Posts filed under ‘a Cow -elle opinion’
Oh! I know there are others that share my thinking but could it be they are afraid of the “ducking/cucking stool ” which censors our opening of our mouths ( locally and nationally)? As if the bad mouthing, concrete crashing Neanderthals weren’t enough of a deterrent.
I have seen it too many times over the years of advocacy and I seem to have come away from those years half drowned ,soaking wet and getting more and more weary of trying – life here can do that to you. So I now find myself walking away, not raising the volunteering hand – and have left most of the “community” – I just don’t fit in .
As I “escape” from Lorain and the world into the realm Roku watching murder, mayhem and mystery I supplement with programs such as “Escape to the County” and the land of my birth where there are still pockets of the idyll and people looking to find their dream in the country.
It was during one such viewing this morning and the town of Leominister
http://www.leominster.co.uk/ and the story of Jenny Pipes (1809) the last woman to be legally ducked. She pronounced a “scold” by her community and the magistrate passed sentence
“In the common law of crime in England and Wales, a common scold was a type of public nuisance—a troublesome and angry woman who broke the public peace by habitually arguing and quarrelling with her neighbours. The Latin name for the offender, communis rixatrix, appears in the feminine gender and makes it clear that only women could commit this crime.
….. being placed in a chair and submerged in a river or pond. Although rarely prosecuted it remained on the statute books in England and Wales until 1967.
Francois Maximilian Misson, a French traveller and writer, recorded the method used in England in the early 18th century:The way of punishing scolding women is pleasant enough.(ED NOTE spoken like a true man )
They fasten an armchair to the end of two beams twelve or fifteen feet long, and parallel to each other, so that these two pieces of wood with their two ends embrace the chair, which hangs between them by a sort of axle, by which means it plays freely, and always remains in the natural horizontal position in which a chair should be, that a person may sit conveniently in it, whether you raise it or let it down. They set up a post on the bank of a pond or river, and over this post they lay, almost in equilibrio, the two pieces of wood, at one end of which the chair hangs just over the water. They place the woman in this chair and so plunge her into the water as often as the sentence directs, in order to cool her immoderate heat.
Jenny Pipes came back from her ducking still “scolding” and her claim to fame of telling it like it was has outlasted the magistrate. http://www.jennypipes.org.uk/
“the idea of ducking was to curb the tongue of the offender; the ducking to continue until the culprit either gives up or was exhausted”
Of course where there is a pond there is also pond scum and “ducking the scold” does disrupt that “gathering and rising to the top” if only for a little while. I have noticed the pond scum usually multiplies!
I have seen the “cucking stool” happening (metaphorically speaking) locally so many times and THAT Lorain is one of the problems and the why the view we have is of this (rehabbed????) “cottage”
To those who have been ducked, and lived to walk away and tell the tale _ you will be missed by those that got wet with you
-to those that have returned to the bank of the pond to join the crowd – it is understandable-
-to those that keep trying -may it only be your feet getting wet…..
for those of you still “piping up’ like Jenny Piper and facing the wrath of the duckers and the chair I will have a towel waiting for you and a different sort of chair in front of the TV!
Or one woman’s plumpness- one woman’s memories
Sunday found me making a Spaghetti Bolognese for myself- mum can’t abide spaghetti and my husband likes more “American” style ( bring on the Prego) so as I was cooking ground beef anyway I decided on an individual “spagbol” lunch
I was transported back through time to a little Italian Café in London’s Soho . I was in one of my first jobs ( I used to go through jobs like chickens wings at a Super Bowl party) It turned out one of my friends was also working in the area so we used to pool our Luncheon Vouchers for lunch – For those that are unaware of a Luncheon Voucher – outside the UK
“luncheon voucher is a voucher for a meal given to employees as an employee benefit, allowing them to eat at outside restaurants, typically for lunch. In many countries, meal vouchers have had favorable tax treatment. Vouchers are typically in the form of paper tickets.”
The proprietor could not help but be dismayed as to the way we ate his
“spaghetti” ( We used to use a knife and fork and cut it) One day, he could stand it no longer and promised if we tried to eat our pasta the proper way ( which he would demonstrate) until we mastered the skill he would not charge us for our meal. Needless to say it took weeks 😉 We progressed from cutting to using the fork and spoon method to finally the twist and twirl without slurping up errant strands or slavering sauce down our chins. I then changed jobs again and could no longer get my free meal .
Food always the comfort and I have realized when “cooking- ( sometimes successfully sometimes not so successfully I equate the dishes with people and memories .
My mum during the war was part of the rationing generation. Having to stock up and make things last has stayed with her and 75 years later she still stockpiles as evidenced by my cupboards “just in case”. Mum can make a roast last for three or more meals.
Roast on Sunday– http://www.telegraph.co.uk/food-and-drink/recipes/the-ultimate-sunday-roast/ followed cold meat and bubble and squeak- shepherd’s pie and Cornish pasties and then if any is left over we have mince. I will say now she will make the items to freeze so we don’t have to eat them all at once. However, she has decided at her time of life that she hates leftovers so I am left with eating all the leftovers. ( sigh)
My husband on his ranting about our cooking with butter will not eat what we eat. Unhealthy!!!!! – mind you HE is the one with the stents and cholesterol – seems according to the heart Dr. and our Dr. when I asked how could he ,with his horribly healthy diet, have blockages “food consumption only affects cholesterol 3% – 20% –
this writing is making me hungry for a sticky toffee pudding
and that reminds me of the Goring Hotel London http://www.thegoring.com/ and Cousin Pat.
My memories are everywhere in this kitchen making strong tea and thick toast and butter with chunky marmalade – My Auntie Ethel and a little cottage in Lincolnshire .
Baked potatoes – my childhood ( and I have never had baked potatoes since that were so good ) and cocoa coming in from Guy Fawkes Night and the chill in the air to Mrs. Cushing’s lovely warm kitchen( London England) – ( my cousin’s paternal grandmother) She of the white hair and cherubic face – she should have been a model for the ultimate Mrs. Clause .
Chocolate Chip Cookies ( the best) and Lemon Meringue Pie http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/marys_lemon_meringue_pie_02330 will take me back to the 7th grade and New Brunswick Canada when a young teacher ” Miss Calder” came to live with us.
Pavlova – http://www.bbcgoodfood.com/recipes/711658/strawberry-pavlova I can’t say I, or even my mum, have been successful in making the perfect Pavlova but as we try memories of Susan’s Pavlovas , Sunday afternoon tea time complete with her spread of new potatoes sliced ham and salad spread before us Ipswich, Suffolk England .
http://www.jamieoliver.com/recipes/beef-recipes/steak-and-kidney-pudding/ Steak and Kidney Pudding -well that would be my own Nana ( on my mum’s side) when she lived with us in South Harrow Middlesex England – she had long white hair she used to pull up in a bun and the brightest blue eyes- she had a hard life and was nearly killed being strafed by a German flyer during WW2 as she was collecting wood.
But figs, dates, pomegranates,
chocolates and wonderful fresh cream cakes and éclairs from the bakery – cheese and watercress sandwiches was my more wealthy grandmother on my father’s side – It as all very exotic in her home silks and fringes an Aladdin’s cave to my eyes. The home of “children should be seen but not heard in Hendon England
Cooking egg and chips http://www.deliciousmagazine.co.uk/recipes/the-ultimate-egg-and-chips/ takes me back once again to being a little girl and sharing Saturday night tea time with the Braynes in South Harrow, Aunt Lilly’s lovely fairy cakes which I have never managed to make successfully bring such happy innocent times.
Cooking the “English Breakfast”- Dusseldorf Germany and my Uncle Austin running along the Rhine embankment with pennies in my hand to buy sweeties from Frau Bloomers sweet shop.
Chocolate Gateaux http://allrecipes.com/recipe/8095/black-forest-cake-i/ I make a fairly decent Chocolate Gateaux – memories of Nikki as a two – year old and the Mohne Dam of Dambusters fame Germany https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M%C3%B6hne_Reservoir
and her insistence she be allowed ‘gatoes” before she would eat a sandwich! and my cousin John
From Germany back to England and Devon Cheese and Onion pie http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/recipes/cheeseandonionpie_89625 gracing cousin Dawn’s table at the farm. The table used to fair creak under the weight of all the dishes – How much fun I had riding the tractor over the fields to the pub- my husband playing darts in the Cider Shed getting blotto.
Not all food brings back pleasant memories – the smell of creamed corn turns me into a puddle of nerves and tears. Hopefully none who read this ever have to go through a stem cell transplant the smell of the preservative used in the gathered stem cells stinks like creamed corn. The odor permeates everything including my brain and takes me to a time of hope and hell with my son Chris. You won’t find creamed corn here in this house.
Another banned from memory and kitchen food is Christmas Pudding http://www.bbc.co.uk/food/christmas_pudding I make a mean Christmas Pud but no longer – because the memory of Chris ‘s job of always lighting the pudding can’t be replicated and only mum and I ate it anyway – the memory still too raw……..In fact our previous traditions when it comes to celebrating have been exchanged for new ones .
Chris – whose love of lobster and shrimp is always celebrated on special occasions – the lobsters in the pot bearing the names of those evil and wicked individuals who have added nothing but terrible negatives to our lives.( Good job I am not Elizabeth the 1st). He and Jim wiping out the buffet of seafood at the Bomber Squadron Cleveland Ohio.
Yes food for thought and cooking the food of comfort – as the memories come flooding in so do the calories. Yes! you can gain weight just by going down memory lane and find yourself all over the world. ……….
And now the pages come to an end but not the mystery …..
I said Bruce what is this talk about us defending this “Rose Flemming” Bruce was walking the floor and finally stopped and said “Judge” The Firm Hartwell and Barton are not defending this girl. But I “Bruce Barton is going to defend her” I sat down at my desk and tried to think ( torn missing)…. finally said Bruce I can’t understand why you want to get mixed … in the thing. I then received an answer from Barton I shall never forget . He said “Judge” ninety percent of the people in this world are always trying to figure out some one elses affairs and I have (always – crossed out) known you for twenty years and I have been a partner of yours for about 14 years
ED NOTE- going back to the original narrative in Part 4 the date of meeting Bruce was 1902 so that would put the time frame of 1922 for the “story”
and I find you are trying to figure out my affairs. I can’t tell you why I am defending this girl but the firm Hartwell and Barton ceases right now. ” I finally persuaded him to sit down and listen to me and told him that whatever he did that I was with him but he said that while he never wanted to lose my friendship he insisted that it be known that it was j(ust) Bruce Barton that was taking the case (torn)…… Hartwell and Barton . You see
When we left the club we went straight to Police Headquarters and talked with the girl and latter on when I saw the Chief he told me when he came from her cell he said “Chief I am defending Miss Flemming and don’t try to grill her anymore …………
And there we have it . I don’t suppose we will ever know the “rest of the story” because that is what I think this is . It was probably written by a Gregg family member all those decades ago . I am not alone in that thinking and one of the people looking to the mystery Rick Kurish ( also contributes to Dan Brady’s Blog http://danielebrady.blogspot.com/ had this to say yesterday and I agree
“After reading this far, I’m inclined to believe that the author was writing a novel loosely based on historical events. No doubt some of the events mentioned actually occurred, but the inability to tie any of the names to historical records is a red flag. An example of an event that may be based on the historical record is the Martha Barton Hospital. An internet search for first hospital in Oklahoma, turned up the following:
“In 1894 Dr. F.B. Fisk purchased a small one story cottage on South Main Street in Muskogee. He greatly enlarged the little house by adding a second story and building an addition to the front. The building sat on a busy thoroughfare where many liveries and wagon yards were located. Early Sanborn Insurance maps of Muskogee note that this hospital was first called St. Mary’s Sanitarium.
With his medical partner, Dr. J.L. Blakemore, Fike expanded the sanitarium to become the first hospital in the Twin Territories. It was briefly called the Fike-Blakemore Hospital after the two physicians. The doctors ran this hospital until 1906. After a donation of support from their good friend, Andrew Robb, the hospital was then called Martha Robb Hospital.
Martha Robb was Andrew Robb’s wife. A.W. Robb was an early day merchant in Muskogee. The Robb family was one of the first to settle in the new railroad town and was always involved in supporting the town and its early institutions.”
Interesting similarities to Clara’s story, with names and a few facts changed.
Also further research on the Lorain Lumber Co. letterhead, indicates that the story was written after 1930. In the 1920s, through at least 1929, Charles F. Friend, Carrie Moore’s father was listed as vice-president of the company. Also Conrad A. Horn was living in Columbus and working in various financial Depts. of state government from 1922 until 1929. He did not return to Lorain County until 1930.
Rick was also very helpful in tracking down the initial Lorain Lumber Company time lines
I think the key to the time frame the story was written may be contained in the Lumber Co. letterhead the first page of the story was written on. Richard J. Kutza while an employee of the Lumber Co. for many years, was not listed as the president until about 1925/1926. That would mean the story could not have written before that time. Also Mrs. C.C Moore would probably not have been involved in the business prior to the death of her husband Leonard, which I believe occurred circa 1920.
ED NOTE I have been able to talk with the Gregg family and in fact I will be meeting with Mrs. Gregg tomorrow – hopefully I will be able to flesh out some of the house history in the 1920-1930’s.
However I do so wish we could’ve read more of “Clara” – it seems we had a writer with a good story to tell-
Why was Bob Sandford murdered? Why was Bruce Barton defending Rose Flemming ? Was Rose the mother of Clara
My imagination is running away with itself but the truth is we will probably never know.
But I have to THANK whomever wrote these fragile pages so many decades ago, she ( and I believe it to be a she) took me on a journey of not only furthering the history of Lorain but I journeyed through oil fields, the life out west , the rough and tumble west, riots and woman outlaws. I learned a great deal from these forgotten pages and I hope to learn more Thank you whomever you are !
“If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Christmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.” Charles Dickens – A Christmas Carol
The lights decorating the houses blurred through tears, were wished away. No Christmas cards were opened as they lay on the mat intermingled with sympathy cards- my mother became the keeper of the cards . I wished the merriment over, I wished it all to go away. I had lost hope , my son, my belief in kindness in death (thanks to Tim and Sue Lombardi, their daughter and their “priest” , their “will of control”- that wickedness not forgiven.
What faith I had was taken with his Chris’ last breath and as I saw the faces of his church- going holier than thou in-laws , the look on his brides face, no grief there just a relief there would be no long term dealing with his illness. The haunting of a Christmas past not forgotten as lights twinkle and candles burn.
And yet Christmas comes again and again and once more I am caught up in its intrusiveness . I still “visit” Christmas – how do you deny the children, my grand children, their excitement, their belief in goodness , the love for all the trappings- they refuse to “tone down” Christmas. Christmas for them explodes with laughter and happiness- as it should be.
Christmas has been “managed in this house” – no tree adorns the living room, my mother sends and receives cards decorated her Christmas grotto in her little living room. Gone are the Christmas Past, Christmas present but the world of children’s wonder is visited.
Still the cry – Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, fought over as to the “greeting- the dogma of belief that your “holiday of religion” is the “real one” and Christian or not you should be caught up in Merry Christmas continues to wreak havoc around the world. .
I shop for little ones on line- and venture out only to get my daughter her special present , the children will receive their over the top present from Chris- the “Chris-miss- present”
On this latest trip to “holiday” as I waited in the line of ” holiday traffic” the radio started playing the “holiday happy music” as I reached to turn it off I realized this wasn’t one I had heard before ( maybe I had and had just forgotten). The song fitted my mood. I listened for a bit then traffic and horns of a different kind were blaring. I came home and went to the computer pulled up the song ( now forty years old )- another decade indeed another century – Vietnam- the Middle East the death and dying continuing. The song topped the UK charts – maybe it didn’t get played here in Lorain – it was controversial- this “Christmas Song” was one that struck home .
“I Believe in Father Christmas” is a song by English musician Greg Lake with lyrics by Peter Sinfield. Although it is often categorized as a Christmas song, this was not Lake’s intention. He said that he wrote the song in protest at the commercialization of Christmas. Sinfield, however, said that the words are about a loss of innocence and childhood belief. Released in 1975, the song reached number two on the UK Singles Chart.
They said there’ll be snow at Christmas
They said there’ll be peace on earth
But instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the virgin’s birth
I remember one Christmas morning
A winters light and a distant choir
And the peal of a bell and that Christmas tree smell
And their eyes full of tinsel and fire
They sold me a dream of Christmas
They sold me a silent night
And they told me a fairy story
’till I believed in the Israelite
And I believed in father Christmas
And I looked to the sky with excited eyes
’till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise…………………
And so another Christmas comes and the questions linger along with the pain…..
The Clean Up:
The tree was down and now the clean up –
I didn’t realize the amount of chippings that would be left, also my husband had decided he wanted some of the wood for the fireplace. Now, I would have a fire every night and did so when we could acquire coal but I know the arguments all to well from the “master of the house” _
too late to light a fire (5:pm)- real meaning- I can’t be bothered to go out to the garage to get the wood.
That is the last of the stack real meaning- there is more but I don’t want to chop wood today.
The wood isn’t dry enough. real meaning -it is cold and snowy out there – I don’t want to go and get it
Never had that argument when I could put on a couple of pieces of coal but I certainly wasn’t going to look at that pile of wood all summer, I have had enough of eyesores!
Anyway, knowing how good intentions and ‘I am going to get to that” become irritants in my life, I offered up the left over wood to those that would move , chop and benefit. The great pile of sawdust was moved by two little boys
I, obviously, could not use grandchild enforced labor for the whole clean up. A trip to the internet turned up some handymen/ women . I have to say the quotes from 40 to 85 dollars an hour were surprising.
Finally I found a company “Tactical Home Services Unit” http://www.thsunit.com/. I was so pleased I did .
They were amiable to not only clearing the shrubs and brush , digging holes for my “planting idea” for the front of the lot( wrought iron arch and gate providing a frame work for climbing roses , similar shrubs to tie in ( eventually ) with the front evergreen hedges in front of our original lot)
building a fence and to take on whatever else we required as time went on and then the history of Charleston Village came back to haunt.
To be continued
October the month of ghosts, witches, goblins and ghouls . The fun time for most, a religious celebrations for some Samhain
The interest in ghostly happenings is at an all time high. Witches and superstitions, black cats with arched backs are everywhere
The problem is black cats can be at risk at Halloween or at least a spike in cruelty has been known to happen
And now thanks to the Ghost Hunters extraordinaire television shows etc. we have a plethora of “ghost tours” all around the world, the darkness becomes a “beacon” for those with cameras and phones hoping to catch a glimpse of the world beyond the veil ( the unknown state of being after death)
There are tours of houses, buildings, cemeteries you name it, participants expectant of meeting someone or something and capturing a glimpse of the unknown. There are thousands of them.
Recently Charleston Village Society was contacted re yet another Ghost Tour of Lorain’s oldest cemetery. The cemetery is on city property but as readers know we have been the historical and figurative “keepers” of the cemetery. We declined to enable this event.
There are many reasons NOT to have one of these tours but mainly the headstones are in a very delicate state some are flat on the ground a misstep and another damaged headstone, the cost of replicating these headstones is around $700 to $800 dollars each. Money we don’t have. The ground is very uneven.
Who is responsible for damage done , who pays should someone fall in the dark , does the group have insurance? This cemetery is in the middle of a residential area do the neighbors want 30 or forty people under their windows all October late at night ? The concerns and lack of respect to those whose bones rest there does not sit well .
So unless someone wants a guided “historical” tour during daylight hours we are not in favor of “ghost hunters” traipsing over the graves of Lorain’s pioneers and founding families.
There was yet another “ghostly tour” last week – and we strongly objected before that tour took place and afterwards. The upshot is the cemetery will now be signed “closed at dusk” along with the no pooping dogs.
The tour company said we would donate! No this isn’t about money – hard to believe since we are desperately needing donations to keep the cemetery stable- it is about respect. Respect that is long overdue to those who lay beneath the green trees.
So by all means grab your cameras , follow the guides to beyond the veil somewhere else – UNLESS you want a tour of Lorain’s oldest cemetery and the stories of how a group of people loved, lived, sailed the inland seas, their contributions to this city and this land , then we would be most happy to oblige ( before dusk)