Thursday, November 1, 2018

Story about a 15 year old girl written 11/1/18

a true story by me: Nancy Thompsen Sherwood
There was a 15 year old girl who met a neat older guy. She didn't think about the age difference. He had his own apartment and she went there to smoke marijuana with him and they also "slept" together.
The guy asked the girl if she could get some marijuana for him to buy from her. She said sure. And she did. And they smoked it together.
Then one day he asked her if she could get LSD to sell
to him. She had never done anything like that before, but she said she'd try. Her mom was a single mother and there was no extra money for Christmas coming up. So the girl saw this as a good way to make a little money.
A little while later, an arrest warrant was issued on the girl for selling LSD. The guy turns out to have been a narcotics agent. He thought the girl was over 18- hence would be arrested as an adult.
The girl was arrested. While she was being "processed" at the police station, the "guy" walked by. The girl said "hi" to the guy who pretended not to see her. The police were surprised to learn that the girl was a minor. Still, she was under arrest.
She went to a children's jail (Children's Receiving Center). She was admitted, strip searched and had all of her belongings taken away. She was given a choice of clothing from a big box. She spend the most frightening weekend of her like locked up with girls who were there because they had killed someone, or committed other serious crimes.
The girl never, ever told her parents that she had been having sex with the guy. Never. She never told the police either.
The girl went t court in a prison bus and after going before the judge was released to her mother.
There were delays and continuances for almost a year. The girl was afraid she would be convicted.
Eventually, the police said that the "guy" had been transferred. The girl is sure that the reason the case was dropped was that the police realized that the arresting officer had been having sex with a minor.
So, it's true. Many girls and women never ever tell. Even after years and years.
The end

No means no

This is no solution, but, I do believe that parents need to teach their kids, boys and girls, that No is NO. No matter what. If someone says no, even a sibling not wanting to share a toy. I told all of my kids "no is no"
Who remembers the first time you voted? I do. I was 18 and newly married. It was 1972. I went into a voting booth and pulled a lever that closed the curtain behind me. I flipped a bunch of switches for each item on the ballot. When I was done, I pulled the lever the other way, all of the switches went back to neutral and the curtains opened. And I walked away very proud, and a little bit worried that I might have voted for Nixon by mistake.
Another True Story by Nancy Sherwood:
I went to a small private school in Washington, D.C. One day the boys were playing a pick up game of basketball in the basketball court. I wanted to play and they said "no girls". I went to the headmaster and told him that I paid as much tuition as the boys and I should have the same privileges.
The headmaster suggested I call the National Organization for Women (NOW). I did call them. They sent a speaker to our school.
We had an assembly and everyone learned that we all should be equal.
After that, the girls and the boys could play basketball, or other sports if they wanted to. Me, I preferred flag football.

September 20
I am not a young Black man, but I am afraid of the police. I am a white, gray haired 64 year old woman. I cannot stand without a cane. I have a fear that I will get pulled over and told to get out of the car. I can either get out of the car, holding on so I don't fall- then I will be thought to be drunk. Or, I can reach for my cane which can be thought to be a weapon. I don't have disability tags, but use a tag that hangs down from my mirror when I park.
What has happened to my trust? Why are we at this place?
Another true story, told by me, Nancy Sherwood;
My mother worked long and hard to become a communications expert. She was a liaison for GE with the FCC. Her expertise was licensing radios. For fire and ambulance companies. For radio stations etc.
She was constantly training the new men who came into the office so they could do this work too.
She realized that these men were getting promoted, making more money than she was and she got mad.
My mom went to her boss and demanded equal pay.
She was told that the men had families to support and she was a woman.
My mom was a single mother.
She sued GE. She won!
My mom was not a person to mess with!
Another true story- about myself. By Nancy Sherwood:
Shortly after getting married, I went looking for a job (we were a poor married couple). I went into the Singer sewing machine store. I was told that the only job that they had was for a man. The job was driving the Singer truck (mini van), delivering and repairing sewing machines.
I told them that I was capable of doing that. They said "no, we need a man".
I told them they would be hearing from my lawyer (husband was a law student at the time)
Must have scared them because a few weeks later they called me and gave me the job.
I worked there for over a year as the repair person and delivery person.
The end
Another true story, told by me, Nancy Sherwood;
Another friend, and attractive woman in her 40s went to see a lawyer for advice on divorcing her husband. The lawyer ogled this friend of mine, and he, leaned back, with his hands in his pants. Friend did not hire him, but was shaken by the behavior.
True story, by me, Nancy Sherwood.
More than 30 years ago a friend told me about how the security in her office building had changed. There had been several assaults on women in the restrooms in the building recently, including rape.
One day when my friend went to work, there was a new security system in place. Everyone had to have their bags (purses, briefcases) searched and had to go through a metal detector.
My friend asked why the new security measures. She was told that a man had been raped in the men's room.
She was really angry. Many women had been assaulted and no new security measures were taken.
Says something doesn't it
A true story about white male privilege, by Nancy Sherwood;
My dad's work took us overseas for most of the first seven years of my life. When I was seven, in 1961, we returned to the Washington, D.C. area permanently.
When we lived overseas, I don't really remember anything about how my parents handled money. I know that when we lived in Afghanistan, my mom had nice clothes and three servants- a cook, a housekeeper and a laundry man. My parents belonged to the International Club. We all swam. My mom played tennis. We skied. In short, we lived pretty well.
When we came back to the States, my father removed my mother's name from their bank accounts, checking accounts and credit cards.
My mom was 35, a stay at home mother with only a high school education. My dad was 45, and was a GS 15, which means he made the equivalent to over $100,000. in today's money.
My mom used to go through the cracks in the chairs and sofa to find change so she could do the laundry. Some of our foreign coins fit the dryer, so she was able to use those.
For a short while, my mom was a waitress at Hot Shoppes (if you're from DC you remember them).
I remember when I was still little, one time my mom was arrested for shoplifting. She was stealing school clothes. She didn't have money to buy us anything.
When I was 12, my mom started to work outside the home. I was home alone after school every day (don't ask).
When I was 15, my parent's got divorced. My mom had a pretty small salary and my dad "gave" her a cash settlement too small to amount to anything.
She ended up okay financially, but, she is proof of how men could and probably still can control women. The end
Just so nobody gets the wrong idea, I don't hate men. I have been married to one for 46 years. I am the mother of four men. I know these men and I know that they are not the jackasses I object to.
Men and women and LGBTQ people all share this planet. There needs to be more humanity. We need to all see each other as fellow passengers on this big blue ball we call home.
Differences are fine, good even. Thinking for yourself and forming opinions is good. Belittling and demeaning "others", is what I have a problem with.
I know that I am guilty of saying things and sharing things on Facebook that might seem to be anti male. What I am trying to express is the attitudes and behaviors of men who think we women should all be "barefoot and pregnant" all the time.
I have five children, so it is often assumed that I am the "little woman" Well, it so happens I was barefoot and pregnant. . But it was by choice. I choose to get pregnant and I chose to have these, now adult children.
We undervalue parenting and as a result, women (and men) who choose to be at home with their children are often not seen as valuable, contributing members of society.
Little or no maternity leave in this country (USA), is a disservice to mothers, children, families and society.
Okay, that's my lesson for the day.

Tromso




 This was in our house in Tromso. I had to ask the lady in the fabric store for carrot colored fabric because I didn't know the words for either pumpkin (which aren't usually orange) or "orange"



All Souls Day written 11-1-18

A memory, by Nancy Sherwood:
All Souls Day. Poznan, Poland 1979. We had only been living in Poznan for a few months when this date rolled around. Poland was still ruled by communism and we knew that we were followed everywhere and that our apartment was bugged.
We were surprised at how stark everything seemed. The buildings in Poznan had for the most part been left standing after "the war" (WWII). As opposed to Warsaw where the order had been not to leave any stone standing upon another.
As a result, many of the buildings in Poznan were pock marked with the holes left by machine gun fire. Walking my 20 month old in her stroller I often imagined being behind one of those windows where the machine gun had clearly strafed- bullet holes up one side of the window and again, picking up the trail of holes on the other side.
I was a sad and gloomy place to live. Soft coal was used to heat homes and offices, so there was always a soft coating of black dust on my baby and myself after our walks.
The Cold War was still on. We were instructed by State Department Security not to fraternize. If someone offered to hand you something, anything at all, do not take it. You were at risk of being photographed and accused of being a spy. We had friends in Warsaw who left. Unexpectedly. Overnight. We were not allowed to talk about it, so we never knew what happened. Still don't. One family had to leave so sudden;y that they had to leave their dog- which another Foreign Service family arranged to ship back to the owners, in the States.
What made me think of all of this so many years on? All Souls Day.
On All Souls Day in Poznan, Poland, we wrapped out little girl in blanket and went to observe the tradition. We went to a large cemetery, military I think. Every single grave had a small candle lit atop the grave stone. They all flickered and nodded in the slight breeze.
A light snow fell as we stood there. It was sad, somber, beautiful and oh so moving.
We don't have pictures. We didn't need them. That peaceful, holy night will be with me forever.