Who cares about political affiliations except for those who think the Civil War is still being fought? Actually, that ordeal is and was a total embarrassment; a Country declaring war against itself with winners none. That chapter is thankfully gone, but in its place was
supposed to be born the beginnings of a brand new liberty and freedom. What happened to that freedom? Hard for me to tell and I live on the prairie where the wind whispers free and unemcumbered. It is for this reason, peace of mind, that I am taking a Facebook break. I am a writer, a northern, Republican, Catholic, American writer, and I know what real freedom tastes and feels like and cannot and will not settle for less.
If you are looking for me, this is where I will be; although, I will continue to share with FB but I imagine my posts will be DOA on arrival. Love to my friends and family, and you will be hearing from me.
On the day after my first Chemo treatment for a highly curable form of cancer (Lymphoma) which my Onocologist says he can put in remissission in two months, the news flash came on that Lady Soul, Aretha Franklin, had slipped away and passed into her heavenly home. Although I never had the honor to know this immense talent while she walked among us, I sure knew her in another. We both hail from Detroit, have a burning passion for music, absolutely love Motown and remember when it was a force to be reckoned with and the playground of the Midwest, and if I listen real hard I can hear her footsteps going down the sidewalk leaving the old Hitsville Building from my perch across the street knowing in my sixteen year old heart I was watching a star.
A solitary tear somehow slipped down my cheek, not for me but for songbirds that cannot stay but are destined to spread their wings and fly to the sky.
I tried to be a woman of the world, and did a pretty good job of it; but, the awful truth was I did not know how to put gas in my car so before I could go anywhere I had to send the husband to the gas station with MY car. And this he did.
To rectify this short coming, I stated watching YouTube videos on ‘how to pump gas’, and learned some rather interesting trivia in the process. You never have to guess which side of the car your gas tank is on because there is a little arrow in the gas gage pointing to the side of the car corresponding to the tank, you take the gas cap off with two clicks and put it back on with three clicks, and in the State of Oregon it is illegal for any private citizen to touch the gas pumps and all the stations have attendants to pump the petrol.
After two days of viewing YouTube, I hauled the husband to the car and drove him to the gas station so he could watch me pump gas to make sure I did it correctly. The next day, I repeated the same procedure with the other car. I would do it again, but I’m fresh out of vehicles and the ones we have are full to the point of overflowing. He says there will be no more gas purchases this week because gas is at an all time high due to the hurricane in Texas, but I don’t know how that caused the gas price in Illinois to spiral upwards but it did.
I am currently watching basic auto maintenance videos but I don’t like getting grease on my hands so I am uncertain if I will try to check the oil or not. I still my not be a woman of the world, but at least I can get gas in the car and travel from one gas station to the next.
Only one word adequately describes this beauty, and that word would be diva with a capital ‘D’. This particular beauty was Julanne Johnston born 1900 in Indianapolis, Indiana and died 1988 in Grosse Pointe, Michigan. She was either interred in her husband’s family plot at Woodlawn Cemetery in Detroit, or cremated and scattered in the rose garden of Chapel of the Pines, Los Angeles, California. As she is listed in both places, it must be reader discretion to decide which is accurate.
Julanne was an American silent film actress whose most notable role was starring opposite Douglas Fairbanks in ‘Thief of Baghdad’; however, she is best remembered for being on William Randolph Hearst’s yacht during a fated outing in November 1924 when the film director and producer Thomas Ince died of heart failure.
The other thing Julanne is remembered for is that during the zenith of her career, she stepped from a train in Grosse Point, Michigan to meet some friends on her way to New York City, but met the love of her life while there, David W Rust (1899 – 1962), and never left. They had one son, and father and son are definitely interred at Woodlawn Cemetery, Detroit. She took her lovely self to the Detroit Institute of Arts, and did volunteer work.
Why should anyone remember this diva or any other star of the silent screen? Aside from being the vixens they were, these women were trailblazers. In a time before women could vote, they walked away from family farms and cities to make their way to Hollywood in search of stardom. Every now and then, as in this case, they found it.
‘The Thief of Baghdad’ is still available at Amazon.com, and makes for good viewing.
There was a time women wore hoop skirts, were considered so delicate they had to be routinely revived with smelling salts when their corsets ceased breathing activity, and were believed to be too hysterical to vote. Off they were sent to the parlor to discuss ‘lady things’ while the big boys remained at the dining room table with whiskey and cigars to rationally discuss the political landscape.
Poor dainty little creatures, and weren’t those just the days? Thank you, God, those days are gone. The spineless things tore those hoops from their skirts and used them for hula hoops, tied the corsets around their husband’s heads, kicked the smelling salts to the curb, and ran into the streets. Having sprung themselves from the parlor, they begin to walk alone and talk out loud, manage careers and homes, and vote. Actually, they did everything the big boys did, sometimes better, and they begin to speak for themselves, if anyone was listening or not.
Wouldn’t you just know it? History is trying to repeat itself. Trapped behind the 2016 Presidential Campaign, women are once again being delegated to the backroom while the politicians, all of them, discuss women’s reproductive organs, birth control, abortion, women’s health care options, and all things female as if they were talking about someone from another planet.
Guess what guys?? We are standing right here, and you need only ask if you want to know what we want. Don’t look in the backroom for us because we’re not there, and please cease and desist using our fallopian tubes for a Presidential platform. We can speak for ourselves, and can manage our own birth control issues and choices.