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PARIS ROSE

I have added some thoughts and a photo or two.. Plus, the roses are very pretty. So, I am re-blogging. Happy Father’s Day, everyone. A special shout-out to my wonderful sons and their families. Best, Jay

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Paris Rose, not to be confused with “Tokyo Rose”, is my attempt to put some beauty into this upcoming weekend. The best thing about the weekend will be Father’s Day. Otherwise, Juneteenth and the Saturday Trump Tulsa rally, predicted to infect large numbers of Americans, are dreadful. My heart breaks from the reality of what happened to George Floyd and the heartlessness that occurred. And, I am horrified at the cruelty that justifies putting children in cages like dogs and causes them to be separated from their parents because they are with parents wanting to escape dictators and death. I see the same people who don’t care posting posts wanting help for stray animals. My heart breaks for those frightened children. But, I digress…….

Do you know about WWII? First, a bit of history, “Tokyo Rose, explained” –

tokyo-rose

“Tokyo Rose” was a name given by Allied troops in the…

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PARIS ROSE

Do you know about WWII? First, a bit of history, “Tokyo Rose, explained” –

“Tokyo Rose” was a name given by Allied troops in the South Pacific (“Let’s remember Pearl Harbor, as we march to victory…”) during World War II to all female English-speaking radio broadcasters of Japanese propaganda. The programs were broadcast in the South Pacific and North America to demoralize Allied forces abroad and their families at home by emphasizing troops’ wartime difficulties and military losses. Several female broadcasters operated under different aliases and in different cities throughout the Empire, including Tokyo, Manila, and Shanghai. The name “Tokyo Rose” was never actually used by any Japanese broadcaster, but it first appeared in U.S. newspapers in the context of these radio programs in 1943. During the war, Tokyo Rose was not any one individual, but rather a group of largely unconnected women working within the same propagandist effort throughout the Japanese Empire. In the years shortly following the war, the figure of “Tokyo Rose” – whom the FBI now avers to be “mythical” – became an important symbol of Japanese villainy for the United States. American cartoons, films,^[and propaganda videos between 1945 and 1960 tend to portray her as highly sexualized, manipulative, and deadly to American interests in the South Pacific, particularly by leaking intelligence of American losses in radio broadcasts. and in 1949 the San Francisco Chronicle described Tokyo Rose as the “Mata Hari of radio.'”

For those of us who were alive before most of you were born, we remember Tokyo Rose. I do. Along with the Betty Grable pinups. Tokyo Rose was the first I knew about propoganda – before the Cold War. (look it up). But, now, the rest of you have my PARIS ROSE.

Needless to say, I am NOT the Mata Hari of radio (or television or film) in Paris!!!! Or a pin-up of any kind. Haha. But, I do have some pretty photos of roses. I have explored flower shops and gardens throughout my neighborhood (5e and 6e and fringes of other areas), and the one on my street has the prettiest roses. The rest have a mish-mash. As of yet, I don’t think the street markets have opened. I can probably find pretty roses there once they are back up and running.

Today, as promised, I will post some pretty photos from my neighborhood favorite flower shop Stanislas Draber. I have been spelling it wrong. Sorry. This spelling is correct. They see me out taking photos and wonder what I am doing. But they don’t need my free advertising. They always look busy.

And, a meme or two for commentary. And, a cartoon or two for a laugh or two. No deep thinking involved.

I was going to write about letting go. 1) Life will teach them, …….or not. or, 2) Well-meaning Caregivers ,……. or not. e.g., Elder Abuse 3) Does It Fit? But, I will save for another day. So, in honor of all of our fathers (we all had one, like him or not) and George Floyd (a father), I post these roses. Enjoy.

Stay safe! And, from the Creative Cave in Paris,

Best, Jay

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P.S. (a post script, e.g. #life at work)

I think this post is a good one. It is an important one for me to write. And, I keep reading it over and over. “Out of the Blue…… it will come……… Stay tuned. Best Jay

JAYSPEAK

After my post “PONDERINGS ABOUT TRUTH”, I now know that most people are aware that a lot of people conceal and lie to “save face” or on a “need to know” basis only. And, it is never wise to name names in a post or in a book. It only causes more problems with people than it is worth to make a point. Especially if the people are still alive. Oops. I once tried to write a book with fictional names, and I got very confused. So, this is a dilemma for me. You see, for years, I took classes and went to Journal workshops to help myself “find ME” and it worked. I definitely changed into the person I am today, and she is definitely different from the little girl growing up in Gainesville, Georgia. IN MY OPINION. And, the process is ongoing.

And, as early as 1971 (49…

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P.S. (a post script, e.g. #life at work)

And, as early as 1971 (49 years ago), I felt that my destiny was to help confused, creative searchers like myself to find themselves. (I no longer think that is my destiny.) At the time, I believed that many of my friends felt “dead” inside. (I had felt dead inside before my work in the journal). I KNEW they acted dead inside – like a bunch of “Stepford Wives” (Look it up), e.g., “dead inside”, and I wanted to help them help themselves. It involved work in a personal journal. Oops. WELL, I have a problem when people don’t like or understand that kind of work. Or value it. I valued it at the beginning. I could see the value of the work. Most people can’t, or don’t, or won’t. Why did I? Is something wrong with me? Is something wrong with them? Is something wrong with that kind of work? And, I am especially impatient with searchers. Actually, there is nothing wrong at all. The problem is that I have difficulty letting go of trying to control them. AND, a lot of people are NOT searching at all. I am. And, it is still ongoing.

I like to do journalistic writing. That is my writing style. Especially in these blogs.

On JANUARY 1, 1972, I wrote these words in my journal (at the age of 35), “Life is one long period of waiting – waiting for someone to come, waiting for something to happen, waiting for happiness, the anticipation of waiting, and then, the waiting for Death. Are these pre-war times? Like the times of pre-Hitler? Pete Duel shot himself at 31 yesterday.

My nerves are on edge! Relax, Janet. Calm yourself. Remember the star-cross, the center – one breath, one moment. I don’t want it to be a moment. I want it to be forever. I don’t want to die – that blackness – that ending = that it is over! I am afraid. And, anxious! What is it like, Peter Duel? What is it like? I want to cry and cry and cry and cry.

Oh, Ira [Progoff], how wonderful you have been for me! I would like to shout it to the rooftops. But I want somebody to hear. I want somebody to come. I want my shouting to matter, to be productive and what if it is not? Then, I will be a failure and deflating success. The pomp and circumstance will be gone and only I am left with my methods and my procedures and myself to live life as best I can from one staggering moment to the next. The unknown does not have to be fearful, just expectant. Something in me is dying. I am experiencing a death. The pomp and circumstance of my childhood is passing. I am one of the carrots. There are lots of flowers but also a few carrots. It is important to say, to state every time I am in a horrid place – really deal with it and state how it feels and keep saying it, and it will move on and reverse itself. No one will understand. No one can understand. A wound will heal IF I first recognize the wound and release the need for an end or a result. Golda said, “Don’t talk about the dogs. Have the patience to wait. Don’t rush toward experiences. Fully experience them.” Think of it as a rose, or an unfolding rose. I am excited about life and the future. Forget guilt and allow experiences to happen.’”

I fully expect this post to be misunderstood. This is NOT my thinking today. But, I am just discovering that we were trained as children to cover up the truth. And, I think it is important for all of us to be aware of that fact as we continue to cover up the truth. I know all of this is more than any of you want to know. But I am in the last years of my long, wonderful, fully-lived life. And, I need to write these things down.

For the record, I promise to return to photographs and events and memes and cartoons, but I am experiencing a lot of introspection in my “creative cave” here in the 6e in Paris. If not now, when?

Best Jay

PONDERINGS about TRUTH

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Today, I am thinking out loud. On my mind all week have been a lot of thoughts about the “Code of Silence” – that unspoken CODE that is part of police departments throughout the world. Yes, the world. I cannot tell you how many televisions shows – GOOD television shows on the BBC and USA stations ( hardly the world) that I have watched in which people see (cops and bystanders) what happened and don’t tell. Reasons differ but most of all, the common denominator seems to be “fear of reprisal”. Maybe I shouldn’t try to speak for “the world”.

This is not new news for me. In fact, when I was a little girl, I saw things with my own eyes and was either instructed, threatened, or afraid to say anything.

My earliest memory was in the dining room when we were living in the house on Cleveland Road…

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PONDERINGS about TRUTH

This is not new news for me. In fact, when I was a little girl, I saw things with my own eyes and was either instructed, threatened, or afraid to say anything.

My earliest memory was in the dining room when we were living in the house on Cleveland Road. I was standing in the doorway. I must have been around 4 or 5. I was supposed to be in bed. One night, Daddy came home drunk. Mother was yelling at him. Daddy was trying to get to the telephone, and Mother hit him on the head with a black skillet frying pan. I was terrified that something had happened to Daddy and that Mother had killed him while I was watching. I did not know what to do. That event was never mentioned again.

Another memory comes to mind. Most of my friends’ fathers were drunks. It was a dry county. Ray Knickerbocker was a drunk. My friend was Alice. Her mother Mary Lydia was always letting us bake cookies in the kitchen. We would make a huge mess and mostly eat the chocolate chip dough before cooking the cookies. She didn’t care. Ray would come home and disappear. I could tell he was drunk. I knew because I saw him. He was a jolly drunk who would come into the kitchen to say hello. I knew because I could tell when Daddy was drunk. Johnny Lilly was Daddy’s best friend. He was a drunk. Carolyn Lilly was my friend. She went with us on a lot of vacations. Cliff Porter was a drunk. Angela Porter was my friend. Her mother Emily was always working at the “laundry” when women were not entrepreneurs. Cliff was supposed to help her, but he was always drunk. I knew because I saw him. Charlie Martin was a drunk. He stayed in the bed most days in a different bedroom by himself. I knew because I saw him. Janice Martin was my best friend. Nobody talked about any of it. EVER. I may get in trouble by writing this because it is not OK to name names. EVER. We children pretended and were to pretend like everything at home was fine. And, why did they all seem to spend a lot of time in the bedrooms when friends were over to play with their children? Where did they all get their booze? Not beer, not wine, not moonshine. Hard liquor. Daddy was “Jack Daniels” by the case. And, nothing could be worse than being called a “tattle-tail”, telling “tattletales’.

Yet, almost EVERYBODY went to church on Sundays. Either the First Baptist, the First Methodist, or the Presbyterian. Everyone pretended everything was fine. Praying and taking communion. I hated the hypocrisy. I KNEW everything was NOT fine. I knew because I had seen it with my own eyes. I blamed the nagging women and the Elks Club downstairs bar. Men only. Members only. No ladies allowed. – in the Club or in the Bar. But we never said anything about it, yet we could all see what was happening.

I was molested by Uncle Joe. For a couple of years. I never told. EVER. At some point, I told Mother before she died. She never knew. I knew secrets about other family members, a lot of my friends, their friends, their families. I never mentioned them. I knew secrets about Mother, Daddy, and their families growing up. I knew secrets about my sisters. I never told.

Where am I going with all of this? We were diligently taught to lie and conceal the truth at a very early age by grown-ups or the church or teachers or friends or family or,…… I used to think this was a Southern trait. No. I find it is world-wide. And, here we are. In 2020. Wondering why we accept a president who blatantly lies about things we see with our own eyes, think policemen should report the truth while we lie to friends and family to spare their feelings.

Most of us don’t want to tell the truth. It hurts people’s feelings; it is rude; it is not mannerly; it is not acceptable behavior. Whatever the reason. Most of us don’t recognize the truth and have no problems with lying. A lot of times, NONE OF US REALLY KNOWs the truth. We will never know the truth because we ALL keep a code of silence. We all hide the truth. We all tell people what they want to hear. That is the way to get along with people.

Movies have been made about this. “YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH”. (Daniel Kaffee, a US military lawyer, defends two US marines charged with murdering a fellow marine at the Guantanamo Bay Naval Base in Cuba. The needle of suspicion, thus, points to a colonel.) Initial release: December 9, 1992 , A Few Good Men – Director: Rob Reiner; Screenplay: Aaron Sorkin

Playwrights have written plays about it. Henrik Ibsen “The Wild Duck”

“The Emperor has new clothes.”

“The Elephant in the Room”.

And, on and on……

But, for the most part, it goes unmentioned. It is an unaccepted reality of life. It is a CODE OF SILENCE that exists in all of us and taught to us when we are children. I am blown away by the thoughts of this reality that may or may not be obvious to all but me. I knew but now I know better in a different way. “Me thinks she doth protest too loudly.” I have gotten into a lot of trouble by trying to tell the truth. I have lost a lot of friends by telling the truth. I have lost friends for just saying what I think. I may be “allowed” to think it but not to say it. And, I am not talking about Facebook. Haha. I told the truth to my children. They think I am lying. Truth or lie? I have found that I can think or say anything I want to. I can choose. It is risky to tell the truth. Few people can face the truth. Do we even recognize the truth. To those I have offended, I apologize. But, it is my blog...

By the way, this has nothing to do with being racists. That is a topic for another day. This is about humanity’s CODE OF SILENCE that is universally pervasive. We all have it. Just saying……. Stay tuned……

Best, Jay

JUNE 2020 BEGINS…….Jay speaks, Fresh Air, Flowers, PARIS………(sigh)

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STATUS UPDATE!! It has been a very busy week! A good week. I am beginning to come alive again. (Sigh) Finally! I got a good knee doctor who is going to help me, and he has started the left knee shots that are already helping me walk better. I bought a red dress!!!!!! That is important. Now, I need the shoes. (All I have are pants suits for court. Haha. And walking clothes and Asics!) Also, I now have a housekeeper. My landlord got me a new refrigerator (the one that was here was freezing all of my food.)

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JUNE 2020 BEGINS…….Jay speaks, Fresh Air, Flowers, PARIS………(sigh)

These may seem like small things but getting settled is important. And, I started a difficult French class to prepare me to take residency exams. I am determined to get better at comprehending French. I MUST be able to understand it. I can speak it so that I can be understood, and I have been able to read it for a long time. BuT I CANNOT understand it when someone tells me something. That makes all phone calls difficult. And, most things here require a phone call or three. And, it is wonderful having the cafes and restaurants open on the patios. I have not eaten out a lot because I don’t want to spend the money, but I have enjoyed some breakfasts. And, they are wonderful! All in good time.

So those are big things. Walks, breakfasts, photos, classes, challenges, and new people. I am now in a conversation group with a couple of other women in Paris as a support group. I volunteered to run as a delegate for the European Democrats Abroad, but I decided not to do that. It is all too upsetting. And, right now, I want to work on my French.

MONDAY was a holiday and my grandson Tyler’s birthday. And, I had some nice exchanges with him. He is now 22. I was happy and thankful about that.

A loud shout out to all of you who read my blog and a big thank-you from me. I now have 8, 400 visitors and 38,700 views, as of today. That is wonderful. I will be trying to find ways to make my thoughts and photos more interesting at a time when we all need a breath of fresh air. We ALL need to breathe.

Bottom line, I am beginning to “get a grip”. It has taken 4 months and has been quite an adjustment for me. I am not sure why it has been so difficult. But it has. I think I was fighting everything. I have a tendency to do that. Not cooperate. Not sure why. Stubborn. I am now trying to be nicer person. Ugh. Sorta. Haha. And, I had had several zoom meetings with SAG events, other French expat events, and a writer who is doing a book about Georgia and including information about my father in it.

I have begun to make choices about everything. It is interesting because I am beginning to know what I want to spend time on. And, things are beginning to get clear. Sorta. It is easy to throw things away. It is easy to say no. It Is easy to unfriend. It is easy to eat alone. You get my point. I have confidence in my choices. That’s a biggie. And, I am not afraid of losing friends.

I don’t know. It feels different. Everything feels different. I took some favorite photos this week that I want you to see. Some flower photos are great! And, I have walked through the Jardins de Luxembourg almost every day. I have a LOT of things I want to do, but I will do them ALL in good time. And, if I don’t, so be it.

I am sorry that Donald Trump is president of the United States. I am sorry that there is a fence around the white house. I am sorry that people are so mean to each other. And, there is a long list of things for which I am sorry. But there are at the same time, there is a long list of things for which I am happy and thankful. Yes, BLACK LIVES MATTER. They always did to me when I lived in Georgia (growing up) and still do. I fought for their civil rights as an attorney and have left behind me in Los Angeles some outstanding attorneys are carrying the torch for me fighting for justice and civil rights!

So here are some favorite photos for the first week in June 2020. What a year so far!!! Ouch!

GORGEOUS FLOWERS!!!

Donation – Beginning Again in PARIS)

Thanks for helping me afford where I am going AGAIN in Paris. I will do my best! Thanks, Jay

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FYI, I am going to start signing off with Helena’s headshots from 2017. They are still my favorites and I like the looks. You may have seen some of them, but I shall use the favorites of mine. I need to find a good photographer in Paris. Or maybe get Helena again. Her boyfriend lives near me. That works!!! Thanks.

Best, Jay,

Taking a Knee In Support

Last night, I was not having a good night and, as a result, I had trouble going to sleep. And, I kept reading about events happening in Paris, London, Russia, Iran, Germany, China, and in the USA. until I managed to work up a high state of anxiety and despair. And, somehow, when I read this poem, I calmed down. So, I am posting it here, in case you might need to calm your soul. And then this morning, I resolved to beat “death in life”. To live while I am alive, no matter what. In other words, let go. These are things that are beyond our control. Beyond my control, at least. I will do what I can. But, maybe the best some of us can do is to live life while we are alive. Many thanks to my friend who posted this piece on social media. She often knows just what to say in her postings. (I think.)

The Laughing Heart – by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life

don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.

be on the watch.

there are ways out.

there is light somewhere.

it may not be much light but

it beats the darkness.

be on the watch.

the gods will offer you chances.

know them.

take them.

you can’t beat death but

you can beat death in life, sometimes.

and the more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be.

your life is your life.

know it while you have it.

you are marvelous

the gods wait to delight

in you.

You might be saying to me, “But you are in Paris. ” Believe me, I cannot escape from my thoughts. And, my mind works overtime. I read this this morning on the Internet. It has been 43 years since I was 40. So, double everything! I am sharing it with you (with a few corrections by me).

“What are some warnings that should come with being over 40?

This is the age that starts mirroring your past, most recent and present lifestyle!
I have friends who have smoked for years. Its effects are clearly showing.
I have friends who have drunk alcohol frequently. Its effects are clearly showing.
I have friends who have used drugs often. Its effects are clearly showing.
I have friends who have followed an unhealthy lifestyle and eating habits. Its effects are clearly showing.
I also have friends who have followed a healthy lifestyle including eating healthy and exercising regularly. Its effects are clearly showing.
It is up to you how you live your life but remember that around 40 no makeup or spandex will hide your lifestyle.
Live wisely!

(by Peter T Mayer – I’m 41 and most of my friends are around 40 or above 40 years old so this fact I guess qualifies me to answer this question.)

Taking a knee,

Best, Jay

“It’s going to be a bumpy [ride]!”

This morning, it is even worse. I follow a historian online and this greeted me this morning:
“If we cannot yet fully know the dynamics of the protests, there are a few things we do know.

First, the protests have wiped from public discussion all the major stories that were distressing Trump: the deadly toll of the coronavirus and his administration’s abysmal response to the pandemic, the skyrocketing unemployment as the economy falters, and Friday’s revelations about his 2016 campaign team’s collaboration with Russian spies.

Second, the president has gone missing in the midst of this crisis. While presidents traditionally speak to the nation to try to reassure Americans in such times, neither he nor Republican leaders are trying to calm the nation.”

JAYSPEAK

Yes, fasten your seatbelts. This morning is full of good news and HORRIBLE news. I feel good and horrible. Just when I think that things cannot get worse in the USA, things get worse. This is the quote that greeted me this morning:

“The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters.” ― Antonio Gramsci

Who was Antonio Gramsci, you ask? Antonio Francesco Gramsci was an Italian Intellectual, born in Ales, Italy in 1891. He wrote on political theory, sociology and linguistics and died in Rome on April 27, 1937 (almost one month after I was born).

Yes, it does seem like the old world is dying and the new world is a mess. And, the leaders are a mess and often behave like monsters. But, the good news (for me, anyway) is that the Jardin de Luxembourg…

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