent and smart mouthed. Alarmingly, virtual American children are already falling behind oriental children in Math and Science.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Cable TV Trucks
Cable TV Trucks
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
Note See becoming Elderly in America [same author] Jan 19, 2010
The Cable TV trouble shooting trucks crawled down the narrow alleyway, and past the six multicolored mobile homes that seemed to dissolve into the pavement as the driver slowly passed. Trailers 18 and 20, one black and one white, both with crooked overhangs for a car port on the left side, and both with broken bric a brack near the door, but only 18 with no cable service today. Home 18 also had two flags flying on each side of the entrance, both flags were new, and since today was the fourth of July, and the driver was getting double time for working, even from the conniving cable company, for there was no way around his employer paying double time today, the driver specifically remembered those flags two years later at the trial where he was to be a witness in the murder of Carl Bing the car dealer.
Carl Bing had made a racial slur against two young Muslim girls and her Grandmother, had calmly shot him five times later that day.
The cable TV repair truck driver remembered the Grandmother of course, even two years later, because she seemed so out of place, standing in that driveway at the trailer park, and he remembered her from driving her back to the apartment and remembered she had held a philosophy book in her lap as they drove.
End part 1
Fiction
Edward W Pritchard
Note See becoming Elderly in America [same author] Jan 19, 2010
The Cable TV trouble shooting trucks crawled down the narrow alleyway, and past the six multicolored mobile homes that seemed to dissolve into the pavement as the driver slowly passed. Trailers 18 and 20, one black and one white, both with crooked overhangs for a car port on the left side, and both with broken bric a brack near the door, but only 18 with no cable service today. Home 18 also had two flags flying on each side of the entrance, both flags were new, and since today was the fourth of July, and the driver was getting double time for working, even from the conniving cable company, for there was no way around his employer paying double time today, the driver specifically remembered those flags two years later at the trial where he was to be a witness in the murder of Carl Bing the car dealer.
Carl Bing had made a racial slur against two young Muslim girls and her Grandmother, had calmly shot him five times later that day.
The cable TV repair truck driver remembered the Grandmother of course, even two years later, because she seemed so out of place, standing in that driveway at the trailer park, and he remembered her from driving her back to the apartment and remembered she had held a philosophy book in her lap as they drove.
End part 1
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