Amazon in denial

Amazon sells books that deny the holocaust. If we want a stop to that, we can do so by voting UNHELPFULL. Read more here:

http://open.salon.com/blog/john_guzlowski/2009/11/19/will_amazoncom_continue_to_support_holocaust_denial

Telephone calls (fiction)

“Hallo, this is Jacoba speaking.”

“Good evening, my name is Sofie, and I have a very special offer for you!”

“Why are you crying, dear?”

“Oh, nothing. My offer is as follows: You can read the Morning Gazette for four weeks, without any payment whatsoever! And no strings attached!”

“Are you alright? Do you have a hanky?”

“All used up. And after that period of time, if you are totally satisfied, we can make you another special offer! Are you interested?”
Ads by Google

“My dear child, what on earth happened for you to be so sad?”

“Its this job! Nobody wants to read that stupid paper! I called thirty four people and not one of them wants to!”

“Oh, now that is sad. That is really really sad.”

“I will never achieve getting my own income this way! Never!”

“No, that will be difficult, off course. If no one wants to read that thing!”

“I think I will jump out of the window. And I am five stories up, mind!”

“Don’t do that, you silly girl! Okay then, I will take a free subscription for four weeks.”

“Really? Are you serious?”

“Sure. After all, we are here on the planet to help each other, aren’t we now.”

“Let me put down your name.”

“Jacoba Fine. Oh, and I want to unsubscribe right away.”

“Unsubscribe?”

“Yes, so I won’t have to face any extra costs. I already have a subscription on the Morning Gazette and my cat only uses one litter box. Love, why are you crying again? Honey? Don’t go away! No Sofie, stay away from that window now you hear! Don’t jump! Oh dear. I am putting the phone down now, honey. My goodness, what a bang! I wish you good luck, dear. Bye!”

“Hallo, this is Jacoba speaking!”

“Good evening, my name is John. I have a nice deal for you.”

“Okay, so let me first give you the number of my banking account and my pin code.”

“Is this a trick? Are you from the police? Pete, it’s a set up! She is from the police! Lets get out of here! The building is probably surrounded, so lets jump through the window!”

“Police, oh dear me, no! I am an old lady living all by myself. With my cat Tom, that is. So write down: 416655578, thats the bank, you know, the nice bank around the corner, and my pin code is 5556. Now what is the deal you were revering to? Hallo, young man? Hung up! How very impolite!”

“Hallo, this is Jacoba Fine.”

“Good evening ma’am, Do you care about the earth?”

“O yes! And about Mars, Venus, the moon, Pluto, Mercury, Saturn, Uranus… Funny name that planet has, I mean: your anus? Ha ha. Yes I care about all of them, I am a universally caring person you could say. I also care about my cat Tom. Do you like cats, dear?”

“Do you want to make a donation? To save the planet?”

“To save it from what, dear?”

“Destruction! The end! The apocalypse!”

“O that. Wasn’t that supposed to happen last year?”

“Money! Please, donate some money, please?”

“Dear man, I have no money. But you are always welcome for some supper. Just give me a ring if you are in the neighborhood.”

“You would feed me then?”

“No off course not. You would have to eat by yourself, you are a grown up person, aren’t you?”

“Is this the mad house? Did I call the institution again? Yes, I must have. Oh well. Give me nurse Baker, will you. I want to ask her if she could take me back in again. This world is too aggressive for me!”

“Nurse Baker doesn’t live her, sir. But you can say something to my kitty if you like? Say hallo kitty…”

“Hallo kitty… hallo kitty kitty…”

“Mew!”

“Oh my god… it talked back to me! I can speak with the animals!”

“No, that was me, to be honest. My cat hates strangers.”

“Boohoo…”

“O dear, another one. Are you close to any windows dear?”

“Yes and I am six stories high! Why?”

“Don’t jump.”

“I will! I will jump!”

“You won’t like the landing!”

“Bye, cruel world!”

“Yes, he jumped. That makes three. Not bad, for a weekday, isn’t it Tom?”

Will he adjust?

As I wrote earlier, next year our son (17) will (hopefully, hey this is the first stage only) go to the United States of America for a schoolyear. He wanted to go to the US, as it is the most wonderfull country in the world.

Preparations have to be made. Not just the paperwork, but we also want to prepare him for a different society. He is a socialist, and very interested in politics and way things are in society. I think he might get into trouble if he wants others to understand why he thinks the way he does.

The USA is a different society, with a different history and therefore a different outlook. The people he will encounter, might not like socialism one bit. Till now he has never met people that think socialsm is wrong, but he will probably meet them there. I am trying to make him see that. Different does not mean worse. He will get a different perspective perhaps. Any way he will need an open mind. And maybe he will think it needed to change his ideas.

He is too blunt, like his mama. I am trying to teach him that he might have to be a bit less outspoken in his thoughts. And he must interpertrate what is being said in the right way.
“You are wonderfull,” means “well done” really, not “you are the most special person on this earth.” “This means so much to me,” means “this is nice”, not: “Now my life is perfect, thanks to you.” In America every one is very hospital, but if somebody tells you you are always welcome, better check before you go. It might have been a polite phrase Subtleties and how to grasp them.

One thing he will experience as well: Halloween. The eve of horror. I heard a story, a Dutch journalist living in New York had her children dressed up for Halloween. They were at a friends house, and there were children dressed as … Twin Towers? With planes crashing on it as well.
I found pics on the Internet:

She was shocked. But it was Halloween, and no body minded. There is a lot of freedom in the USA, a freedom to express yourself.

It got hot in the room, and her son took of his costume and also his shirt. The hostess imediately came toward him and said: “No nudity!” Shé was shocked as well to see his skin.

My son will have to learn that a child can walk around as Twin Towers on fire, and that is OK, but for a child to show its belly is not done.
The child (or his mother) said next year he will really scare people on Halloween and go as a nudist .

It will be such a long year I think. How will we get him back? He will have learned a lot, that is for sure. And we will learn in the process. Our youngest is going to spread his wings. Our live together will start all over.

The letter (fiction)

Dear Anna

It is time. I want to tell you about the past.

Eighteen I was then. I had just nicely finished grammar school, with all good marks. Therefore my mother has thought of a reward: she and I were to spend a while on board of the vessel my father worked on, so I would get to know him a bit, because otherwise that would never happen, she said. My elder brothers were already in the Indies by then. It would be a cosy trip, the three of us in the captains quarters.

After an Atlantic summerstorm, that had wrecked the screw propeller of the “Pooldam”, we ended up on Rathlin Innes. Only thanks to my fathers seamanship, may his soul rest in peace, it is that we didn’t drown then, but entered the puny port in the bay of Rathlin Innes, a dot on the map, and according to the tekst there, an uninhabitet island, well that discription was close. My father was extremely worried. As in the meanwhile WWII had broken out, he couldn’t get spare parts for the screw, since they had to be shipped from Germany and well, that was kind of difficult then. You understand, dear?

After a while I got bored, but it wasn’t all that bad to be trapped on the island. It was an oasis of peace in the turmoil called 1939. Here, feeding seaguls, I had time to think about my life and what I wanted to do. I had just finished my first relationship with a four eyed Amsterdam boy called Bob, who later joined the Resistance. Well, actually he broke up with me because of Lies, a peroxide blonde skeleton he happened to marry as well later on, I think. Not that it matters. Not anymore

Meanwhile, it had been over a month that we were trapped on this godforsaken island, that was part of Ireland, but just as far away from Scotland. Sean was a Scotsman. He was staying here with his aunt, so he had told me, together with the moth-eaten toothless sheep and weather- beaten toothless fishermen, because he refused to fight for the English against the Germans. Sometimes I believed him, sometimes I didn’t.

That day I had been waiting for Sean for an hour or so. As I looked outside through the halfround window of the little church, I could see our ship down in the bay. The “Pooldam” was a rusty Dutch freighter, waiting for better times. We were bound for Le Havre in France actually, but the “Pooldam” would never get there. Her carcass is now rusting away on a shipyard in New Jersey I suppose. Yes, honey, your aunt had quite an adventurous life when she was your age.

I lit a cigarette. A praying woman glanced at me in a disturbed way. I blew some smoke towards her miserable candles, and for a moment the strings of fumes seemed to take on for a sort of dance together. Or a fight. She said something in that local tongue I couldn’t make head or tail from, something horrible I think, but I laughed at her in a rather cheeky way and stayed right were I was. Afterall, this was óur spot. Seans and mine. We saw each other here more or less on a daily basis, to share some secret kisses. Sean and me were the only persons under the age of thirty on the island. We always had a great time together during those secret encounters in the church or at the gravelled beach. He would tell me about Glasgow, no paradise either if I had to believe him. He wanted to go to America one day, later, when he wasn’t wanted for desertation anymore.

Sometimes we would row a bit from the shore, in his sloop, but only if my parents would sleep in late. He has taught me how to fish, and I know the names of six different sorts of Scottish fish by heart. I was his Bonnie lassie or something stupid like that, in any case our love was meant for eternity and I always stole his cigarettes. I loved him. He me. It was as simple as that.

My father was not to know of our romance, because fathers those days were different than nowadays. I mean, I really would not have tried to live with a man unmarried and all, like you and Luke are doing now. Even dates were not done. Everything had to be done secretively, and that church on top of the cliff, where hardly anyone ever came, was ideal for our purpous. But that day our luck was against us. So when Sean took a brake from lovemaking to go to his aunt’s house and arrange some whiskey, somebody entered the church. A woman with a headcloth and matches at the ready. That devoted woman kept staring in those candleflames, I became a bit queasy watching it. What kind of visions was she having? Why didn’t she just go, so Sean could re-enter and we could go on having fun. Perhaps he really had some whiskey!

Finally the catholic woman was finished. The candles she blew out, and she left. Her footsteps in the gravel faded. I waited and pushed my hair up, the curls were already losing it again. Sean still didn’t show up. I decided to see were he was.
It started to rain, like it almost did every day and it didn’t bother me, even if it was the end of my hairstyle. The path going down was slippery, terribly slippery and I had to hold on to the rocky protuberances not to fall down. Yes, dear, so that was when I saw Sean. He was leaning against a rock. Handsome, tall black hair. Very different from the islanders, who were all ginger and ugly as hell. My heart was beating like crazy when I saw him, you know.

He was not alone. He had his arm around a woman, and he was kissing her. A woman not that young anymore. My mother.
Now your grandmother might have been good looking, but surely she was almost forty two at the time and she had already had four children. And it showed, I can safely say I looked better than she did. So what was Sean doing with his lips on hers? Could it really be he felt something for her?

Disgusted I turned around to throw up. When I looked again, they were still standing close together. I heard him laugh. She was laughing as well. They didn’t see me, as they were so busy. I will skip what happened next. Afterall it is about your grandmother I am writing you, Anna Maria Scholtens-De Vries, born in Amsterdam, Februari second 1898. Yes, you were named after her. Not my idea by the way, but no one ever asked me.

In the end she walked away shaking her hips toward the slippery stairs that led to the harbour, about a hundred and fifty yards down. He watched her till she had disappeared behind a moss covered rock. As soon as she was out of sight, he lit a cigarette. Obvioulsy he had forgotten all about me, in the church, my hair curled and my lips red with my last lipstick.
I could chose, run after my mother and push her down the stairs, or get even with Sean.
Okay, darling, it was Sean I picked. Well otherwise, you wouldn’t have been born either, right? As she was pregnant at that moment, carrying my little sister. Anyway, your mother was born almost nine months later.

I rushed towards him and gave hin a very hard push. Before he knew what hit him, he lost his balance on the edge of the cliff. I pushed again. He screamed, I do well remember. A very horrible scream. I am glad I didn’t see his eyes.
When I came down fifteen minutes later, some crewmembers were on the quay. Extremely happy. The First engineer had managed it, the screw was fixed. Everyone had to get on board, the ship was to leave the very night. Destination New York. Well, that was the plan, my father said. My mother nodded. It would be an adventurous and dangerous trip and so on. I took a good look at my mother, but she looked as dull as ever. Perhaps a bit more pale.

“I want to see Sean one more time!” I shouted. “I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye to him at all!” I did it to spite her, of course.
“Dear, that Sean will forget about you in a second,” my mother said. I didn’t get to leave ship anymore. Less than an hour later the ship was in full sea.
Well the rest you know. We arrived in America safely, we became citizens. Your mother, my little sister, was born in New York. The most beautiful black hair she got.

Why have I written all this and sent to you? You tell me. You are the psychology student.

Just the other day I accidently read an article about the Enigma, that code machine the Nazi’s had. One of those complecated technical stories, well not really interesting to you. But Seans name was mentioned. Sean Wayne MacGuiness. Not a name you see every day, so it caught my attention.

Apparently my Sean had been one of the people who found out the code of the very first Enigma. This when he was working as a spy in Germany! However, he never got the chance to pass it on to the Allieds. He mysteriously disappeared in the beginning of the war on the island of Rathlin Innes, where he was spying on German submarines, waiting for an opportunity to send his code safely.
He never got around doing that. No, of course not.
They found his body after the war, in a cave to where he must have been drifting.

He lied to me. I do hate it when people do that.

It is bleak now. I lit a candle, I do that at times these days. I try to see what that woman on Rathlin Innes was seeing in the church. I can’t always do that. Sometimes I only see flames. But once in a while…
Is it okay for me to spend my last living days with you? You are my favorite niece. You do know that, don’t you dear?

Best wishes,
your loving Aunt Catherine

this story is my translation (I did this today and I really hate translating ), I wrote this story last year in Dutch. I would appreciate it if any one would point out grammar or other mistakes, thank you.

Euro president

Now I had no idea, but we are going to get a sort of president in Europe soon ! It will be a formality job, really. Now what candidate is most likely to get i? It has to be a politician, he/she has to be chosen by that mysterical institution called the European Parliament, that moves between Brussels and Strassbourg, and is never on tv. And he/she has to bee presentable.The person chosen has to know about politics, but is in an unofficial sort of position, symbolic I supose

A current premier or president seems to be most likely.

Let’s see. Do we want Berlusconi?  I don’t think so. If we want to laugh, we will go to a movie.

Angela Merkel? Nah. We also want someone who looks nice on stamps. Sorry Angela.

Sarkozy, the president of France? Maybe. If we can find him in a crowd (he is a bit on the short side)

Someone from Eastern Europe?  Can’t pronounce her/his name!

Our  prime minister JP Balkenende?  No, no no! Please not him  even though he can speak his languages. Nice man, but not my very first president please! Our Queen Beatrix? Too old, otherwise ok.

Tony Blair? But he only speaks English.

I know who we want. Carla Bruni  As wife of the French president, she knows all about politics. She is nice, she can probably speak languages. And she can sing.  Sort of.   I want her.

 

Poetry

Sad losers can bash you, and trash you,
lurk and jerk, stalk and talk,
but they can’t shut you up
and they can’t make you walk.

They won’t get you down as you have got love
And maybe, just maybe, they don’t get that enough

Another ship, even older

This ship is even older than the Dankbaarheid, as it belonged to my grandmothers parents, Jan Martens and Jantje de Vries.  Jantje was born in 1856 in Koog aan de Zaan, as daughter of a skipper as well. When she got my grandmother in dec. 1895 she was 39 already.

Jan is standing on the back of the ship, with children.  One of them must be Neeltje.  It is not very clear here, I will have to find a way to do pics better.

This picture must have been taken in the late 18oo’s. The name of the ship I don’t know.

Going to America!

My youngest son (17)  is making preparations for his schoolyear in the USA.  Read his blog: http://terschellingamerica.blogspot.com/2009/10/welcome-and-first-steps.html

Going back in time

The times they are changing. Tonight at 3 the time goes back one hour (here anyway) as wintertime starts.  I always wondered what would happen if you got a twin during that mysterious hour, the first one born at 2.40 at night, the second one born 3.30 at night but that would be 2.30 then, which one is older if you look on the birth certificate?  Hm.  Has this ever happened?

Anyway, next Sunday has 25 hours.  The longest day.  I think I will sleep in 

Cats!

 

http://inaweblog.wordpress.com/cats/  I hope to find people who love cats, to share their thoughts, pics, anecdotes and information about cats. So I made this new page here. Now please come and share what ever you want about our favorite pets!  Your stories,  your joy and sadness. How keep them in good shape, what to feed them, when to see a vet, what is acceptable and where do we have to draw a line in costs.  That kind of stuff. And pics please