This is some of the best figure skating you’ll ever see< Kamila Valieva
I’ve been thinking about courage lately and want to share two stories about aspects of courage.
The first one is about a talented fifteen-year-old Beijing Olympic figure skater, Kamilla Valieva from Russia. She broke records with her amazing figure skating. I went to YouTube to see her performance. Instead, I came across news reporters discussing how in the final competition, she’d fallen and stumbled several times, losing her chance at getting a medal. The reporter speculated she’d been thrown off by the pressure of the Olympics and by a ongoing doping investigation. After listening to the reporters, I viewed her free style skate routine and I saw something else. I saw a young woman who fell on the ice in front of the world and had the courage, fortitude and strength to get back up and skate the rest of her routine. She leaped into the air and spun around defying gravity and showed the world she was exceptional though her heart was breaking.
The next story about courage is from Top Gun, an old Tom Cruise movie I watched recently. Maverick, a cocky naval fighter pilot, wanted to win the top position at flight school. At one point in the movie, his fighter got caught in the backwash from another F-14 and he lost control of it. He and his RIO, his best friend Goose, ejected out of the fighter. Goose crashed into the canopy and was killed. Devastated by Goose’s death, Maverick considered dropping out of flight school. Instead, he found the courage to get back into the game and ended up saving another pilot when they are attacked by Russian MiGs.
We all have the go through experiences where we fail at something and want to give up. It’s not usually as dramatic as not getting a gold metal at the Olympics or crashing your F-14 fighter, but we all have the experience of metaphorically falling. We all struggle at times and have to find the courage to get back up and keep skating.
When Oprah Winfrey she was a child, she memorized the poem called Invictus by William Ernest Henley to recite in church. Invictus means unconquerable soul. She didn’t fully understand the poem, but she posted the last two lines on her bedroom wall.
I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.
Those lines inspired her to have a courageous life.
As a writer, I find it takes courage to step out in front of the world to share my stories, but it also makes my life more meaningful and fulfilling.
The following is a blog post by Michael Manning. After reading about my Uncle Bart’s experience as a pilot in WW 2, he sent me this amazing story I wanted to share with you.
Thanks for the memoir of the B17. I really enjoyed reading it and it brought back vivid memories of my last lifetime. In 1941 at the age of 20, I left Cambridge University where I had studied mathematics.
My name was William and I joined the Royal Air Force and entered the flight training program.
The next year, I received a commission with the rank of Captain and I began to fly one-man fighter planes over Germany and occupied France.
At the same time, my younger brother, George (nicknamed “Stretch” at 6 foot 5 inches), a factory worker in London, left his employment and, like me, joined the Royal Air Force. He trained to become a Gunnery Sargent, flying in B17 bombers like the one you described.
George and I would often go on bombing runs over occupied France and Germany.
My main job was to provide cover for the B17s, although I ended up getting into dog fights on a regular basis. George/Stretch and I were very close, but he was jealous of my education and my rank of Captain. This has carried over to this lifetime where George, now my younger brother, Garry (still very tall), has been jealous of my university degree because he dropped out of high school. Thanks to the Mahanta, (my spiritual guide) that old wound was finally healed (I became very ill and unable to work for long periods of time whereas Garry has never missed a day of work in his life and eventually got his GED diploma.)
Back in Great Britain, I flew 17 missions protecting B17s and getting into dog fights. George was often in the B17 crews that I was assigned to protect.
On my 17th run, late in 1943 during a massive battle over Germany, I was assigned to protect the B17 with George in its crew.
I was hit hard on my left wing and it burst into flames. The left side of my body was badly burned and the left wing was eventually torn apart.
I was spinning out of control toward the ground. My last words were, “I love you little brother.”
Then, my plane hit the ground and burst into flames. I was instantly out of my body, enveloped in pure white light, and surrounded by the sound of HU.
Thanks for the memories, Heidi!
Michael Manning, author of Bringing Spirituality Down to Earth
In my October Newsletter, I wrote about story ideas and where they came from. In Call of the Wind the idea of a pilot being shot down in enemy territory was inspired by my Uncle Bart’s experience in WW II. He was the co-pilot of a B-17 that was hit by flak over Germany and made a crash landing in Holland. Here is the entire account of the story taken from a newspaper article, a piece he wrote about the experience after he returned home, and a piece written in 1990 when he went to Vollenhove, Holland for a 45th year reunion with the crewmen and the underground resistance.
The arrow in the photo below points out the man who is Lt. John Bart Calkins.
Bart Calking and his crew in Holland after the war ended.
Here is Lt. John Bart Calkin’s story:
“On January 28, 1945, on our 21st bombing mission, I was co-pilot for a B-17 with a ten-man crew. We had just released our bombs on the target in Koln (Cologne), Germany, when our aircraft “Sleepy Lagoon” was damaged by 88 millimeter antiaircraft shells (flak). The ball turret gunner was injured, and the propellers of two the left engines were severely damaged—one engine was on fire. Because of this we were unable to feather the engines to reduce drag. We put the aircraft into a steep slip to the right and managed to extinguish the flames. The Sleepy Lagoon was steadily losing altitude at the rate of about 800 feet per minute.
“We followed the bomber groups northwest out of Germany into Holland for about an hour and twenty minutes. No heaters were functioning in the cockpit and the pilot’s side window was frozen shut. Luckily, I forced the right window open and searched for a minute or two for a landing site—found a beautiful meadow and headed straight in. The pilot followed me through on the controls, and we made a smooth crash, belly landing in a moderate snowstorm in the Dutch town of Steenijk, Holland, which was in enemy-held territory. We hadn’t bailed out because of the wounded gunner.
“Local Dutch farmers heard the engines of our aircraft and immediately ran over the Sleepy Lagoon to assist us. They told us to run in a southerly direction, because the Germans were coming to capture us. There was a nearby German outpost, although we did not realize how close the Germans were at the time. One couple took our wounded ball-turret gunner, Sgt. Cappiello, and top turret gunner, Sgt. Zinner to the local doctor. We heard later that they were captured the next day.
“Sgt. Phelps and Sgt. Senchuk decided to travel together, the remaining six of us stayed together. We could not travel on roads or cross bridges over the canals because of the German sentries. It was snowing hard and the snow covered our tracks. We really ran hard. Once we had to hide in some bushed and watch the Germans go by.
“We came to a shallow lake which had frozen over. Crossing the lake we fell through a couple of times and became cold and wet.
“We managed to cover approximately twelve miles before we hid in the hayloft of a barn after midnight. The next morning we were so cold and hungry we knew we had to contact the underground—now or never. We had been in tough spots before, but this was about the toughest.
“The toggleier, Sgt. Keith Haight, and I contacted a farmer who was outside in a field beside his house. He wife gave us a pot of hot porridge and he told us to stay hidden in the barn till dusk and a member of the underground would guide us to other quarters.
“The next night, the commander of the local underground came to see us and tell us our options. We decided to change into civilian clothes even though the Germans might try to prove that we were spies. The underground also furnished us with pistols and, having made our decision to stay free men, we were ready to shoot it out with any German who might get in our way. They hid us in a canal boat for a few hours. We later learned, four hours after we left the Germans found the boat.
“The Dutch took us to another boat in a canal. But it was so cold it was decided we should be moved to houses in the village. We moved only at night and behind underground patrols. The patrols were in advance of every move and we crossed roads and open places on prearranged signals.
“The commander had his men take us to three different homes in the nearby communities. We usually moved singly with one underground man as a guide. As I was heading for the village, I was forced to hide in a snow bank while a German patrol went by.
“The gestapo was continuing the search for us, going through every house they suspected. The pilot, Lt. Jackson, and I stayed in the same room in the same house for three weeks. Every day we watched from the window as the German patrols came by. You could have spit on them from the window. The man we stayed with was a carpenter. He and his wife had a six-year-old girl that they sent up north so she wouldn’t talk about us. Her mother washed our clothes and prepared our meals. She was a brave woman who would have been killed if we were found in her home.
“Two of the gunners in another house had quite an experience. The Germans searched the place and the gunners hid in a false ceiling all the time they were there. They could hear the German’s talking. The two gunners finally dressed as girls and rode bicycles south. When they left their disguises they were spotted by the Germans and machine-gunned as they crossed a field. Still they got away. The rest of us stayed together.
“The Gestapo captured the leader of the underground and his wife, and the Germans were searching all the houses in the village looking for us, so it was decided we should be moved again. We went back to a canal boat in the lowland lake region.
“We camouflaged the boat with bushes on the side and roof of the cabin. Sgt. Haight and Sgt. Kelly were moved to the boat the same night. The Dutch provided us with two British Sten guns and a pistol. Lt. Lucas came out four weeks later. Eventually, we had five members of our crew, two Russian escapees and usually two or three underground men on this rather crowded canal boat. We slept head to feet in two crowded sections of the boat.
“Dried peat was used for fuel in a pot-belled stove. Our main meal consisted of potatoes, black bread and some milk and was cooked after dark. Occasionally they brought us cheese and whipping cream. It was delicious. The Dutch resistance rowed out at night gave us the same scarce food they were eating and we were so hungry it was wonderful. The Russians got fat on the black bread and potatoes.
“We stayed on the boat eight weeks. The two Russian sergeants had escaped from a German prison camp. We called them Little Rollo and Big Stoop. We all played cards and argued capitalism and communism.
“We left the boat in April and rowed across the lake and ran right into two hundred Germans coming down the highway. We hid in a ditch, and although it was cold and uncomfortable, we sweated as the Germans went by.
“After they passed, the underground patrol went out ahead of us and we retreated to a cow barn. We could hear the rumble of the battle twenty miles up ahead. After an hour in the barn, we went to a house in the village because the Germans were retreating down the roads ahead of the advancing 1st Canadian Army.
“After two days in the village, we took off again and ran into a Canadian patrol about eight miles away. We were then sent to Canadian Headquarters at Nijmegen, Holland.
“All of our crewmen survived the war and eventually made it back to the United States.
“I can’t say too much for the members of the Dutch underground. The Dutch boys, young men, who were supposed to be working in Germany, had a lot of nerve. One of them who helped us had escaped from Berlin. They too only move at night. Without their help I wouldn’t be alive.”
In WW II the German’s abducted 12 million European people and used them for forced labor in Germany. These Dutch boys avoided the abduction and joined the resistance.
Here is another account Uncle Bart wrote in December 1990 for the 45th year celebration of the local Vollenhove, Holland resistance.
“On April 22, 1945 ,the Canadian light artillery units were moving north into the areas near our hidden boat. In the morning, we left the boat went with some resistance members to the local town hall. In the town hall there were several men and women who had collaborated with the Germans. They cropped the girls’ hair short and the men were handcuffed. There were only a few traitors but the Dutch people weren’t going to put up with them so they were jailed until their trials took place.
“The local resistance commander was killed in a shootout with the Germans the day after we met the Canadians and headed south for the American army units in Brussels, Belguim. Later several of the underground member were sent to the Dutch East Indies in the Dutch army. One was killed and another was wounded overseas.
“When we returned to Holland in May of 1990, every former member of the underground, that was physically able to be there, was present for the anniversary of the liberation of all the western European countries from the tyranny of Nazi Germany. This included the local movement that had operated in the area from 1940 to 1945.
“Keith Haight and I had at the honor of unveiling the monument in the park in front of the city hall. After the ceremony we had a silent march of about two hundred people through the town of Vollenhove to the local cemetery to lay flowers on the graves of fourteen allied crew members that were buried there during the war. They ended with an impressive speech by one of the resistance members about fighting for a country’s freedom from tyranny.
“After the May 8th celebration, the Dutch people toured with us to various cities, museum, castles, and the palace and gardens of Het Oude Loo.
“Our visit to Holland was very memorable and emotional experience. As one underground member said, ‘You were over here fighting our common enemy and we wanted to help you when you were shot down.’”
If you’d like to learn more about B-17s, here is an excerpt from an article put out by the Hill Aerospace Museum in Utah.
“Inside the B-17. The first thing you’ll notice when peeking inside a B-17 is that it was built for combat, not comfort. Crews of 10—a pilot and copilot, bombardier, navigator, radio operator and five gunners—occupied the small cabin for six to eight hours per mission. The main cabin was barely tall enough for the crew to stand up straight. Flying at altitudes above 27,000 feet meant it got very cold in the aircraft, often below freezing temperatures. Outlets in the sides of the aircraft allowed the crew to plug in electric suits to stay warm. The crew also required oxygen above 15,000 feet and oxygen tanks were located throughout the aircraft.”
My mother moved into assisted living and recently sold her house. My siblings and I had the challenge of clearing out forty years of stuff and dividing up what was valuable.
Some of the things that needed dividing were some rare, old books sets. One was a compete collection of Shakespeare in three large volumes with beautiful engraved illustrations. Most everything was distributed during my siblings last trip to Minnesota, but two sets of books still remain on my porch. Rather than taking them in to sell at a rare book store, I decided to examine them. One was a series of 23 books by Bulwer published in 1891 and 1892 in Boston.
Who was Bulwer? I looked him up and discovered that Edward Bulwer-Lytton was a British author and politician who lived from 1803 to 1873. He was a prolific, successful writer who wrote in a variety of genres including mystery, romance and science fiction. He also wrote poetry and plays.
He married Rosina Bulwer Lytton (who was also a writer), but the marriage broke down and they were legally separated. He took away their children and when she denounced him, during a political campaign he put her in an insane asylum. This provoked a public outcry and she was released shortly afterwards. (In those days husbands or male relatives were allowed to put women in insane asylums for voicing strong opinions.)
One of Bulwer’s most popular books was Last Days of Pompeii, a historical fiction novel about a young couple in the doomed Roman city before and during the volcanic eruption. It was made into two different movies and a TV series.
In 1871 he wrote The Coming Race, a science fiction novel. It was the last book he wrote and was published under a pen name. The work was published years before other better known science fiction authors such as Arthur Conan Doyle (best known for Sherlock Holmes), and Edger Rice Burroughs (best known for Tarzan and his Venus series) and HG Wells ( best known for The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine).
Charles Dickins, a friend of Bulwer, was enamored by The Coming Race. Dickins also rewrote the end of Great Expectations to make it a happier ending at Bulwer’s suggestion.
The Coming Race was about a man who, when exploring a deep chasm discovers a world of advanced people who live in the center of earth. This race of people had developed psychic power for manipulating a force call “vril”.
Bulwer coined some phrases like: “The pen is mightier than the sword” ( Richelieu) “The great unwashed” (Paul Clifford), “pursuit of the almighty dollar.” (The Coming Race)
He’s also know for opening his novel, Paul Clifford, with the phrase: “It was a dark and stormy night.” It’s considered a bad way to open a novel and was used repeatedly in Snoopy cartoons where Snoopy is sitting on his dog house typing the beginning of his novel and begins it with “It was a dark and stormy night”. There is even an annual contest called Bulwer Lytton Fiction Contest—wretched writers welcome. The instructions are to write an “Atrocious opening sentence to a hypothetical bad novel”.
The whole opening paragraph reads: “It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.”
The phrase had actually been around for many years before Bulwer used it but the damage had been done and the phrase linked Bulwer’s name to bad writing.
Bulwer was very popular in his day, but currently isn’t read much. Some even state he wasn’t a good writer. He did, however, take up social issues like Dickins and was very popular during his life. Bulwer was also significant in the development of science fiction as a genre.
After learning all this about Bulwer, I decide to read one of his books. I’m currently enjoying The Caxtons: A Family Picture (1849). The book was instantly popular in Britain and sold 35,000 copies in the United States in three years. Interestingly, though the book has been in my family 131 years, it’s never been read as I discovered when I found some of the pages have never been separated, meaning cut apart since the book was published in1891.
The writing reminds me a somewhat of Dickens with its long paragraphs and sentences, and style of writing popular in that period of history. So far I find it rather charming though not a page turner. Regardless, it just goes to show that treasures can be found among old family things.
The sound of steel-against-steel rang in the cavern as two Borithon swords crashed together. The last rays of sundown sliced over the rock wall, shining on Michio Kimes. He moved agilely away, watching his footing on the uneven ground as his blond sparring partner, Prince Erling Fenian, slashed his sword at him. Michio was now in the shadows and Erling stood in the shaft of light with a confident smile on his well-formed features.
Michio watched for Erling’s next move, tension building in his arms and shoulders. He’d never fought with a Borithon sword before and was having trouble getting used to the weapon’s unusual qualities. It vibrated in his hand and seemed to have a life of its own. It repelled or attracted the other Borithon sword in an unpredictable manner.
Erling leapt onto a boulder and Michio came after him, slashing the sword in a wide arc. Erling barely managed to deflect the blade. Michio relentlessly struck again and Erling swept up his sword, meeting Michio’s blade in midair. The two swords locked, causing a flash of light to shoot out. Pulling back, Michio lunged, feinted, then thrust again, while struggling to keep his balance on the uneven terrain.
No longer smiling, Erling countered in a circular parry, turning aside Michio’s blade in an equally aggressive move and retaliating with forceful blows. The spirited battle continued with neither man getting the upper hand. They were too well-matched in size, strength and ability.
Michio began to tire from the energetic encounter, but he didn’t dare let down his guard.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he watched Erling.
Erling’s blue eyes flickered and Michio knew he was going to release the second blade on his sword. In one fluid motion, Michio leapt aside and pressed a button on his own sword.
The two blades split apart, opening at a forty-five-degree angle joined at the hilt; it was as if the weapon was a pair of shears. Michio swung the lethal sword at his adversary, meeting Erling’s double blades with his own. His arm shook from the force of the impact.
Erling drew back his sword. Michio paused, watching for Erling’s next move. Fighting with two blades was difficult and he couldn’t afford to make a mistake. Two blades came slashing at him again. This time he hit one of Erling’s blades head on—the other blade sliced into his jacket.
Michio moved above his discomfort with the unfamiliar weapon and fought with renewed vigor, instinctively sensing Erling’s next maneuver. Michio’s sword flashed out in a fluid, smooth rhythm and his body moved gracefully in total harmonious control.
Erling’s thrusts were less certain, his arm unsteady. Michio forced him to back up as he struck repeatedly.
“Stop at once!” a woman’s voice exclaimed, breaking Michio’s concentration.
He glanced toward the door of the virtual reality workout room, relaxing his grip on the sword. Erling leapt forward and slid his blades between Michio’s, one over and one under, then gave a quick twist. The sword flew out of Michio’s hand.
“Effective maneuver,” Michio said, realizing he shouldn’t have taken his attention off the match for even a moment. He knew how good Erling was from their days of fighting together in the revolt that won Jaipar’s freedom.
“What do you two think you’re doing?” demanded Queen Koriann, the youthful ruler of Jaipar. Captain Zachary, head of the royal guards, followed her into the room and hit the control button on the wall. Images of canyons disappeared from screens around the room and the setting sun and clouds disappeared from the ceiling. Boulders sank back into the floor.
“Sparring, love,” Erling replied, grinning impishly at his wife of several months. “We need to keep up our skills.”
“Sparring! Without epee masks or energy shields for protection?”
“It’s better to practice without them,” Michio said, turning off his weapon. “It makes for greater concentration when there’s real danger.”
“You’re worse than Erling!” Koriann’s eyes flashed.
Michio straightened, annoyed at being taken to task by a woman almost ten years his junior. “Sparring isn’t for fun. Knowing how to use a Borithon sword may save our lives someday.”
“They’re too dangerous to spar with! Erling nearly died from a poisoned blade just six months ago. I understand target practice with blasters or hand-to-hand combat training. But fencing with ritualistic swords used only in Haklute, a country we occupy, is an unnecessary skill!”
“A warrior has to master an assortment of skills,” Zac said. “You know that. It was drilled into you since childhood.”
The queen glared at him. “Erling’s a ruler now. He doesn’t have to keep up the skills of a warrior.”
“Don’t blame Zac,” Erling said. “It wasn’t his idea. He’s just returned from visiting your former sweetheart, King Zanton.” A teasing grin spread across his face.
“That treacherous snake was never my sweetheart!” She returned her attention to Zac. “How was your visit? How’s Zanton taking being a token ruler of an occupied country?”
“Not well. He’s furious about the new ordinances. He’s accustomed to power and could pose a serious threat to us. I’ve already advised Prince Erling to imprison him.”
Erling’s expression turned grave. “When I was trapped on his spaceship, I gave my word that he could still rule Haklute. If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have let me and my pilots live. A man’s reputation is built on his word and I won’t go back on mine. Besides he’s been stripped of power and the Haklute government is now controlled by our military.”
“He’ll cause trouble,” Zac said. “The Haklute people believe their monarchs are chosen by God. It won’t take much to trigger an uprising. King Zanton hates you and will stop at nothing to kill you. He’s a threat as long as he lives.”
Koriann’s eyes widened with concern.
“He’s impotent,” Erling said. “But you’re right; he should be watched closely. At any rate, it was thoughtful of him to give us these Borithon swords.”
“Zanton gave you those?!” Koriann exclaimed.
“Sure did,” Erling said, breaking into a smile again.
“He probably hopes you’ll kill each other with them and you almost obliged him. I assume you had the sense to be sure there wasn’t poison on the blades.”
“One of my most trusted men cleaned the blades,” Zac said.
Koriann frowned. “Your sleeve’s singed, Michio. Some residue must still be on the blades. Did the sword cut into your skin?”
Zac rushed over to Michio, his face pale. “Don’t touch the poison. I swear the blades were clean. I supervised it myself.”
Michio looked down at his jacket, his stomach turning when he saw the singed sleeve. He hadn’t felt any pain, but a warrior learns to ignore pain during battle. Concerned, he pulled off the jacket. How could he have been so careless? Even a slight wound from a poisoned blade could be fatal. Koriann was right to reprimand him. He was a married man, soon to be a father. He had more than himself to think about.
Michio pulled back his shirtsleeve and was relieved to see the sword hadn’t cut into his arm. He was careful not to touch the poison as he handed Zac his jacket.
“I’ll have the residue on the jacket and swords analyzed. This will be investigated.”
Michio felt on edge. Had someone put poison on the sword blades after they were cleaned in an attempt to assassinate Prince Erling?
“Bring me the results as soon as you have them,” Erling said. He shook Michio’s hand. “Thanks for the match. It was a good workout. That was a great move when you anticipated my releasing the second blade and released yours. How did you know that’s what I planned to do?”
“By watching your eyes.”
“Think of your wife, Michio,” Koriann said, still sounding annoyed. “Toemeka needs you to be supportive of her—not take unnecessary risks.”
“Toemeka would understand,” Erling said. “You should see the way she and I worked out when we were Coalition partners. We never bothered with energy shields. She’s an excellent fencer. Challenge her to a match sometime, Mich. She’ll give you a good workout.”
Michio slid his sword into its sheath, glad that his wife no longer served as a Coalition field operative. No one wanted their spouse to have a job where they had to carry a suicide pill when sent out on a mission. Being reminded of her past brought the interplanetary war to mind. It had only been nine months since Jaipar overthrew its tyrant, General Bhandar—a minion of Samrat Condor—and regained its freedom. More recently, Samrat Condor had completely taken over planet Alandra where the Coalition Headquarters was located. The remaining Coalition operatives were spread across the galaxy, stationed at secret bases.
Michio’s thoughts shifted back to the present moment and Erling’s comment, realizing Erling saw Toemeka much differently than he did. “Toemeka’s about to become a mother. She doesn’t need to keep up her skills.”
“Actually, that’s why I hunted you down,” Koriann said. “Toemeka’s in labor. She couldn’t reach you on your communicator, so she called me.”
A rush of nervous energy flooded through Michio. “I turned off my communicator before sparring. I didn’t want the distraction.”
He tapped the face of his watch communicator and said, “Call home.” On the third ring Toemeka answered and her lovely face appeared on the screen.
“Koriann just told me you’re in labor,” he said. His voice revealed his concern and he took a deep breath. He didn’t want Toemeka to pick up on his emotions; he needed to be calm for her.
“It’s nothing to worry about. I’m still in the early stage.”
He winced, realizing she’d picked up on his uneasiness. “I’ll come right home.”
“There’s no rush. I feel great—excited.”
“Should I bring Dr. Tenzing?”
“No, it’s too soon. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her image disappeared from the screen.
“How’s she doing?” Erling asked.
“Do you want us there?” Koriann added before Michio could answer. “We’re the closest she has to family.”
“She’s fine and doesn’t want everyone sitting around for hours, waiting for the baby to arrive.” Michio raked a hand through his hair. “I’m about to become a father.”
The eBook of Star Rider and Bonds of Love is available for preorder on Amazon.
We’re all story tellers. Story telling has been a way of passing down lessons about the past and sharing experiences since mankind began. Collecting stories from our ancestors can be a great way to learn about our parents and other older relatives.
This winter I was recording some of my mother’s stories and there was one in particular I thought you’d enjoy. I call it: Don’t Ask for Skates for Christmas. When my mother was young the depression hit. Her father sold magazines and suddenly many people didn’t have the extra money needed to buy something that wasn’t a basic necessity. Christmas was coming and my mother’s older brother told her not to ask for skates because it would make their mother feel bad because she couldn’t afford to buy them. Skates are an especially expensive gift because children’s feet are still growing, they need a new pair every year.
I asked Mother whether she ever got skates. Yes, eventually she did. She went on to tell me that one winter her mother told her to stay off the ice because it was too soft. Being a child, she didn’t listen and she went skating on the frozen lake with some friends. Everything was going well until the ice cracked and she fell in. Her friends rushed over to help her and several more fell in.
Some older children placed long branches on the ice and tried to pull the younger kids out.
A few ended up getting in the freezing cold water to help the younger ones out. It wasn’t deep and the older ones could touch the bottom. I asked Mother if the children had called for help. “No”, she replied. “They didn’t want their parents to know they were skating when they weren’t supposed to be.”
After all the children were safely back on solid ground, they went to the closest house where they were given blankets and hot chocolate. So all ended well.
Do you have some good stories from your parents or your own childhood you’d like to share? I’d love to hear them.
The Dig is an exceptional film about a wealthy widow who hires an amateur archaeologist to excavate burial mounds in East Anglia, England. The movie is based on the book The Dig by John Preston whose aunt, Peggy Piggott, partook in the dig.
Although the story is based on a real event, Preston took artistic liberties with some events and characters.
The acting is superb and the cinematography is outstanding. The pace isn’t fast, but the film never drags. It takes place the summer of 1939, right before England enters World War II, providing a tense background to the main story. The theme explores the uncertainty of England’s future while uncovering their past.
Another theme revolves around death. Many died in World War I and now England is faced with entering another world war. Moreover, the two main characters also both face death, each in their own unique way.
The center of the story is the friendship that develops between the ailing widow, Edith Pretty (played by Carey Mulligan) and the archaeologist, Basil Brown, (played by Ralph Fiennes). Both characters have a fascination with evacuation.
Edith’s young son shares his mother’s enthusiasm and spends his free time helping in the dig. He and Brown form a strong bond as the story unfolds. Edith’s cousin also comes to help with the dig and becomes part of a love story subplot.
When Brown’s excavation reveals an amazing find, word spreads about the site’s great significance. Then museums step in and hire a Cambridge University archeologist to oversee the dig. Tensions mount when Brown finds his discovery is no longer under his control.
One of the best parts of a movie like this is that it’s based on a true event. A person can travel to the British museum and see what was found on this archeology dig. The movie makes history come alive through this insightful, uplifting story.
It was heart opening, uplifting and a little sad. When I finished I even went back and reread parts of it so I could appreciate it better in the context of the whole book.
I just finished reading The Travelling Cat Chronicles and found the ending quite moving. All the pieces of the stories and characters came together and I understood in a deeper way what the story was about.
The author, Hiro Arikawa, is Japanese and I read the English translation. The story begins in Tokyo and continues (as the title suggests) with the main characters (Satoru and his cat, Nana) traveling through Japan. In the course of the story the reader learns about the Japanese people and their culture.
The novel is told from the viewpoint of Nana, Satoru, three friends and his aunt. The story premise is simple: Satoru can’t keep Nana anymore so he visits three friends, attempting to find a new home for his beloved cat. The mystery that draws the reader forward is why Satoru can’t keep Nana.
On Nana and Satoru’s journey, we learn about Satoru’s three friends and his youthful adventures. We also learn that Satoru is a good person and loyal friend.
The book is written in simple language in the Japanese tradition of folkloric tales with illustrations at the beginning of each chapter. Although it has special appeal to cat lovers and others who love animals, the message is much deeper. It’s about love, friendship, courage, heartache, self-sacrifice and the challenges of life and death.
I found the book a little slow at first—pleasant, but not a page-turner. I could easily set it down. Later I was sorry I read it in pieces. It was such a beautiful book I realized I’d missed some of the treasures, which is why I went back and reread parts.
I don’t want to say more and spoil it for you, except to say read the book as you would poetry or a fable. Savor each character’s story and reflect upon them as you read. How does it relate to your own life experience, friendships and experiences with animals?
Let me know what you think of the book after you read it. I’d enjoy hearing your thoughts and insights into its deeper meaning.
Years ago I heard about Your Body’s Many Cries for Water. At the time I thought, “What’s to learn, other than it’s important to drink lots of water?” So I didn’t buy the book.
Years later my husband listened to a two-hour talk on YouTube by Dr. Batmanghelidj and told me more about the doctor’s background and medical research.
He was born in Iran and educated in Scotland and England. He was working in Iran when the Iranian Revolution broke out in 1979 and placed in the Evin Prison as a political prisoner for over two and a half years. While he was incarcerated, many people were ill and the only thing he had to treat them with was water and salt. So he used these to treat many painful ailments.
For example, he successfully used water to treat 3,000 people who had stress-induced peptic ulcer disease. The prison turned out to be an ideal “stress laboratory” to do research on water and salt to prevent and relieve many painful degenerative diseases.
After his release, he escaped Iran and came to the United States where he continued to research the effect of chronic dehydration on the human body. This led to an understanding of how the human body works, and to the realization that dehydration causes pain and many degenerative diseases, such as asthma, arthritis, adult-onset diabetes, lupus and multiple sclerosis. His message to the world was, “You are not sick, you are thirsty. Don’t treat thirst with medication.”
Water has many life-giving properties. “It is the solvent—the water content—that regulates all functions of the body.” (p. 11)
In the talk, Dr. Batmanghelidj also discussed the importance of adding sea salt to the water we drink. After hearing more about Dr. Batmanghelidj’s research, I purchased the book as a Christmas gift for my husband, wrapped it up and put it under the tree.
One difficulty I sometimes have is waking up in the middle of the night and not being able to go back to sleep. The two weeks before Christmas it was especially bad. I was waking up at 4:00 or 5:00 a.m., feeling wide-awake and unable to get back to sleep. I tried various remedies to help me sleep longer and none seemed to work.
On Christmas, Jim opened his present, Your Body’s Many Cries for Water. Soon afterward I started reading the book. In it Dr. Batmanghelidj explained that modern medicine treats diseases with drugs rather than understanding the damaging effect of dehydration. Many drugs can cause more dehydration and harmful side effects. He also explained how important it was to add sea salt to the water we drink.
Since my problem was with sleep, I looked in the index to see if he addressed sleep problems. Batmanghelidj says, “Salt is vital for sleep regulation.” (p. 157)
He recommended half a teaspoon of sea salt for every ten glasses of water, or a quarter teaspoon per quart of water. The recommended amount of water to drink half your body weight in ounces.
For instance, a 200-pound person would drink 3.13 quarts of water or 10 to 12 glasses of water a day. A 100-pound person would need to drink 4 twelve-ounce glasses of water per day. As an indication of whether a person is getting enough water, he says, “A well-hydrated person produces colorless urine…” (p. 135)
So I started drinking two quarts of water a day with a quarter teaspoon of salt in each quart. I also drank plain water and herbal tea.
On the first two nights, I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep. On the third night, I woke up at 4:00 a.m. to go the bathroom. But the difference this time was I was still tired and easily fell back to sleep afterward. I didn’t feel the rush of adrenaline that usually kept me awake. I was pleased and cautiously hopeful.
In the weeks since then, I’ve faithfully drank two quarts of water with sea salt and am getting a good night’s rest. Once in a while I wake up a little earlier than I’d like, but I’m not concerned about missing an hour of sleep once in a while. I attribute being able to get a better night’s sleep to having the right amount of water with unrefined sea salt in it.
Not putting salt in my water was the missing ingredient for me.
Why is salt so important? Here are a few things Batmanghelidj mentioned: it regulates the water content in the body; it’s a strong natural antihistamine; it’s an anti-stress element for the body; it’s vital for the kidneys to clear excess acidity and pass acidity into the urine; and it’s essential to treat emotional disorders, such as depression. (p. 154)
A word of caution: this blog post is not intended to replace medical advice from your doctor. I’m just sharing my understanding of Dr. Batmanghelidj’s research and my own personal experience.
In the book Dr. Batmanghelidj stated that the best choice of salt is unrefined sea salt, which has 80 mineral elements the body needs. Adding sea salt to your water isn’t the same as having more table salt on your food. It works best if the salt is in the water.
Also, don’t substitute soda pop (regular or sugar-free), coffee or tea for water. He has a whole section on the bad effects of caffeine and soda pop on the body. Soft drinks are especially bad for children as their bodies have a hard time with the chemicals in them.
The importance of water to the entire body was explained in detail in the book. I highly recommended reading the book and deciding for yourself if you need to drink more water with a dash of unrefined sea salt in it.
My husband and I went to see Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles last week. This new documentary takes a look at the original Broadway musical, Fiddler on the Roof, and all that went into creating and getting it produced.
The original writer, Joseph Stein, based the story on the works of Yiddish writer Sholem Aleichem. The story takes place in 1905 Czarist Russia. It’s about a Jewish milkman Tevye, his wife and five daughters, three of whom are approaching marriage age. Conflict occurs because the parents want to preserve their Jewish traditions in a changing world while the daughters want to break away from the old custom of their father picking a husband for them.
The documentary talks about Sheldon Hamick, the lyricist, and Jerry Bock, the composer. They believed in this musical and fought to overcome all the obstacles they faced while trying to get it produced. Producers thought no one would be interested in an old Jewish story, but eventually someone agreed to produce it.
Jerome Robbins was hired as the choreographer. He’d previously done choreography for West Side Story and was considered a genius. Still the pre-Broadway run in Detroit had bad reviews and the team had to take out a musical piece and rethink the show. The New York Times said there were “no memorable songs.”
After revisions, the Broadway musical went on to perform over 3,000 performances and was made into a successful movie. As it turned out, the story had universal appeal because all cultures and people go through upheavals. This musical has a timeless quality and has been popular for 55 years worldwide. It is currently being performed someplace in the world every day.
I love the movie Fiddler on the Roof and have seen it several times, as well as viewing live performances. What I enjoyed about the documentary was realizing all the people who worked tirelessly to make it a successful show. I enjoyed learning about the history of the Jewish people in 1905 Russia, and the historical events at the time the musical was made (in the 1960s). The show is as relevant today as it was in the past.
At the end of Fiddler on the Roof, the government forces the Jewish people to leave their village. Today in many parts of the world people are leaving their homeland. The August 2019 issue of National Geographic has an article on this entitled “A World on the Move.”
I recommend Fiddler: A Miracle of Miracles for those who have seen the musical either as a play or movie. It would be less meaningful for people who don’t know the story, but they still might find the documentary inspiring.
Recent Comments