tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82744088306497381202024-03-05T19:33:22.254-05:00Solo Women at Home and AbroadMeditations of a scientist and world traveler.http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-80211637719748743412020-05-02T15:11:00.001-04:002020-05-02T15:33:07.074-04:00My Most Difficult Experience in KoreaNow that I'm (finally) moved into Traditions of Mill Creek in Brentwood, TN. and have sorted through more than half of the boxes I brought with me (almost all of the big ones), I'm feeling like doing something a little more creative from time to time. I'd like to begin blogging again, this time more regularly, even though I'm not yet "organized." (Will I ever be organized?) As I was putting away some boxes of journals, I happened upon this entry from twenty years ago (dated April 2, 2000), written during the two years I spent teaching on military bases in Korea.*<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0p3Bo4Aug5Ebos0hKaIu4BxrFu9kM7KM0ZjO790sNUSrDpNozwQUdXPQWnWatFXldIV9r8FYOYj3uid115_M5t_86lQ1IwPSFUdCr50ge2PpydaqhCRo8LwcGHxLl5-UMa1X8adcL160/s1600/Scan0040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1116" data-original-width="1600" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0p3Bo4Aug5Ebos0hKaIu4BxrFu9kM7KM0ZjO790sNUSrDpNozwQUdXPQWnWatFXldIV9r8FYOYj3uid115_M5t_86lQ1IwPSFUdCr50ge2PpydaqhCRo8LwcGHxLl5-UMa1X8adcL160/s320/Scan0040.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tower at the DMZ visitors' center</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Although this teaching job in Korea has <b><i>not</i></b>
been the easiest assignment I've ever had in my life, it is not the
hardest, either. I've often chosen “hardship duty” for reasons that have not
yet become clear to me despite several rounds of psychotherapy interspersed with
other efforts to understand life and my place in it. Maybe it’s the challenge. I want to see what I can actually endure. Maybe I think that difficulty is good
for the soul - just as working out is good for the body. “No pain, no gain” and
all that sort of stuff. Perhaps I’m at some extreme end of the novelty-seeking
character type. I have done things such as taking my comprehensive exams at the
University of Michigan six weeks after giving birth, having taught in the medical histology course until the time of delivery. Or, I lived in a ghetto in
Philadelphia for two years while doing post-doctoral research with a tyrannical lab chief . I could
go on and on about the multiple stresses and strains I've placed upon my life. I don’t complain about things much because I realize that I've been
responsible for most of my own difficulties. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Perhaps the greatest difficulty I have
experienced here in Korea (NOT my doing, I believe) has been the long-distance
effort to straighten out my RV sale and loan pay-off. I drove all the way to
Tampa, Florida, to sell the RV to Lazy Days RV Center, one of the largest and
most reputable dealers in the country, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about
some snafu in the sale of the vehicle. And I also wanted to have credit toward
a new RV after my return. I had some last-minute regrets about selling that RV. It had been a practically perfect vehicle for me – and such a source of
pleasure and adventure! When I left the dealership in a rental car (just three
days before the August 8 departure date for Asia), I was assured that everything
was in order, that a check would be cut the next day, the loan from Nations
Bank would be paid off, and I didn’t need to worry about it any further.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">I was tipped off that there might be a problem when I received a notice last October from Bank One (forwarded
from my home address by my daughter) that I could skip a payment in December by
sending in the attached card. I almost threw it away, wondering why Bank One
would be sending me something. Then I idly conjectured that Bank One might have
merged with a bank of one of my credit cards. Bank mergers were in the air around that time. But before I tossed it, I happened to notice a
figure of $388.00 in the upper left corner, and that amount looked unnervingly
familiar. I decided to keep the notice and follow up on it with a phone call. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Fortunately, phone cards available to the
military (and contractors) charge only 10c a minute for calls to the U.S. So I
made a phone call a few nights later – after midnight, in order to be calling
during U.S. business hours. The eastern U.S. is awake and doing business while I am normally sleeping here in Korea. I wasted a couple of dollars on the
audio “service” message<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- much of it on
hold listening to some ghastly, scratchy excuse for music. There are
some tunes that I will never again be able to listen to without stomach cramps
because I've had to hear them <i>ad nauseum</i> while I was holding for “service”
from some company. <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 150%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 48px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I eventually spoke
with a representative who told me that I owed them more than $15,000.00! </span>I had paid way ahead on the loan, so I was not delinquent,
nor was my credit in jeopardy. But I was in shock.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Immediately, I called Lazy Days and talked
with the financial officer, Clyde Bailey, who had taken care of the transaction.
For some odd reason, I had brought his card with me overseas. He assured me that the
loan had been paid off and that the bank had sent title to the behicle, which
had been sold ten days after I brought it into the lot. He said he would follow
up on it with the bank and he would call me about the same time the next
morning (night to me). I felt reasonably assured and went to bed.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">The next night, he didn’t call. I waited
up until almost 2:00am and then called him. He answered but said he had a
customer with him and would call me back in twenty minutes. He didn’t. I didn’t
sleep very well that night. The next morning (evening there), I called the
salesman I had dealt with, Alex Kozlowski, because I knew he usually worked
late in the evening. He was the one who had arranged the “trade-in” for my RV
against credit for the new one I will purchase after my return. He was very friendly
and said that the financial guy would call me back the next day, and, if
necessary, they’d get the lawyers on it! The next day, Bailey did call me and
said that the bank had made a mistake and would send me a letter of apology. He
said that Nations Bank was bought out by (or merged with) Bank One two weeks
after the transaction in question, and somehow the records had gotten mixed up.
So, I stopped worrying about it for a while.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">About a month or so later (in December), I
thought I’d better check with the bank because I had not yet gotten a letter of
clarification or apology. The “service representative” said that I owed them
more than $15,000, and intertest was accruing. They had no record of my
previous contacts or of any communication with Lazy Days. By now, I was
becoming alarmed and called Clyde Bailey. He was annoyed that the matter had
not been resolved and made scarcely audible, disparaging comments to the
effect: “I talked with a supervisor, but of course, a supervisor wouldn’t keep
records of anything.” He said he would follow up on it.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">For the next two weeks, I was very busy
with end-of-term activities – making up and grading exams, compiling and
turning in grades, etc. It had been a very busy term, and I was teaching three classes, including a laboratory, which takes a lot of time. I decided to put
off further efforts to deal with the matter until I returned to Charleston on
December 27. When I got there, my daughter was at home and we spent most of the first
four days (jet-lagged as I was) taking care of her wedding preparations. I finally
called as soon as possible after January 1, 2000 (the magic date); I believe
that January 3 was the first business day after that. Sure enough, the bank
still claimed that I owed them money.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">So, for the remainder of my week in
Charleston, until January 8, I spent about an hour each day calling back and forth
between the bank and Lazy Days. I eventually connected with a research person
named Vonelle, who admitted that the problem had, indeed, been “researched”
once before in October – not by her, just some note in the records. But she
claimed that there had been no follow-up from Lazy Days, so it had been
dropped. The bank finally acknowledged that they probably wouldn’t have sent
the title without receiving a check, but they needed a copy of the cancelled
check so they could trace what had happened to the money. Later, I wished I had
asked Clyde Bailey to send <i>me</i> a copy of the front and back of the
cancelled check as well. As the week drew to a close, both Vonelle and Clyde
had each-others’ phone numbers, and I asked them to work it out, since clearly
the problem was in their records or transfers. I thought that I shouldn’t have
to be shepherding this thing, since I no longer had the RV and would soon leave
the country again. By the time I left the U.S., the matter still had not been
resolved, but I was assured that it was being tackled from both sides.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In early February, I called the bank,
again from Korea in the middle of the night, to verify that, in fact, the loan
had been paid off. I first tried calling Vonelle but got a voice message saying, “that number has been changed or is no longer in service.” In retrospect, it
might have been an area-code change, but it felt like another gratuitous
roadblock. So, I called the regular “service” number and asked about the
account. Instead of reassurance, I was treated like a dead-beat by the person
who checked my account because, by then, I was truly overdue, and "delinquent" in my payments. The “service person” I talked with had no record of
any inquiries or negotiations concerning the account. I bullied my way to a researcher by insisting that the “service person” check to see if the title
had been sent out. Finding that it had, he was willing to pass me up the line.
I wondered how someone not as persistent or tenacious would be able to handle this sort
of debacle. As it was, I was reaching the end of my patience and sanity about
the issue. I told the new “research person” (Lolita Smith?) that it was already
being researched by Vonelle, and I asked if she knew her. She said she
didn’t. I gave her Vonelle’s number. Again, rounds of talks ensued between me
and the bank and Lazy Days. This time I said it was time to get the lawyers
involved and that if it was not resolved soon, I would get my lawyer in the
states to try to track down who had skimmed the money. The researcher, Lolita, apparently dragged her feet and didn’t call Clyde Baily back when he
tried to get in touch with her. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">Eventually, while trying to call Lolita
(not at her desk, “Can I help you?” for the third time by two different people,
Lattice and Angela), I did manage to make contact with an assistant, Sabine
Alice, who – after I had explained the situation again – declared, “This has
been going on too long.” I said, “Yes, indeed.” She promised to get to the bottom
of it right then and there. While I was on hold (eek, that awful music!),
she contacted Clyde Baily AND a person in records (Karen) at Lazy Days,
realized the complexity of the quagmire, and promised to call back in two days.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In fact, I did get calls in Korea from
all three within the next few days. From the three stories (the women were most
willing to talk), I pieced together a scenario of what may have happened.
Apparently, the first check had been sent to a Nations Bank in Florida rather
than the bank in North Carolina, which had handled my loan. Somehow, the check
simply disappeared – didn’t get cashed and didn’t get credited to my account.
Karen, the person in Records at Lazy Days, said that sort of thing happens all
the time. I was incredulous. She insisted, “The banks are so big these days,
they just can’t keep track of things.” There was a stamp on the check saying,
“Void after 90 days,” and by that time, there was no point in trying to
retrieve it. So, Clyde Baily had another check cut and sent to Vonelle. Sabine managed to contact Vonelle, who had, indeed, received the second check, She
had been slow in submitting it because she wanted to make sure she was sending
it to the correct place and didn’t want it to disappear down the same black
hole as had the previous one. They reassured me that the matter was practically
solved and promised that I would receive a letter of apology, sent to my Osan
address, when it was all cleared up. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">On February 24, I still had no letter, so
I called the bank. The “service person” who answered (after the usual
interminable exposure to that grating music) said that the account had
been paid off! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">In March, I received a form letter, postmarked March 1 - sent
to my home address in Charleston and forwarded by my daughter to Korea - congratulating me on my loan payoff. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">No apologies.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%;">*Several experiences from those two years spent
in Korea at the turn of the century are chronicled in "<a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S" target="_blank">Korea, Are You at
Peace?</a>" This one was not included in the book.</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-25977809783714803462019-12-11T15:10:00.000-05:002020-01-03T15:35:37.831-05:00Season's Greetings, 2019<b><span style="color: red; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 20.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Season’s Greetings!</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The
Holidays are upon us, and I expected to be in Tennessee by now. That hasn’t
happened because the long-term care facility in Nolensville is not yet finished!
I’m just as happy not to be moving in the middle of winter when
everything is dark and cold. The new estimate will be around the first week of
March. That offers some reprieve for me to enjoy the holidays – and to continue at
the slower pace I’ve adopted in my eighties. Still, I’m looking forward to
being near daughter Elisabeth and her family in the spring!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwsPzfueJnbW8W0kldLjTCepeFCTNpGxwHrU1VxJ5OomKbhJYxXQSIodg2P13au9f96ZuNswHRTYPGxVCeHOeHUQ3mdpWefVnDZoS8j6T1jkVIY8gCAnl7XAoqaPuTuzzR9xkSTi8xXLC/s1600/79117416_10221304646832544_7561870818934784000_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwsPzfueJnbW8W0kldLjTCepeFCTNpGxwHrU1VxJ5OomKbhJYxXQSIodg2P13au9f96ZuNswHRTYPGxVCeHOeHUQ3mdpWefVnDZoS8j6T1jkVIY8gCAnl7XAoqaPuTuzzR9xkSTi8xXLC/s320/79117416_10221304646832544_7561870818934784000_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elisabeth and Trey's family tree, 2019</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This has been a full, busy, and often difficult <span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">year</span>, with ongoing efforts to whittle down
possessions in preparation for the move to Tennessee. Grandson Blake came to
Charleston twice this year to help me sort, toss, and move two small U-Haul loads to a storage unit in Nolensville.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .25in;">
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGNHDUoWhzGqQ2tqnoIhae7AgoPWyHI6uHvpH59rh0CrZwM63ycuJvN0PUov16aJFHRA2VCgWeJgeNq8N0TT4jfhRe2HdXadk16F0VIEbr4kWmVdoJF33PYvXHRp8XxHUdeOapx809lI2/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQGNHDUoWhzGqQ2tqnoIhae7AgoPWyHI6uHvpH59rh0CrZwM63ycuJvN0PUov16aJFHRA2VCgWeJgeNq8N0TT4jfhRe2HdXadk16F0VIEbr4kWmVdoJF33PYvXHRp8XxHUdeOapx809lI2/s320/IMG_1925.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake and Landon playing cards. Oldest and youngest "grand."</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3ifgKOQHKkfmLXTEtWzKCdGJG7NNHnOLL8qalWHv2KqlBBcJ1-RA8qFGburqPZ8UmuPSwVmakDEQ-m8sWqNy_u43bHab78qTKjsnE3grfQ4Rr4iI_ksc9tIrP1FQyQ3Yjsh1QrYFCM3q/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> I’ve been giving away furniture and books and
bookcases, as well as some treasures collected on overseas trips. And I’ve perused
boxes and boxes of mementos and thrown away most of the stuff in them. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></span><br />
<div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-variant: normal; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: &quot; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">There are still many photo albums and a few boxes of correspondence to distill. And </span>I’ve
sorted through all my books. Those still in the house (or storage)
are ones I plan to take to Traditions, the long-term care facility in Nolensville. Now I need to arrange for a moving company to
haul it all there - when the place is ready.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xMj99kgMkbAQZwsHVYcFt1-__H7UvHQivdkFuC_N9B3pPHcBpBoHa7V3jOzephxBCf4q-oErv3Zyu-xHS1IuYcki4C4ECVHJPKjfvRIEWKClQM4vORCkBTkrGIeV7wqtkdARm1yeu0_-/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3ifgKOQHKkfmLXTEtWzKCdGJG7NNHnOLL8qalWHv2KqlBBcJ1-RA8qFGburqPZ8UmuPSwVmakDEQ-m8sWqNy_u43bHab78qTKjsnE3grfQ4Rr4iI_ksc9tIrP1FQyQ3Yjsh1QrYFCM3q/s1600/IMG_1925.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">Long-time friends have been my mainstay during this unsettled time. Women I've been getting together with monthly over dinner still offer support and friendship. Thanks especially to Ellie Setser, who arranged a birthday party for me at our November women's dinner!</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZTK8zzc2_L0HpE55nzPcq4Sw4KeUCEsqggCmCBzN96iIJ3FiezfswxSD8lmMT6leKVPT4DgTdpUxKs2NUI5QGcmGYRi_RLKfMs2mGjnaHctmrCWHXFlWM7e4ccuMbccQIg3B61K2t4gV/s1600/IMG_1871.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXZTK8zzc2_L0HpE55nzPcq4Sw4KeUCEsqggCmCBzN96iIJ3FiezfswxSD8lmMT6leKVPT4DgTdpUxKs2NUI5QGcmGYRi_RLKfMs2mGjnaHctmrCWHXFlWM7e4ccuMbccQIg3B61K2t4gV/s320/IMG_1871.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mary Joan, Carla, Darlene, and Ellie</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE6Q_jT1rDKo1YHFwPYiR-68Jk4pYBZPU78SS4hzZkCMR5gfUinmbE56h8WA_dv_pMhbYeGwXgExQlg7UlWCiJ_4N6GW5vYEd0P3datVnkBcTtENNQBS3rdYA_rimI6zTPZ-cVf2YN5cX/s1600/IMG_1753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE6Q_jT1rDKo1YHFwPYiR-68Jk4pYBZPU78SS4hzZkCMR5gfUinmbE56h8WA_dv_pMhbYeGwXgExQlg7UlWCiJ_4N6GW5vYEd0P3datVnkBcTtENNQBS3rdYA_rimI6zTPZ-cVf2YN5cX/s1600/IMG_1753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s320/IMG_2038.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nonie, Skeet, Carol, Carla, Ellie, Maria, and Sandra.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><b></b><i></i><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMgeMd9c8ldE-lERpzj4ww4_Zwu1ufJkTG1rMUx6_jqQrztpE2PaxRtuqqvscS3xOtcVI5wc7DQTwYAbmUqJC30aYbJD1RxL-UUUzb7WxQfaF6wYi2FMRS9MkbXpx9FBDHxgXMH0wkQRP4/s1600/IMG_2038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #b00000; font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><br /></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Mary Johnston, an editor
and very fine person, who has led a productive writers' group for the past
decade, threw a good-bye party for me at the beginning of summer. Friends from
church and women's groups - as well as other writers - all attended a great party at a beautiful home downtown! Thank you to all my fellow writers for
encouragement and suggestions down through the years, and to other friends,
many of them UUs, for helping to keep me as sane as possible - and for buying
some of my books!</span></span></span></div>
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</span></span>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dRA7WZEKyNnCVLcoYIAwMNwJlsgPUGHaM0mZMS_nv7Hyxp7ruiKILWOG8b7Q1TWxD72S-0IWoYkHGPcu2tKt2jRBPMmzKBTsL4r-lRgV5kpr7muCy9m4L9cqIjB6G5wSdF7Qod5KgWxo/s1600/IMG_1751.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5dRA7WZEKyNnCVLcoYIAwMNwJlsgPUGHaM0mZMS_nv7Hyxp7ruiKILWOG8b7Q1TWxD72S-0IWoYkHGPcu2tKt2jRBPMmzKBTsL4r-lRgV5kpr7muCy9m4L9cqIjB6G5wSdF7Qod5KgWxo/s320/IMG_1751.JPG" width="240" /></a> <img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE6Q_jT1rDKo1YHFwPYiR-68Jk4pYBZPU78SS4hzZkCMR5gfUinmbE56h8WA_dv_pMhbYeGwXgExQlg7UlWCiJ_4N6GW5vYEd0P3datVnkBcTtENNQBS3rdYA_rimI6zTPZ-cVf2YN5cX/s320/IMG_1753.JPG" style="color: black; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: center; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" width="240" /></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 80%; padding-top: 4px; text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Mary Johnston's writers (top) and UU friends (bottom).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
A good-bye party last May. (Oops, I'm still here!)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">children – and their children – are all doing pretty well. Briana has had
problems with some of her joints, making work at the post-office difficult and often
painful, although she’s being stoic. Blake is in his last year at Northland
College in Ashland, WI, and he plans to graduate at the end of next semester!</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Maria has been writing successfully. Harry is spending his junior college year
at Oxford, in England. He will come home to New York for the holidays.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">And
Elisabeth’s family is doing well, although the younger children have been sick enough
to miss some school this fall. Judson is looking forward to graduating high
school next year. He will be going to college in the fall, and he plans to study
physics!</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlDVOSZ_ngrWmx3GdlTI9OvKbd9WVQaOJZfPEMKo81T0hLbGUrGF_WJBv_YLZtSL-pVPU8Y7fNYb-yFF5KQNwoH1QWsknmZcDt0O2bcelYfltO4OQ0rFwewRKdA-mo3u_TrRnGb879rLX/s1600/IMG_2024.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivlDVOSZ_ngrWmx3GdlTI9OvKbd9WVQaOJZfPEMKo81T0hLbGUrGF_WJBv_YLZtSL-pVPU8Y7fNYb-yFF5KQNwoH1QWsknmZcDt0O2bcelYfltO4OQ0rFwewRKdA-mo3u_TrRnGb879rLX/s320/IMG_2024.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">It's been a very social year, including frequent get-togethers with friends, mostly women I've known for decades at the UU Church and at MUSC. </span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">And I had the privilege of attending my first immigration and naturalization service with the citizenship ceremony of Maryam Nadieri, Will Moredock's widow.</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">I’ve also had some happy/sad good-bye lunches and dinners with friends. </span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">And t<span style="color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-size: 12pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; line-height: 115%; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 24px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">here have been a few funeral services,
including those at the UU Church for long-time friends, Will Moredock and Dottie Klintworth - truly sad and sobering. </span></span></span><br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="background-color: white;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; text-indent: .25in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In
the midst of sorting and moving and saying goodbyes, writing efforts have almost stalled. However, with the help of Mary's writers’ group, the book about a 1992 summer in Siberia – and from there to western (“civilized”) Russia – is now in first draft form. Still a long way to go before that one is finished, however. And there's so much more I want to do before...</span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0.5in 0in 0.25in; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">W<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">ishing you a Wonderful Holiday Season and a Very Happy
New Year!!</span></span></span></b></div>
<b></b><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #b01780;"></span><span style="color: #38761d;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Jo Anne</span></div>
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-47213231724182878792019-05-27T13:29:00.000-04:002019-10-09T23:21:43.275-04:00Still True Today<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">I happened upon this journal entry a couple of weeks ago - written more than three decades ago - and was amazed at how much still applies to my life. I believe there's a pattern here...</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><b>June 28, 1985</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"> I</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"> realize, now that I have time for
it, how much back-logged junk I have to clear out of my life.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Here it is, summer, stock-taking time, time
to catch up, time to plan ahead, and everywhere I look, there are things I <u>should</u>
do, things I <u>want</u> to do, things I <u>have</u> to do before I can do
other things.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>How am I going to tackle
it all?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Set priorities?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Be systematic?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Do the important things first?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I tend to do whatever I stumble upon first,
interrupted by whatever I get distracted by while I’m doing that.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>As my graduate student said, “You sure do
manage to fill up your life."</span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px 0px 13.33px;">
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 13.33px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">When I started writing this, I
intended to make a list of all the things I needed to do and try to figure out
how important each one was to my well-being (and “the future of all mankind”).<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I get tired just thinking about it!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">There is the personal stuff – the
bills to pay, the mementos to put away or file, the papers to organize.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This has been sitting around and piling up on
my desk since Christmas or before.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There
are magazines to read (throw-away stuff) and books (and books and books) to
read, and the library to pick up and organize.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Then, of course, there is the
writing, the novels I have wanted to get to for the past year or two and
haven’t been able to discipline or force myself to sit down and do them.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And there are letters to write – to friends
and relatives – and visits to local friends and shut-ins.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">And, of course, there is the work
stuff – papers to read, old journals to peruse and clear out, micrographs to
file, old slides to evaluate, not to mention papers to write and letters to
colleagues and manuscripts to revise and resubmit.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">If I enumerated each of the
subprojects in each of those paragraphs, I would be listing all night
long.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There is so much to do, I wonder
how many years it would take just to get caught up, forget about taking on
anything new.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Yet I feel like I must
clean up my life, streamline it, take care of the most important stuff and get
rid of everything else.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Details vs. essential
structure:<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What is the essential
structure of my life?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Oddly enough, it
lies partly in the complexity of it, in wanting to see and experience and
record, as broadly as possible, the range of human activities and emotions.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And for that, I chronically complicate my
life.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Still, I want to hone.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>What is the crucial thread?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The slow, steady (fractal-like) movement
toward understanding (a sort of enlightenment or salvation, for which the
things and relationships of my life have been part of the path), toward which
end I have tended and for which I will have to divest myself of every
extraneous concern.</span></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">
<br />
</span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">
</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-6970655553314375982019-01-16T16:24:00.000-05:002019-01-25T14:40:43.304-05:00Here's to a Healthy and Happy New Year!<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLS4sEJbLsNhQ5Nu0gvilIFTPUEjWfqRrhSlVXZpWwDhXVX3uu2DPUgE3CTLYUl8Whj2qU16DqRlL2jMHrm7Ya4-37bUEiwYrSD6ixeeRWDh0vaCJD8DZ9AKBAo3PrJCio3IFoTPz1xWHF/s1600/41LIo%252BiGKkL._SX312_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="314" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLS4sEJbLsNhQ5Nu0gvilIFTPUEjWfqRrhSlVXZpWwDhXVX3uu2DPUgE3CTLYUl8Whj2qU16DqRlL2jMHrm7Ya4-37bUEiwYrSD6ixeeRWDh0vaCJD8DZ9AKBAo3PrJCio3IFoTPz1xWHF/s320/41LIo%252BiGKkL._SX312_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_%255B1%255D.jpg" width="201" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bewildered-Patients-Whole-Body-Health-Guide/dp/1633936740/" target="_blank">Hard-cover</a> edition, color illustrations</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Did you make New Years resolutions about exercising and eating healthy food? Why do we focus on food and exercise when we think about healthy living? Certainly, these are important, yet many other activities are also essential to keeping us healthy - in the New Year and in years to come.<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1633936724/" target="_blank"> </a></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1633936724/" target="_blank">The Bewildered Patient's Whole-Body Health Guide</a></i> explores the major systems of the <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">body </span>- how they work and how we can keep them healthy for a long and productive life. Daily choices are crucial to long-term health!<br />
<br />
One of the reasons we focus on food is that food is a major motivator for humans - as it is for all animals. We can't survive without consuming a constant source of nutrients, so we usually eat two or three meals every day. Unlike plants, we can't make our own nutrients. And unlike fungi, we can't soak up nutrients from the products of decay in the soil around us. <b><i>We have to eat.</i></b><br />
<b></b><i></i><b></b><i></i><br />
Obtaining food if we're hungry is probably one of the strongest human motivators. Avoiding pain is another. Securing protection and finding affection (including sex in adults) are impulses that also score high on the motivation scale.<br />
<br />
Unlike eating, exercise isn't usually something we consciously want to do much of the time. And yet, without exercise, our muscles become weaker and weaker, and then calories from excess food are transformed into fat, which is stored throughout the body. This can become a vicious cycle.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPc6f16-iYPqnAOlHlB3ttW-9sINc6RZHBAT8rkouz36H3Xyr6I-BeGBK1DkAhAEqGR5qWAwCilB_XNN5eDa6RKIhLe_a8pB6sQR6eyrNTsyDsnn0kJBnsZxlSuY0piFZDeQKB8vSifs_/s1600/BWBC+-+softback.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="656" data-original-width="439" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbPc6f16-iYPqnAOlHlB3ttW-9sINc6RZHBAT8rkouz36H3Xyr6I-BeGBK1DkAhAEqGR5qWAwCilB_XNN5eDa6RKIhLe_a8pB6sQR6eyrNTsyDsnn0kJBnsZxlSuY0piFZDeQKB8vSifs_/s320/BWBC+-+softback.png" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bewildered-Patients-Whole-Body-Health-Guide/dp/1633936724/" target="_blank">Soft-cover</a> edition, B&W illustrati</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
We make many choices in our lives that affect health and longevity. Besides exercise and nutrition, we need to avoid toxins in the environment and hazards in our daily lives. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1633936724/" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">The Bewildered Patient's Whole-Body Health Guide</a> offers tips and strategies for maintaining these aspects of health - as well as many others!<br />
<br />
While considering the body as a whole, the book also views bodily functions on a system-by-system basis in language that lay-people can understand. Even those with no training in biology or medicine can learn how organs and cells work together to keep us healthy! This whole-body health guide also explores what may go wrong in the body's many systems and what we can do to keep those systems working well for a long and healthy lifetime!<br />
<br />
Here's to your health in the New Year!!<br />
<br />
<br />http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-22651770888818824242018-12-17T19:04:00.000-05:002018-12-21T22:08:29.582-05:00HAPPY HOLIDAYS, 2018<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">Season’s
Greetings, 2018!</span></i></b></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Hoping
you’ve had a very good year in 2018.</span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Wishing
you an even better one in 2019!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeilFll-nuuTGBIcYxtTLz2EBi7-Z1qjL6cyg5-vPYyuL0M-SeNw4DGqTY0h6cVzWtqwj_cS4Le0yM2ioKrD0T1Qgx_MnE0WaXKO3iEAXI2sqQh1N30QTpGy7KI0QHxQilfgam_V0yPG5/s1600/IMG_0889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCeilFll-nuuTGBIcYxtTLz2EBi7-Z1qjL6cyg5-vPYyuL0M-SeNw4DGqTY0h6cVzWtqwj_cS4Le0yM2ioKrD0T1Qgx_MnE0WaXKO3iEAXI2sqQh1N30QTpGy7KI0QHxQilfgam_V0yPG5/s320/IMG_0889.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Saturn in the snow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">This year (2018) began with a great deal of snow –
more snow that I’ve seen in Charleston since moving here in 1970 – almost half
a century ago! It didn’t just snow half an inch and then disappear two hours
later – as usually happens here when it snows –every five years or so. No, it
was a real, two-day snow that piled up at least a foot, covering the ground,
making the roads impassable for a day and then hanging around as ice and sleet
for several days afterwards. Grandson Blake was visiting Charleston over the
holidays, and he had helped me clear out the garage and sort through a lot of
stuff while he was here. His plane back to Minnesota was cancelled because of
the snow. I had to drive him to Myrtle Beach, at night, on icy roads, so that
he could fly back. Good thing I learned to drive in Michigan!</span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAtniYpRP_d0tGMLnqS292r4dhpmgqr023eYuXtJjBS2fCwkzgA-z71zoCjCvouOoUwZPhabAXrZRLL8xAK94M24EQOdHZg7gvUK1SG_3PZfPRXDzk0xdYuPd9SZe2SL7vWk3OvWVKL7P/s1600/IMG_0952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEAtniYpRP_d0tGMLnqS292r4dhpmgqr023eYuXtJjBS2fCwkzgA-z71zoCjCvouOoUwZPhabAXrZRLL8xAK94M24EQOdHZg7gvUK1SG_3PZfPRXDzk0xdYuPd9SZe2SL7vWk3OvWVKL7P/s320/IMG_0952.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With Dinah, a longtime friend (since 1956)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">It’s been a busy year, and I’ve generally felt
better and been able to do more than in recent years. I’m taking new medication
that improves the breathing and have been able to do some traveling this year
to visit family and friends. In March, I visited friends and family in Florida
– Sue and Ray, friends from high-school; Dinah, a friend from college years;
and cousin Larry and his family. Back in Charleston, I mostly hung out with
longtime UU friends.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVCqVz6LVk65D5xA7Ro-TjwAJZbJzGgyWXs2NOuiiiJIz5godLLdZf2_2pwum6iSaD8t66mTE9wgbVw1TIB3byzatQ49ZZuV_9EC_RCd8BmyysZaMcq14QLTqX-3dKDDnhMNxUCRjAb2m/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqVCqVz6LVk65D5xA7Ro-TjwAJZbJzGgyWXs2NOuiiiJIz5godLLdZf2_2pwum6iSaD8t66mTE9wgbVw1TIB3byzatQ49ZZuV_9EC_RCd8BmyysZaMcq14QLTqX-3dKDDnhMNxUCRjAb2m/s320/IMG_1176.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Briana and Jeremy's wedding. Blake officiated.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Daughter Briana married Jeremy Potter in Idaho in
June, and I flew out there and rented a car to attend the festivities. I mostly
hung out with Briana’s aunt and uncle, Judi and Danny Lane. It was a lovely,
outdoor ceremony. Later that summer, I spent a couple of days with Elisabeth
and her family, who were in Hilton Head for a week.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJ6YSEt_iMilQb6vuCODSfA6cqEyu-ncq2Cv0aomv0Q-cWxKFlthjCzA2kjG3SEu7QrTArUAiYISW3jjPS4wAkvoz0ne4C6QAhuTPNhSaU4PcgpQ816mx1ytqTyWg1xmP2fVBx_SVSFh_/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJ6YSEt_iMilQb6vuCODSfA6cqEyu-ncq2Cv0aomv0Q-cWxKFlthjCzA2kjG3SEu7QrTArUAiYISW3jjPS4wAkvoz0ne4C6QAhuTPNhSaU4PcgpQ816mx1ytqTyWg1xmP2fVBx_SVSFh_/s320/IMG_1416.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reunion dinner, K-college friends, class of 1958</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJ6YSEt_iMilQb6vuCODSfA6cqEyu-ncq2Cv0aomv0Q-cWxKFlthjCzA2kjG3SEu7QrTArUAiYISW3jjPS4wAkvoz0ne4C6QAhuTPNhSaU4PcgpQ816mx1ytqTyWg1xmP2fVBx_SVSFh_/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-left: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Our Kalamazoo College class “(’58) had its
sixtieth reunion in October, and I drove up to Michigan for that, stopping on
the way to visit an old friend, Fran Cameron, outside of Atlanta, and my
daughter, Elizabeth, and her family near Nashville. It was a lovely, memorable trip, </span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJ6YSEt_iMilQb6vuCODSfA6cqEyu-ncq2Cv0aomv0Q-cWxKFlthjCzA2kjG3SEu7QrTArUAiYISW3jjPS4wAkvoz0ne4C6QAhuTPNhSaU4PcgpQ816mx1ytqTyWg1xmP2fVBx_SVSFh_/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-left: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisJ6YSEt_iMilQb6vuCODSfA6cqEyu-ncq2Cv0aomv0Q-cWxKFlthjCzA2kjG3SEu7QrTArUAiYISW3jjPS4wAkvoz0ne4C6QAhuTPNhSaU4PcgpQ816mx1ytqTyWg1xmP2fVBx_SVSFh_/s1600/IMG_1416.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Writing has taken up a lot of
my time at home – so I’m not doing as much clearing and sorting as I should. A
collection of short stories, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="color: #3a6331; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1543926282/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3a6331; margin: 0px;">Laboratory Notebook</span></a></span></u></i><span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">, came out in May. </span><br />
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">And my magnum opus, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="color: #3a6331; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bewildered-Patients-Whole-Body-Health-Guide-ebook/dp/B07JR2J6TG/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #3a6331; margin: 0px;">TheBewildered Patient’s Whole-Body Health Guide</span></a></span></u></i><span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">, was published officially on December 10! Please
visit the </span><u><span style="color: #3a6331; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="http://javsimson.com/"><span style="color: #3a6331; margin: 0px;">webpage</span></a></span></u><span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"> for other books you might find of interest!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px;">
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Hope all is well with you – or
as well as can be expected. I’ve made my peace with aches and pains and coughs
– and a lot of other stuff that comes with age. Still enjoying life, though. And
I just put down a deposit on an apartment in a long-term care facility under
construction in Nolensville, TN, near Elisabeth and her family. I should be
there for Christmas next year!</span></div>
<br />
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Joy to
the World – and Love to Friends and Family! </span></div>
<div align="center" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Jo (Anne
Valentine Simson)</span><br />
<span style="color: #404040; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-40443365631583439552018-11-22T15:48:00.000-05:002018-11-22T16:09:16.923-05:00Thanksgiving ThankfulIt's been a long time since I've submitted a blog post here! As often happens during the holiday season, I'm revisiting loose ends of my life and <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">trying to catch up on activities I've allowed to languish.</span><br />
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This season, I'm particularly thankful that my breathing has improved with new medication, and I'm now able to travel and visit friends and family with much less fear of becoming sick, as has happened in the past few years.<br />
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Freshman class roommate, Sue Wixom (Nielson Coates) on right;</div>
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Ruth Sollitt Williamson, good friend and K-Gals organizer!</div>
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In October, I drove by car from Charleston, SC, to Kalamazoo, MI, for the 60th class reunion for students who started as freshmen at Kalamazoo College in 1954! It was a great get-together; about 40 of a graduating class of perhaps 120 were there, and we all had a wonderful time! In the motel, I even roomed with my freshman class roommate!<br />
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The campus had changed since we were there, with some buildings torn down and others added or remodeled. Still, it had the feel of the lovely quadrangle I remembered. And the "women's dorm" looked the same - on the outside, at least.<br />
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The old Mary Trowbridge Hall, where most women lived </div>
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if they weren't married or townies. Now it's mixed, I think.</div>
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We spent the day on Saturday with friends: eating, chatting, exploring the campus. There were several activities arranged, but we spent a lot of time together just reminiscing.<br />
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At noon, we had a lovely lunch downstairs in the Hicks-Wells complex. We overflowed the table assigned to our class and populated several seats in other tables as well.<br />
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With Elizabeth Lindau, a K-College grad, who works in the </div>
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alumni office. We had lunch once when she visited Charleston.</div>
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In the evening, we enjoyed a delicious dinner at The Park Club in downtown Kalamazoo. Ours was the largest 60th reunion group the college had ever had. At dinner, Jorge Gonzales spoke with us about his pathway to the presidency of Kalamazoo College. The following morning, we were all a bit sad to leave and go our separate ways, but glad to have been together, however briefly. It was a wonderful reunion and brought back memories of a wonderful few years in our lives!<br />
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Sunday morning, many of us gathered in the breakfast room at the motel, where we continued to share memories and info and promises to keep in touch. I passed out copies of some of the books I have written since retirement. The latest is <i><b>The Bewildered Patient's Whole-Body Health Guide</b></i>. It will be available to purchase on Amazon on December 10. The link is below:<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Bewildered-Patients-Whole-Body-Health-Guide/dp/1633936724/" target="_blank">The Bewildered Patient's Whole-Body Health Guide.</a><br />
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<br />http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-17351669241525059662018-02-01T16:19:00.000-05:002018-02-01T17:01:17.383-05:00My #MeToo Memories, Part 3This is the final installment of "My #MeToo Memories." If you would like to read the whole sequence, you can begin <a href="http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-metoo-memories-part-1.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In the past three decades, I’ve traveled
extensively, often alone, and I’ve had very little trouble or harassment from
men. Part of the trick is simply not to seem helpless or vulnerable. Don’t
dress provocatively. Don’t wear jewelry—with the possible exception of a
wedding band. I often wore a simple wedding ring during my travels, even when I
wasn’t married. Don’t go places by yourself at night. Don’t make eye contact
with unknown men when you’re out and about. Men in many cultures consider that
an invitation. Don’t get bogged down with excessive luggage.<a href="file:///C:/Users/Jo%20Anne/Documents/OBAW/New%20blog%20posts,%20chapters/My%20%23MeToo%20Memories.docx#_ftn1" name="_ftnref1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> Keep most of your money
hidden in a pouch under your clothing, and don’t try to access your hidden
stash in public. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Most of all, be aware of your surroundings.
Avoid dark alleys. Avoid heavy crowds as well as deserted streets. Keep your
eyes and ears peeled for anything that suggests danger. And find safety as
quickly as possible if you feel threatened.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Although I haven’t had any serious
harassment during solo travels—other than a couple of pick-pockets that I wasn’t
even aware of until later—I've had a couple of experiences that could have
turned out badly. Both happened during a trip to Russia in 1992 while traveling solo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The first was in the town of Irkutsk,
where our Sierra Club Service Trip group went after nearly three weeks of trying
to do clean-up on the western shore of Lake Baikal. The previous night, I had stayed at the
home of a Russian woman. The following day, I planned to take a train from Irkutsk to
Novosibirsk, to meet a colleague, Tatyana Korolenko, who was working at the Siberian
Academy of Medical Sciences. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">One of the Russians, Sergei, who had
translated for the Sierra Club group, was the son of Russian author and
environmentalist, Valentin Rasputin. He had invited several of us to tea at his parents’ home. I went to a museum before the tea party and then walked to Sergei’s house from the museum, guided by a map of the town. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At one point, I became aware that someone
behind me was pacing me—that is, walking behind me and going neither faster nor
slower, usually a sign that the person is deliberately following. I did a quick
glance behind me, noticing the person and his outfit, and then stopped at the
next corner and crossed the street. I then crossed at the next corner, heading
back in the opposite direction. The follower continued his pace behind me. I
then crossed again, and once again at the next corner, ultimately heading back
in the original direction. The follower apparently
realized that I was aware of him tracking me, because he didn’t cross the final
time to head in the direction that I (and he) had initially been walking.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The final experience that generated some
anxiety during the Russia trip was on a train from Novosibirsk to Moscow.
Tatyana, the fellow scientist I visited in Novosibirsk, helped me to buy the
train ticket. Tatyana wasn’t savvy enough to ask for two tickets so that I could have the whole
compartment. The tickets were not very expensive for Russians. Thus, I had one
ticket for a two-person sleeper compartment, which I ended up sharing with another passenger during the three-day
train ride from Novosibirsk to Moscow. My compartment mate was a young man in his early to mid-twenties. This felt problematical as I was in my
early fifties and didn’t speak the language very well. Nor was I familiar with
the customs or culture in this country where everything had become a social and
economic free-for-all since the collapse of communism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Two of my hostesses in Russia had warned me to
avoid the Russian “Mafia,” lawless opportunists who were taking advantage of the political turmoil of the
early 1990s. These men often referred to themselves as “entrepreneurs.”
Ex-party apparatchiks fell naturally into this line of work, as did ambitious
young men without jobs, when the former state and its bureaucratic structures
crumbled. My compartment-mate was just such an entrepreneur.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I had thought I was going to have the compartment to myself and was surprised when he walked in and tossed his
bag on the overhead rack opposite my seat. We nodded to each other when he
entered, and we exchanged a few words of acknowledgement in Russian. Russians
are naturally suspicious of strangers. And I was wary about sharing a train
compartment with an unknown young man for a few days and nights.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Tatyana
had been very anxious about the possibility of my sharing a compartment on the
Trans-Siberian railroad with “one of our Russian tiefs” (thieves). So I was
psychologically prepared for that possibility. When my compartment mate
turned out to be a young man who said he was a “broker,” I went into yellow
alert. That is, I didn’t leave the compartment without taking my valuables
(passport, money, cameras) with me – most of which I wore strapped to my body,
anyway. I did not change clothes during the entire trip, wearing the same jeans and sweatshirt for
two and a half days and two nights, even while asleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
fact, I slept quite well on the train because I had enough covers. I had
brought the sleeping bag from the back-packing trip. My money and documents were strapped in a hidden pouch beneath
layered clothing, so I didn’t need to worry about that. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I imagined a worst-case
scenario and was prepared for that. I had brought an unopened bottle of vodka from
Siberia, and I slept with it beside me, tucked into my sleeping bag.
The scenario I imagined was that, if I were disturbed at night by the young
man, I could bop him over the head with the bottle hard enough to break it. The
alcohol would sting his eyes and nose and the jagged glass could serve as a weapon.
Something about the vibes of a determined person may help to keep predators
away.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Luckily,
I didn’t need to implement my worst-case strategy. The young man was pleasant
and kept his distance, and we offered food to one another from time to time. Near
the end of the journey, I gave him my inflatable sleeping pad—partly because I
didn’t need it anymore. Moreover, it would have been just one more thing to
carry. Perhaps I also wanted to win his good will so that he wouldn’t
feel like taking anything that really mattered. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He
asked me how much the sleeping pad was worth in dollars (it had “made in USA” on the tag, which seemed
to please him), and I told him about thirty or thirty-five dollars. He said he
was going to keep it for his own use, which meant, perhaps, that he wasn’t
going to sell it. It didn’t matter either way; we both came through a
potentially difficult experience without harm.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So,
this is a litany of sexually or physically threatening interactions I’ve had
with males throughout my life, most of which did not end badly, and from which
I do not feel any lasting damage. Several of the encounters could have gone
otherwise. I know women who have been raped against their will, and it’s
foolish to say it was their fault. Perhaps they weren’t as feisty or
self-protective as I have been in my life. Perhaps they didn’t have the sorts
of forewarnings I received from my mother. Perhaps they were just overwhelmed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">We
certainly need to teach our children, and especially our girl children, how to
protect themselves from predators. Boys can also be victims of sexual
predation, although that is not as frequent, but it is still emotionally damaging. Moreover,
boys and men suffer physical abuse in fights and wars and other forms of
aggression by bullies, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-indent: 0.5in;">perpetrated</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">on others who show any signs of weakness. Anyone
can be a victim of abuse—physical, financial, or cultural. Bullies are
everywhere. Abuse is what bullies do.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
the long run, it’s easier to respect yourself if you can protect yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div>
<!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<!--[endif]-->
<br />
<div id="ftn1">
<div class="MsoFootnoteText">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/Jo%20Anne/Documents/OBAW/New%20blog%20posts,%20chapters/My%20%23MeToo%20Memories.docx#_ftnref1" name="_ftn1" title=""><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></a> I’ve
frequently broken that rule and have been robbed a couple of times
because of it.<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-81367270542713811082018-01-08T17:22:00.000-05:002018-02-01T16:31:38.321-05:00My #MeToo Memories - Part 2(Continued from the previous <a href="https://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-metoo-memories-part-1.html" target="_blank">post</a>.)<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">In high school and
college, although I dated quite a bit, I managed to maintain my “chastity,”
perhaps because I had an impossible crush on someone other than the person I
was dating most of the time. I wouldn’t even kiss a guy good-night unless I
really liked him. This was back in the 1950s, and the fellows I dated were all
“honorable” sorts. Most didn’t take umbrage at my behavior, although a couple
did. One date in college complained that he had paid all that money for a date
to a dance, and I wouldn’t even kiss him goodnight. We never dated again after
that. Needless to say, I didn’t date many guys for more than a few months.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">During my junior college
year in France, I dated a few Americans—a couple of fellow students and one
American soldier who was stationed in Paris. However, for the last three or
four months in Paris, I had a French boyfriend, Marcel, whom I liked very much.
We were both virgins. He was eager to lose his virginity, but I was less eager
to lose mine. Like most men, he was a decent person and didn’t try to force
himself on me. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">One time, when I was
walking home on a dark evening after classes, a man began to follow me from the
train station. I kept walking as quickly as I could, but I could tell that the
follower was gaining on me. He came up beside me, said “<i>Madmoiselle, vous
etes seule?</i>”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null"><span style="color: #0563c1;">[1]</span></a> and put a hand
on my arm, which I quickly withdrew. I was trying to figure out what to do
next, when Marcel emerged from the shadow of a doorway and chased the man off.
I was very glad to see him!</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">I didn’t even engage in heavy
petting until my junior year in college, while I was dating a man I’d been in
love with for almost four years. Just before he graduated, he finally persuaded
me to “go all the way,” as it was called then. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Then he
left for a job in Chicago. I missed my next period. It finally came, about a
week late, but that was one of the most terrifying weeks of my life. I vowed I
wouldn’t have sex again until I was married. But his idea was that, since I had
lost my virginity to him, he had the right to sex when we were together. He did
use a condom after that. This was the late fifties, and other forms of birth
control were not yet common, especially not for women who weren’t married.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">Fortunately, we were
apart most of that summer because we worked in different cities. Then he went
off to graduate school in the fall, and I stayed in college for another year.
So we didn’t see each other frequently. However, that year was stressful, and
my fear of pregnancy began to erode my affection for him</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">The following summer, I
met the man who became my first husband while I was a graduate student at the
University of Michigan. We did become sexually active before we married, but he
used a condom, and I also eventually managed to get a diaphragm from my
gynecologist. Despite using birth control most of the time (except right around
my period), I became pregnant shortly after we were married. But there was no
coercion involved, and our daughter has always been a gift for which I’m
grateful.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">However, my husband did become more controlling in many ways, and I had problems with that.
We eventually divorced, and I went back to graduate school in the mid-sixties,
at a time when social mores were changing, and women were becoming sexually
liberated. I took part in that sexual revolution and had “casual sex"
with a few men I dated.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">I certainly didn’t want
to have sex with someone I didn’t really like and trust, though, so I was
pretty selective about sexual partners. Probably the experience I had that was
closest to rape was with a fellow I had only dated once or twice before. I
probably had a glass or two of wine, and I let him get too close. He came on
strong, but I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him, I tried to resist,
but he was physically stronger than I was. I told him that, if he went through
with it, I would never see him again. But he persisted and declared that I
would really enjoy it. Subsequently, he called several times, wanting to get
together again, but I refused to see him. He seemed surprised.</span></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps the closest I ever came to physical danger from a man was an
experience in a parking lot behind the Medical Sciences Building, while I was
an anatomy graduate student in Syracuse, NY. Graduate students—at least in the
sciences—work long hours, often into the night. Experiments may take hours and
you need to be there to time experiments, process results, make sure all the
equipment is working correctly, and record everything.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> One evening, after I
emerged from the back of the science building into the parking lot and was
walking toward my car, I realized that someone was following me. I turned
around and noticed it was a man, and he was coming straight toward me. I ran to
my car, managed to unlock the door, and, as I got in to sit behind the wheel,
he reached his arm through the open door. I grabbed the door handle and pulled
it closed with all the force I could muster, fully intending to crush his arm
in the door if he left it there. A look of surprise came over his face.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">He quickly pulled his arm
away from the door as it slam</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">med shut. Then I locked the door from the inside,
turned on the ignition, backed out of my spot, and aimed the car directly at
the potential perpetrator. Another look of surprise—and then fear—crossed his
face as he backed up. He turned and ran as I drove after him down the parking
lot. He jumped over the edge of the paved area and disappeared down the hill
behind the lot. Then I backed up and drove home. I hope he never tried that on
another woman.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> During my two years as a post-doctoral
research fellow at Temple University in Philadelphia, I lived in a ghetto. I
had no trouble with sleazy males the entire time I lived there. The closest I
came was one evening, when I was walking alone along the sidewalk, not far from
home, I could tell that someone was following me. I picked up my pace. It was
late fall at the time, I believe, and I was wearing boots with short, hard,
leather or rubber heels. I started clomping the heels heavily on the sidewalk
as in a military walk, and whoever was following me turned aside. I don’t know
if that was even a real threat, but I treated it as one. And I was prepared to
confront the person if he caught up with me.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As an anatomist, I know the vulnerable
parts of the human body. The easiest one, and probably the deadliest, is the
part of the skull just above the nose. It’s called the cribriform plate, and
this is where sensory nerve fibers for smell pass from the nose through the
skull into the brain. A way to disable—and potentially kill—an attacker is to
ram the heel of your hand upwards against the bottom part of his nose. Besides
being extremely painful, the force can drive the main nasal bone (the vomer) up
through the cribriform plate and into the brain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another debilitating action is to drive
the side of a stiffened hand in a “karate chop” against the larynx, which, in
men, often protrudes at the front of the neck. This will seriously interfere
with breathing and can also cause damage to major blood vessels in the neck. If
the attacker has grabbed your hands and neither of these is an option, a swift
knee to the groin is usually painful enough to stop a molester.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To be <a href="https://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2018/02/my-metoo-memories-part-3.html" target="_blank">continued</a>...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; margin: 0px;">
</span></span></div>
</div>
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</span>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%; margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<div style="margin: 0px;">
<a href="file:///C:/Users/Jo%20Anne/Documents/OBAW/New%20blog%20posts,%20chapters/My%20#MeToo%20Memories.docx" name="_ftn1" style="mso-footnote-id: ftn1;" title=""><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a><span style="font-family: "calibri"; font-size: x-small;">
“Young lady, are you alone?”</span></div>
</div>
</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-50511394609251228622017-12-15T12:48:00.000-05:002018-01-21T13:35:05.161-05:00My #MeToo Memories - Part 1<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve been a bit hesitant to climb on the #MeToo bandwagon
because I don’t think I’ve had any seriously emotionally debilitating sexual
assaults. Still, I have had many disgusting, annoying, and sexually tinged
encounters with boys and men, some of whom were familiar, and others who were
strangers.<br />
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Part of the reason I was spared the sorts of traumatic
encounters that many girls and women have endured was probably because I was
raised by a prudish father and a mother who warned me about intimate dangers
faced by females. We didn’t wander around our house in night-clothes, no
clothes, or just underwear. I learned to hide and protect my “private parts.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One time, while I was still quite young—perhaps four or five
years old—some neighborhood children invited me to join them in a culvert to
“play house,” which involved boys and girls getting undressed and exploring
one-another’s privates. I declined.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first truly disturbing encounter I remember was when I
was a pre-teen. During childhood summers, I occasionally spent a weekend at the
home of a favorite aunt, my mother’s sister. She had three boys and an alcoholic
husband; her middle boy was, for many years, my favorite cousin. At night, I
slept on their couch in the living room; the upstairs bedrooms were all
occupied by the family.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One morning, I awoke to find my uncle (hungover?) standing
above me with his bathrobe open and his penis in his hand. He pointed it toward
me and said, “Here, pull on this and a hot dog will come out.” I felt revulsion
and didn’t want to touch it. Still, he was an adult relative and had some
“authority.” I didn’t know what to do. As I was hesitating, and still groggy
from sleep, my aunt fortunately came down the stairs and yelled at her husband.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After that, I never again spent the night at their house.
Still, I saw that uncle at family gatherings from time to time. He occasionally
smirked at me and never seemed ashamed. One time, when I was an older teenager
– late high school or early college – he remarked about how much I looked like
my mother.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I later discovered that he had dated my mother when he was
in college and had gone to her home in the upper peninsula of Michigan to seek
her out after he graduated. Instead, he found my aunt, whom he started to date
and eventually married. Their children were boys; it’s fortunate they didn’t
have girls.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our city cousins often came out to the country during the
summer and spent a few days or a week at our house, usually sleeping on the
couch. It was their equivalent of summer camp. In my early teens, two different
male cousins tried to get me to undress when we were out of sight (and range)
of adults. But I never did undress for them, to their annoyance. They were the
two cousins nearest my age. In my mind, I believe I blamed the lax morals of
the city for their behavior, not the fact that they were simply boys being
boys.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One cousin loved spending time in the country, and he always
wanted to wrestle with his two girl cousins. Usually, the first words out of
his mouth after he arrived at our house were, “Ya’ wanna fight?” My sister and
I would wrestle with him if he challenged us. And we usually got him down on
the ground, although he was strong enough that we could rarely pin both
shoulders to the ground, which was his criterion for “winning.” Still, he could
rarely get us to the ground. He later became a member of the Harvard wrestling
team, and said he learned to wrestle from his girl cousins.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
On one occasion, when we were alone in one of the bedrooms
in our house, he said something like, “Let’s go bare naked.” I was surprised
and appalled. I certainly didn’t want to go along with that suggestion. So, I
made a joke of it and said, “Yes, let’s go barefooted.” I giggled as I took off
my shoes and left the room. I don't believe he ever suggested it again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The other cousin was the middle son of the uncle who had
exposed himself to me. When he came out to the country during the summer, we
often went on walks to a nearby swimming lake, or sometimes into the woods to
look at the wildlife. It was one of the pleasures of living in the country just
to be out in the natural world. Sometimes, while we were walking, he would tell
jokes, often “dirty jokes.”<br />
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The path into the woods led to a small peninsula with a
clearing surrounded by dense brush and trees. One time on a walk there, he
brought along some playing cards. Our family often played card games, so it
didn’t seem odd. But he decided to teach me how to play “strip poker.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I went along with the game until I had lost all my clothes
except for the bra and underpants. I wouldn’t give those up, and he called me a
sissy and a poor sport. I got angry, got dressed, and got up and left. But I
didn’t tell either of our parents what had happened.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2018/01/metoo-memories-part-2.html" target="_blank">Continued</a>...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-64208971649221902602017-08-27T15:30:00.001-04:002017-09-04T00:23:32.393-04:00Charleston Eclipse, August 21, 2017<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoELUlopQRzmMl3NXFhohGEL1B6jqRRMVyvQ4-0XXa33zoTBLyGkQNT_W4LfU814nb7Va9e9u0RL2Vy-f4DYQRQZ3x2DfcW5d25NyhkZoYDS1UPrbTwidewL3JBXEFBiiN5qxW4bUpM7y/s1600/IMG_0703.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQoELUlopQRzmMl3NXFhohGEL1B6jqRRMVyvQ4-0XXa33zoTBLyGkQNT_W4LfU814nb7Va9e9u0RL2Vy-f4DYQRQZ3x2DfcW5d25NyhkZoYDS1UPrbTwidewL3JBXEFBiiN5qxW4bUpM7y/s320/IMG_0703.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends' eclipse T-shirts</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><br />
Wow! Where has the summer gone? It's been busy--catching up on email and
regular mail and other delayed housework after spending a few months revising
and polishing <a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S"><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="color: #0563c1;">a couple of books</span></span></a> that came out
this summer (June and July).</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDZ2hTyVoJgAiBWRkehLZd8WTsavDx4NZcS4aLmIn62TwtzzUyISv8KFr5E0LNZahyvwGCP2v0u7X4zJF2jawnqF45RoNXOAXqu5yonX3v0EYtCHJRcumwN47Bp2_UjbB2aqTT7HmQZq0/s1600/IMG_0713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWDZ2hTyVoJgAiBWRkehLZd8WTsavDx4NZcS4aLmIn62TwtzzUyISv8KFr5E0LNZahyvwGCP2v0u7X4zJF2jawnqF45RoNXOAXqu5yonX3v0EYtCHJRcumwN47Bp2_UjbB2aqTT7HmQZq0/s320/IMG_0713.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Neighbors' eclipse T-shirts; eclipse viewing station on lawn<br />
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The big event of the summer has been the Great American Eclipse, which I was lucky enough to see from the front yard of my home in Charleston, SC. <br />
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Here's my journal excerpt about the experience, along with some photos taken with a little Cannon camera.<br />
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><b>August 21, 2017<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>~ 1:40 pm</b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
eclipse has begun. I saw a bit of it about 20 minutes ago with the eclipse
glasses I got this morning from a friend, Nancy Hild. The sun just came out from behind
the high-piled cumulus clouds, and now the eclipse is nearly half complete.
Thunder rumbles in the background.</span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">It’s
not quite as hot outside as it was about an hour ago when I was packing
groceries into the trunk of the car. Decided to go grocery shopping after
picking up the glasses from Nancy because I’ve gotten way down on milk, fruit,
and veggies, and the BiLo is on the way back from her house.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
sun is still out from the clouds. Some wispy cirrus strands float across the sky in the
blue space between cumulus clouds. Now the sun is about half gone.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Now
clouds are drifting across the sun, and I can’t see it with the eclipse-glasses. But interestingly, if I look up at the clouds with regular sunglasses, I can see the “partially devoured” sun through them without hurting
my eyes.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Now
the sun is out again. It’s playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. A crow just flew
over my roof, squawking loudly. Insects fly around the bushes. I just don’t
spend enough time outside, these days. As a child (lo, these many years ago), I used to spend at least half the
day outside.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">I
can hear the TV in the front room of the house. Haven’t had it on for about two
months. I just turned it on to get eclipse news. First was the eclipse in
Oregon. Then I put away groceries and came outside to watch it for myself.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
eclipse shadow is now more than halfway across the sun. Just went inside to check the
time (2:12 pm). The eclipse is nearing totality in Missouri. More than half of “my families”
are on the path of the eclipse: Briana and Blake (with Jeremy) in Pocatello, Idaho;
Judi and Danny Lane in Blue Springs, Missouri; Elisabeth and her family in the
outskirts of Nashville; and I am here in Charleston.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">With
the eclipse-glasses on, I see nothing but the sun, no background images whatsoever: no trees, no clouds, nothing but an orange disc, increasingly deformed. When the clouds thicken between me and the
sun, I can see the partial eclipse with ordinary sunglasses. The rim is
becoming thinner and thinner. I hope that, when totality arrives, the sun will
come out from behind the clouds; I hope we will be able to see the corona. Looking
at the sky right now, though, the probability of that seems to be about 15%.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
wind is picking up; it’s cooling me and fluttering pages of the journal.
Now, there’s just a thin rim of sun on the left side of the disc. It still seems like full
daylight, though. One of the neighborhood dogs is barking and howling
incessantly.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Now
the sun is just a thin, half-circle sliver. I’m surprised at how much
light it still sheds, although the heat has gone down. Earlier, I was sweating
profusely but not any more. The temperature is quite mild, and a soft breeze soothes
the skin of my arms and blows through my hair.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Now, a big, blue patch of sky surrounds the dimming sun. We may get lucky! I
have my camera in case there’s a chance to photograph totality.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9eiQh3mj4eSPBpRiystNQnV8jKXI8nfaEI_rMMhVWOqkeXA6Jb44Pr_43Pb9LJLFFjgX7QmW3__HhhZBu9X_S_L6mS3OKU3hoDIlg8rsgCjp_U5yg6tSAt2txNjSjGT3MRNa2ijs0CQq/s1600/IMG_0715+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1338" data-original-width="1329" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt9eiQh3mj4eSPBpRiystNQnV8jKXI8nfaEI_rMMhVWOqkeXA6Jb44Pr_43Pb9LJLFFjgX7QmW3__HhhZBu9X_S_L6mS3OKU3hoDIlg8rsgCjp_U5yg6tSAt2txNjSjGT3MRNa2ijs0CQq/s200/IMG_0715+%25282%2529.JPG" width="198" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun dancing in the sky</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iPg_P9qObgEnTynhzDKEg8_-f2zMK2Ybbh6kXKgsPWFKWRcIAygsckQKB5or8v4r3nryHA6C32SWbfMPNWC68V4t11n-kgC2_iY8GCz-uhq5rYE8I58F4lqAxxDulPl1r189F5XJL6e0/s1600/IMG_0714+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="551" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7iPg_P9qObgEnTynhzDKEg8_-f2zMK2Ybbh6kXKgsPWFKWRcIAygsckQKB5or8v4r3nryHA6C32SWbfMPNWC68V4t11n-kgC2_iY8GCz-uhq5rYE8I58F4lqAxxDulPl1r189F5XJL6e0/s200/IMG_0714+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beginning of totality</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
eclipse just passed. I think I got a few pictures of totality, although thin clouds still veiled the sun at the time. For a while, the sun seemed to dance around in the viewfinder. then it settled down to a thin rim with red beads near the bottom, and finally a bright, white signet-ring emerged.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxA_Y8Tn1mlRm1EFtP3T-iqdt3fADc5HLTtdhi8rdC1PlKP1vWpFmlGC-7KMlHsUJZ_FnlTLaqmng2ITvyrCZ8XiDs36InWZQQpf8Awu3RGAZOIZb22vbgyj_FKqMTtQ9ZBWxPozuSWIj/s1600/IMG_0719+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1208" data-original-width="1166" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilxA_Y8Tn1mlRm1EFtP3T-iqdt3fADc5HLTtdhi8rdC1PlKP1vWpFmlGC-7KMlHsUJZ_FnlTLaqmng2ITvyrCZ8XiDs36InWZQQpf8Awu3RGAZOIZb22vbgyj_FKqMTtQ9ZBWxPozuSWIj/s200/IMG_0719+%25282%2529.JPG" width="192" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Signet ring.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherEHXSxUPCu7PfdG5__jnFVA89Q9-_ly81QDLRV6qOsMN5CHHc0p6Bztv1TQUxsn9tKzO5YLC4OguVKXSCGfOIKw5oLmD1fXW0_pHJsPzbqL_5E1c6BocTswxpAR1FF-nF_3uxy_ZN9la/s1600/IMG_0718+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="709" data-original-width="714" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEherEHXSxUPCu7PfdG5__jnFVA89Q9-_ly81QDLRV6qOsMN5CHHc0p6Bztv1TQUxsn9tKzO5YLC4OguVKXSCGfOIKw5oLmD1fXW0_pHJsPzbqL_5E1c6BocTswxpAR1FF-nF_3uxy_ZN9la/s200/IMG_0718+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The end of totality with flare beads</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIXuLsy6OcSalpsUWlLw6xmllkRNZHfqDxTUmItaUmmA2mi2r6LFGqElgSWNuZAh63UDLFozcyixtWfsTi0dm0HKOe5a9tdO-7BfQ8oCaIhjLhTa8ipH0YFeDHYE4WatKJvCBcMS0WFWH/s1600/IMG_0721+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="1600" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgIXuLsy6OcSalpsUWlLw6xmllkRNZHfqDxTUmItaUmmA2mi2r6LFGqElgSWNuZAh63UDLFozcyixtWfsTi0dm0HKOe5a9tdO-7BfQ8oCaIhjLhTa8ipH0YFeDHYE4WatKJvCBcMS0WFWH/s200/IMG_0721+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sun emerging from the moon, cloudy sky</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">
</span>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">The
sun's bright rim on the right side of the moon is nearly covered with
clouds. </span></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Now
(~3:00?) huge, dark clouds are coming in from the north, a deep, ominous gray.
A fly has fallen into my coffee, the wind is up, firecrackers are crackling the
air, and I think I’ll go inside.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">
</span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0px 0px 11px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;">Shortly
after totality, black clouds covered the emerging sun, and it began to rain after I went into the house.
Thank Heavens, we were able to see this eclipse here in Charleston!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-51579217354009208852017-05-05T18:01:00.001-04:002017-12-16T19:17:54.187-05:00Latest Literary Efforts<div>
<b><i>Mea Culpa</i></b></div>
<div>
Somehow or other I managed to over-write this blog while trying to do another one about the recent eclipse. The basic problem was that I had two Blogger windows open at the same time and wasn't careful enough about which one I was working on. Lesson #1</div>
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Moreover, I had not made a copy of the post after it was written, because I composed it in the blogger box, as I'm doing now. Note to self: Make copies of all blog posts and keep the copies in a folder. I have lots of folders on my computer and can usually find stuff there, but I trust the online platforms to keep copies of whatever I post. When I tried to back-track and find a copy of the original post, it was all gone. Lesson #2.</div>
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<b>Reconstructing a Past Post</b></div>
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So I'll try to reconstruct the poor lost post, which was mostly about books that have come out during the past year. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/J.A.V.-Simson/e/B00BH3326S/" target="_blank">Three new books</a> include a travel booklet, a short-story collection, and an autobiography. Here's a brief look at all three.</div>
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<b>Travel Booklet: <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/RUSSIA-REVISITED-Come-Take-Tour-ebook/dp/B01MXZ4FQD/" target="_blank">Russia Revisited</a></i></b></div>
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<div>
<a href="https://www.amazon.com/RUSSIA-REVISITED-Come-Take-Tour-ebook/dp/B01MXZ4FQD/" target="_blank">Russia Revisited</a> describes a tour to Ukraine and Russia in 2010, which was a bucket-list trip taken to revisit the European portion of that huge and complex country. The narrative is based on observations written in a journal kept during the trip as well as information from other sources on the history of the places we visited. For those looking for a quick historical overview of Russia and its thousand-year past, this would be a useful, easy-to-read, well illustrated booklet.</div>
<div>
That tour took place nearly two decades after an initial backpacking trip across the entire country in 1992, shortly after the disintegration of the Soviet Union. That trip began in Irkutsk, Siberia, with a Sierra-Club backpacking group, and continued solo, primarily by train, across the vast expanse of Asian and European Russia to St. Petersburg, Russia's European gateway. I'm still working on a book about that trip, which will include a more comprehensive overview of Russian history.and culture as documented by other western travelers who have visited and written about Russia and the USSR between the eighteenth and twentieth centuries.</div>
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<div>
<b>Short Fiction Collection: <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Speaking-Strangers-Anne-Valentine-Simson/dp/1619846918/" target="_blank">Speaking with Strangers</a></i></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaUu67ypWg9Xc-VH-zTDttxNy3hD6fLVNl_ZShx2PaDMSHbkccUI2NcLAYKA2a1E_iktM5ZuZPgq_PSTytPC8rLbEckHfs8s1kEHzkTS9bt1P-oXSWQCfCs5qrMyIDwHC11UI-4XCACLN/s1600/thumbnail_Speaking+with+Strangers10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvaUu67ypWg9Xc-VH-zTDttxNy3hD6fLVNl_ZShx2PaDMSHbkccUI2NcLAYKA2a1E_iktM5ZuZPgq_PSTytPC8rLbEckHfs8s1kEHzkTS9bt1P-oXSWQCfCs5qrMyIDwHC11UI-4XCACLN/s320/thumbnail_Speaking+with+Strangers10.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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This is my first book of fiction, although several stories in the collection had been published previously in literary magazines. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Speaking-Strangers-Anne-Valentine-Simson/dp/1619846918/" target="_blank">Speaking with Strangers</a> is an eclectic collection of fiction that relates the sorts of unsettling experiences that can happen when we interact with those we don't know or don't understand, including ourselves.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #111111; font-family: "amazon ember" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>"This is a terrific collection of stories. There is something for everybody in these stories. The characters are vibrant and interesting, and when they're speaking you feel part of the conversation. Family dynamics, the pursuit of career, the serendipitous treasures found in chance conversations - it's all here! You will enjoy this book!!" (reader review, Amazon)</i></span></div>
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<div>
<b>Autobiography: <i><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Saving-My-Life-Lives-More/dp/1544282141/" target="_blank">Saving My Life</a></i></b></div>
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<b><br /></b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3z35Kmbz2RpTqtSvVba7Ea5clK08dTOElB9g6Mfg79gAAtRaV3hZmTGuN_gLcQrlVUp554p2cLfwc-Wg1R_DpY41nDBr8IEGNDIS01YRlX6hab85qUk0ym9layfjcbPEgID1uLhGaMsX/s1600/60101142_High+Resolution+Front+Cover_6921700.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij3z35Kmbz2RpTqtSvVba7Ea5clK08dTOElB9g6Mfg79gAAtRaV3hZmTGuN_gLcQrlVUp554p2cLfwc-Wg1R_DpY41nDBr8IEGNDIS01YRlX6hab85qUk0ym9layfjcbPEgID1uLhGaMsX/s320/60101142_High+Resolution+Front+Cover_6921700.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div>
This autobiography is a synopsis of my life, constructed with the help of journals and photo albums. <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Saving-My-Life-Lives-More/dp/1544282141/" target="_blank">Saving My Life</a> was written primarily for my children, grandchildren, and close friends, although others might discover something interesting in the complex life of a late twentieth-century "liberated woman" -academic, world traveler, and iconoclast.</div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: "amazon ember" , "arial" , sans-serif;"><i>"Jo Anne Valentine was born to educated but impoverished parents during the Great Depression, attended grade school during World War II, had an idyllic youth in rural Michigan, and attended college and graduate school, eventually earning a Ph.D. degree in the biomedical sciences. She did research and taught at a time when women experienced considerable difficulties pursuing a scientific career. She was married twice and has three children and six grandchildren. Keenly interested in human culture, she was an avid world traveler, ultimately living abroad for five years in four different countries. This autobiography narrates a complex life replete with setbacks and rewards."</i></span></div>
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Enjoy!</div>
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http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-59996972563596102772017-01-26T11:04:00.000-05:002017-01-26T11:21:57.315-05:00Russia Revisited<br />
Russia is in our minds a great deal these days, with Trump sidling up to Putin before the election and Putin basically endorsing Trump's presidential candidacy. This can feel both bewildering and frightening. What is it about Russia that has seemed so threatening to Americans for generations?<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Russia-Revisited-Come-Take-Tour/dp/1478778873/" target="_blank">Russia Revisited</a> asks that question as it delves into a bit of Russian history, spinning a travelogue of a tour to Ukraine and the fabled cities of Moscow and St. Petersburg. Less frequently visited towns along the northern rivers of Russia, with their Scandinavian heritage, add intrigue to the trip narrative. This is intended as the first in a series of travelogues with the general theme, "Come Take a Tour with Me." Full color illustration illuminate observations and commentary about Russia's history and culture.<br />
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The Russian Bear was depicted as a menace to America during much of the twentieth century. A moderate thaw occurred during WWII, while the Soviet Union was an ally. The fear intensified again after the war, as Russia developed nuclear weapons and created an "Iron Curtain" to separate Communist Eastern Europe from the "democratic" countries of Western Europe.<br />
<br />
A thaw came with the fall of the Berlin Wall and the replacement of Communist apparatchiks with elected officials. Somehow, though, authoritarian rule seems to have reasserted itself. Why are Russians so susceptible to autocratic governance? How will the new Russia and the new America relate?<br />
<br />
Find some answers and enjoy the journey!<br />
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<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Russia-Revisited-Come-Take-Tour/dp/1478778873/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVBr8reGxr2afpNGakbFLplGub4536MFklIyzQ1beDVOBecFdJj05odiAigIyzZijJJlvrSVXXZX6TMfXD-gOsTNNHAJE0zwMgzZ6Cm_CuglNZ9xGR136XMQ6Qjfh8bdkGdoH2jv4esrJB/s320/CoverHiRes.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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This <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Russia-Revisited-Come-Take-Tour/dp/1478778873/" target="_blank">booklet </a>is intended as a teaser for a more serious book on Russia and its history, in progress, hopefully to be published later in the year. In that book, I include stories from fabled Western travelers to Russia, such as the Marquis de Custine and John Steinbeck. I also include journal entries from a back-packing trip taken to the "new" Russia in 1992, along with travel commentary from my parents' two trips to the "old" Soviet Union during the 1970s.<br />
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<br />http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-24930650642973153152016-12-22T16:47:00.000-05:002017-01-26T10:10:29.604-05:00Holiday Greetings and New Year Wishes!Can't believe it's time for another holiday letter! Hope you've had a good year in 2016, and that the New Year will be even better!<br />
<b><span style="color: #c00000;"><br /></span></b>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #c00000; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14pt; margin: 0px;">SEASON’S GREETINGS!</span></b></div>
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<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Happy
Holidays and Best Wishes for a Wonderful New Year!</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">The
year 2016 has been much better (for me) than its predecessor. My respiratory
issues have improved steadily (with occasional setbacks). I’ve been making
great efforts to “get my life in order” (with some progress). And I’ve been
busy in Charleston with friends and colleagues. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4m3zCBeDNtNfgxXUWs3qjI6YUCDAnwX9KshQ5yQYXtmY2creZ0fBByklSEHJi4UrD3y0wm2eGbsnYnjYjMeNU00Nkd8flxEPe4Y5QSk7nuv07Hf74d0YMRnlyZRgYdqRvV9CO1jyb697/s1600/IMG_0182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4m3zCBeDNtNfgxXUWs3qjI6YUCDAnwX9KshQ5yQYXtmY2creZ0fBByklSEHJi4UrD3y0wm2eGbsnYnjYjMeNU00Nkd8flxEPe4Y5QSk7nuv07Hf74d0YMRnlyZRgYdqRvV9CO1jyb697/s320/IMG_0182.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Medical History Club, with Drs. Jane Upshur and Biemann Othersen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
The last of my rental properties was sold early in the year, which was a burden off my back. I still have one property to dispose of—some land in the North Carolina mountains that I once intended to build on. It was a dream that evaporated a decade ago with the economic collapse.</div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">The
writing has been going reasonably well, with several books at various stages of
completion, and a helpful writers’ group cheering me on to finish a
memoir—really more like an autobiography with topic highlights. I’m planning to
publish that with CreateSpace in early 2017. That book will be of interest </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; text-indent: 0.5in;">primarily</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> to family—and maybe a few close friends.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfelSRwWOt2LiFbKkGc8ptCFCtAnoClkNxu0IzsGXfZqkg6HLQqeEYQJS4Aca08MRfQ20ZaJBT2gtaJcTsOoFOiJp0WHolce5Ou4YZK_kA8bn_VgIX8bjjaOi0iImEH5R397uCoG4TPlgL/s1600/CoverHiRes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfelSRwWOt2LiFbKkGc8ptCFCtAnoClkNxu0IzsGXfZqkg6HLQqeEYQJS4Aca08MRfQ20ZaJBT2gtaJcTsOoFOiJp0WHolce5Ou4YZK_kA8bn_VgIX8bjjaOi0iImEH5R397uCoG4TPlgL/s320/CoverHiRes.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">A
booklet I had been working on since early summer, </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Russia-Revisited-Come-Take-Tour/dp/1478778873/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Russia Revisited</span></i></b></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">, about a
commercial trip to Russia in 2010, is now finished and has been published. I just received
copies from the publisher a few days ago. It was originally intended as a
teaser for a longer (and more serious) book about Russia and its grim history,
woven around a Sierra Club backpacking trip I made in Siberia in 1992—shortly
after the collapse of the Soviet Union. Afterwards, I crossed Russia solo by
train to Moscow and St. Petersburg. That book has gotten stalled, but I intend
to pick it up again early next year. FYI, my Amazon site is </span><a href="https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S</span></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC9Rj8YFtFLi4KwRYCP4IWfyZIIHX7gGoGeZlho5siuIHPyQ_mgoSgPjVEziHOf_O1u8S7x4q7KvsEGt7-4Rsxe7X345mKGTdwwKl-OJpX9mrW31ODFCMEA4sLxtziQImWf4wLfqxz7Pd6/s1600/Mom+in+bloomers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhC9Rj8YFtFLi4KwRYCP4IWfyZIIHX7gGoGeZlho5siuIHPyQ_mgoSgPjVEziHOf_O1u8S7x4q7KvsEGt7-4Rsxe7X345mKGTdwwKl-OJpX9mrW31ODFCMEA4sLxtziQImWf4wLfqxz7Pd6/s320/Mom+in+bloomers.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mother, Helen Pascoe, in slacks, 1924</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Also,
I’ve been sorting, scanning, and distributing photo albums to children, including albums
from my mother and my father. One of Mom’s albums dates back to 1924. She was a
liberated woman of first wave feminism! I posted this picture in a blog on my new <a href="http://javsimson.com/2016/06/what-women-wear/" target="_blank">website</a>.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">Still, there are a lot of albums to go through. I
discovered several more in a trunk that had not been opened since I moved into
this house in 2010. Maybe they've been in that trunk since 2007! </span></div>
<br />
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">In
August, I spent three or four days in New York visiting eldest daughter, Maria,
and her wonderful family. I used to visit them frequently, but since becoming so
ill in late 2014, I have scarcely gone anywhere outside Charleston. While in
NYC, I attended a Writers’ Digest conference in downtown Manhattan, which was
interesting and informative. </span><br />
<br /></div>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJiaJFFIfHXwvH1nHhh6oDwrfoJOn5U9BSouDdFF_KJ3q_v5WtA-Cfkqz8snw0RHLmbmegYfo5VmcTIGKtUk6Dg5IN2prFvd_8H7CWntyrqp-zpO-RpfchefeA38xFcWIPpqRGHoao78RC/s1600/WD%252C+NYC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJiaJFFIfHXwvH1nHhh6oDwrfoJOn5U9BSouDdFF_KJ3q_v5WtA-Cfkqz8snw0RHLmbmegYfo5VmcTIGKtUk6Dg5IN2prFvd_8H7CWntyrqp-zpO-RpfchefeA38xFcWIPpqRGHoao78RC/s320/WD%252C+NYC.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">The main book I’m trying to sell to an agent for a larger
audience is one I’ve been working on for the past five years. It’s intended for lay
readers to help them understand and care for their own body. Dr. Susan
Reynolds, a colleague and former student, is consultant on that book. I had a bit of interest
from an agent, but so far nothing more.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj4WorLmuqvghJ17j8aNteLg0Ef_hRJ87UMWUBmwMK-3WBs5-9KAqLglq_aiCVx4nw7qvqDxf4JC_bvsPBsqAguFRnwjBemEdY7YwnxKQwPB6Hkxp0vpMNYj_MNeVP935kiObXeDHsCO7/s1600/IMG_0199.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzj4WorLmuqvghJ17j8aNteLg0Ef_hRJ87UMWUBmwMK-3WBs5-9KAqLglq_aiCVx4nw7qvqDxf4JC_bvsPBsqAguFRnwjBemEdY7YwnxKQwPB6Hkxp0vpMNYj_MNeVP935kiObXeDHsCO7/s320/IMG_0199.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With friend, colleague, and consultant, Dr. Susan Reynolds</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">After
Blake, the eldest grandson, went off to Northland College in Ashland, WI this
fall, daughter Briana, moved to another city in Idaho to be near her boyfriend.
They plan to marry sometime next year. Blake is really loving college, and he
calls his grandma every week!</span></div>
<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lOmIV_PkVBqcuWEoHDTRWppaE4_s0iR1gySpYNzt0rcJyXYrWulckQkKPvvc7tc-YL6xAMbvTpfyCNdmIWRKlx8NjfIe62qoj-1HQEhv38_IUzdOAzkJVrVvxuQJ8GIamI2iRX5Ly5ZU/s1600/IMG_0405.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4lOmIV_PkVBqcuWEoHDTRWppaE4_s0iR1gySpYNzt0rcJyXYrWulckQkKPvvc7tc-YL6xAMbvTpfyCNdmIWRKlx8NjfIe62qoj-1HQEhv38_IUzdOAzkJVrVvxuQJ8GIamI2iRX5Ly5ZU/s320/IMG_0405.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
With daughters Maria and Elisabeth. </div>
<div>
I'm the short one in the middle.</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">In
November, two of my wonderful daughters threw a surprise party for my 80<sup>th</sup>
birthday here in Charleston. It included several close friends as well as family. It was the
best birthday party I’ve ever had! And a total surprise!! I was amazed that
Maria, the eldest, was willing to come to Charleston. The last time she was here was
for Elisabeth’s wedding, 17 years ago. Elisabeth and her family came in their
new RV. They stayed at the James Island County Park, one of my favorite
campgrounds when I had an RV. We drove around the park one evening and saw the
holiday lights, which are spectacular.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS3EZoj-KNMpdm-JPbcoM1rbjXhVYVzptEJatcVVMMrez07ujABojtGo4SdRQMNRNoRe_kjYYCDQMOTRmHCvYQMWRzippTPMAyk4CakNulRc2KYmk8tPHIyH9gzVptSV-XId3qk_YgoXM/s1600/IMG_0401.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKS3EZoj-KNMpdm-JPbcoM1rbjXhVYVzptEJatcVVMMrez07ujABojtGo4SdRQMNRNoRe_kjYYCDQMOTRmHCvYQMWRzippTPMAyk4CakNulRc2KYmk8tPHIyH9gzVptSV-XId3qk_YgoXM/s320/IMG_0401.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<div style="line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;">So,
the election aside, 2016 has been a great year for an old lady. Hope your year has
been good too! And here's hoping the New Year will be as pleasant as possible for friends and family--as well as for the many others in the world who are not as fortunate. Let us hope that we can somehow try to achieve that elusive goal of Peace on Earth.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu4m3zCBeDNtNfgxXUWs3qjI6YUCDAnwX9KshQ5yQYXtmY2creZ0fBByklSEHJi4UrD3y0wm2eGbsnYnjYjMeNU00Nkd8flxEPe4Y5QSk7nuv07Hf74d0YMRnlyZRgYdqRvV9CO1jyb697/s1600/IMG_0182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></div>
</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-22364948714830625832016-08-19T22:28:00.001-04:002016-08-19T22:28:44.206-04:00The last days in St. Petersburg<br />
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6/13/10 (continued)</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After viewing the Yusupov
Palace, Marilee, another person in the group, and I took a taxi to the
Dostoyevsky Museum. She had talked about wanting to do it, and I told her I
would go with her if she could arrange it. Her trip leader, Evgeni, made the
taxi arrangements for us.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRcMK-QKjZ9O_PDYCqSUy0JKlEFTsvQXNtmklKXv357Gn0sqZxuvKCElN5O5ITVXH_CWvwjfXGPLZEfaF_pOdl4FuPVyR_nW3XdYLkzZtAAX0ylMbuBgGYyVaEfSlYDTAivLS58zAChRR/s1600/IMG_2957.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFRcMK-QKjZ9O_PDYCqSUy0JKlEFTsvQXNtmklKXv357Gn0sqZxuvKCElN5O5ITVXH_CWvwjfXGPLZEfaF_pOdl4FuPVyR_nW3XdYLkzZtAAX0ylMbuBgGYyVaEfSlYDTAivLS58zAChRR/s320/IMG_2957.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Placard on the outside of the very simple </div>
<div>
row-house where Dostoyevsky lived</div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That, too, was very
interesting. It was a suite of rooms that Dostoyevsky had lived in after he had
already become famous, and in which he wrote Brothers Karamazov. The rooms
were quite a contrast to the Yusupov Palace, as well as go the other palaces and
churches we have seen. It offered a striking example of the great economic difference
between a well-known, successful, middle-class writer and the nobility—or the
clergy, for that matter, although we didn’t see any of their homes on this
trip. I believe that many of the clergy were younger sons of noble families,
and no doubt familiar with the opulent lifestyle.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHW32wOTkpMgi8hoAu3xMI3p1sPY9eyFpdHqFWcocJuhikQlrSSzTjT_a55tg-XBIZGYUkwWYrBNFWRrrp60Xl45TUnnSII0iZ1A9_x4LwedrYyhdhyphenhypheny8zHMcyAo4K8odj09_8iiIl95P/s1600/IMG_2958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdHW32wOTkpMgi8hoAu3xMI3p1sPY9eyFpdHqFWcocJuhikQlrSSzTjT_a55tg-XBIZGYUkwWYrBNFWRrrp60Xl45TUnnSII0iZ1A9_x4LwedrYyhdhyphenhypheny8zHMcyAo4K8odj09_8iiIl95P/s320/IMG_2958.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Family room, Dostoyevsky's home in St. Petersburg</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There was also a set of
two rooms that offered a museum-style overview of his life and times. I learned
many things about Dostoyevsky that I didn’t know before. He was the son of a
physician in a hospital for the indigent. He was married twice, and his second
wife was enormously helpful to him in his writing. He gained national attention
after a stirring eulogy to Pushkin. And he traveled a great deal, to all the
major countries and many of the major cities of Europe.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhbmNnVhKAI58r9TUOp17dsUp7LJeOYllVaWi9GCGsT7lvLALfeUVcmGLiBNTTSCui2pARcgYqPkyzKbJKOFU2AanlLpvSYF97sTym_qm3IaYu1_qKQjsd99kjvAFS73yev6mQv3o6MF2/s1600/IMG_2961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMhbmNnVhKAI58r9TUOp17dsUp7LJeOYllVaWi9GCGsT7lvLALfeUVcmGLiBNTTSCui2pARcgYqPkyzKbJKOFU2AanlLpvSYF97sTym_qm3IaYu1_qKQjsd99kjvAFS73yev6mQv3o6MF2/s320/IMG_2961.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dostoyevsky's writing desk</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That evening, many of us
went to a ballet in the Hermitage, in a small, exquisite theater that had been
commissioned by Catherine II, that retained its pillars and most of the
original woodwork. The ballet was Swan Lake, music by Tchaikovsky, and the choreography
followed that of the original presentation. Apparently the ending was changed
to appease Russian sentiment. It was quite lovely. I believe that was the first
time I had seen Swan Lake from beginning to end, although I’ve seen parts of it
on several occasions. The conductor of the orchestra (a lot of instruments
crammed into a small pit below the front of the stage) reminded me of
Arnold—his body shape, his face shape, the glasses. Arnold always wanted to
conduct the music we played on the phonograph.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KSSkUumCF6YnKdAHqtcDDiZhz1dMl7b9Q7rU43gkpgpO8lNbqwqLY5DqN_HWvOGFAsh9O3baGseFHQp9jMDwa4-BrrDRtnt9D6gWlGAa-auDX9OCdFypWnHVIOiRgg14RmNFj9pZm7ge/s1600/DSCF0983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2KSSkUumCF6YnKdAHqtcDDiZhz1dMl7b9Q7rU43gkpgpO8lNbqwqLY5DqN_HWvOGFAsh9O3baGseFHQp9jMDwa4-BrrDRtnt9D6gWlGAa-auDX9OCdFypWnHVIOiRgg14RmNFj9pZm7ge/s320/DSCF0983.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The palace at Tsarskoe Selo, seen through gilded gates</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The final day in St.
Petersburg, we visited <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Tsarskoe Selo</i>
(the tsar’s village) in the town of Pushkin, in which the main attraction is a
huge palace begun by Elisabeth I and modified and finished by Catherine II
(“The Great”). It was absolutely over-the-top opulent, with room after room
covered with mirrors and gold leaf, and hung with elaborate chandeliers, and
fitted with wood-inlay flooring: reception halls, and dancing halls, and music
rooms, and on and on. Elisabeth began the palace in baroque style; Catherine
modified it in neoclassical style.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiD3TrhpocawXb40rnN5Nbptka7f16dYB_mRmmOo7qVYgDxSqfhD3pFEI-6iRWlpb0EIrt-JKaz3VyVY262URwdygLYMkqRf9e6a3sTNjdKLKahcNxNn83sGMlUoXTvY8dCcnvJLVWO7u/s1600/IMG_2992.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipiD3TrhpocawXb40rnN5Nbptka7f16dYB_mRmmOo7qVYgDxSqfhD3pFEI-6iRWlpb0EIrt-JKaz3VyVY262URwdygLYMkqRf9e6a3sTNjdKLKahcNxNn83sGMlUoXTvY8dCcnvJLVWO7u/s320/IMG_2992.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div>
Mannequin of Catherine the Great in a gilded room</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB1H7vAHhaaN9IgdQJH5uPBbn9xD2qs_Gd1dTPS-adweNhDMJadojjyUEtEpq12-KKjsq-E-S32wIYXiojs7qBeLOJPQyFi1JPLGeaogExK9I2AcJHgz_P-PRfuSHYcoKsgVXa8tr4Kcj/s1600/DSCF1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB1H7vAHhaaN9IgdQJH5uPBbn9xD2qs_Gd1dTPS-adweNhDMJadojjyUEtEpq12-KKjsq-E-S32wIYXiojs7qBeLOJPQyFi1JPLGeaogExK9I2AcJHgz_P-PRfuSHYcoKsgVXa8tr4Kcj/s1600/DSCF1002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfB1H7vAHhaaN9IgdQJH5uPBbn9xD2qs_Gd1dTPS-adweNhDMJadojjyUEtEpq12-KKjsq-E-S32wIYXiojs7qBeLOJPQyFi1JPLGeaogExK9I2AcJHgz_P-PRfuSHYcoKsgVXa8tr4Kcj/s320/DSCF1002.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the grounds of Tsarskoe Selo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-8111899519917166092016-08-08T19:18:00.001-04:002016-08-09T00:38:27.447-04:00Hermitage and the Yusupov Palace <div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Tuesday, June 8 (continued)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Most of those from the boat went back after the guided tour of the
Hermitage, but some of us elected to stay in the museum for independent
browsing. One of the things I wanted to see was a special exhibit on Korean
art. Brenda Kim, another single female traveler in the group, also wanted to
see the Korean exhibit, so we both went there first.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHW-uXzMXAn35-KmUCu_hoaiugS2B2Srj7WfR4jzSwPYNz_tKByu69BLIoCQcg3CpfjqcfM4FGxTlxfVQxQ05ugVJN6MUd7YwuEdEZ_XYh7ssCiiwe2iP61UnwnsBB3vNwlwFxGrYGMI6/s1600/IMG_2883.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitHW-uXzMXAn35-KmUCu_hoaiugS2B2Srj7WfR4jzSwPYNz_tKByu69BLIoCQcg3CpfjqcfM4FGxTlxfVQxQ05ugVJN6MUd7YwuEdEZ_XYh7ssCiiwe2iP61UnwnsBB3vNwlwFxGrYGMI6/s320/IMG_2883.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Korean print on exhibit at the Hermitage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was an interesting experience, seeing Korean artifacts again
after nearly a decade. I did visit the Korean section of the British Museum
while I was there earlier during this odyssey, but that held mostly furniture and pottery.
The exhibit in the Hermitage was an eclectic collection of jewelry, clay
statuettes, screen painting, stone Buddhas, and pottery. One vase—white with
blue figures like Ming Pottery—had a magpie on it. The Russian word for that is <i>copok</i> (sorok),
which, in Russian also means forty, but that may also be the Korean word for
magpie.<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_ftnref1"></a><a href="file:///C:/Users/Jo%20Anne/Documents/TRAVEL%20books%20and%20blogs/Come%20Take%20a%20Tour%20with%20Me/Russia/Older%20versions,%20ms,%20photos/Old%20versions,%20Russian%20River%20Cruise/Russia%20Revisited%20with%20photos.docx"><sup><span style="color: blue; font-size: 12.0pt;">[1]</span></sup></a> I
have been trying to remember the word for several years now. I think it is the
national bird of Korea. All in all, I was glad to have visited the exhibit. It brought back memories of Korea, including both positive and negative
feelings I had in the country. There was also a rubbing of the symbol of the
Emilie bell—a girl surrounded by a flowing scarf—on exhibit in a glass case. I had seen the original in Korea, ten years previously. A photo of the bell is in the book, <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Korea-Are-You-Peace-Travelers/dp/1458210383/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1376601688&sr=1-1&keywords=Korea%2C+Are+You+at+Peace%3F" target="_blank">Korea, Are You at Peace</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<b><span style="font-size: 16pt;">The second day</span></b><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> in
St. Petersburg, I went with part of the group on an optional tour of the
Yusupov Palace. We stopped at a synagogue on the way that had been operational
for about a century. Someone in the group said that it was structured like a
Sephardic—rather than Ashkenazy—synagogue. The wonder is that it survived the
Stalinist era. But perhaps Stalin did not have as much antipathy toward Jews
(Marx was a Jew) as he did toward Christians.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShMdAIVwHKrEm-0EDNBacKT6RYV1qxqgwf-ZDcvjkEQXsjwK7GPKa9xenJqZ0dhu3xT2YvS2pmVbUcEvxEQbDnhZoNLSoNTtOK6bpBHxLUoRVv0rpkKIcTAGNsPaOKjCFKzwa2tB5h-XP/s1600/IMG_2936.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShMdAIVwHKrEm-0EDNBacKT6RYV1qxqgwf-ZDcvjkEQXsjwK7GPKa9xenJqZ0dhu3xT2YvS2pmVbUcEvxEQbDnhZoNLSoNTtOK6bpBHxLUoRVv0rpkKIcTAGNsPaOKjCFKzwa2tB5h-XP/s320/IMG_2936.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gilded room in the Yusupov Palace</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The Yusupov Palace was intriguing in many ways. First, it
was opulent, in the fin-du-siecle opulence of the wealthy of many nations,
including the U.S.—artifacts from around the world; hand-wrought furnishings;
highly decorative wall finishing; light fixtures for the gas lamps that had
become the vogue; and family portraits by notable artists.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEA2k80p8fNMnoY9td42xnw_OwsdEvD1pVlsQXEbSPG_NgGV0SAXkqJzQxcq7gmfgoKECoa64eoXGBDcGhI3E8Ea6SX8gH-5T0PAZ-XrAKa325URAXRgfiUkv_CNf8fX_5GG4Tdu0Htzdz/s1600/IMG_2901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEA2k80p8fNMnoY9td42xnw_OwsdEvD1pVlsQXEbSPG_NgGV0SAXkqJzQxcq7gmfgoKECoa64eoXGBDcGhI3E8Ea6SX8gH-5T0PAZ-XrAKa325URAXRgfiUkv_CNf8fX_5GG4Tdu0Htzdz/s320/IMG_2901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Basement room, Yusupov Palace where Rasputin was murdered</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Of historic interest was the fact that it was in that home that Rasputin
was murdered, a murder largely engineered by the family’s eldest son, Felix, who
managed to escape the dragnet set out by the tsar for the conspirators. The
murder was dramatized by wax figures of the conspirators and the victim in the
underground quarters of the young count, as well as by the guide’s narrative.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 18.0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCl3KxwnbulE13TCwr747GgXn9VAgdg1ium3cWr8JpsarmDgGnMqRPlsNAMAnZEBezCpqQI_N-nYeMGOttmLng2cTIQkF2aYYePJKnp77LX3EhTTD4urMjHvru8l1apP90SR6mdwH23tYi/s1600/IMG_2953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCl3KxwnbulE13TCwr747GgXn9VAgdg1ium3cWr8JpsarmDgGnMqRPlsNAMAnZEBezCpqQI_N-nYeMGOttmLng2cTIQkF2aYYePJKnp77LX3EhTTD4urMjHvru8l1apP90SR6mdwH23tYi/s320/IMG_2953.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zinaida, mother of Felix Yusupov, in Asiatic dress</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Of additional interest was the fact that the Yusupovs had
originally been Tatar Muslims who had been rewarded for service to some earlier
tsar. The family had managed their money well and had become one of the
wealthiest families in Russia—wealthy enough for the young Count Felix to marry a
princess, Irina, niece of the ill-fated Nicholas II.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/null" name="_ftn1"></a><a href="file:///C:/Users/Jo%20Anne/Documents/TRAVEL%20books%20and%20blogs/Come%20Take%20a%20Tour%20with%20Me/Russia/Older%20versions,%20ms,%20photos/Old%20versions,%20Russian%20River%20Cruise/Russia%20Revisited%20with%20photos.docx"><span style="color: blue; font-size: 10.0pt;">[1]</span></a><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> My conjecture was wrong. The Korean
word is <i>kkachi</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-36227204020569128192016-07-16T23:25:00.000-04:002016-07-25T21:42:28.257-04:00St Isaac's Cathedral and The Hermitage.<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6/11/10 (continued)</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">On Tuesday, we had
another bus trip around the city, the highlights of which were a visit to St.
Isaac Cathedral and an afternoon at the Hermitage Museum.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqbFxd7GrxxTPAri2IIBRaTdw8_KTwL2QDMmBX-xjKT0w2RAp-wvW2ao2GF9rqDavhT1PxIDXYD1kWBzYzEuZ52TjRF_hJ2gHI9LkfWH5T6nJGF7oIX4W-zGoliI4tFoul8Rinn_brt4V/s1600/IMG_2785.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSqbFxd7GrxxTPAri2IIBRaTdw8_KTwL2QDMmBX-xjKT0w2RAp-wvW2ao2GF9rqDavhT1PxIDXYD1kWBzYzEuZ52TjRF_hJ2gHI9LkfWH5T6nJGF7oIX4W-zGoliI4tFoul8Rinn_brt4V/s320/IMG_2785.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Columns and ceiling of St. Isaac's Cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The inside of St Isaac’s
Cathedral was amazing—huge, spacious, mosaic-encrusted iconostasis and real
marble-veneer columns (as opposed to the faux-marble-painted columns of Peter
and Paul Cathedral). The inside glittered with gold leaf on the mosaics and
chandeliers and other ornaments. The outside was a dull-gray classical building
surrounded by columns and topped with a gold dome. The rather dull exterior
belied the sparkling interior.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We had lunch at a
restaurant near the Cathedral of the Savior on the Blood, built on the site of
the assassination of Alexander II, the czar who freed the serfs and was later
assassinated by an anarchist. I left lunch early and went to the cathedral,
where I took photos both outside and inside. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSQ0VcpPrK_azB9c89VnoazF7F3H6nWPzcpPgjbV_YTHKbNwpBX_ABnTfTC2Gyx3mO7MCL3ojgjS1MVbC7Bl6d_R3YBgfdGXDdiGwPvgnrOP3rCXMFXurWko3wHlMxyQ_xgVHhN3rHrPK/s1600/IMG_2814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKSQ0VcpPrK_azB9c89VnoazF7F3H6nWPzcpPgjbV_YTHKbNwpBX_ABnTfTC2Gyx3mO7MCL3ojgjS1MVbC7Bl6d_R3YBgfdGXDdiGwPvgnrOP3rCXMFXurWko3wHlMxyQ_xgVHhN3rHrPK/s320/IMG_2814.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Interior of the Cathedral of the Savior on the Blood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The last time I was in St
Petersburg, the apartment I stayed in was near that church, but it was under
repair/reconstruction, and I wasn’t able to go inside. The inside of the
sanctuary was marvelous—narrow but tall, with a main aisle and two side aisles.
The walls are covered with paintings and mosaics, and the interior has a feeling of lightness
and simple sanctity.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 12pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">That afternoon, we went
to the Hermitage Museum and spent two hours with a guide going through
galleries and rooms of the palace lined by paintings ranging from medieval
sacred art to Dutch interiors. Some of the more famous paintings were a couple
by Leonardo da Vinci as well as some Titians and Rubens and Rembrandts. Not liking
crowds, I tended to hang around the edges and look at pictures that others were
not crowded around. We were allowed to take photos without flash, and I took
photos of several of my favorites.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqzMhc6x2BnTv5ZGYBxFLi9VteYVABBcaE20QHcJ6ExxuTozr8pLl6ybBkPSd77XDffWsgoZ5DtqITdRMYmRLuDoabyAAh9lTzsCkWdPoqI_cB3xCAqsGQ1McU_0PJqq4lFkJABsMtWtO/s1600/IMG_2856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsqzMhc6x2BnTv5ZGYBxFLi9VteYVABBcaE20QHcJ6ExxuTozr8pLl6ybBkPSd77XDffWsgoZ5DtqITdRMYmRLuDoabyAAh9lTzsCkWdPoqI_cB3xCAqsGQ1McU_0PJqq4lFkJABsMtWtO/s320/IMG_2856.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Huge vase of malachite in the Hermitage</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Another thing I noticed,
particularly this time, which I hadn’t before, except in the malachite room,
was the stonework throughout. Many rooms had large, sometimes huge, vases of
stone—jasper, onyx, basalt, granite. There were large columns of gray granite
in one room. Another room had a bird-cage clock (behind glass) made of gilded
paper-mache from the time of Catherine the Great.</span></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-21654884510873992732016-07-05T19:10:00.001-04:002016-07-07T22:14:26.612-04:00Saint Petersburg<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaAdue9_icyhXVaEq_JCc4lpzDSPDiSp23p5vw9q-IUr1zTZNsPaQIk4IUwbrrwStkvPvdEZSRT8_zYDjiADQrVD3P7HKBIcGkYNfct0iCtVuycKpFVaGplI8bx50jpfHXLn8wlPqrZoj/s1600/IMG_2738.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNaAdue9_icyhXVaEq_JCc4lpzDSPDiSp23p5vw9q-IUr1zTZNsPaQIk4IUwbrrwStkvPvdEZSRT8_zYDjiADQrVD3P7HKBIcGkYNfct0iCtVuycKpFVaGplI8bx50jpfHXLn8wlPqrZoj/s320/IMG_2738.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fountains at Peterhof, with the canal to the Baltic Sea</td></tr>
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[<i>6/7/10 – 6/11/10 In St.
Petersburg, as in Moscow, we slept on the boat and visited the city by bus. It
was truly convenient to live in one place and not have to pack and carry
luggage from hotel to hotel. St. Petersburg is the most glorious of all Russian
cities—it was the dream of Peter the Great to create a magnificent Russian city
facing Europe. And he did. The new Russian government has repaired and
renovated those iconic structures built during the reigns of Peter, Elisabeth,
and Catherine II. On this visit, the cupolas were gold plated, everything was
shiny, and the fountains at Peterhof (meaning Peter’s Palace) spewed water
exuberantly. Some of that water ran down into the Baltic Sea.</i>]<o:p></o:p></div>
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<b>Monday, June 7</b>, journal
entry.<b> “</b>On the evening of our first day in St. Petersburg, the ship
is docked along the wharf on the Neva River, and I am sitting at a little
corner table on deck 2 watching the river, a harp bridge spanning it and a
cluster of high-rise apartment buildings beyond the bridge, some with odd, wavy
profiles. It is nearly 11:00 pm and the sun has not yet set.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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That first day in St. Petersburg
was a full day, with a city tour of St. Petersburg, stopping for a photo-ops
along the way. One was the Smolny Cathedral and Convent complex—the Russians
call it an “ensemble”—followed by the square across the river from the
Admiralty and the Hermitage.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2InbRftJDp8E_nu3AxgSStoayeXWr-CkZpeX2C5uLRXkxKj2B7zZyTujwcwpte2Me3HqA9uz5UXwvBQO4FH8AjSMY9GwVW8VcJiFede56gciXck0uLChMWQW5JqIcw7pdarSbGquC7G5R/s1600/DSCF0904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2InbRftJDp8E_nu3AxgSStoayeXWr-CkZpeX2C5uLRXkxKj2B7zZyTujwcwpte2Me3HqA9uz5UXwvBQO4FH8AjSMY9GwVW8VcJiFede56gciXck0uLChMWQW5JqIcw7pdarSbGquC7G5R/s320/DSCF0904.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter and Paul Cathedral</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Afterwards, we walked through part
of the Peter and Paul Fortress, including most particularly, the amazing Peter
and Paul Cathedral. Classical in external appearance but incredibly baroque
inside, it houses the tombs of Romanov tsars in the side aisles.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYWhG37M8vGrwfLVE0dTnORevWteAn13wfJSeHli6Ntfi9V_vztfiBNkAok7gC-fLmY9WMPM6JUvNUmYbbOvBck6Z3yje0UecHp7jVhcWmRKVY-d3b-H93GLlZFy6_PSmeJ4yg9A_jpoz/s1600/DSCF0917.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxYWhG37M8vGrwfLVE0dTnORevWteAn13wfJSeHli6Ntfi9V_vztfiBNkAok7gC-fLmY9WMPM6JUvNUmYbbOvBck6Z3yje0UecHp7jVhcWmRKVY-d3b-H93GLlZFy6_PSmeJ4yg9A_jpoz/s320/DSCF0917.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomb of Elizabeth, daughter of Peter I</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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</span>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">That afternoon, more than half of
our group visited <i>Peterhof</i>, the palace complex begun by Peter the Great and
completed by his daughter, Elisabeth. This was constructed on the Baltic shore,
facing Europe, which was Peter’s symbolic strategy for turning away from the
Asiatic backwardness of traditional Russian custom and thought, and turning
toward the European Enlightenment. He was resisted mightily by both nobility
and church, but the effect of his building efforts, including transferring the
Russian capital to St. Petersburg, paid off in terms of commerce with Europe
and control of the future direction of Russian culture.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Peter was a ship-builder, and he
wanted to engage in trade with the rest of the world by sea. So he constructed
his capital on the Baltic outlet of the Neva River, the bit of ocean he could
find under Russian control that was nearest to Moscow, Russia’s traditional
capital (after Kiev). During and following Peter’s forty-year reign at the turn
of the eighteenth century--and until the Russian Revolution of the early
twentieth century--Russian culture both absorbed from and contributed to the culture of Europe.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The palace grounds at <i>Peterhof </i>were enormous,
with gazebos and waterworks along the walkways and hidden in small groves of
trees. The fountains were spouting vigorously; the statues and figurines were
freshly gilded and shone brilliantly in sunlight; the gardens and the wooded
areas were a luscious green; and the sky was deep blue and dotted with clouds.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">We didn’t go inside the palace, but
we did go through the “cottage” at Catherine’s Block, as opulent as any
ordinary palace. Eventually, that building became the royal family home for
Nicholas I’s family of the later Romanov Dynasty. Elisabeth, the daughter of
Peter, built most of the main palace at <i>Peterhof</i>. Peter, of simpler tastes,
only constructed one long, flat building on the Baltic shore known as <i>Monplaisir</i>.</span></div>
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</div>
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<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYU9hyF_5et3sEqSROfqZyK5Ofp6qDR05vI2vxHMv9rB1HsvFHpGiE_iz0VwJUKGx4W5hD5iZN7SNnpOTyaz-Vt9ydCIbIWxewKT2w8AdvDPn5-AjixKYt4SapLEeGj_Ffy5pL-7-XtQT/s1600/DSCF0942.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipYU9hyF_5et3sEqSROfqZyK5Ofp6qDR05vI2vxHMv9rB1HsvFHpGiE_iz0VwJUKGx4W5hD5iZN7SNnpOTyaz-Vt9ydCIbIWxewKT2w8AdvDPn5-AjixKYt4SapLEeGj_Ffy5pL-7-XtQT/s320/DSCF0942.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Terraced fountains at <i>Peterhof</i>, palace in the background</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
Peter also designed the fountains,
which work by gravity flow, with its water source a few miles away, collected
in a holding pond at the top level and from there, flowing into the fountains.
The fountains stop at around 5:00 pm, and water in the holding pond becomes
replenished at night. The entire water-works complex is drained at the end of
September. A canal leads from the grand cascade of fountains out into the
Baltic sea.<br />
<br />
The fountains and the canal to the sea create a splendid panorama
from the upper terrace across the lower gardens.<o:p></o:p></div>
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</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-37099776992644712542016-06-15T13:40:00.001-04:002016-06-15T18:00:17.212-04:00Kizhi Island and Petrozavodsk<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6/5/10</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Kizhi Island is an island
museum of wooden structures built largely during the early eighteenth century.
Because of long periods of freezing cold during northern Russian winters, the
wood is less prone to rot by mold and destruction by burrowing insects. So many of these
buildings are still standing and still structurally sound. I saw examples of the
same phenomenon in the wooden churches (Stavekirke) of the Norwegian countryside on a trip I
took with my mother in 1976.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pxvIWKFCNVB3Nj53IfmEI7ZLriCpBMgm4vU6vY0Ch00LUsBbMrzq7E_RuVx-lBiztZvP-OL5LRiywJQlzYJGVlmp5shMIjp5M4Bt8Dk05FGW5luqiaz6GlUzAaUFVtZhMsbv4AiecMNE/s1600/IMG_2671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8pxvIWKFCNVB3Nj53IfmEI7ZLriCpBMgm4vU6vY0Ch00LUsBbMrzq7E_RuVx-lBiztZvP-OL5LRiywJQlzYJGVlmp5shMIjp5M4Bt8Dk05FGW5luqiaz6GlUzAaUFVtZhMsbv4AiecMNE/s320/IMG_2671.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ancient wooden church complex on Kizhi Island under repair</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: center;">On Kizhi Island, the
population is very small, and the whole southern part of the island has been
turned into a folk museum whose focal point is an extraordinary complex of
churches and a bell tower built entirely of wood. The “summer church” (Church
of the Transfiguration, 1714), with 22 wooden domes, or cupolas, is particularly
striking from the outside, although we couldn’t go inside because it is under
repair and renovation. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbLo30AjUHPCc5hKYODoznOghgmkECWMpr9sOgYUZFITuR1ym5zblM34Ouu_r_0xY6y4MbfktVxxcUlCzJxlQu79krbB7ZN1oeynw7MHs3a9WiwNwbAXvSOHon5u4KWnxuFoBihXBCoQI/s1600/DSCF0867.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbLo30AjUHPCc5hKYODoznOghgmkECWMpr9sOgYUZFITuR1ym5zblM34Ouu_r_0xY6y4MbfktVxxcUlCzJxlQu79krbB7ZN1oeynw7MHs3a9WiwNwbAXvSOHon5u4KWnxuFoBihXBCoQI/s320/DSCF0867.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The church complex on Kizhi Island, viewed form the farmhouse</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We did go into the “winter church” (Church of the Intercession, 1764), which contained many icons, and we were allowed to take photos inside. A bell tower stood at one point of a triangle with the other two
churches. The complex of the three buildings offered endless combinations
of views and photographic variety, each more interesting or pleasing than the
last, particularly with the constantly changing background of clouds—cirrus and
cumulus—against an intensely blue sky.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczmoPLbo1WUOs8oLBk3OxOn3VrDUQq35EWrWlGTkY203hlAZpRAQNli9RBLsMSRhcklNJ5xzCLevWtScV5xZpTlx-6O9YUS6-tgjVA9XcFVH_DDPPUZduP7KXMNz2nWmeN1YSGcGJwJbW/s1600/DSCF0851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiczmoPLbo1WUOs8oLBk3OxOn3VrDUQq35EWrWlGTkY203hlAZpRAQNli9RBLsMSRhcklNJ5xzCLevWtScV5xZpTlx-6O9YUS6-tgjVA9XcFVH_DDPPUZduP7KXMNz2nWmeN1YSGcGJwJbW/s320/DSCF0851.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Icons inside the Church of the Intercession</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd9L8bR6JHfyACi1lFckTVCOCUYJwZlwH6SsH2Z2EuLhHNUFixizubavtqZE2evp9w8HkRhJCJHgi4SPCv3GlFw6MHJvJRBCn_PIziMeEm3kjr8-QjhDfTCNc8FzhK44l2Pt-1434Qt-j/s1600/DSCF0845.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTd9L8bR6JHfyACi1lFckTVCOCUYJwZlwH6SsH2Z2EuLhHNUFixizubavtqZE2evp9w8HkRhJCJHgi4SPCv3GlFw6MHJvJRBCn_PIziMeEm3kjr8-QjhDfTCNc8FzhK44l2Pt-1434Qt-j/s320/DSCF0845.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Extraordinary wooden cupolas of the Church of Transfiguration</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As a part of the outdoor
museum complex, there was a large, old farmhouse, transported to the site from
elsewhere, and appointed as a typical pre-communist peasant farmhouse, with a
windmill and several other buildings like granaries and animal sheds. Apparently, many farm animals were kept in the house, especially during winter.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7JkSk3RDra68SJPqOMHB_9c-TzP6gwnnulh704Up4KwMFMcAV0ghnIU5CTJyKcX2zK7IFfLiqLoXfJZLoxWeN5x7Xa7lqQTkGoBfDHxyOAYMURSe6Vpn4Vvn80Yx4F_GCMtu8eXkQ3Y_/s1600/DSCF0858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj7JkSk3RDra68SJPqOMHB_9c-TzP6gwnnulh704Up4KwMFMcAV0ghnIU5CTJyKcX2zK7IFfLiqLoXfJZLoxWeN5x7Xa7lqQTkGoBfDHxyOAYMURSe6Vpn4Vvn80Yx4F_GCMtu8eXkQ3Y_/s320/DSCF0858.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farm house museum, Kizhi Island</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">When we
awoke this morning, we were docked at Petrozavodsk, on the western shore of Lake Onega. Both
Kizhi and Petrozavodsk are located in the Republic of Karelia, the northernmost
republic in European Russia. Many Karelians are Finns in origin and speak a
Finno-Ugric language.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The city of Petrozavodsk
was originally a foundry city, making heavy metal instruments of war (cannon,
etc.) as well as rails and other heavy railway equipment. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmL_fFddkkid2O5j1YTp51WZh2NO6gHRvVfYxYT8Xov-Sza0OEx8wdWe17q6liSvfkj2z2IdBN0kKKRoggssPz_2HAgC1ZrCZ0pLE1VWsHbLQuv9F1givSeVSZyYMn8tXrJ9w8DOYzgaw/s1600/IMG_2696.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmL_fFddkkid2O5j1YTp51WZh2NO6gHRvVfYxYT8Xov-Sza0OEx8wdWe17q6liSvfkj2z2IdBN0kKKRoggssPz_2HAgC1ZrCZ0pLE1VWsHbLQuv9F1givSeVSZyYMn8tXrJ9w8DOYzgaw/s320/IMG_2696.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cannon and cog wheel from old foundry in Petrozavodsk</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The city was largely
destroyed during “The Great Patriotic War” (WWII) and was rebuilt afterwards in
the Soviet style. A</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">ccording to our guide, </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">Natasha,</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> the city has hardly changed s</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;">ince the collapse of the USSR</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">. So it’s still a model of the life and
architecture of Soviet times, except that now more food is available in the little
local market.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zsgPOIg8_YCOJSX8oI0TXZToQvpOVBYJhrof24uyzL0fHZ-TtvwfMDuScVG_4_nlO3dsXZ_B4VGAxmwHf_HSFn0s9Kanq9dr3RRUID6CQ-nfLQFtLBOoOvvkpACDpCJhRSw03ddxVNBb/s1600/IMG_2678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1zsgPOIg8_YCOJSX8oI0TXZToQvpOVBYJhrof24uyzL0fHZ-TtvwfMDuScVG_4_nlO3dsXZ_B4VGAxmwHf_HSFn0s9Kanq9dr3RRUID6CQ-nfLQFtLBOoOvvkpACDpCJhRSw03ddxVNBb/s320/IMG_2678.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, Petrozavodsk</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We visited a beautiful
church, Alexander Nevsky Cathedral, where a baptism was being held. So I couldn't photograph the inside, which was exquisite. The color
of the inside walls was the most beautiful light green-blue that I think I’ve
ever seen. Someone called it “mint green,” but it was a richer color than that.
It was absolutely luscious, peaceful, awesome/awe-inspiring. And the dome above
was a contrasting dark blue. The icons were modest and there was not too much
glitter in the church. I lit a candle for the girls, and I didn’t really want
to leave the sanctuary when it was time to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-01jul07Fs98uCehodSLCDDaFtbymSZlQ2g9CJXfjrRYD3JS4dki6EBXyUNCBQIXr1VZrH7nWqIGmbGm5XO7aT-WkS3UBH0ejOd-o1hNMQoXSEWvqdUgyIUQKCVMT5Z8BZRUPx1fVP5Sc/s1600/IMG_2681.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-01jul07Fs98uCehodSLCDDaFtbymSZlQ2g9CJXfjrRYD3JS4dki6EBXyUNCBQIXr1VZrH7nWqIGmbGm5XO7aT-WkS3UBH0ejOd-o1hNMQoXSEWvqdUgyIUQKCVMT5Z8BZRUPx1fVP5Sc/s320/IMG_2681.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kvas for sale in the market</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We visited other sites in
the city, including a market, where we were able to purchase a few items. Another major site in the city is a central square where an eternal flame continues to burn for the defenders of Petrozavodsk during WWII. There, we saw a wedding party get out of a limousine, and the bride and groom put flowers
beside the flame. She had on a pretty flimsy dress and must have been very
cold! </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_2nhQ6p2pJorupsDIrPB6CsMf0y8JUOClzUX1LbYAuBM9MsS4UgkMp9huHzw82oSohHnK-Zan_YqHGvSimz9Nk7VFxyYGNDtQgbNMwV9Q6_Iv_XqSisp8C9JeOR33BpvBoVX9IY6qAdY/s1600/IMG_2690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR_2nhQ6p2pJorupsDIrPB6CsMf0y8JUOClzUX1LbYAuBM9MsS4UgkMp9huHzw82oSohHnK-Zan_YqHGvSimz9Nk7VFxyYGNDtQgbNMwV9Q6_Iv_XqSisp8C9JeOR33BpvBoVX9IY6qAdY/s320/IMG_2690.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wedding bouquets at the flame of eternal remembrance</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A statue of Lenin towered over the main city square, cap in hand, leaning
toward the future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaxAf_hHG7-y0NalXaT-yu90oT-spAo4IkeOtAPYGWSK71yi6hhC8wuXD4W_NiW5Zo1z65KSnZB0yLxxQ8ft3kRfZpxDSW5VVnF4FvnrtEIcE1_4yAV6xPbWbvPneuaRNwDHkEyyNECEG/s1600/IMG_2697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwaxAf_hHG7-y0NalXaT-yu90oT-spAo4IkeOtAPYGWSK71yi6hhC8wuXD4W_NiW5Zo1z65KSnZB0yLxxQ8ft3kRfZpxDSW5VVnF4FvnrtEIcE1_4yAV6xPbWbvPneuaRNwDHkEyyNECEG/s320/IMG_2697.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lenin in the main square of Petrozavodsk</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">We're now sailing back southward on Lake Onega from Petrozavodsk toward the Svir River. The lake is a dark gray-blue, and clouds hanging over the north and east are ominous. Yet off to the west, the sky seems ordinary—calm, almost nonchalant. Today, in Petrozavodsk, the weather was fierce and cold—the cold of an unforgiving north country</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.4px;">—</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px;">windy, intermittent rain. Our guide (since Kiev) is Natasha, whose home town is Petrozavodsk, and she served as our town guide today. Petrozavodsk is such a contrast to Kizhi Island, in the middle of Lake Onega, which we visited yesterday.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">A rainbow beams between clouds and lake outside
the window near where I’m sitting and writing. I took some photos
with both cameras but don’t know how they’ll come out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnmQlhyphenhyphenECy_Jnpop_nNYQrHsUyPYAQsLJ93Gkoxx68Y7NIm2IWDqpxirq2kpwvc4Czr-3c7lQyQXo5KKxcnplr0ZN5ksPYPn4ATYXAXegIOgNTw3SRlCZqw1SG2JVsfYS3-_wQ_zAuPVr/s1600/IMG_2709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdnmQlhyphenhyphenECy_Jnpop_nNYQrHsUyPYAQsLJ93Gkoxx68Y7NIm2IWDqpxirq2kpwvc4Czr-3c7lQyQXo5KKxcnplr0ZN5ksPYPn4ATYXAXegIOgNTw3SRlCZqw1SG2JVsfYS3-_wQ_zAuPVr/s320/IMG_2709.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rainbow over Lake Onega</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">This afternoon, we had an
optional trip into town to see and hear a group called “Kantele” that played
traditional Karelian instruments and sang and danced. They were a great
pleasure to watch and listen to—lively music and energetic dancing. Also, three
women played an instrument that looks like an autoharp, also called a kantele,
that had a sweet, ringing sound—rather like a harp, but more crisp and
high-pitched. One of the singers was tall, and her face reminded me of my
mother when she was young.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-29447784805960354642016-05-25T13:33:00.000-04:002016-05-25T21:53:35.854-04:00Uglich, Goritsi, and Kirillo Belozersky Monastery<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
6/4/10<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL4s24ziY7O6jUj0kpI32KXYcXngNPIVbExJOLQg6oB3DQPPE6OgmN2dxufET4S0WylFnemdEgRv-tDuejRB8Fh3SMskRzKYerny1PIKazqwix3Euax5r6ALN60w6cwsS78eNQ_BKOnCS/s1600/IMG_2658.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibL4s24ziY7O6jUj0kpI32KXYcXngNPIVbExJOLQg6oB3DQPPE6OgmN2dxufET4S0WylFnemdEgRv-tDuejRB8Fh3SMskRzKYerny1PIKazqwix3Euax5r6ALN60w6cwsS78eNQ_BKOnCS/s320/IMG_2658.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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On
deck, the sun is shining, the boat is churning smoothly across Lake Onega, the
wind is a little brisk, the cirrus clouds divide the sky into deep blue above
and a beautiful turquoise nearer the horizon. This cruse part of the trip has
been utterly delightful.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
first place we stopped along the river system was Uglich, a small town with a
couple of ancient churches (and a nunnery?) dating back to the time of Ivan IV,
otherwise known as “The Terrible” (<i>grozni</i>, in Russian). Apparently the young
son of Ivan, Dmitri, was murdered in Uglich by emissaries of Boris Godonov.
Dmitri and his mother had been sent to a convent there. This left the Rurich
dynasty without an heir; Ivan IV had already murdered his elder son in a fit of
rage. A church (“St. Dmitri on the Blood”) was built on the site of Dmitri's murder,
and we were allowed to go in and take photos—with payment of a fee.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB1WAIFrT94moXKL0gvRNKHuLU2dGZjutFlg0R3eMxsHvf-7MQOAj1VmQTx3n-CgSsemi9JCcrQMu7aEYvGnuMESz9m0i5OCe_z6_AVU7I0LFj89BJJ3R6w5syNYasdrrZGS2xiRo23dZ/s1600/DSCF0800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYB1WAIFrT94moXKL0gvRNKHuLU2dGZjutFlg0R3eMxsHvf-7MQOAj1VmQTx3n-CgSsemi9JCcrQMu7aEYvGnuMESz9m0i5OCe_z6_AVU7I0LFj89BJJ3R6w5syNYasdrrZGS2xiRo23dZ/s320/DSCF0800.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church of St. Dmitri on the Blood</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;"> I also went into a second church, the Cathedral of the Transfiguration, paid the fee, and took photos of the frescoes and of the iconostasis. The iconostasis in this church was particularly impressive.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ay0wwxHReo0xFLh6GKS2AdOKTwLtJE36rpgSUBbt52zACVO-gRYLLNdcsovnr5kbN8nkxF0vqpug0wT4c5-TGty8w8oheg7Xj1rSJHlFRNZws7IDcuep9jCedLdysAFJTBaBKbf8_Sby/s1600/DSCF0826.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7Ay0wwxHReo0xFLh6GKS2AdOKTwLtJE36rpgSUBbt52zACVO-gRYLLNdcsovnr5kbN8nkxF0vqpug0wT4c5-TGty8w8oheg7Xj1rSJHlFRNZws7IDcuep9jCedLdysAFJTBaBKbf8_Sby/s320/DSCF0826.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iconostasis in the Cathedral of the Transfiguration</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhSRKzLKDU9xiUgnbPgPmiMcNYZbFhQiFIOlHvfUA8CEg47Y0SOzoTF31gv7oKjJriw8u1aObUmBy2IJT81_B6PgZ9Ne-bdxY7EFl_7vxgnvchVZo-_g-mRl23yxuh5tkd6oni5ssYXMd/s1600/DSCF0829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGhSRKzLKDU9xiUgnbPgPmiMcNYZbFhQiFIOlHvfUA8CEg47Y0SOzoTF31gv7oKjJriw8u1aObUmBy2IJT81_B6PgZ9Ne-bdxY7EFl_7vxgnvchVZo-_g-mRl23yxuh5tkd6oni5ssYXMd/s320/DSCF0829.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral of the Transfiguration</td></tr>
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<span style="line-height: 18.4px;">On the way back from the church, in the old fortress area (Kremlin), I stopped in a shop and bought two watches: one (less expensive) with lapis lazuli stones, the other decorated with malachite. I also bought an unusual amber necklace and a scarf, so I went on a bit of a spending spree in that town.</span></div>
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This
town was definitely a tourist trap; the entire walkway from the dock to the
fortress is lined by little tent shops of the sort one might have seen in
medieval European towns when the traveling merchants came to sell their wares. In
European towns and villages, there was usually a market day on the square once
a week or once a month, and merchants brought their wares into town on carts,
plying the circuit as was convenient. Obviously, most of the river tour boats
stop at Uglich, famous for its watches and cheeses, and also for good prices on
other types of Russian souvenirs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKams7WurNiJ3ycdtKM8BZL4Xw3SATE6c5SVcqkTglNYLfmAH3pUPUA3CsyWGq_REGhQDxCOZVkb10PkR4R0-O3eSUEUA7t7WtM2vBfyAxm_e27wCB8aYFRww5_AGJ3kpQaqOMQTKJ-8mz/s1600/DSCF0815.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKams7WurNiJ3ycdtKM8BZL4Xw3SATE6c5SVcqkTglNYLfmAH3pUPUA3CsyWGq_REGhQDxCOZVkb10PkR4R0-O3eSUEUA7t7WtM2vBfyAxm_e27wCB8aYFRww5_AGJ3kpQaqOMQTKJ-8mz/s320/DSCF0815.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palace of Prince Dmitri. Note the elaborate woodwork, <br />
still intact from the sixteenth century</td></tr>
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The
same was not true at Goritsy, our stop on the following day (yesterday). They are
apparently best known for their furs, but it was a warm day, and not many of our
group were buying. Also, a great many of the group are from California and
Texas and other states in the southwest, so the furs weren’t tempting to them
either.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn4s4zYcX9ASSG084HTTIBstjuKRD172mbXQR-uIt4pOexo52BvClaraDRQNr-PfgnEpo4LzcHuY5CMeUDkOuC8h-y5LwhfJZ1-zDAOA1CtMAQVpS0RsTtrXP4yAeAJ-A_pQExN1l3ugJ/s1600/IMG_2618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZn4s4zYcX9ASSG084HTTIBstjuKRD172mbXQR-uIt4pOexo52BvClaraDRQNr-PfgnEpo4LzcHuY5CMeUDkOuC8h-y5LwhfJZ1-zDAOA1CtMAQVpS0RsTtrXP4yAeAJ-A_pQExN1l3ugJ/s320/IMG_2618.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kirillo-Belozersky Monastery, mostly abandoned</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I
had signed up for a side trip to the Kirillo-Bellozersk Monastery. It was an old, dilapidated fortress-monastery, but apparently some nine
or ten monks are now living in buildings near the church. Other areas are occupied by local
villagers who were allowed to move in during the Communist era, and they’re
still there by squatters’ rights. They have kitchen gardens on the monastery
grounds and apparently live there rent-free.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnke5-xIzzJTXMHDRVYcfSNo_aAOFgPc2Sg3MJnYOs0N6N6uOf8eVv0qX_UKDP6THiTFC0H-yKMKtSeYubp9BKjWrLemnWH77uTqqpv-wwIbodXLj2giNGLQAkT6gdwcZ2M9EhfnTy3hy/s1600/IMG_2636.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZnke5-xIzzJTXMHDRVYcfSNo_aAOFgPc2Sg3MJnYOs0N6N6uOf8eVv0qX_UKDP6THiTFC0H-yKMKtSeYubp9BKjWrLemnWH77uTqqpv-wwIbodXLj2giNGLQAkT6gdwcZ2M9EhfnTy3hy/s320/IMG_2636.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Two elderly ladies (babushkas), monastery squatters</td></tr>
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This
has been an absolutely wonderful trip so far, and it is only half over. This
afternoon we will stop at Kishi Island.<o:p></o:p></div>
http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-44495692847064073352016-01-20T12:07:00.001-05:002016-01-20T15:12:57.557-05:00Moscow Revisited<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">6/3/10</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxmYwFIEghS7xbqKXTOrLyoXkh0BQKc4qoSBIVTD0yzRlNUvES6ErRuoOWXwPXVdHosmDnkekuZdZiYOP5zrGp6sVEToKO0R5qhbWhlCmCkxaU8_T3Bt3_fyJcO-F9u6qD8aaWi2khyphenhyphenUl/s1600/DSCF0753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWxmYwFIEghS7xbqKXTOrLyoXkh0BQKc4qoSBIVTD0yzRlNUvES6ErRuoOWXwPXVdHosmDnkekuZdZiYOP5zrGp6sVEToKO0R5qhbWhlCmCkxaU8_T3Bt3_fyJcO-F9u6qD8aaWi2khyphenhyphenUl/s320/DSCF0753.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Moscow Kremlin, or fortress, which protected the seat <br />
of Russian government from the time of Ivan III</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The morning of the third full day in Moscow, we
visited the State Armory of the Kremlin, with its treasures from the tsars and
its military exhibits. We saw, in particular, the glittering crowns and gowns
and swords of the tsars and tsarinas, the elaborate silver platters and goblets
given to tsars (including Catherine II) by ambassadors from all over Europe,
and books with jewel-encrusted silver or leather covers. We saw coronation
gowns and thrones and carriages, each more elaborate than the next, of all the
monarchs from Peter the Great through the unlucky Nicholas II. And the Faberge
eggs – one celebrating the 300 years of the Romanov dynasty and one celebrating
the children of Nicholas II – were particularly beautiful and sadly ironic.
It’s a wonder that these treasures were preserved and not melted down for coins
or destroyed out of spite during the Russian Revolution. Apparently, many
treasures were sold to European and American collectors by the Soviets to raise
cash for the early regime. Obviously many of them were saved.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwKmszhocbtMbc4I7oxmrbjHfHqtuEwrw42QpUKcCUAVRrR2kxAcA4gXvQfCHlVjpu0Py8rBRYfB7VffKwdjxLSceLstbNKULDE_5UjNjXxajIrcPb3Z1KlureAXCHdmCMgRr7keT-7u2/s1600/DSCF0749.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIwKmszhocbtMbc4I7oxmrbjHfHqtuEwrw42QpUKcCUAVRrR2kxAcA4gXvQfCHlVjpu0Py8rBRYfB7VffKwdjxLSceLstbNKULDE_5UjNjXxajIrcPb3Z1KlureAXCHdmCMgRr7keT-7u2/s320/DSCF0749.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Basil's Cathedral on Red Square, built by Ivan IV to<br />
commemorate the capture of Kazan and Astrakhan. A parking<br />
lot mars the view of the church, built outside the Kremlin walls</td></tr>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">After that, we visited the cathedrals inside Kremlin
Square – an impressive aggregate of white churches with gold domes. We went
into the Cathedral of the Dormition, with its large, thick, circular pillars
supporting arches high above the floor, layer upon layer of frescoes covering
the walls and pillars, all telling some story, now lost on most viewers. The
cathedral was built in the late 15<sup>th</sup> century, and it is the church
where the coronation of tsars and emperors took place. A throne of Ivan IV
stood before the iconostasis, crowded with silver-bordered icons. We were not allowed to take photographs, but for an idea of views inside the church, you can see photos from Wikipedia <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dormition_Cathedral,_Moscow" target="_blank">here</a></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We did not go
into any of the other churches.</span></span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ig7sGXkMaGUWYS1Dm9BxTOMW6lwQUie6mJnTL2bs-hYtnoHNsmLrzJNvY9O8uZfty2eFxacZi2WIPEd3A7J9ZFNzMbKK7vTnO4sB3Xp8_3Ec_BJXyt2goifqvkQlAmjvXaT4l-3vH6tu/s1600/IMG_2564.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3Ig7sGXkMaGUWYS1Dm9BxTOMW6lwQUie6mJnTL2bs-hYtnoHNsmLrzJNvY9O8uZfty2eFxacZi2WIPEd3A7J9ZFNzMbKK7vTnO4sB3Xp8_3Ec_BJXyt2goifqvkQlAmjvXaT4l-3vH6tu/s320/IMG_2564.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Golden domes of the churches/cathedrals within the Kremlin</td></tr>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The communists destroyed churches
throughout the Soviet Union, but somehow they didn’t destroy many Moscow churches, except for the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. The cathedrals within
the walls of the Kremlin, itself, seem to have been spared. Outside the churches, and outside the Kremlin walls, we saw the Tsar’s Bell and the Tsar’s Cannon,
neither of which ever functioned. Afterwards, we had a pretty good lunch at the
Hard Rock Café, although it didn’t come up to the standard of food on the
ship. That evening, I didn’t participate in the group activity (a singing
concert).<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawuoIp7qtKJEbU9NeHyyHU-9bNbQnsRveYnEkGVULyioF5EkaFKqW0iwjjgNIVvGKclhyphenhyphenXU3KTDDygHhKA52kuwQB_1HJdHRcp6TUmY9IFOQksS6bH8GeAJA_7zTaJNKGHqqdwJcQPC4c/s1600/IMG_2567.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgawuoIp7qtKJEbU9NeHyyHU-9bNbQnsRveYnEkGVULyioF5EkaFKqW0iwjjgNIVvGKclhyphenhyphenXU3KTDDygHhKA52kuwQB_1HJdHRcp6TUmY9IFOQksS6bH8GeAJA_7zTaJNKGHqqdwJcQPC4c/s320/IMG_2567.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Church of the Dormition, oldest of the Kremlin cathedrals,<br />
constructed under orders of Ivan III by an Italian architect.<br />
Closed under Communism, it was reopened in 1990.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The last day in Moscow, I went with part of the group
to the Tretyakov Gallery, a marvelous collection of Russian paintings from
medieval times (icons) to modern (impressionist and post-impressionist). The
largest and most interesting paintings in the collection (for me) are those of the
Russian Realist style – artists from the 18<sup>th</sup> and 19<sup>th</sup>
century who depicted authentic landscapes and social situations, artists whose
names are scarcely known in the west: Perov, Vasiliev, Kranskoi, Surikov,
Repin. I had previously seen a couple of the paintings that I remembered – one
in a book on religion in Russia, the other at an exhibit at either the Met or
MOMA. I believe the latter may have had an exhibit on Russian Art two or
three years ago while I was visiting New York.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGimWT8Nh14kgC4yLv3spzeMXisxGP6Qf_jLQLJ_zaoRJIAXMJraiaCOhY-q_X_tWboH7LclrBWli-_Bz9_AC2X6PmlxEjTMPMFIqX1De8rltDNQl03L0NylBgKTMPsAwHuQ22RniqRTg/s1600/IMG_2573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJGimWT8Nh14kgC4yLv3spzeMXisxGP6Qf_jLQLJ_zaoRJIAXMJraiaCOhY-q_X_tWboH7LclrBWli-_Bz9_AC2X6PmlxEjTMPMFIqX1De8rltDNQl03L0NylBgKTMPsAwHuQ22RniqRTg/s320/IMG_2573.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral of the Annunciation, Cathedral Square</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">I also visited the Tretyakov Gallery nearly 20
years ago when I was first in Russia, and I remember particularly the landscapes from
that time, as well as a life-sized portrait of Leo Tolstoy in peasant garb.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That afternoon we set sail down the Volga Baltic
Canal. This Russian landscape along the water is so soothing, so inviting; it
generates in me an intense sense of nostalgia and longing. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">
</span>http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-39218773281740005022016-01-03T21:38:00.000-05:002016-01-04T00:59:40.714-05:00The Volga River and Moscow, Day 2I'm picking up the thread of a travel blog that was interrupted over a year ago by several months of illness and by catch-up activities afterwards. The entries are from the journal and photos of a trip to Europe and Russia in 2010--my last overseas trip--during which I tried to see all the places still on my bucket list. It was a wonderful, if exhausting, trip. The previous entry was posted in <a href="http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-volga-river-and-moscow-day-1.html" target="_blank">September</a> of 2014!<br />
<br />
6-2-10 (continued)<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That first evening in Moscow, I didn’t go on the
optional “Sunset tour” of Moscow but rather chose to get some more sleep. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The following morning, we took a bus tour through
Moscow to several well-known spots, including Sparrow Hill, where Moscow
University rises in stern prominence with its Stalinist main building – one of
the “seven sisters” of Stalinist architecture in Moscow. There I bought a
couple of souvenirs from a vendor who had a table set up on the edge of the
hill overlooking the city. I understood the numbers he told me when I asked
him, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Skolko stoit etot</i>?” the Russian
is beginning to come back.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCeWmzyIAo8Fw3QBuFzLojvJkhlJQQogpHqalqS63WmIW7pBnMWh8qQRRzqgPijj13o4EOAZgeVb1DhanWDrOyw6qkpdpW3pmYw6V8FD-1g-FccbY6p6qYiBst8-Dvsm5D69P8yUQJn1k/s1600/DSCF0774.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidCeWmzyIAo8Fw3QBuFzLojvJkhlJQQogpHqalqS63WmIW7pBnMWh8qQRRzqgPijj13o4EOAZgeVb1DhanWDrOyw6qkpdpW3pmYw6V8FD-1g-FccbY6p6qYiBst8-Dvsm5D69P8yUQJn1k/s320/DSCF0774.JPG" width="241" /></a> <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Souvenir vendor in the Sparrow Hills;<br />
Moscow University in the background.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"></span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">We also went to the Cathedral of Christ the Savior, the main cathedral in Moscow, which had been destroyed by the Communists, but was reconstructed (1994 – 2000) in brilliant white stone topped by golden domes. The interior of the church was beautifully painted and gilded; the alter was covered by the largest, most elaborate <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">baldaccino</i> I remember ever seeing. Unfortunately we were not allowed to take photographs inside the church.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiesfwoQ4361rK5i6MMMzZ0EKeDzK9GdDgeYKlma4fYX4jyYVb89uOHTT-xjOAOpGok1XN01Qo-e9CRmVhNhCppvlRe53T7hu_V75hopBm83DhGfVvuvT2UziDlipKSJ0IFcnZdPgWteKtu/s1600/IMG_2545.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiesfwoQ4361rK5i6MMMzZ0EKeDzK9GdDgeYKlma4fYX4jyYVb89uOHTT-xjOAOpGok1XN01Qo-e9CRmVhNhCppvlRe53T7hu_V75hopBm83DhGfVvuvT2UziDlipKSJ0IFcnZdPgWteKtu/s320/IMG_2545.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cathedral of Christ the Savior, Moscow</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Afterwards, we visited the famous Novodevichy cemetery
(new maiden cemetery), where we happened to see Nadeshda Yeltsin enter by car
and place flowers on her husband’s grave. Our guide, Natasha, was almost
overcome at the sight of her, and she couldn’t stop talking about Nadeshda and Yeltsin during
the entire walk through the graveyard. We saw graves of entertainers (a
ballerina, a comedian), politicians (Khrushchev and Stalin, besides Yeltsin), writers
(Pushkin, Gogol, Chekhov), musicians (Shostakovich) and many others I no longer
remember.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9ywCKXZXQqFBMStz1bMGvGwxAs1JwcWuFiE1o1_3u4iqrMkjZvygkQIJyPfHWRNlxy4caQClXGxiW0MVtP5wKiUJ7WgeQOUcPNgV4v4I0vbnsqY31iZUZopZ6mk5NjXX8iEAJZ4uxoYV/s1600/IMG_2523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk9ywCKXZXQqFBMStz1bMGvGwxAs1JwcWuFiE1o1_3u4iqrMkjZvygkQIJyPfHWRNlxy4caQClXGxiW0MVtP5wKiUJ7WgeQOUcPNgV4v4I0vbnsqY31iZUZopZ6mk5NjXX8iEAJZ4uxoYV/s320/IMG_2523.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nadeshda Yeltzin laying flowers at her husband's grave</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbNpxZyOW8tp5MZ7y-xI_ScwvnksfvqV_G8-rYqTU5-caKnTicVKVm52VJNVm4YPi63LVuXFjrmGsgSK0_6FuzlcZcX5-btLPhsnJSD8u-jcUdJIwxsjBR4Axy5Z2L1iRuc6BQaVa8f3O/s1600/IMG_2525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEbNpxZyOW8tp5MZ7y-xI_ScwvnksfvqV_G8-rYqTU5-caKnTicVKVm52VJNVm4YPi63LVuXFjrmGsgSK0_6FuzlcZcX5-btLPhsnJSD8u-jcUdJIwxsjBR4Axy5Z2L1iRuc6BQaVa8f3O/s320/IMG_2525.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anton Chekhov's gravestone</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHef6Gpjs1kywAmLwXUHqobB0u-Tq6bpn1mzMsTenqCOR6nV2hn0WQzmYsyZtKHtTkAXu2tH96OkXGMRcGZjSuLGCSQWswII8BtiSpQpap-dOZUTgHsU1-gWVGwVogy1dijqJIm3xV9nYo/s1600/IMG_2526.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHef6Gpjs1kywAmLwXUHqobB0u-Tq6bpn1mzMsTenqCOR6nV2hn0WQzmYsyZtKHtTkAXu2tH96OkXGMRcGZjSuLGCSQWswII8BtiSpQpap-dOZUTgHsU1-gWVGwVogy1dijqJIm3xV9nYo/s320/IMG_2526.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Shostakovich's memorial</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WPy00dCegOr-1v2oyVjZYSz3NH0eJghkDp20dsXK1QjClclA7cugTog0V5fr64yQco8kJFfPZjZXKImTojJEIRRrblY5j5p9leuGPuNfKsXx6wNqtGSOCFn7sEOsuHCaFIMucOr9rkbi/s1600/IMG_2532.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8WPy00dCegOr-1v2oyVjZYSz3NH0eJghkDp20dsXK1QjClclA7cugTog0V5fr64yQco8kJFfPZjZXKImTojJEIRRrblY5j5p9leuGPuNfKsXx6wNqtGSOCFn7sEOsuHCaFIMucOr9rkbi/s320/IMG_2532.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Khrushchev's grave</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">That afternoon, we heard stories from veterans of WWII (“The Great Patriotic War”), including a man who had participated in the fighting in Stalingrad, and a woman who had been an army nurse and had been captured by Germans. The person who introduced them was one of our guides (we have six for the 214 people on the trip), and she seemed quite overcome by the idea of these great patriots. She actually wept as she introduced them. Another woman was with the group of veterans, apparently an academic, and her presentation had a Soviet-style flavor to it.</span></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">In the evening, I opted out of going to the circus,
having already seen the Moscow Circus the last time I was in Moscow (1992), and
also because I really don’t much like to watch trained animals, especially not
big ones like bears and elephants that are not really domesticated.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-27386528368736929332015-12-21T21:50:00.000-05:002015-12-28T00:28:26.194-05:00Happy Holidays!!<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;">
<b style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #00b050; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 200%;"> HAPPY
HOLIDAYS, 2015 </span></b></div>
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Holiday Greetings to friends and
relatives! The year 2015 has been a mixed blessing for me. It started out with
a serious case of the flu, contracted right after last Christmas, that I was
fighting for a month or so, after which I was fighting the after-effects of the
medications prescribed by my pulmonologist. <a href="http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/2015/07/recovering-and-reconnecting.html"><b>I
was sicker</b></a> than I have been since being laid up in the hospital with
pneumonia in my very early teens. Luckily I was able to sleep a lot, so I
managed to meet social and church obligations and writing deadlines. I finally
started feeling better in May, partly because I weaned myself off of most
prescription medications.<o:p></o:p></div>
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This year I didn’t travel anywhere.
I do plan a Christmas visit to a friend and former student, Susan Reynolds, a
practicing physician in Hartsville, SC, who is serving as medical consultant on
a book I’ve been working on for five years—with the help of some fellow writers
and other friends. I think it’s about finished, and I want to submit it this
coming year to agents and/or to small publishing houses. The title of the book
hasn’t yet been settled. Initially, it was "<i>Caring
for your Body from the Outside In</i>," then it was some version of "<i>The Perplexed Patient’s Guide to Whole Body
Health</i>," and the most recent title is "<i>Body
Wisdom, Body Care</i>." I’d be happy for any feedback on which title grabs you the most.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sales of my two published books
have flat-lined, partly because I haven’t been promoting them—partly because
I’ve been so otherwise occupied, and partly because promotion just isn’t my
thing. If you’re interested, you can find them on my Amazon site, which will be
linked at the bottom of this letter. I have been writing, but nothing else is
finished or published yet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And I’m still organizing (yawn,
yawn), and I’ve managed to sell two of the four properties I owned and have been renting. The other two properties will hopefully sell next year. That has been an enormous
chore. Thankfully, I’ve had help from a wonderful real-estate agent and friend,
Karen Abrams. Indeed, my friends have sustained me through this difficult year.
Hopefully next year will be more fun and fruitful and I’ll be able to move
ahead with some projects that have stalled. <b><i>Everything
takes longer than you think</i>.</b> That gets scary as one gets older.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My two daughter, Elisabeth and
Briana—and their families—came to Charleston during the year, in August and
November respectively. I posted some photos on Facebook. Briana made a fabulous
dinner over Thanksgiving, and I’m still eating the leftovers! It was wonderful
to see the children and grandchildren, however briefly. Without the RV, I’m
just not traveling much these days, so now folks can come to visit me! I’m certainly grateful for the internet!<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s wishing you all a wonderful,
and prosperous, and productive, and fun year in 2016!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
Jo Anne<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; tab-stops: right 427.5pt;">
<a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S"><b>http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S</b></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;">Photos and Events, 2015<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWZ_kF5KAzr-tSG7gYOZP7MxMPAjyJSytueLA6SwEV1P-h1-k_vfy4-ijgXNnkkxuDLa6bFTGqyu8nhyG1OYcFCeNsbeICFrNaupjrpUdp8QBaxSqx_t7-ZdACQUO8_EZqOZ-BQmLuVQR/s1600/IMG_1654.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMWZ_kF5KAzr-tSG7gYOZP7MxMPAjyJSytueLA6SwEV1P-h1-k_vfy4-ijgXNnkkxuDLa6bFTGqyu8nhyG1OYcFCeNsbeICFrNaupjrpUdp8QBaxSqx_t7-ZdACQUO8_EZqOZ-BQmLuVQR/s320/IMG_1654.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">UU friends, Nelsons' anniversary, February</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">Rally after Emmanuel massacre, June</span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">Elisabeth and family visited, August</span><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">Milking a goat, cheese-making party, November</span><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;"> </span></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;">Briana cooking Thanksgiving dinner, November</span><span style="font-size: xx-small; line-height: 18.4px; text-align: start;"> </span></td></tr>
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http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-23478007537137412672015-07-26T13:18:00.004-04:002015-08-09T13:03:47.688-04:00Recovering and ReconnectingIt has been half a year since I've posted on this blog site, and I would like to reconnect once again, after months of illness and recovery. <br />
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The day after Christmas, 2014, I came down with a serious strain of the flu that was "in the air" last winter. I had dutifully requested and received a flu shot, but that didn't protect me. I believe that the prevalent strain (H2N2?), with an epicenter in Charleston, had not been included in last year's flu shot. I haven't felt that sick since the Asian flu ravaged the country during my college years in the 1950s--I think it was the winter of 1957 - '58.<br />
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It took four months for me to feel nearly "normal" again - as normal as a person with COPD can feel. The first month (January), I was utterly exhausted and felt like I had several relapses of the virus. The second month (February), I had a bad respiratory reaction to a steroid (prednisone) prescribed by my pulmonologist to improve lung function. The third month (March), I had a bad reaction to an antibiotic (azithromycin) prescribed to fight a bacterial infection brought on by the prior heavy dose of prednisone. And the fourth month (April) I was battling breathing problems that were only transiently improved by using a nebulizer. <br />
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Ultimately, with the help of my pharmacist, I discovered that all of the medications giving me breathing trouble included sulfate: sodium-lauryl sulfate as an "inert ingredient" in the steroid and the antibiotic; and albuterol sulfate as the bronchodilator in the nebulizer. Although over-the-counter (OTC) medications are required to list inert ingredients, prescribed medications do <u>not</u> include inert ingredients in the package inserts! <br />
<br />
[I already knew that I had a respiratory reaction to inorganic sulfur. Eating dried fruit treated with sulfur as a preservative had caused me to wheeze from the time I was an adolescent. And I later discovered that wine made me wheeze - especially wine containing sulfites. I essentially could never drink red wine (although I found a Bulgarian red wine that didn't cause me to wheeze). Eventually I stopped drinking wine altogether, because too many of the white wines also contained sulfite.]<br />
<br />
After all the bad reactions to medications, in May I began to wean myself slowly from as many of the prescribed medications as I could. By now, I rarely take any prescribed medications unless I have a particularly acute problem.<br />
<br />
I completely quit one medication (monteleukast), which did cut down on mucus production, but it made my respiratory system feel dry and irritated. It also seemed to make me slightly depressed. <br />
<br />
And then I started to cut back slowly on the Advair, an inhaled steroid/bronchodilator combination which I had been taking for four years, since returning from a trip to India, where I experienced acute respiratory distress. I have been inhaling Advair (either 250 or 100) morning and evening. So I began to cut out the evening dose, and then I decreased the strength of the morning dose. I found a couple of OTC medications that worked pretty well as a bronchodilator (Primatine) and a mucolytic (Mucinex). I began using those intermittently if I needed additional relief. Everything was done in slow increments and recorded--along with the way I felt physically and psychologically--morning and afternoon.<br />
<br />
I now seem to be doing pretty well with just one Primatine tablet in the morning and nothing in the evening. I also take a daily Zyrtec, an OTC antihistamine. I have not used inhaled Advair for three days, and I continue to feel better and better, both physically and psychologically. <br />
<br />
So now it's time to get on with my life again!http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-62327425258180822652014-12-22T15:11:00.000-05:002014-12-22T15:30:22.464-05:00Greetings and Best Wishes for a Happy Holiday Season<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">And a Wonderful New Year 2015!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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This year has flown by so
quickly, I can hardly believe it’s December. Although I sold the RV in June, I
still did a LOT of traveling throughout the year—basically a trip every other
month. Almost all of the trips were to visit longtime friends and relatives,
the kinds of visits that feel soul-nourishing.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UUdqqcOdkyMLB7fEmdyb9w0lD0q_JjRHrdNZ7rJAzFghBwX6kCBIC4PeD3biqdmwL3xkTNNlgSAK3HfaZjObuYcQwlyfqBpLIobD2l403uGQQRwFHO0aMuaulK04PcH8WhSz0jzuvnch/s1600/IMG_1091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3UUdqqcOdkyMLB7fEmdyb9w0lD0q_JjRHrdNZ7rJAzFghBwX6kCBIC4PeD3biqdmwL3xkTNNlgSAK3HfaZjObuYcQwlyfqBpLIobD2l403uGQQRwFHO0aMuaulK04PcH8WhSz0jzuvnch/s1600/IMG_1091.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with niece, Megan Gaiefsky, Florida</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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The first trip, in <b>January</b>, was to Florida to see old friends,
Dinah and Cledith Oakley, in Daytona Beach. I was going to take the RV, but it
wouldn't start (dead battery), so I drove down in my Saturn. Afterwards, I stopped
in to see a niece, Megan Gaiefsky, who lives nearby; her dad, cousin Larry, was
there at the time. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWhJkMEOAwiR6lz1HHH2bZpmC-XOGZjG6vzc9CtHaolZYa71ihu0YGNp1fI2W0R6rqGj93X5c268L1wxDfSyPpf_bk8FiyuGmuUYzCBnZD_vL8ss1ALZ6N-tiIfAktH5eBpuRhI6oqD9u/s1600/IMG_1111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisWhJkMEOAwiR6lz1HHH2bZpmC-XOGZjG6vzc9CtHaolZYa71ihu0YGNp1fI2W0R6rqGj93X5c268L1wxDfSyPpf_bk8FiyuGmuUYzCBnZD_vL8ss1ALZ6N-tiIfAktH5eBpuRhI6oqD9u/s1600/IMG_1111.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">WTHS classmates: Larry Wigner, Sue Campbell, Joyce and Dick Eldridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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During the trip, I also saw a few former high-school
classmates (’54), particularly Suzie and Ray Campbell, who took me around The
Villages where they live, a sort of Disney World for seniors. They invited a
couple of other classmates over for dinner one evening, and we all looked at
old yearbooks and reminisced. I suspect we’re happier now than we were then,
although we were certainly healthier when we were younger!<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUkwXzDxv0RtKcsHlA7uN1aYEKp897zTH-fFf2w6-Ka15hNmb8yQTAqpwsjiIkQg3zWbN_OLAAPfx0MlIaII85RtQPGzKhqHWW8N6PDN9dUPmzwqarznOnr5cDNHe-p4PmlimX_GkVDame/s1600/IMG_1139.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUkwXzDxv0RtKcsHlA7uN1aYEKp897zTH-fFf2w6-Ka15hNmb8yQTAqpwsjiIkQg3zWbN_OLAAPfx0MlIaII85RtQPGzKhqHWW8N6PDN9dUPmzwqarznOnr5cDNHe-p4PmlimX_GkVDame/s1600/IMG_1139.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Briana and Blake in front of their home, Idaho Falls</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy06BZENfxr08uJYaAJOYqckC5MKKbANgk-jKbqaeynRVeahgV4CUbom-VP5AE69bAEzZ-zb12fmfoHFjD8xaP16Q5msjza9P-bF06U__fNtx3tB-XC6FGb1GENCwP07CmwxeOtCf-k7xf/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy06BZENfxr08uJYaAJOYqckC5MKKbANgk-jKbqaeynRVeahgV4CUbom-VP5AE69bAEzZ-zb12fmfoHFjD8xaP16Q5msjza9P-bF06U__fNtx3tB-XC6FGb1GENCwP07CmwxeOtCf-k7xf/s1600/IMG_1144.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blake by a mound at Craters of the Moon</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Then in <b>March</b>, I flew to Idaho Falls, ID and spent a week with daughter,
Briana and grandson, Blake, while he was on spring break from high school. He
and I hung out, talked, played games, went to museums, and traveled around the
countryside, including a day-long visit to Craters of the Moon National Park—a
bleak, fascinating landscape.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoArzgIvIpDXfqxrGZ_47OLpokt_Wkry1nqxJSiwHHeHa1OOvwZ8uqPJdsb83PetYKzxunP0fCzgja0PvyndE7I8JUzPMWJm2e34M-N5HGTqeXwgMjC2DqcZYDd4JCV5GLOgJFu6iikg0t/s1600/IMG_1253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoArzgIvIpDXfqxrGZ_47OLpokt_Wkry1nqxJSiwHHeHa1OOvwZ8uqPJdsb83PetYKzxunP0fCzgja0PvyndE7I8JUzPMWJm2e34M-N5HGTqeXwgMjC2DqcZYDd4JCV5GLOgJFu6iikg0t/s1600/IMG_1253.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Carol and Fred Valentine, Harvard Club, NYC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In <b>June</b>, I took the train to New York City to attend the 50<sup>th</sup>
wedding anniversary of cousins Fred and Carol Valentine at the Harvard Club. It
was an elegant, congenial event. </div>
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While in New York, I spent some time with
daughter, Maria, and grandson, Gabriel. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGSC0KEqPz_AN7_IkDPt94l5hfV9ejg7gjljMC10k2XV4-erddCcG5p4wmQDJmQCjqn9leT0nRYuGVZ9hzHLizHI8jvOty0Tkk1OXcIF588RVLUfLJQsGXQm6BY_Dn8gQhigSnOD67MmN/s1600/IMG_1243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGSC0KEqPz_AN7_IkDPt94l5hfV9ejg7gjljMC10k2XV4-erddCcG5p4wmQDJmQCjqn9leT0nRYuGVZ9hzHLizHI8jvOty0Tkk1OXcIF588RVLUfLJQsGXQm6BY_Dn8gQhigSnOD67MmN/s1600/IMG_1243.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandson, Gabe, at park with his mom</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
On the way back to Charleston, I
stopped in Washington, DC and saw a long-time friend, Art Molella and his wife,
Roya. We visited an exhibit on the Smithsonian Museum of American History that
Art had curated. While there, I also spent time at the exhibit on Changing
America (1863 – 1963), an excellent presentation of the deeply troubled legacy
of slavery, emancipation, segregation, and racism in the United States. <o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9GWHT_RFx0tz5TW3FGeY8Corl9rMszvitS_Xuzxh0RCAVl-2LJhSeXhddPKAIWpc0qo_ZZjlMBYwKNFE9wXLTAQebyD958xvvKfJk83dGfOGZ7K1jqn-bmt1ZhqMN5EB-44O4byF_oyd/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy9GWHT_RFx0tz5TW3FGeY8Corl9rMszvitS_Xuzxh0RCAVl-2LJhSeXhddPKAIWpc0qo_ZZjlMBYwKNFE9wXLTAQebyD958xvvKfJk83dGfOGZ7K1jqn-bmt1ZhqMN5EB-44O4byF_oyd/s1600/IMG_1294.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Mary and Ed Gaiefsky, Linville, NC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In <b>August</b>, I spent a week in North Carolina, first visiting cousin Ed
Gaiefsky and his wife Mary, in their lovely cabin in a forest near Linville. </div>
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Then I drove down to Lake Lure to meet some West Ashley Unitarian women
friends for a long week-end organized by Marilyn Henderson. During both visits,
we talked, and ate, and saw nearby sights, and, in general, had more fun than
old folks are expected to have. Food is a big fun factor these days.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapcbrXYjzy8ru2E5lIiz9eejjRJ5gkhRbOq5gooi8lDe1Dwe4C3EEy06AFuMhSbNoeESsEjTTgMm9_O0BiY0wHReVQhksiOeLZO4WkioUlVkxBGWvZYEPLmpUmnGWyjULgV_ydKYHoVSD/s1600/IMG_1337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgapcbrXYjzy8ru2E5lIiz9eejjRJ5gkhRbOq5gooi8lDe1Dwe4C3EEy06AFuMhSbNoeESsEjTTgMm9_O0BiY0wHReVQhksiOeLZO4WkioUlVkxBGWvZYEPLmpUmnGWyjULgV_ydKYHoVSD/s1600/IMG_1337.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ellie, Marilyn, Toni, Sue, Linda, Susan, Blowing Rock, NC</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Jacob Heyman-Kantor, the son on
one of my long-time best friends, Arlene, was married in <b>September</b> at a lovely retreat in the Berkshire Mountains (MA). I
flew up to New York and then drove a rental car to the site of the two day gala,
where I met several interesting people. With one of them—a German with a French
name, Jean-Baptiste Chuat, I had a long and fascinating conversation about
culture and science and media. Had a very pleasant ride back to NYC with Lisa
Vergaran, an art-historian friend of Arlene’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv8LMNIJC-jhpB6q0blmSm6hyphenhyphenwvwC9mdlY0TK3JzXlstHgs1mjYdyRsMElckIEVUeq8RchgTLLUDo6I7FDrwckZx_2F7er7MHMh3yOdet0RcBuTEHQlEtR9BPnqsyZbpggW5JBGiW0OZWU/s1600/IMG_1361.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv8LMNIJC-jhpB6q0blmSm6hyphenhyphenwvwC9mdlY0TK3JzXlstHgs1mjYdyRsMElckIEVUeq8RchgTLLUDo6I7FDrwckZx_2F7er7MHMh3yOdet0RcBuTEHQlEtR9BPnqsyZbpggW5JBGiW0OZWU/s1600/IMG_1361.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Arlene Heyman-Kantor and Len Rodberg, MA</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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In <b>October</b>, I flew out west, with a first stop in Donna Texas to visit
my brother, Dick. We had a pleasant, quiet couple of days together, including
an afternoon in Mexico. That was my first time on the soil of our
south-of-the-border neighbor-nation. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6UJPwhP4dM3DLT_RMG2b7UDVMGDPaiQHPVtorS2XuPE5vG3wB8kQRgIB-U1DcseDFBBh6hlqONPhADmLRUtEkQ4jJ69yLkeY1_yFGELNePYJ_9PrJnRAdNHqJgIhfCzupFaUe7FL39MZ/s1600/IMG_1501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn6UJPwhP4dM3DLT_RMG2b7UDVMGDPaiQHPVtorS2XuPE5vG3wB8kQRgIB-U1DcseDFBBh6hlqONPhADmLRUtEkQ4jJ69yLkeY1_yFGELNePYJ_9PrJnRAdNHqJgIhfCzupFaUe7FL39MZ/s1600/IMG_1501.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">with Sue, Ruthie, Marlene, and Dee, NM</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Afterwards, I spent a week in New Mexico with
a bunch of former Kalamazoo College classmates. Ruthie Williamson, our hostess,
led us through sunny and scenic byways, viewing amazing landscapes and the art it
has inspired (as in the Georgia O’Keefe museum). It was wonderful to see and be
with old friends, and that included a long lunch with a some-time beau.</div>
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This month, <b>December</b>, I will be driving to Mt.
Juliet, TN (near Nashville), to visit daughter Elisabeth and her wonderful
family (including three grandchildren) for Christmas. </div>
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On the way back, I plan to stop in Conyers, GA, to see
Fran Cameron, the former secretary of my first “boss” in Charleston, Sam
Spicer. My friend Ellie Setser and I both worked in Sam’s lab but at different
times, and we agree that he was a great boss!<o:p></o:p></div>
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So that’s the recap of this
year’s peregrinations. The home front has also been pretty busy, with social
and community groups, church activities, book events, and meals with friends. I've
gotten into a lot of social media activity—email, Facebook, twitter,
LinkedIn—and that has truly become a “time-suck” as they say. Some of it was intended to help me market books, but instead, it has become something of a
personal addiction. I need to find ways to cut way back on online activity so I
can spend more time writing. And organizing! Organizing is always on top of my
to-do list, but it only seems to happen when I’m up against a deadline or I
can’t seem to find something.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As far as writing is concerned,
I've been working on the third revision of a manuscript about understanding the
body and communicating with health-care providers. It’s something I've been writing
and revising for three years now with the help of a group of fellow writers who
are no doubt sick of it, so I’m trying to find other readers for the next
revision. I've also compiled a collection of short stories from pieces written
over the past three decades; that collection was just submitted. Other
stories/articles have been submitted throughout the year. One piece, on names, was
accepted by Persimmon Tree, but it won’t be published until next year. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I miss having the children and
grandchildren nearby, but local friends partially compensate and they're doubtless
less emotionally distracting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Thank you, my terrific friends and family, for
enriching my life throughout the years. I feel extraordinarily lucky. Hope
your holiday season is or has been joyful. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Best wishes for a wonderful New Year in 2015!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S"><b>http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00BH3326S</b></a><o:p></o:p></div>
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http://solowomenathomeandabroad.blogspot.com/http://www.blogger.com/profile/00116246897231606697noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8274408830649738120.post-3557432219235862872014-09-01T18:14:00.002-04:002014-09-01T21:15:41.795-04:00The Volga River and Moscow, Day 1<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">6/2/10<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We left the dock at Northern River Station yesterday
afternoon around 2:00 PM and took the Volga River channel through its locks
yesterday afternoon and last night to the Volga River, which we’re now sailing
along. It’s a wide river, even this far north; deep green forests line the river side, dotted with small villages. It is such a peaceful feeling to sit in
a comfortable chair, a cup of hot chocolate near at hand, watching the water
flow smoothly by the side of the boat and the forest inch past the window.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwA3MvDt85eJ7AynZ44iSi2M1ga5sMBeQgF6PNEAh5cCzezgi_xcXysNhZlaVTavm5FclivZ5i5mld-oTVP0ekIkaGF2LH7kfL3ugVaxxnLQ1M3-j_rvRWvD5WKYLfX-VY6FVZbsjKQ2F/s1600/IMG_2615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFwA3MvDt85eJ7AynZ44iSi2M1ga5sMBeQgF6PNEAh5cCzezgi_xcXysNhZlaVTavm5FclivZ5i5mld-oTVP0ekIkaGF2LH7kfL3ugVaxxnLQ1M3-j_rvRWvD5WKYLfX-VY6FVZbsjKQ2F/s1600/IMG_2615.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Along the Volga</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">So now, I’ll try to catch up on the four days we
spent in Moscow, with the ship docked at the Northern River Station on the
Volga Canal, not far from where the canal joins with the Moskva (Moscow) River.
Each day, buses took us to our destinations in the city and brought us back
(most of us – a few took the subway back from the city). We could choose where we would go and when, within limits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Basil's Cathedral, Red Square.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The first day, Saturday, nearly everyone went to
Moscow to walk through Red Square and see the GUM department store (and use its bathrooms). I was able to get rubles from a cash machine in GUM. And I remembered, from my 1992 trip to Russia, how
vast that public area is. Hundreds of tour groups moved about in herds of twenty to fifty people, and still there was plenty of space between the groups; the square looked almost empty. </span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clumps of tourists on Red Square</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYidpa5xwylLcqroJ8pNGMdm96hBzGBJ0ZrNs5PBXxjFBM85uapEA89nYC2J1oNRDtToEzpwEvEXMrxjAv3w5XTqQsUofOJKgbibm3VZwf3-qMTPx7Ta3NbOB4ujlGIecSvRsEkMIfpnr/s1600/DSCF0760.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisYidpa5xwylLcqroJ8pNGMdm96hBzGBJ0ZrNs5PBXxjFBM85uapEA89nYC2J1oNRDtToEzpwEvEXMrxjAv3w5XTqQsUofOJKgbibm3VZwf3-qMTPx7Ta3NbOB4ujlGIecSvRsEkMIfpnr/s1600/DSCF0760.JPG" height="320" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside GUM department store</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We passed
to the other side of the square, out past the equestrian statue of
General Zhukov, a WWII hero (Great Patriotic War). Through a fence, we watched the changing of the guard at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier, which was no big
deal. One of our group waited in line to view Lenin’s tomb; the rest of us
dispersed, to meet again in ¾ hour at the statue. I went back into the square
and wandered around GUM and other shops but bought nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3diJR_LRY6X9TG09Se3Si_xfLXpWqoyPtNlvj7NN6RqLmr9j685GPfR1etNr3Pvu7Asq42shLoc5hgZ2N6aw79hxRr9kh8Yfed0HwHjSs5KfNPNRsyIIHozSj8CkbKfIJT7_9igeNwIJ/s1600/DSCF0766.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjF3diJR_LRY6X9TG09Se3Si_xfLXpWqoyPtNlvj7NN6RqLmr9j685GPfR1etNr3Pvu7Asq42shLoc5hgZ2N6aw79hxRr9kh8Yfed0HwHjSs5KfNPNRsyIIHozSj8CkbKfIJT7_9igeNwIJ/s1600/DSCF0766.JPG" height="320" width="241" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">General Zhukov, WWII hero, Red Square</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We then took the metro to the Arbat (two metro stops
away), getting off at the intermediate station just to see its decorations. The metro stations in Moscow are like palaces, each with a different
theme and décor. Stalin destroyed many churches and most of the homes of nobility, and he used
some of those materials and artifacts in constructing metro stations.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9SGMa-iQhsQ0Uuv1G6DWeNFZrPql0v7VDViZAbJ17PI9wu6wPgse2lhyphenhyphenrcDUqQGZjgfTgIh8KqeTBMMvBNOCwr5FLqKV8H48ZIn2C5ovY9ey68WqenUYzbNxHDO_pSLdTdv7Stl-oBfx/s1600/IMG_2494.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR9SGMa-iQhsQ0Uuv1G6DWeNFZrPql0v7VDViZAbJ17PI9wu6wPgse2lhyphenhyphenrcDUqQGZjgfTgIh8KqeTBMMvBNOCwr5FLqKV8H48ZIn2C5ovY9ey68WqenUYzbNxHDO_pSLdTdv7Stl-oBfx/s1600/IMG_2494.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moscow subway map</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsZ9FxK0A1zWGepf5tghHebrjyDNqIUd2CowPUS4KdQVfirj3p5jeXTXhJxDqYOyhc_SWwAfxrH_kjVRyhx5c7TO9OzPlTgu4ZjKgBOZumjo26PdlilXVOLOU8hsrOspDTDGwvnuFFt2E/s1600/IMG_2513.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsZ9FxK0A1zWGepf5tghHebrjyDNqIUd2CowPUS4KdQVfirj3p5jeXTXhJxDqYOyhc_SWwAfxrH_kjVRyhx5c7TO9OzPlTgu4ZjKgBOZumjo26PdlilXVOLOU8hsrOspDTDGwvnuFFt2E/s1600/IMG_2513.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Remnants of Stalinist decor in a subway station</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The Arbat is a street lined with shops; it and the area surrounding it are considered the artistic center of Moscow. Its many shops sell crafts and fairly expensive
souvenirs; outside the shops, painters and caricaturists work at easels and sell their wares along the pedestrian walk way. And, of course, there are restaurants and coffee shops filled with tourists and starving artists. I ended up having borscht at a
very crowded restaurant called “Moo-Moo” (<i>My-My</i> in Cyrillic), later followed by a great cappuccino at McDonalds! There was a Hard Rock Café along the
Arbat, where our group had lunch the following day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWdzFHOVszOoIUgCUZOywT8VtuBNVHBXvE00r9pgtAAgtVFVUE4VzRAi1MBdK93c-noMTX5PPRBI4N96KqAzw9KmSYYxdTAH-gwS_ssubJedNWUNJTrAjeKiP8dUP-yu_0ZUIMHih0kEQ/s1600/IMG_2585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHWdzFHOVszOoIUgCUZOywT8VtuBNVHBXvE00r9pgtAAgtVFVUE4VzRAi1MBdK93c-noMTX5PPRBI4N96KqAzw9KmSYYxdTAH-gwS_ssubJedNWUNJTrAjeKiP8dUP-yu_0ZUIMHih0kEQ/s1600/IMG_2585.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hard Rock Cafe, The Arbat, Moscow</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_WlHO8gvKNAfuyfYYZRZU59xJClq_O5Ffgbqt-JNsamO9BuiyXt_0M4NVXRZA_qGVlWjAyGJaz5EJThQL3Jt75TQ5AkmKsbgQjiMr4N23twGi0l6lqeom99a1KdAvHp0N6St1dbecnv2p/s1600/IMG_2588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_WlHO8gvKNAfuyfYYZRZU59xJClq_O5Ffgbqt-JNsamO9BuiyXt_0M4NVXRZA_qGVlWjAyGJaz5EJThQL3Jt75TQ5AkmKsbgQjiMr4N23twGi0l6lqeom99a1KdAvHp0N6St1dbecnv2p/s1600/IMG_2588.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In front of McDonald's, The Arbat, Moscow</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 18.399999618530273px;">(Later) We are now plying the waters of the Reservoir, such a huge body of water that I cannot see the shore on the left side of the ship, and land is only a thin ribbon of hazy green on the right. The sun is playing peek-a-boo behind the clouds, the water is calm except where churned along the side of the ship. An altogether pleasant setting.</span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiTcpJiywRr0KkxW3gajbUxqx_34telwG9LV8Hzg7lGsxdU0HkRQU5twa0jO_cm8ssapLADNtEWWwDUCAvO3QgsNZKNXNuj56lxB-s7FO6vlbQlnE3DtN1Lk87ViUMYZPujbLoRnvzF8L/s1600/IMG_2614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioiTcpJiywRr0KkxW3gajbUxqx_34telwG9LV8Hzg7lGsxdU0HkRQU5twa0jO_cm8ssapLADNtEWWwDUCAvO3QgsNZKNXNuj56lxB-s7FO6vlbQlnE3DtN1Lk87ViUMYZPujbLoRnvzF8L/s1600/IMG_2614.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sunset over the Reservoir</td></tr>
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