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Post by casimira on Oct 5, 2021 21:13:57 GMT
Hope this question isn't making that memory even more painful, but I don't understand how you knew that what she wrote was a goodbye note. I had come to know the young woman quite well Bixa and the wording of the note just wasn't something she would say. "See you in the next life" in particular. Also, on the day of the commitment hearing she said some particularly hostile things to me after I had given the judge my impressions and assessment based on some of her behavior. I even told him that although she may present as calm and collected on that day, her behavior was erratic and unpredictable when she was in a manic state. This did not sit well with her as you can well imagine. I knew it was a goodbye note and leaving it for me I believe was her attempt to make amends for the hostility she displayed the last time I saw her in the courtroom.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 5, 2021 22:13:21 GMT
Thanks, Casimira. There is something particularly poignant in her taking the time to put things right with you before the end.
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Post by bjd on Oct 6, 2021 6:14:10 GMT
I am always impressed with people who work with patients and families with social and mental issues. Despite all their training, it must be a difficult profession when faced with ambiguous situations. I would also question the role of a judge in a case like the one described by Casimira: s/he has to make a rapid decision by weighing up statements by the parties involved, doctors and social workers, but without having any training in the work itself.
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Post by casimira on Oct 6, 2021 14:51:56 GMT
It's a faulty system to be sure. One of the things in this particular case was the fact that I couldn't introduce any of the pathology that was played out in the sessions I had with the young woman's parents. The father in particular, who hadn't been involved in his daughter's life for several years and never came to visit her while she was in the hospital presented himself as being quite the opposite. It was clear that his agenda was more about a vendetta he had against the mother and used this opportunity to get back at her. The mother on the other hand, had been very involved with her daughter and it was she who had her daughter hospitalized because of the young woman's threats of suicide. Technically, the judge could have subpoenaed the medical chart which included all my notes of my sessions with the parents as well as my individual sessions with the patient. Because he did not, those of us who felt she needed further treatment etc. our hands were tied. I can't begin to tell you how many times during the hearing I wanted to interrupt the father's testimony while he painted a picture of being a caring and involved parent. After the judge announced his decision I wanted to tell him that he would be responsible for this young woman's death. After the patient took her life in less than two weeks of being discharged I was so angry that I wanted to call this judge and tell him because of his negligence she had indeed taken her life. To do this I would have definitely been fired and likely have my license revoked.
An aside from all this, it was the father's gun that the young woman used to kill herself.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 6, 2021 16:43:21 GMT
Good grief!
I had the same thoughts as Bjd about the competence of any regular judge in this kind of a case. The details are infuriating and heartbreaking.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 6, 2021 16:58:24 GMT
I don't blame the judge. I blame us. We don't want to pay extra taxes to have judges who have the time to fully investigate every case. And considering the fact that many judges are designated by election in certain countries, I'm sure that taxpayers vote for judges who judge as quickly as possible and don't "waste" time on expensive details like justice.
Of course, it should be said that people being judged generally want things to go as fast as possible, too.
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Post by kerouac2 on Oct 23, 2021 16:28:56 GMT
In my adolescence, I'm sure I'm not the only one here whose parents said things like "you should go on that show!" when we watched quiz shows and I would blurt out the reply before the official contestants. As the years have passed, I understand the situation better. Not only are my reflexes not what they used to be but I am also not as conversant with some of the pop culture in play.
Nevertheless, there was never a single moment when I ever felt that I wanted to be on one of those quiz shows.
(Why am I writing this? Because I am watching a quiz show at the same time and feel old and stupid.)
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Post by Kimby on Oct 23, 2021 21:09:41 GMT
My grandparents, my great aunts and uncles, various family friends, all had these clocks and hearing them all the time was part of life. I recall that my grandparents had set the chimes to stop between something like 22:00 and 07:00, but my great aunt and uncle in Xanrey let the clocks chime all night…Those chimes were nevertheless a treasured part of my early years, and I regret not hearing them anymore. Did anybody else here experience this? My maternal grandfather, who was Austrian but lived next door to us in Wisconsin when his granddaughters were little, had a chiming mantle clock on top of a glass-doored cabinet full of National Geographic magazines and books printed in German. I loved that clock and was thrilled when my mother gifted me and Mr. Kimby with that clock on our wedding day, 5 years after grandpa died. It chimes once on the 1/2 hour and chimes out the hours on the hour, no fancy Winchester melody. I used to let the clock chime during the daytime and inactivate the chime at bedtime, but I kept forgetting to slide the lever,. After being woke up by 11 chimes several times, we just stopped winding the chiming mechanism. We still use the clock as our main clock though and I still love it. The dial says “Wurttemberg” but I don’t know if Grandpa brought it with him when he immigrated or bought it later.
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Post by Kimby on Oct 24, 2021 2:07:41 GMT
Kerouac said : "you should go on that show!"
People often said that to me about Survivor, because I learned a lot of camp craft in decades of Girl Scouting and backpacking with Mr. Kimby.
Though I love to watch the show, I would NEVER want to be on it. I don’t like cold, or rain, or being hungry or eating bugs, and I’m not diplomatic enough to “win the social game”, and not fit or strong enough to win the physical game. Plus I get really cranky when I’m cold, wet and hungry.
But it’s a little flattering that they would think I could do it.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 24, 2021 2:24:27 GMT
I knew someone who was on Jeopardy. He told me that when Alex said he could give a shout-out to his family, he froze and forgot his son's name.
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Post by patricklondon on Oct 24, 2021 11:07:24 GMT
My grandparents, my great aunts and uncles, various family friends, all had these clocks and hearing them all the time was part of life. I recall that my grandparents had set the chimes to stop between something like 22:00 and 07:00, but my great aunt and uncle in Xanrey let the clocks chime all night…Those chimes were nevertheless a treasured part of my early years, and I regret not hearing them anymore. Did anybody else here experience this? My maternal grandfather, who was Austrian but lived next door to us in Wisconsin when his granddaughters were little, had a chiming mantle clock on top of a glass-doored cabinet full of National Geographic magazines and books printed in German. I loved that clock and was thrilled when my mother gifted me and Mr. Kimby with that clock on our wedding day, 5 years after grandpa died. It chimes once on the 1/2 hour and chimes out the hours on the hour, no fancy Winchester melody. I used to let the clock chime during the daytime and inactivate the chime at bedtime, but I kept forgetting to slide the lever,. After being woke up by 11 chimes several times, we just stopped winding the chiming mechanism. We still use the clock as our main clock though and I still love it. My brother, who is good with his hands, had quite a hobby repairing and restoring old clocks, and there was a time when they did all chime together, but my sensible sister-in-law put a stop to that. Later he developed an interest in organ-building. He made a smallish one (he's a great woodworker too - I haven't the patience) that fits into their living room; and then went on to a portable turn-the-handle one to play at church socials and the like. But while it was outside on their sloping driveway, he forgot to put the brake on, and it started to run down to the road: rushing after it, he slipped and injured himself. My poor sister-in-law found herself explaining to the ambulance team that he'd hurt himself chasing his organ.
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Post by whatagain on Oct 24, 2021 12:22:07 GMT
Roflol. 🤣🤣🤣🤣
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Post by questa on Oct 25, 2021 10:44:38 GMT
[ Nevertheless, there was never a single moment when I ever felt that I wanted to be on one of those quiz shows. Well, I have been on the national top quiz show in the mid 60s and a real eye-opener it was! I have had a good memory for trivia and quick reflexes so I joined about 80 hopefuls in Adelaide to do the screening quiz (the show was made in Melbourne) 50 questions...degree of difficulty "what creature lives in a formicary?" (ant) Swap papers and mark...me 92 points, "People under 60 points, thanks and goodbye, 60-80 leave your details with the desk. I loitered and he saw me, “ where do I go?” What did you score” As soon as they heard , the tech guys grinned and the producer put a call through to Melbourne, A few weeks later a letter arrived with instructions, cabs and airfares ,and request for3 changes of clothes. No fine stripes or large red areas as they messed up the cameras. Normally they filmed each week day but they were doing it on a Sunday and the canteen was closed. I had come from the Airport with another contestant...a professor of something from Brisbane Uni. We had make-up done by two girls. one asked if we were excited to be in such good company but the other hushed her down. Professor and I had not been told who we were up against until we were going through the curtains. We were instructed to NOT swing the swivel chairs back and forth, talk to other contestants or wave to a camera. We walked through the curtains into blazing light which dazzled us.The presenter, Tony Barber introduced us and had a brief chat.(we had been asked if there were things we didn't want to talk about ). Then we met the reigning champion. It was a woman in her 70s who had won every quiz show in Australia and most of English speaking countries .From quiz shows she had bought her 3 kids houses,cars,and all the things for the good life. Her daughter was caring for her as the old woman was in a wheelchair. She had the crowd on her side and only had to win the current session to take out the lot. There are only 12 minutes of actual questions and it took me about three to figure out the system...buzz on everything even before you hear the full question. The answer will come in the few seconds of applause. If you don't agree with the answer...protest. One question we had was, “What is the name given to the event when Chairman Mao took his followers across China?” We hit the buzzers together and she said “The great march” I said it was the “Long March” The experts agreed with me but the old girl said it was the same word in Chinese .The audience started were getting angry with me as they saw their darling getting a bit flustered. The producer said we would leave it unless it came down to that point, so on we went , I lost points on identifying a famous face and in a few minutes it was over. She won by 3 points. The producer (Garry Meadows) came over to me and said what a great competition I had made it and “ There is no shame in going 15 rounds with Mohammad Ali” . I found Professor and we had coffee and biscuits. We had been presented with a lapel pin with a diamond in the centre. I saw the invoice...$A 50 each. I still have mine. One of the funny bits was as the filming stopped to insert ads ,Tony would thrust out his hand and a freshly lit cigarette would be put in it As the seconds ticked away he puffed until the last instant and then flicked the butt into a bucket. Excellent aim and timing. Over all it was an interesting experience. I realised everyone wanted the woman who had worked her way up from the the minor rounds to win. There were some people in the audience that were not sportsmanlike and things were called out that today would not be tolerated. One thing that has happened is as the credits roll a small print notice is shown advising that”'parts of the content which do not affect the outcome have been deleted.”
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Post by tod2 on Oct 25, 2021 11:08:18 GMT
I want to see that TV show!! Can't you get us a re-run please?
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Post by questa on Oct 25, 2021 22:28:55 GMT
Oh, I wish, Tod! With light make-up, long hair nicely groomed and good lighting...and wearing a DRESS (for heavens sake) I even looked quite pretty attractive. Pity I have no record of the era.
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Post by bixaorellana on Oct 26, 2021 0:48:56 GMT
the old girl said it was the same word in Chinese Because of course she would know that just off the top of her head. You did really well, Questa! Even if I knew the answers, I'd probably freeze up and flub everything.
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Post by questa on Oct 26, 2021 3:10:53 GMT
I knew the answers to all the questions, it is just the getting in before the others that makes or breaks the point. I think they ask the level of questions suitable for the people at home as interaction with the audience is important. They were not difficult to anyone with a fair general knowledge. I look at the youngsters trying out today and wonder how they exist with so little awareness and knowledge of the world.
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Post by kerouac2 on Nov 15, 2021 18:03:12 GMT
Monica Lewinsky was in the news recently (I've already forgotten why) and one thing that I remember was a visit that I made to my parents during the media circus. They had a heated discussion about "I did not have sexual relations with that woman." My mother was absolutely adamant that fellatio did not count as sexual relations whereas my father insisted that it did. Besides the fact that one does not really usually want to hear one's parents debating such matters, their opinions were the reverse of what I expected. (Actually not really the reverse, because I would have expected both of them to think that fellatio did count as sexual relations.) I kept out of the debate, although I think I suggested at one point that "penetration" would have been full sexual relations and that fellatio was something just a bit less, no? I was just trying to bring the debate to an end.
Anyway, I will never know because I never dared to ask my mother if in her youth she had had a lot of experience in not having sexual relations like Clinton. I bet my father wanted to know, too.
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Post by kerouac2 on Nov 25, 2021 21:06:22 GMT
This is a special day for a lot of Americans, but I myself have absolutely no recollection of a Thanksgiving feast such as we see in movies (even though the movie ones often turn into variable famuly disasters) or in commercials (in which they are all incredibly wonderful). I do remember that my mother really did bake a turkey most or all of the time in part I of my youth (before the divorce). But I have no idea if she did this willingly or under moral constraint and now it is too late to ask. In any case, we never had any sort of multi family gathering -- it was always just my parents and my brother. And therefore there were always far too many turkey leftovers. I have never tasted cranberry sauce in my life. Maybe I would like it, but my mother did have control over the condiments of the meal. I also do not have the slightest idea if my biological father would have wanted this element, but it was never mentioned. He did seem to love my mother (until...) and I'm sure he gave in to almost all of her meal decisions.
In later youth (part II) I know that my mother had total control over the meals, and I don't think I ever saw turkey on the table again at any time. None of us liked it. But in terms of total control, one thing has always stuck in my mind. My stepfather had to move to California before the rest of us (because of the school year -- not just my brother and me but also because my mother was a teacher). He had to buy the house after a huge amount of consultation over the telephone. This was 1967 so with no internet, not even any fax, this was sight unseen and I know that my stepfather was terrified of making the wrong decision. But he bought the house and the rest of us drove to California the moment that school ended. And the thing that I remember was that he had stocked up on a certain amount of food that he thought would be appropriate. And I saw immediately in the cupboard that the can of mushroom gravy would never be touched (which is ironic because my mother loved mushrooms -- but she hated the concept of gravy). Five years later when my parents sold the house to retire in France, I'm sure that the can of gravy was still in the cupboard. My stepfather would have never dared to suggest using it. In fact, in all of the years of their marriage (1967-2003), in restaurants my father always ordered exactly the same thing that my mother had chosen. It didn't matter what he might have preferred -- what he preferred was to have the same thing that my mother ate. Yes, I think it is sad, too.
But to go back to special meals, I at least know how these huge events go. My grandmother hosted big assemblies (under the control of my grandfather) at least 3 or 4 times a year -- Christmas, Easter, Pentecost, July 14th. The space was limited in the dining room but I recall squeezing at least 12 people around the table. These were mostly family but also village notables on occasion since my grandfather was the mayor, and I have no idea how the guests were chosen. Perhaps a secret conference in my grandparents' bedroom or some other system. My grandmother had a bigger family, so I clearly recall her sisters and brother most of the time. My grandfather had just one sister, but I also remember a big meal with her and her husband (they lived next door) but also the daughter and her husband and their three daughters, so that was already quite a group. And that leaves me wondering about the son, who also had 3 daughters, but they were never invited to a meal any time I was there... Ah, family politics... Who knows?
Those huge holiday meals lasted about 5 hours (apéritif at 11 and the last digestif and coffee around 16) and they were a total ordeal when I was a child and they would still be to me as an adult. No Thanksgiving football game to watch, just a short escape out into the garden, but it was never very long because I didn't want to miss the dirty jokes and reminiscences of the old people. How I wish I had taken notes now!
And all I have left is this boring post.
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Post by kerouac2 on Feb 13, 2022 16:39:56 GMT
In school, in physical education class, I was always picked last or next to last when teams were being chosen. This didn't bother me since I was not good at any team sports because they did not interest me. I could be assured that the ball would never come in my direction, and that was fine. But every now and then, not every day, a team captain would decide to pass me the ball when a shot was easy to make. I really did not care, but I could see a glimpse of humanity in the captain's eyes since he apparently did not want me to feel totally useless. Usually I was able to complete the action.
Then again, thinking back, it is not impossible that the coach/teacher told the captains to have all of their team play or there would be hell to pay.
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Post by whatagain on Feb 13, 2022 19:08:31 GMT
My physical education teachers ALL removed me from any team.
Starting at primary school, where i recall copying my vocabulary instead if doing the gym.
So i was good in french and a disaster at gym. Not that i could not, but thectimes i was allowed to do it, i put such an amount of bzd will, laziness, sliwness and cumbersomeness whatever...
The only gym teacher i liked liked kids too much, i saw decades after that he was convicted for paedophilia. He did give it a try on me but i just rebuked him and that was it.
So my love for physical teachers is abysmall. I never found one that i respected. I didn't give it a hard try, to be honest.
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Post by patricklondon on Feb 13, 2022 19:41:29 GMT
Ha! In my first few years at grammar school, rugby (which I hated) was pretty much compulsory in the winter, and every Wednesday afternoon there'd be team lists on the noticeboards. Those, like me, not allocated to a team would be listed as "Remnants", who would just be expected to run up and down the edge of the playing field, self-confidence suitably reinforced. As soon as I could, I opted for rowing instead (yes, a sport you can do sitting down, and I turned out to do quite well in it). My blog | My photos | My video clips | My Librivox recordings"too literate to be spam"
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Post by bixaorellana on Feb 13, 2022 20:18:25 GMT
If the word "remnant" wouldn't bolster a child's self-confidence, nothing would!
Sheesh.
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Post by onlyMark on Feb 13, 2022 22:10:40 GMT
Well, err..., how can I phrase this in the right way. At school, academically, I passed through with the bare minimum. There were two streams, the higher and lower. The lower were the CSE pupils who were usually destined for factory work, to generalise. The higher stream was for the 'O' level pupils. Most others who had some potential to go to College/University. I was in the higher stream for everything but French, but only just. But sports were a little different. If we played it, I was on the school team. Apart from cross country running. Sounds good but in reality there wasn't that many who were interested anyway. I'd just have a go at everything no matter what, from table tennis, weight lifting, volleyball, hockey etc etc.
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Post by kerouac2 on Feb 14, 2022 2:38:26 GMT
I know a lot of the kids lived for sports. They seemed like aliens to me most of the time and I to them. And yet I had some good friends who were jocks because all it takes is being seated alphabetically in a boring class where the teacher acts oblivious to whispering.
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Post by kerouac2 on Apr 26, 2022 16:08:45 GMT
Yesterday, I called my second cousin Gisèle, the very last remaining close family member on this side of the Atlantic. I had not spoken to her for 5 years, back when my mother died. She herself has been a widow for 6 years. She lives in a small house on a big piece of land near Amiens, with a stream and a big pond. They used to have ducks and rabbits and even a peacock, but all of that is gone now, too much trouble for an old lady, age 83. She and my mother were first cousins and best friends in their youth. My mother was her godmother, since my mother was 15 years older.
She was delighted to hear from me, because we had a lot of ground to cover, talking about the deaths of course but not in a morbid way (the great circle of life) before moving along to more recent developments such as covid-19 (the broken circle of life). I described things like lockdown in Paris, the sort of thing that she never experienced living the middle of nowhere. One of her 3 (out of 4) living sons still lives nearby and got all of her groceries and other needs for her during the worst of it and looks in on her at least once a week. (I imagine that the phone calls are more or less daily, but I don't really know.)
We did a lot of reminiscing about the old days, my grandmother, her parents, stocking things in the cellar and the aroma of the potatoes and apples, the things in the cheese cage hanging at the bottom of the stairs, the cobwebs on all of the wine bottles and all of the canning jars full of green beans, peas, carrots and various jams. I thought the cellar was a wonderland when I was little, dimly lit by one small bulb.
This led us to the importance of storing things so as not to run out, and this obviously brought us to the war in Ukraine. I had of course heard all of my mother's war stories, but I had never heard Gisèle's. She was only 5 years old but remembers leaving the house in flames with just a few things and sleeping in cellars in strange villages. Five year olds apparently do not forget. They ended up in a few more shelters but finally made it to La Petite Raon where the grandparents lived (and where my grandmother was born). They were safe there since it was a mountain village at the foot of the Vosges, and then they returned to the ruins of their city, Saint Dié.
I remembered Saint Dié from my childhood because we went there a couple of times when my great grandmother was still alive (died in 1965). She was living with her grandson (Gisèle's brother) and his wife. I haven't (yet) looked up the reason, but Saint Dié was half destroyed during the war because the Nazis wired the whole whole city to blow it up completely. But there is a bridge linking the two sides of the city, and the wiring broke (or was sabotaged) during the demolition and half of the city survived. The first time I went there in 1960, a lot of the city was still in ruins, but the main street had been rebuilt in the inimitable 1950s square architecture, next to the cathedral which was a heap of ruins.
Gisèle understands even more than I do the horrors happening in Ukraine but was less emotional about it since it has all happened before, more than once.
In any case, it was nice to go through all of the memories with her and see that she is as sharp as ever and that she is not lonely in her rural setting. There's still quite a bit of gardening to do, even though she says that things that used to take a day now take a week.
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Post by htmb on Apr 26, 2022 17:50:30 GMT
I think having chats of this sort can be very good for both parties. Glad it was a positive experience for you, and how wonderful Gisèle still has all her brain cells!
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Post by kerouac2 on Apr 26, 2022 17:59:03 GMT
We both talked about all of the dead people to whom we would have wanted to ask all sorts of questions, but it's too late now.
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Post by htmb on Apr 26, 2022 19:23:01 GMT
My list of questions for the dead continues to grow the older I get.
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Post by kerouac2 on Sept 19, 2022 9:10:05 GMT
In January 1965 I was living with my grandparents in Lorraine, and we watched the state funeral of Winston Churchill from start to finish. It was one of the first programmes shown widely in Eurovision, and it seemed amazing to see everything live rather than a filmed report. The television was in the kitchen on a shelf above the refrigerator and we always sat at the yellow formica table to watch television on the kitchen chairs, which were hard on the buttocks after a couple of hours. In those days, there was normally just about an hour of broadcast around lunch time and normal programming in the evening started about 19:30 and ended before midnight. It was a real treat to be able to watch something in the middle of the day, even a funeral. The little black and white screen with a smeary immage was perfectly acceptable back then. I wonder how many people could stand to watch something in those conditions for more than 10 minutes these days.
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