The Girl at the Side of the Road

Hair straight and brown,

slight childhood body

stood at the window 

waiting 

for the train to appear, 

its forlorn whistle announcing 

the beginning of the show. 

Rumbling the earth, 

it chugged past, 

always in too much of a hurry. 

They couldn’t see me wave 

from my bedroom window ~ 

the engineer, 

the man in the caboose 

and all the passengers. 

On days when 

I stood on the sidewalk 

they would all wave back, 

maybe not the passengers 

busy reading their books or 

visiting with their friends.

Few trains carry passengers anymore

but I knew one day,

I would be on a train to hear 

the whistle from the inside and 

wave at the girl at the side of the road.

“A train will bring you back to the place you came from, 

but it will not return you home.”

~ Jedediah Berry, writer

Book Review: Learned by Heart by Emma Donoghue

This rather unsettling story is of rascism, class, a woman’s ‘place’, rigid rules of conduct and gender. It is of Anne Lister and Eliza Raine, two young girls in a boarding school in England between 1806 and 1815. Donoghue writes it in letters from Eliza to Anne with four chapters telling the story of school life. In the late 1700’s, Eliza and her sister Jane, were borne of mixed parentage in India, and sent ‘home’ to England when their father died. Little is known about their mother. They were put in the care their father’s colleague, a Dr. Duffin. 

Eliza enters Miss Hargrave’s Manor School, a girl’s school, before Anne Lister. When Anne Lister comes to the school, full of mischief, energy and knowledge, Eliza’s life changes dramatically. By apparent accident, the two girls share a room they called ‘the Slope’. It was just big enough for two cots and had a sloped roof. Anne immediately fell in love with Eliza but their intimate relationship developed slowly. Eliza had been raised with little knowledge of relationships, let alone with someone of the same sex. There were whispers about other older single women, but for the girls the Manor School it was unimaginable.

Emma Donoghue is graphic about the Eliza and Anne’s private relationship, but also stories the lengths they had to go to keep it a secret when with their classmates. Anne, raised with two brothers, was rough and tumble and disliked following such rules. Eliza was the one who seemed to keep a check on Anne. If they were out on the grounds on their own, it was a much more difficult task. Eliza had fun those times, but always afraid of being caught doing inappropriate things, like climbing old ruins that Anne seemed to know the history of. In their last escapade, Anne broke her leg. Because she could not be cared for at the Manor, she was sent home.
The girls continued writing to each other, however Eliza, her heart broken, realized that Anne had many more relationships and theirs was not to be.

Of interest is the Author’s Note following the end the novel.  Eliza Raine, Anne Lister and many of the characters in Learned by Heart are historical figures. Donoghue details the research she has done these characters. She has imagined the possible story between the two girls in Victorian, England and they challenges they faced at such a difficult age and time.

“the only lesson I learned, or at least the only lesson I remember, was you.”

~ Emma Donoghue, Learned by Heart

Title: Learned by Heart

Author: Emma Donoghue

Copyright: 2023

Publisher: Harper Avenue, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.

Type: Fiction

Format: Hard cover

ISBN - 9781443470315  (hard cover)

ISBN - 20230460410 (Canadiana - ebook)

ISBN - 9781443470322 (ebook)

LCCN - PS8557.O559 L43 2023

Chapter Two, Episode 126 - Important Women - Situationally Theirs

Important Women

Seven year old Abby Richardson was not sure where her grandmother was. At home with grandpa James? Getting off the school bus, she decided to go to the Estate kitchen. Maybe she was with Cook. Her mother wouldn’t get home until suppertime. She was going to be at school late for parents’ meetings. A shy, quiet girl, she opened the kitchen door and tiptoed in. “Cook?” Her little voice barely loud enough to be heard, but Cook had expected her. “It’s ok, Abby. Come in and get some cookies. Just baked them this afternoon. What’s that you’ve got there? Did you make this today?” Abby handed her the poster that she had made for her grandmother. “It’s not very good, but teacher wanted us to make a poster about the women we think are important to us.” Cook looked at it for a long time. “That’s a lot of flowers, Abby. I can guess who some of them are but I’m not sure about the other ones.” Abby grinned. “Grandma is one, Mom is one……you guessed those didn’t you.” She was almost jumping up and down. Cook wrinkled her forehead, put her hand on her chin and thought hard. “Miss Em is one……..and….” she looked at the little girl for a sign that she was right. When Abby nodded, her grin getting wider, and her jump a little bigger, Cook knew she was on the right track. “That’s three important women, but there’s still three flowers. Hmmm…..Miss Dez? Can’t be. You don’t see her very often.” Abby giggled. “Not very much, but she’s so much fun! And she lets me help her in the orchard. I get to eat apples and Ben is too busy riding his bike.”

Cook poured herself a cup of tea, got Abby her glass of milk and they sat down to study the poster again. Abby really wanted Cook to guess the last two. “Who else, Cook?” She bit down on her cookie. Taking a quick sip of tea, Cook ticked off the list of women on her fingers. “Your teacher?” Abby squirmed in her seat, laughed and shook her head. “She’s important but not as much as ……..” She stopped and clapped her hand over her mouth. Cook had been teasing Abby, but suddenly realized she was one of the flowers. “Oh, Abby, you don’t mean me do you?” Cook didn’t tear up often, but she reached in her apron for a tissue. Dabbing at her eyes and putting the tissue away, she hugged her friend’s granddaughter. She wanted this child to tell her why she was included, but instead asked about the little blossom sheltered by the bigger flowers. “That’s me Cook! Can’t you tell? Everyone is big people and I’m just little right now. But I want to be like all of you because you are all kind to me and Ben and to everyone.’ She hesitated and took another cookie. “And you’re always here, especially when I need you.” She got up and hugged Cook and whispered “And you make good cookies.”

~~~~~

Abby didn’t know it but in her young life, she had watched and spent time with all of these women. She had experienced life with her mother who taught them at home and then saw her at school in her role as teacher. Most often, calm and smiling, but Abby had seen her vulnerable and crying. She had watched her grandmother, soft and kind and then at work, organized and assertive. Miss Dez and Miss Em, she saw from the distance of a shy child. How they treated each other and the people at the Estate. Always with kindness. Miss Dez was more patient than Miss Em, but Abby let that pass. And Cook. She had a special place in that little girl’s heart. It was like having an aunt or another grandma. When her own grandma wasn’t there, Cook was.
She really did want to be like all of them. Deep inside she knew she also wanted to be herself.

“She does not know what the future holds, 

but she is grateful for slow and steady growth.”

~ Morgan Harper Nichols

A Mother’s Day Muse - A Worthy Goal

Mother’s Day. There are many ideas about the origins of this special day, as far back as Greek mythology. However, each year the moms celebrated are all around us; many only one or maybe two generations past. And yes, we do honour and celebrate each of the aunts, uncles, neighbours, and friends that have mothered us. 

It can be a frustrating struggle to honour a mom who, because of thorny life experiences unknown to us, has not fit into the ‘good mom’ picture. Maybe that is where we need to go. Into the unknowing, the compassion for the young child, young girl, young adult that tripped into and over life. Am I sounding too sunshine-y? I hope it is not seen that way. 

I am well into my seventh decade. When I review all the mistakes and missteps I have made as a mom, I have gained some of that compassion for those youngsters that became moms too soon, or too late, or who were not mothered themselves. Choosing to live a different, and possibly healthier, path to honour those moms seems a very worthy goal.

“Compassion is not a virtue - - it is a commitment. 

It’s not something we have or don’t have - - 

it’s something we choose to practice.”

~ Brené Brown

Book Review - The Girl in His Shadow by Audrey Blake

The cholera outbreak in London in 1827 was considered ended when, three months later, there was another outbreak. Dr. Croft, a noted physician, had made many calls to his patients. A last call to the Beady household found three people dead and one eight year old child still alive. The doctor picked her up, despite possible contamination, and took her home to his housekeeper, Mrs. Phipps. He was scolded roundly for bringing contamination to the house. They nursed little Eleanor Beady back to health.

Grisly, humorous, women’s issues and the state of health care in the late 1800s. Parented by Dr. Horace Croft, a brilliant and very distracted physician, and Mrs. Phipps, his stern housekeeper, Eleanor (Nora) grew up to assist Dr. Croft in his many experiments on cadavers. She learned surgical techniques, practicing on cadavers. She studied all the books and papers that she could lay her hands on. She learned to love the search for answers. Answers to the many questions about the workings human body. 

Dr. Croft had a professional enemy in one Dr. Vickery. They not only disagreed but they disliked each other intensely. Dr. Daniel Gibson, a young doctor, came to work and live with Dr. Croft taking very a cherished spot with the great man. Here the story also turns to the place of women in the 1840’s. Dr. Gibson disapproved of Nora and her work in the surgery and her lack of refinement. More than just socially unacceptable, some of the surgical work she did was illegal as she was not a licensed physician. London’s Royal College did not admit women. The nature of her work wth Dr. Croft had to be kept secret, especially from Dr. Vickery. Dr. Harry Trimble, a friend and colleague of Dr. Gibson’s became a wild card in this scenario of learning, medicine, deception and romance. 

Eleanor (Nora) had only one year of finishing school. Her socialization involved taking care of patients and keeping Dr. Croft’s surgery spotlessly clean. Rather than embroidery, her stitches were sutures. As the story progresses, Nora’s status as an illegal practitioner of medicine - and a woman at that! - is finally exposed. It was then that Nora actually stood up for herself. The results were….. to tell you more would not be fair. 

Well researched, the novel included the names of famous women of medicine and nursing. I loved this book, it’s a keeper! Good character development - I liked them all, except of course, Dr. Vickery who was just not likeable. The end left me wanting more. Gladly there is a sequel in the offing, but no publishing date as yet. 

“Ears ringing, Nora rose to her feet, her voice floundering 

under a wave of noise from the crowd.”

~ Nora, The Girl in His Shadow

Title: The Girl in His Shadow

Author: Audrey Blake (creative alter-ego of Jaima Fixen and Regina Sirois)

Copyright: 2021 by Jaima Fixen and Regina Sirois (co-authors)

Publisher: Sourcebooks Landmark. An imprint of Sourcebooks

Type: Novel

Format: Paperback

ISBN: 9781728228723

ISBN: 9781980091479 (audiobook)

Ebook: 9781728228730

A Quick Detour

Intimidated by a business call

I had to make about……

SC-R-E-E-C-H!

Yesterday was more fun

and tonight I’m still exhausted.

Forget intimidation!                                      

A family Zoom gender reveal party

from my from brother in Florida

bouncing from Poland to the U.K.

to Canada….It’s a girl!

An awesome 10 K walk with 

my walking buddy started out

against the wild prairie wind

masked against the dust in the air

cooked a roast that didn’t have

the taste I expected from a roast beef ~

very odd tasting gravy so tonight 

it’s thin slices for sandwiches and a beef stew.

and then there was a fuse blown

shutting out my lights, fridge and TV

along with a plugged kitchen sink drain ~

one phone call to maintenance got it fixed.

“Sometimes it takes a wrong turn to get you to the right place.”

~ Mandy Hale, The Single Woman: Life, Love, and a Dash of Sass

Chapter One, Episode 43 - China Roses - Situationally Theirs

June 18, 2020

June 18, 2020

Review, Edit and Update

Because of these reviews, my list of details is growing. I’m creating such a list to help me maintain consistency with my characters. Added to my list, from China Roses, is a great description of the Estate ghost, Sarah. One detail, her Mary Jane shoes, is troublesome for me. Sarah is from the late 1800’s, Mary Jane shoes were not named as such until at least 1920 (Buster Brown cartoon). I decided not to alter the character Martha’s dialogue because Martha may not have been aware of this detail.

China Roses

Brigitte did not sleep well. Tossing and turning, churning her blankets all around her. One of her pillows landed on the floor some time in the night. Dreaming only of a girl on a swing eating from a china plate ringed with red and yellow roses. But there was no food. There was merely the sound of a fork scraping against the china, as regular and monotonous as the swing. Back and forth back and forth. 

Brigitte came to, her hair soaking wet. Her pyjamas, sheets and pillow cold and damp. Barely opening her eyes, she sat up, running her hands through her hair. She dragged a stubborn hank of hair from across her nose and anchored it all with a big plastic comb/clip from her night table. Flinging back the covers, she sat up on the side of the bed. Her toes curled into the shag pile of a square of red carpet at her bedside. I have to talk with someone of the older staff. Brigitte stood up, stretched backwards, then forwards to touch the floor. She hung there for a minute, relishing the stretch to her shoulders and back. My toenails need some attention. And I need coffee. Picking up her housecoat, she shambled into her tiny kitchen, hit the ‘on’ switch on her coffee maker and looked for a clean mug in the dishwasher. While she waited for the coffee to brew, she went to the hallway and shuffled through the mail from yesterday. A bill. A bill. An advertisement. A bill. The coffee must be ready. I’ll deal with these later. Filling her mug with the strong black coffee, she inhaled the aroma of the first coffee of the morning. Still barefoot, she picked up her mug and went to the patio door, frigid air rolling from the cold glass. She stared at the early morning light, the air, a tree….nothingness. That was the strangest dream. There was a girl on a swing at the estate. But there is no swing on that tree. I feel like I’ve not slept at all. Out loud she said “I wonder if the Beaufort place is haunted. I mean, there are just the three of them that have been there forever? If it’s haunted, they should have told me. I wouldn’t have minded.” Enough coffee had warmed Brigitte. She felt awake now. “She’ll think I’ve lost it, I’ll have a chat with Martha about my dream. I’d feel weird about going to Digby. He kind of freaks me out, but Martha’s easier to talk to.” I need a shower after all that sweating I did last night. I’ll set out some clean pj’s for tonight. These ones just feel nasty. Brigitte went to her door and picked up her newspaper. Pouring another cup of coffee, she quickly read the headlines. Nothing interesting. Still Covid19 stuff. She set it down on the kitchen table and went for a shower.

~~~~~

“Oh my goodness, Brigitte. Weren't you ever told about her? You're telling me that you dreamt of Sarah? Well, we don't really know who Sarah is. We don't know her full name or why she just shows up in only two places. We used to tell everyone about her ~ the cleaners we interviewed. They just left ~ no explanation. Just gone. Right out of Digby’s office. One woman rushed past me so fast that I barely even saw her. Another woman just huffed and puffed that we would be so rude as to ‘have’ a ghost. And then she pushed her way right out the back door. Well, we told her that Sarah was here long before any of us started and that it wasn’t our fault. But she wouldn’t hear any of that. She walked right past me and out the door. Has Sarah hurt you, dear?”

“No, Martha she just scared me. I had finished up in the dining room. Everything was all shining and clean. I polished the mirrors and the glass doors of the china cabinet. The wood on the table gleamed. The living room was my next stop. But, while I was dusting the mantle over the fireplace, the sound I heard made my blood run cold. I held onto the dust rag so tightly, I almost pushed it right through mantle.”

“What was the noise, dear?” Without giving Brigitte time to answer the question, Martha pressed on. “Was it the china cabinet?”

“Yes it was! How did you know?”

“Because that’s what Sarah does as soon as the table has been polished. She glides in from wherever she stays. In the walls, up in the attic…..no one knows. I saw her once. She was wearing a light lemon-yellow dress that went to her mid shins with a white lace collar. White Mary Jane shoes, and one dark blue ribbon in blonde ringlets. I was so taken aback that I was speechless. She didn’t even seem to notice me. She just set the table with the china. Two places. One at one end and one at the other. Teacups and saucers. Silver cutlery. Linen napkins.” Martha hesitated. "Brigitte, don’t ever change the order of things in the cabinet. That’s the only time Sarah gets angry. Maybe she can only find things in certain places. If they’re not there then…….”

“What happens if she gets angry? Does her head spin around like in the movie Carrie?”

“No, but you’ll be cleaning the dining room and the living room over and over.”

“What’s wrong with that? I do that everyday.”

“No I mean if you were to clean the dining room, then go into one of the bedrooms to clean, when you come back to the dining room it would be dustier and dirtier than you first found it. And that could go on all day. I’m just telling you. Don’t change the order of anything in that china cabinet.”

“What would happen if you got rid of the china cabinet all together. Do you think she might go after it?” Brigitte was almost amused at how distressed Martha became. She did take her seriously though. “Is the dining room the only place that she goes?”

“The only other thing I’ve heard, and that was when I first started work here a long time ago, is that she sits on a swing on the big old redwood in the yard.”

“But there is no swing there Martha.”

“There is when she wants one there. It apparently can only be seen when she’s sitting on it. And it’s always after she has set the table. Oh dear, my phone is ringing off the hook. If you see her again, especially on the swing, tell me all about it.” Martha bustled off to her office.

Brigitte spoke out loud to the air. “Where do you live Sarah? My name is Brigitte and I’d like to be your friend, but only if you want to.” A cool breeze came through the unopened window like tiny sigh. 

“In one aspect, yes, I believe in ghosts, 

but we create them. We haunt ourselves.”

~ Laurie Halse Anderson, Wintergirls

Chapter One, Episode Six - Togethering - Situationally Theirs

May 09, 2020:

Reviewed and edited this morning. Some additions and improved sentence structure provide more clarity and detail. Any typos were fixed. (I did notice that Dez's hair colour is auburn in this episode and black in at least one other episode. Had she dyed her hair? I'll have to think about that before I make any change.)

Togethering

Emelina waffled about getting dressed before she went out to have breakfast. Because of the late hour, it was not really breakfast, merely breakfast food. She vaguely remembered being woken up from a sound sleep at 3:30 or was it 4:30? Driving into the city and picking her sister up? Her mind finally cleared while, strangely, still in Digby's room. She realized that her sister really was here. All of her staff, including her butler Digby, had deserted her because of some Invisible Menace. Digby was not given to such darkly poetic descriptions, so Emelina had to learn what he may have meant. Would that explain why Emelina was in her butler’s suite of rooms? Shrugging her long, ice blue satin robe on over rumbled, but matching silk pyjamas, she slipped her feet into her ice blue slippers. Emelina stopped. No. I can’t do it. I must be dressed, even if I have to do it myself. Quickly picking up the clothes from her night time rescue mission, she went into Digby’s ensuite bathroom, washed her face and tied up her hair. Her jogging suit, steel grey with a white stripe up the side, would have to do. even if she had already worn it once. A quick rinse with mouthwash and she was ready to face what was left of the day. Smiling at herself in the mirror and pinching roses into her cheeks she said aloud to her mirrored reflection. “There. Done”

“Good morning Dez. Where did you say my breakfast was? There’s nothing on the table.”

“Good morning, Emmie. Oh I meant that table right over there by the door to the hallway.”

Desperanza smiled and pointed to a little desk by the entrance to the hallway. She had pulled it out from the wall and moved its chair behind it. Dez washed her hands before picking up and handing Emmie her breakfast. Emmie was puzzled. Not only did she seem to have a ‘little kids table’, but there was green masking tape on the floor. The long kitchen table had green masking tape across the centre of it as well. 

“What’s going on, Desperanza? Why are you at such an arm’s length? Why do I have a separate table? I won’t bite you. Just because our conversation was a bit, shall we say, unpleasant last night doesn’t mean we have to keep separate.” Dez held up her hands. 

“Stop, Emmie. Just set your plate down on your table and let me explain. You don’t know much about this pandemic do you? We are basically strangers to each other. You don’t know where I’ve been and I don’t know where you’ve been. You only know that I was in jail last night. How many people have been in and out of the cell, I have no idea. We haven’t seen each other a very long time - what is it? - ten years? At dad’s funeral? So, I only know that you live in this big house.We might as well have come from different planets. But the cops - I mean police officers - insisted that I stay with family or they would send me up island to a dinky hotel in a town I’ve never been in with a lot more than one stranger taking care of the place.”

Dez took a deep breath. She hadn’t planned that little speech but the words just fired out of her mouth before she could even think. Emmie returned to the green line of tape, accepted the mug of coffee Dez handed her and back to the 'little kids table' where her breakfast was cooling.. 

“You’re scared, aren’t you, Dez?” 

“Of course I’m scared. There’s lock downs everywhere. The politicians are all agreeing with each other. Not just local politicians but all over the world! I suppose not all of them, but most of them. Sick people, dying people…….”

Dez’s brave exterior crumbled as she talked. She really was frightened. Having no place to go, she was dependent on the good graces of her sister. Her belongings from her last apartment were still locked up there. One person in her apartment had tested positive for Covid19. She couldn’t go back until that building was free of the virus. A virus that had spread rampantly all over the world. Emelina may not have known much about the real running of her house and nothing about the pandemic, but she did know how to diffuse tension in a situation. A skill she had learned by osmosis from Digby, a master of diffusion of tension. Her sister was in the midst of a very tense situation.

 “Dez, you’ve really done a lot of work in here, haven’t you? I’m just going to sit here and have my breakfast while you explain what the purpose of all this separation is. Am I to assume that you’ve done all of this for good reason? The kitchen does look a little strange with tape on the floor but at least it’s colourful. So go ahead and tell me what is going on.”

“Thank you, Emmie. You’re right. I am scared. No. Terrified. The only thing I can control are my surroundings. I’m in your house, they're still not my surroundings. Nothing belongs to me. And you could ask me to leave at any time. But I’m tired of being scared, so I’m going to ask you right now: How long can I stay here?”

“Dez you can stay as long as you want or need to. Just tell me what the tape is all about? And this ‘little kids table’?” Emmie glanced up and saw Dez starting to smile. She smiled back at her younger sister, Dez’s face all flushed and her curly auburn hair frizzing around her face.

Little smiles led to giggles and then they both burst out laughing. The laughter of the two sisters taking them back to their childhood home. Between great gulps of air, Dez said “I’ve……got……..a little……kids ……table tooo!! Look!  Look! Over ….there…..beside…beside........the ....the…..pantry door!” 

“But what…..about……that horrid…..green…….tape…..! It’s..it's…….a ……..good…….thing……I haven’t ………..got mascara………..on. It….would be……..all ……over….my face…..!

The laughter finally subsided. Emmie’s half eaten breakfast was cold but she finished it anyway. “So what do I do with my dishes. Do I keep them over here too? On the ‘little kids table’?” That just about set them laughing again, but Emmie was a master of control. She regained her composure with only a little bit of effort. Dez was still stifling her laughter. Their different and distant worlds had collided, leaving them breathless. They both knew that they had once been good friends that would help each other out of any difficulty or, as Dez would put it, out of any jam. They shared their dreams, their clothes and their laughter. And they would do so again.

Because it was so late in the day, practically supper time, Dez and Emmie, spent the evening talking about the games they played in childhood, the scrapes they got into as teenagers and why there was green masking tape all over the kitchen floor. Dez had decided, if they had to share a house they would do it as safely as possible. She would teach Emmie about the precautions they needed to take. She would create separate living spaces for them in this huge kitchen. They were up late that day and into the evening ~ well past midnight. Emmie had in fact been on a holiday, so had been out of touch with the changes taking place in the world. She did wonder at the number of masks she saw people wearing, but dismissed it as none of her business. Once Dez  made her aware that it really was her business, she had many more questions for Dez. Although she was not very computer literate at all, Dez apparently was. Emelina suggested that they set up one computer ~ either from Martha's or Digby’s room ~  somewhere in the kitchen so they could both see and work on it. That movement alone would challenge their togetherness. One to move the computer, one to supervise. As the newly organized house grew quiet that late night, both girls ~ and they felt like girls again ~ slipped into their separate dreamlands. Only the tick of the big kitchen clock could be heard.

“I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart for so long

. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time.”

~ A.A.Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh