To Vote

The Right to Vote

By

B.D. Adams ©2016

   The day before the scheduled Presidential Primary here in New Hampshire, we were hit by a snow storm. Not much -- maybe 4”. No matter, that Tuesday morning was sunny with a new layer of snow. The roads had been plowed, so Daniel and I drove to vote in the Primary at our polling location for Alton/Alton Bay.

   Voting is always a crap shoot. That means you never know who will be the winner until the votes are in. This candidate or that candidate did so well in the early campaigns. What happened? Well, it had to be because the candidates that got the voter’s nods did everything right. Or something like that.

   There are so many reasons to say this was right or that was wrong, to point a finger or to cheer for a winner.

   The Democrats had a narrower field than the Republicans did, without a doubt. The Republicans need to weed a few more candidates from their field … in my humble opinion.

   The Right to Vote!! Awww, yes. Voting is a right and should never be taken lightly. To those who believe that it doesn’t matter, voting doesn’t matter, think again. Just remember your history classes – your 20^th Century world history classes!

   If you’ve forgotten what you learned about WWII, here comes a brief reminder of Nazi Germany. From 1933 to 1945, Germany was under a fascist totalitarian state controlled by one man and one party – Adolph Hitler and the Nazi Party! The German citizens had given up their right to vote, gave it to Hitler. They thought he would lead them staunchly.

   What a shame!

   Once Hitler gained his autonomy to rule Germany and many other European countries, he was almost unstoppable! He used his heinous desire to rule unopposed. No political combatants – hence dictatorship. Anyone who opposed was shot on the streets or shipped to the concentration camps. Jews (mostly), Protestants, Catholics and even just regular Germans, those who opposed.

   The German citizens gave up their right to vote, therefore, they had NO say in their lives or government. They should have studied the Roman Empire to get a clue.

   Americans got bits and pieces of news of what the Nazis were doing from letters and some German newspapers smuggled to the U.S. However, those sources were quickly silenced. Then there was no news out of Germany. Only propaganda.

   The citizens truly believed, in the beginning, that Hitler would be the leader they wanted. Little did they know – he would destroy their country!

   Think, really think, how you’d feel about no voice, no recourse. If you can feel the destitution of this situation, then you can understand why The Vote is so precious in our lives! It is our right! One person, one vote!

   Never be too busy to vote -- or worse, never think it doesn’t matter. If you don’t use it, you could lose it. Think about that.

   We are The United States of America. Proud and unwavering in our politics and way of life. Use your vote proudly and with the meaning it was intended.

   Look forward to November, dear readers!

We the People ……

Terrorists at Paris

And Paris Cries

By

B.D. Adams

©2015

     On this typical Saturday afternoon, here in the United States, my fiancé and I were watching college football. I wasn’t at my laptop, but decided to see if I had any emails. That’s when I saw the Yahoo! homepage account of what was going on in Paris!!

     As when I first heard on the radio station, in 2001, about a plane that crashed into a building in New York City, I wasn’t aware it was a Tower in New York City. Once I turned on the TV to understand what was happening in NYC, the reality bit hard. The same as when I first became aware of what I was reading about in France!

     Terrorists in Paris!! Many already dead and even more wounded!

     I said to Daniel, “Turn to CNN. Something horrible’s happening in Paris.”

     When I saw on the news station that my beautiful Paris was under siege by terrorists, “Oh, my God” went through my mind and came out of my mouth many times.

     The other word was, “Why?”

     No crying, but misty eyes at what this meant. Of course, my deduction was that ISIS was responsible … and they were, as learned later!

     The City of Light can now be described as “The City of Fear!” Now, they will not feel comfortable with whom they might see near to them. Rather like New Yorkers after the Towers were destroyed. Paris has been marred by uncouth, hateful churls that didn’t have the decency to respect a city of art and culture.

     The terrorists had absolutely no respect for beauty and history in their world!! Fine – destroy the history and beauty of your land. Why destroy, cause mayhem in a land many hundreds of miles/kilometers away that took in the refugees from the world these terrorists had destroyed?

     Granted, the terrorists hadn’t destroyed monuments or museum pieces (as far as what has been reported), but Paris is a state-of-mind, not only of tangible items.

     I had been very fortunate to visit Paris many times when my husband (at the time) and I lived in Germany (read other Blog Posts). We had been to the Louvre to see the fantastic paintings and all the ancient artifacts and all the monuments that Paris boasts.

     Many times we would sit at sidewalk cafes to enjoy wine or beer along with Parisian foods.

     My ex-husband was a marathoner and would go on his training runs in the mornings in Paris while I would enjoy coffee and a pastry and read a magazine to await his return. I am so thankful nothing like that happened when we were there.

     Even with the attack on the Towers in New York, there will never be an answer to that huge, unbelievable WHY!!!!

     These men committed murder … yes, murder … of non-military people, nowhere in their war-zone. Unbelievable!

     And that is the other question. Where IS THEIR war-zone? If they are truly trying to make the world their war-zone, are these churls really that inane, that stupid?

     I mean, even the Russians seem not on their side. Granted, Russian assault-rifles had been found in a car parked on the street and by the killed terrorists, who died mostly by their hand -- suicide. However, those weapons could have been gotten by many other sources.

     My memories of Europe, which of course include Paris, are now tainted by this horrible, nasty … no word really describes my feelings. However, my mind will remain with these people of love, art and integrity!

     Will there be other mindless acts of devastation or murder? Probably. I and others can only hope, beyond hope, that these military misfits will be found out by people in their religion – whatever religion that could be -- or families to discontinue this very unnecessary slaughter!

Pray for Paris

And all other cities and countries hurt by ISIS!

Venus de Milo -- Louvre

Dream Memories

A Dream Memory

by

B.D. Adams ©2014

 

            Like most children, I was an inquisitive child. One of my inquiries was about dreams. According to one of my parents (forget which one), a dream’s length is 52 seconds. Of course, being a young child, I believed them.
           A dream can be short or several minutes to hours, according to Google, depending on the kind of dream or the person. Therefore, there is no rhyme nor reason for the length.
           I dreamed profusely! I always felt complete when I dreamed. The mark of an artist’s mind, so to speak.
            When I was in the hospital with the stroke, I didn’t dream. Not at all! I brought this up to my doctor (physical medicine doctor, not a neurologist), who only suggested that I just didn’t remember my dreams. I wanted to differ with her, but … hey … I was the patient with a stroked brain.
           I really believed the medications prescribed to me caused the lack of dreams or their remembrance. And, after I was out of the hospital, I began to dream again and remember my dreams, until I would start a new medication.
           Oh, well … c’est la vie.
           Do I remember all my dreams? No, not all of them. However, I always knew when I had dreamed.
           One set of dreams/nightmares I have dealt with was not being able to lock a door or to turn on a light. There is someone after me, but I am unable to see the person or protect myself. It’s been a while since I’ve had that memory and it was before the stroke.
            I had had dreams that I could fly, until I was in my 40s. In those dreams, I would awake so rested, so happy. The only dilemma I’d have was that I couldn’t fly above the high-tension/ electric wires!
            In one of those dreams, I was finally able to fly above the wires! At one point, I was afraid I’d go into outer-space, which I didn’t. This one flying dream was an extremely weird dream in my early 20s. And, I had it only once.
           In the dream, I was able to go above the electric wires, I just flew over farmlands and rivers and forests. Of course, it was nighttime, but I could see. The moon might have been full. It was so cool.
            I had no idea how far I had gone, but I hovered over a big building, possibly a barn, where I heard several voices, loud voices. I landed, perched near an opened window at the roof. I went more inside to better see and hear. There were only men, young and old, seated and stood on the building’s floor. There were a few young men seated on a balcony near where I was. They had a few rifles.
            I didn’t realize I was not invisible. One of the young men looked around and saw me. He said loudly about an intruder, a woman! Many of the older men scampered up the ladder to attack me. They yelled that I shouldn’t be there!
            I was able to make it out of the window, where I had entered.
            Several men went outside and saw that I was flying above them. One man fired at me with his rifle.
           “Demon! Demon!” a few yelled.
           I immediately, flew quickly away!

            I really don’t know if I had an “out-of-body” experience, but it sure seemed real that night.

A weird dream memory.

 

Mohawk Memory

photo maker unknown

The Old Mohawk

      Restaurant

by

B.D. Adams ©2014

            Ah ... a comfortable, autumn evening. Nearly, 6:00pm. Cool, but not like the bite of winter. An eager time for a brisk walk to kick up fallen leaves on the sidewalks by my low-heeled Frye boots. My short hairstyle was tussled by the breeze, but the wrap-around cardigan I wore kept my petite frame fairly warm. The evening lights glowed to welcome, as I approached my destination.

            I was near The Old Mohawk, my favorite German Village restaurant in Columbus, Ohio. There were several restaurants in the Village, but The Mohawk was my favorite! Their fare boasted very tasteful German cuisine, specialty dishes and downhome delights! This was Thursday, so my mouth was set for home cooked meatloaf, green beans and mashed potatoes with their infamous dark brown, beef gravy. I could hardly keep my mouth from drooling.

This restaurant was a vintage establishment! It had been in existence since 1933. Originally, it was called Elk’s Tavern, owned by Myles Elk and was thought a Speakeasy during Prohibition. After Myles passed away, the restaurant had a few other long-term owners, with a few renovations, but never escaped the quaint, albeit tasteful beauty of the menu and the mood of German Village. With spirit, the restaurant continues to flourish.

Since I ventured to the restaurant fairly early, a table, the table I liked, awaited my presence. It was the one in the corner window, where I could sit to see the street on my left and see the expanse of the room inside. I liked to watch (wink). I was by myself, which was my occasional situation.

The easy eating, sixties variety music invited me to have a seat. There were no booths, only tables and food service at the antique bar. Tables could be pushed together for parties that might show up, but there were mostly the cozy table for two or the gathering of four. I felt those numbers were best for comfortable dining.

            Jack¹, a waiter (only two other wait-people), came to take my supper order. A very nice guy in his early thirties. His wife, Beth, was a research tech at the Ohio State University Hospital. Jack had had a car accident and had been injured very badly. He wasn’t able to drive now, but he was one great waiter! The tips I’d leave attested to that fact.

            “Let me guess,” Jack teased and held up his order pad. He had written ‘Meatloaf.’

            I smiled and said, “OK, smarty, what about dessert?” I laid my cardigan in the empty chair across from me.

            Jack scrutinized my eyes, and then said, “The Pie (Buckeye Millionaire Pie).” He smiled his sure smile.

            “Ah, my friend ... you’re wrong. A slice of German Chocolate Cake, please,” I corrected. “Uh, and not too thick. OK?” I grimaced slightly. I loved chocolate, but not at an overkill level.

            He nodded and noted the order. We both chuckled a bit, and then he asked, “Beer, for now?”

            I nodded. He went to do his job.

            Not crowded at present. Calm and relaxed. My long-sleeved turtle neck sweater made me feel cozy. The sun had dimmed more, the autumn leaves only fluttered in the faint breeze. The incandescent bulbs warmed up the view outside. So nice and warm inside. This was why I loved this table, to easily see what there was to see. I still marveled at the cobble/ brick streets that still exist. Rather hard on bicycles, but passable at any rate.  

Jack placed my draft beer in front of me, but had to attend some new customers ... we couldn’t casually kibitz. That was all right. I had had a busy day at the studio and just wanted some self-time.

            A commercial photographer, so I was. Not horribly busy all the time, but the days I was, I thanked the gods for The Mohawk. A familiar, uncomplicated, easy-to-smile type of place ... blessed with really great food, to boot! My stomach rumbled. It wanted its meatloaf.

            One interior treatment that I loved about the restaurant was the bared brick walls. With the tin-tiled ceiling, it whispered the history and sweet ambiance of The Mohawk! There was antique art, from the ‘20s on, without overdoing it. Like the food, all was quite tasteful.

            The types of folks who came here were as varied as the birds that hung around the telephone wires and trees, hopped on the sidewalks. For suppertime during the week, there would be the downtown types ... accountants, lawyers, etc. ... or folks who just wanted a different place to satisfy their hunger. There were those who just sat at the bar with their favorite libation. The drinking always seemed to be more in order rather than the sustaining life with solid food. That was their thing.

            I always observed the few men and women (together or separate) who seemed to be with the education vocation. They had newspapers, magazines, books or loose-leaf paper draped over their meals or drinks as they concentrated on whatever they were reading. Or they were at a four-table and began heavy debates of one subject or another! They either drank coffee, tea, wine or cognac, so I deduced. (Some day I’d ask about the cognac.) Their dress made me think they shopped for Ralph Lauren, casual with soft colors. They could be professors or high school teachers or retired scholars or none the above.

            Because of my vocation, I would write notes for myself on the paper napkins. This evening, the notes were the thoughts for our photo shoot tomorrow, for me and my boss², to remind him of certain matters.

Jack brought my meatloaf and I was so glad. The couple next to me could hear my stomach. It was being very rude! Jack used sign-language to ask if I wanted another beer. I nodded yes. I didn’t wait for the beer ... I began to devour!

photo maker unknown

            Oh, how to describe the taste of really good food? How do I love thee, meatloaf ... let me count the ways!! Never mind ... just eat!! However, must savor not just gobble. Jack brought my second beer.

The restaurant became more congested. I liked it, though. Activity and sound of happy people in a small, albeit comfortable café. Smile to the song of eating out!

A few acquaintances passed my table and made there greetings. Nice and short. A couple of single fellows noticed I dined singly, so they made gestures that I should become a couple with one of them. I smiled politely, but denied both. However, the one fellow ... uh, no. Not tonight. I’m busy tomorrow ... need a good night’s sleep.

I finished my meal very happily. Just the right amount ... not too much, not too little.

Jack brought my check and asked, “Gonna be here tomorrow?”

“Nope, not tomorrow. I have a big assignment tomorrow. I’ll be back again soon,” I answered with my relaxed smile. I so loved this place. Never wanted to wear out my welcome.

It was nighttime now. Lights beamed from The Mohawk, the street lights and the porches on the residential houses. It was a bit cooler now. Rather invigorating! The leaves were tickled by the breeze and played tag with my feet. All bundled with my cardigan, I enjoyed walking home to my vintage apartment on Frederick Street in German Village. I will come this way again soon.

If someone reads this and thinks this would be a fine restaurant to visit ... if you’re traveling to the mid-west ... please make a date to go to The Old Mohawk at 819 Mohawk St., in Columbus, OH 43206. You will not be disappointed! Cheers!!

¹Jack and Beth are fictitious names and characters for the story. Any resemblance of these characters to anyone alive or dead would be a coincidence.

               ²Reference to D.R. Goff, my employer at Quicksilver Studio.  Deceased January 2013.

It Was a Dark and Drizzling Morning

It Was a Dark and Drizzling Morning 

A Traveling Adventure

by

B.D. Adams 

©2013

It was a dark, drizzling, dank morning in Alton Bay, New Hampshire. A very early morning on May 29^th, a Wednesday. A still morning ... not even a breeze. The drizzle was unforgiving, as Daniel and I packed the 1937 Plymouth Sedan for the trip to York, PA. The soft sound of Loons on the lake was the only resonance heard around our home. Even our dog, Sasha, was humbled by the eerie stillness. She chose to be silent and to listen to the Loons, as well.

With everything packed, Sasha and I took our seating in the Sedan, while Daniel took up his appointed location behind the steering wheel and turned the key to start the HEMI engine.

The roar of the engine was what silenced the Loons!

As we ambled our way on the meandering roads, we hoped we didn’t wake too many folk still slumbering in their beds, but we were on a mission to the rolling hills of southern Pennsylvania! Chug-a, chug-a, chug-a ... was the droning reverberation as the car chugged away with its power.

It was not long that we calmly hid near a tavern to watch for other vintage vehicles that would join in the quest! Of course, it seemed to take a long while, but once we spied (with our little eye) other brightly painted bodies, we approached to make them aware that we were friend, not foe.

As we ventured on the road with the new arrivals, the sun brightened the sky, albeit not sunny or warm. After a few more miles, Daniel and I and the thirteen, we had joined, traveled a bit farther to meet two more travelers. Now, our number was complete ... total of nine carriages, fifteen riders! The Quest was now in full force!

Our carriages were sturdy and carried all the riders in comfort and ease! Each vintage vehicle had sustaining nourishment for the journey, but care needed to be taken to re-fuel the vehicles for the journey!

Alas! As with any journey, snags can occur to mar the pleasure of the trip. An upsetting realization that members of the party were missing, sent fright through the minds of the other travelers!! Oh, the horror!! Where could they be ... what had befallen them?!

However, our worry was unfounded. Because of necessary road signs, some vehicles had been detained, which put them separated from the head group!

Unfortunately, the detained group chose a different path, as well, which also puzzled the head group.

With various signals to the lost group, a rendezvous site was established! Both groups were rejoined into one happy group! We continued.

Within a few more miles, the rain, drizzle had discontinued. It now became quite warm, so my blanket was discarded to the backseat. The warmth was more welcomed, more appreciated than the weather of the early morning.

Our trek took us over mountains and friendly hills of Massachusetts and New York and northern Pennsylvania. Thick forests abounded, but the road was passable, albeit a bit rough at times.

The group made a camp for the first night. All vehicles were circled to encompass security for the travelers. Nighttime on the road could be hazardous! Highwaymen browsed the roads for easy prey. How sad for the travelers.

However, the night went without any unwanted intrusions! The travelers made way back to their quest.

This new day was more agreeable for journeying! No clouds or dank conditions ... more warmth and delightful sunshine!

Towards the late afternoon, the travelers approached the gathering they sought of other vintage vehicles in various paint! Oh, what joy! Once we all made our presences known, we ventured to a new camp area which would be our dwelling for several days.

For me and my little dog, we desired to relax a bit before Daniel and I joined the others to partake of our supper. It was such a pleasure to sit without moving.

This night was uneventful, as well! The morrow gave much indication that this day would be very warm with an abundance of sun, which was the truth!

We arrived to join all the other quest seekers for a few days of rallying around melodious sounds of primed engines of vintage carriage bodies and for the seekers-in-progress, to boot! Music permeated the air, along with the aromas of bratwurst sausages as they grilled and many other types of foods! In my mind, it was like an Indian Pow-Wow of present-day warriors from numerous tribes, who sought companion-ship of their peers! A festival, to say the least!!

So many quest seekers, it boggles the mind. It was extremely hard to appreciate each vehicle, give each the time needed to fully deduce the ambiance of the owners’ endeavors!

However, it was a thing of pleasure the time that was given!

 As was planned, our group had decided to deny the festival of our presences on the last day of the gathering. We had wanted to pay tribute to a part of history that one had only read about in schoolbooks ... The Gettysburg Battlefield, of the Civil War in 1863. The area was not far from our camp and easy to attain.

I have read books, seen art of the battlefield, as well as photos taken by Mathew Brady. The Civil War was the first war documented photographically ... with both military and civilian aspects.

A tour of the site was made available to our group, as well as to the other war curious. The Battlefield was a large span of acreage! The battle that ensued was for three full days! Many cannon barrages, bullets that sought and plunged into the bodies of the soldiers of both sides!

            The battle ran its course. Many lay dead on the blood soaked battlefield. It had been testified by civilian observers, the odor of death was abundant!

The Union Army, the northern Yankees, was victorious!

This battle was a turning point for the Union Army because the Confederate

Army, the southern Rebels, had had been winning quite well in past encounters. The Civil War would continue for two more years after Gettysburg.

            As a last hope, the Confederate Army rallied to defend Richmond, Virginia, the Confederate Capital and to attack Washington, D.C. The Union Army, once again bested the confrontation!! The attempt failed.

            The commanding Confederate general, Robert E. Lee, surrendered to the commanding Union general, U.S. Grant, at Appomattox Court House (Appomattox, VA). The date was April 9, 1865.

            The visit to this historic site was very humbling, to say the least. Many came to test their will to succeed, to win for their beliefs. Politicians need wars, but families could do without.

  

          Our group returned to the camp to rest and make ready for our return to New Hampshire and Massachusetts. It was another two day jaunt, but the way was clear for the journey.

            On the return to our home State, the return journey was very different than the initial journey to York, PA. No dark drizzling clouds, not cool forbidding dankness. With this warm weather, we made a stop at an ice cream parlor to satisfy a sweet tooth or two. We also bade our traveling companions adieu, until we meet again.

            We all went our separate ways to our welcoming abodes! We will meet again when a new quest arises. Until then, we wish everyone happy car cruising!

“Be thankful that wars are fought on foreign fields!

Hope, beyond hope, that our land will not bleed again, as it has in the past!

God Bless America!!!”

A Heartfelt Wish for Our Friend

            This is a wish for Bill Ferullo, a good friend and a Streetrodder!! He has just been diagnosed with lung cancer and is receiving chemotherapy. His family is with him to keep him positive!

            Daniel and I have visited him and he seems in good spirits.

            Keep smiling, Bill!!!

Opinion -- The Days Boston Stood Still

The Days Boston Stood Still

B.D. Adams

© 2013

I am a sports enthusiast! I love to watch football, some basketball, car races and tennis. Before I had my stroke, I played tennis and I had been a runner. Not a marathoner, more like to a miler.

My former husband was a marathoner. I would ride my bicycle with him while he would train.

In fact, he qualified for the Boston Marathon one year! We were so excited!

Any person who has participated in that marathon (or any marathon, for that matter) can understand what it means to just finish that kind of race!! Forget the idea about winning ... just to finish without throwing up at the finish in front of the cameras is no small feat!

On April 15, 2013, like many other folks, I watched the Boston Marathon from the beginning to the finish of the top runners! So happy, I was for the winners and the finishers I saw! Afterwards, my boyfriend and I opted to watch other television programs (a movie). Then, we decided we wanted an early supper of Chinese, so he went to pick up our meal. I continued to watch a TV program on cable. This was around four o’clock.

When he came back home, he left the food in his SUV as he hurried inside and frantically asked, “Have you seen the News?!”

I switched to CNN ... and then, saw the horrifying scenes of unthinkable mayhem!!

Why would someone set off bombs at a marathon finish? The Boston had always been an “ambassador event” ... so many nations were in this race. That was obvious by all the flags at the finish line!

Like most everyone, I stayed glued to the News stations. It was so unbelievable that two young men could turn a city like Boston into a zone of terror, made in fear!

When the “persons of interest” were made known, I was amazed that these young men ... brothers, Tamerlan (the older) and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev ... were not seemingly part of terror factions; like Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan or Ireland (of all places).

Their national home was Chechnya!! It’s a small country in the southwest section of Russia. This country has dealt with wars and discontent for centuries! Of late, however, they hadn’t seemed angry with the US. Unless you figure in the Islamic factor.

As more was made known of the brothers, the older one stated on a social media

venue that he “didn’t understand Americans,” he couldn’t “make friends” with them. My

words to him would have been, “Then, move ... go some place else, go back to Chechnya.” Perhaps others had made that suggestion, as well, which did not please him.

He had a wife and a three year old child. Why do this to a child? As it is known, he did not survive his attempt to out-run-the-law.

The younger brother was evidently an aspiring medical student. This would please most any mother ... for her son to be a doctor!

He did survive, but with his brother’s death, he should have given up! This is not going to be like Osama bin Laden’s event. This boy is in the United States with the full determination of our judicial system and all the fame seekers with their own itineraries!

I’m sure the younger brother was a likable fellow. Everyone who was interviewed said this. However, whether the older brother instigated this change in his younger brother’s personality or not, the fact remains he made his choices! They both did.

Personally, I am so glad and relieved that both bombers were found and put away without the added mayhem of more huge explosions, more blood and death! The killing of the MIT policeman was so unnecessary, just so senseless, as everything they had done!! They went to the lengths to make fairly sophisticated bombs ... was that all they thought they would need to do? Didn’t they think beyond the bombing? Did they think they would not be found out! Their lack of reasoning escapes any rational thought!

Were they going to pull a “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” shoot-out? Well, they failed at that. Were they more involved in terrorism than the FBI/CIA had informed?

My thoughts are with the injured people (dead and still healing) and their families. Also, my hopes are with the families of the bombers/killers. Hopefully, they will understand that Americans, born here or legally immigrated, will not tolerate killings, no matter how flowery their families and friends speak of the killers or how indignant they feel of how Dzhokhar was hunted! He is a killer!!

And now, let’s hope we are not inundated with copy-cat bombers at other sporting events!!

I am a Texan, an Ohioan, a New Yorker, a bit of a German, and a New Hampshire-ite (for 11 years)! And, as of April 15, 2013, I am a Bostonian!!!

Note: When this is published on my Blog, there might be new information. So, stay tuned to all News!!