These "Tale Spinner" episodes are brought to you courtesy of one of our Canadian friends, Jean Sansum. You can thank her by eMail at VOL. XXV, NO. 07
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Jean is coming back to herself after her stroke, but she is tired, and still has "brain fog". However, she is working with therapists to relearn the skills she will need to go home, which is where she very much wants to return. Her goal is independence. She is a private, dignified, smart woman with a will of iron. Time will tell whether the will to return home wins over the fatigue, or vice versa. I, Judith, am hopeful that she will indeed make it home and will be back writing the Spinner herself soon.
Attached is a drawing that Jean made when she was asked first, to "draw a face", and then told afterwards to add the body, "a stick figure would be fine". The picture shows what she drew instead!
Also attached is a picture of a bird feeding her chicks sent by Ruth Holt. Jean wanted you to see it, so you can understand how it feels to be fed by others! Peep! Peep!
As Jean lies in bed, feeling rather bored, she has been remembering the poetry of her childhood. One of these, The Cremation of Sam McGee, is included below, as read by Johnny Cash.
Another song that´s been coming to her is "Behind those swinging doors". She and Victor decided on a version by Spike Jones, which is also included here.
Jean Sterling shares this personal story:
During the American Civil War many slaves escaped to Canada. However, slaves in places like South Carolina and Georgia escaped to Florida, which was much closer and under Spanish rule at the time. Many of the slaves who went to Florida were taken in by the Seminole Indians.
Fast forward. I taught homebound students, and I remember a student´s mother telling me that she had some Seminole ancestry - that her ancestor had been taken in by the Seminoles, and, well, nature had taken its course. She was quite proud of her Seminole ancestry.
In 1965, in Jackson, Mississippi, racism was still rampant. Civil rights workers from the North had descended upon the state, and the Ku Klux Klan was at its most active since the turn of the century. A lone white woman, Joan, pledged to do her part to make a difference in her world.
Joan decided to assist in starting the first Head Start program in the state. This program was to help young black children be prepared to start first grade. During this time, she became passionately involved in the civil rights movement. She marched with Dr. King, demonstrated with protesters against segregation. Her husband, a Southerner, was also supportive of her efforts.
Joan sparked an interest in her young daughters in the "cause". They went everywhere with her, including the marches and demonstrations. She became known in all circles as that "white lady" who helped "the darkies".
One hot summer night, when Joan´s husband was out of town on business, Joan and her two girls were relaxing in their family room. The air was still and sultry, broken only by the constant chirp of cicadas and the occasional far-off barking dog. Suddenly, the slam of car doors and gruff voices shouting shattered the sleepy stillness. Horns honking, curses disturbed the suburban neighborhood. As a brick came flying through the plate glass window, Joan rushed to the front door. Her front yard was filled with men in white hoods! They had erected an old wooden cross in the middle of the grass. She flung open the door, and, in as growly of a voice as she could muster, the petite woman shouted, "leave my home, you bastards!" They hurriedly set fire to the cross on the lawn and fled like faceless cowards into the night.
Joan could see the neighbors peeping out from their Venetian blinds. She grabbed some marshmallows from the kitchen, told her oldest daughter to get some coat hangers they had used for a previous cookout. With her two blond-haired children in tow, she marched out to the front yard and proceeded to roast marshmallows by the fire which had been fueled by hate. Slowly, quietly, one neighbor after another joined her small family. The adults whispered quietly, hugging and murmuring as the children cavorted around the fire. The blaze that had been started by bigots was being extinguished by support and love.
Joan was my mom and I am the eldest daughter. Her courage will always live in my mind as an example of true heroism. Her fight for racial equality continued until the day she died.
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Don forwards a video of 17-year-olds trying to dial a rotary phone:
The Millennials trying their hardest to work out how to dial a Rotary Phone !!
The video went viral. Here´s an interview with the participents:
Jean suggests a poem by Robert Service:
There are strange things done in the midnight sun
     By the men who moil for gold;
The Arctic trails have their secret tales
     That would make your blood run cold;
The Northern Lights have seen queer sights,
     But the queerest they ever did see
Was that night on the marge of Lake Lebarge
     I cremated Sam McGee.
Here is the whole poem, as read by Johnny Cash: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGhFNYll_mU
ED. NOTE: Jean finds that poetry and old songs fill her brain as she lies in her hospital bed, and this is one of those. She knows all the words! (And so does Victor!)
Jean and Victor recommend this song by Spike Jones:
This song was released on a 78 RPM record in 1944. Spike Jones was an American musician and bandleader specializing in satirical arrangements of popular songs and classical music. I, Judith, remember my mother having Spike Jones records at home, and we listened to them quite a lot.
Irene Havalias sends this "splashmob" version of Bolero:
"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?" is a Latin phrase found in the work of the Roman poet Juvenal from his Satires (Satire VI, lines 347-348). It is literally translated as "Who will guard the guards themselves?", though it is also known by variant translations, such as "Who watches the watchers?" and "Who´ll watch the watchmen?"" - from Wikipedia
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