Today, in the aftermath of the bombing at the Boston Marathon, I was thinking about “peacetime” first responders and the medical personnel who risk their lives every day during war. For some reason, I remembered reading one of those orange, cloth-covered hardback biographies that were published for children (at least, when I was a child) about Edith Cavell. Wasn’t she a nurse?
I looked her up. Indeed, born in 1865, Edith Cavell, a vicar’s daughter, trained to be a nurse at the age of 40 and went to work as the matron of a newly established nursing school in Brussels, where she launched the nursing journal L’infirmière. By 1911, she was a training nurse for three hospitals, 24 schools, and 13 kindergartens in Belgium.
In November 1914, after the Germans occupied Brussels, Cavell began helping wounded soldiers out of occupied Belgium to neutral Holland. Prince Reginald de Croy furnished the British, French, and Belgian soldiers with false papers and got them to Cavell (among others) in Brussels. Cavell treated them and, with her collaborators, gave them enough money to get to Holland.
These actions violated German military law. Apparently aware of the danger, she is quoted to have said, “I can’t stop while there are lives to be saved.” She was arrested in 1915 and charged with treason for harboring Allied soldiers. She admitted that she had been instrumental in conveying about 60 British and 15 French soldiers and about 100 French and Belgians of military age to the frontier and had sheltered most of them in her house.
As a combatant nation, the British government said they could do nothing to help her. The United States, however, applied diplomatic pressure and other nations joined a plea for clemency. Baron von der Lancken, the German civil governor, stated that Cavell should be pardoned because she had helped save so many lives, German as well as Allied.
Of the 27 collaborators who faced trial, five were condemned to death. Three were later reprieved and two were executed. One was Edith Cavell. The night before her execution, she told the Anglican chaplain who visited her, “Patriotism is not enough. I must have no hatred or bitterness towards anyone.”
Edith Cavell is remembered for her duty, skill, and courage, as are all first responders, medics, doctors, and nurses who comfort and care for the wounded, wherever they fall.
I’ve always liked American history, especially colonial history. The American war of colonial independence, otherwise known as the Revolutionary War, is a true David and Goliath story. On one side, the colonists: outnumbered, outgunned. On the other side, the British: world rulers. Start the smackdown!
The rhetoric of Common Sense helped to sway the general population (by the middle of May 1776, eight colonies had decided that they would support independence), although many representatives to the Continental Congress were already persuaded. Richard Henry Lee of Virginia had put out a resolution for independence, a committee was formed, Thomas Jefferson was asked to write the draft, John Adams and Benjamin Franklin edited it, and the Continental Congress voted to adopt the Lee resolution of independence on July 2, 1776 with 12 of the 13 colonies supporting it (New York abstained). At the time, John Adams wrote in a letter that for many years in the future, Americans would be celebrating July 2 as their independence day. But in fact, July 4–the day the Declaration’s wording was approved–became Independence Day. New York approved the action on July 9, and the document itself was signed on August 2, 1776.
I went to a play this week, A Doctor in Spite of Himself. It was hilarious. It poked fun at the medical profession and how health care is delivered. It poked fun of the rich. It poked fun at politicians. It poked fun at itself and the audience. I haven’t laughed that hard at a play since I don’t know when. And Moliere wrote it in 1666. Which just shows you that great writing never grows old.
Susan B. Anthony was born to Quaker parents with long activist traditions on February 15, 1820 in Adams, Massachusetts. She campaigned for the abolition of slavery, women’s right to their own property and earnings, and women’s labor organizations. In 1900, Anthony persuaded the University of Rochester to admit women. She was a tireless supporter of women’s suffrage and was arrested in 1872 for voting, but legal maneuvering meant that her case never went to the Supreme Court. Women did not win the vote until fourteen years after her death.
Also celebrated on February 15: Galileo’s birthday. Born in 1564 (or so), Galileo was an Italian physicist, mathematician, astronomer, and philosopher. His achievements include improvements to the telescope; his astronomical observations advanced the Copernican theory that the earth and other planets revolved around the sun, the discovery of the four largest satellites of Jupiter (named the Galilean moons in his honour), and the analysis of sunspots. The Inquisition tried him for heresy and found him guilty, and he spent the rest of his life imprisoned in his house.
John Sutter was born on February 15, 1803, in Baden, Germany, came to the United States, and settled in California. He qualified for a land grant and was given 48,000 acres to farm. He established a town, set up a trading fort, and propered—until 1848, when James Marshall saw gold in his stream, launching the gold rush. Squatters came by the thousands, destroying his crops and butchering his herds. By 1852, the town was devastated and Sutter was bankrupt.
February 15 is National Gumdrop Day! (Possibly also known as Happy Dentist Day.) Gumdrops were invented in the 1800s, and although Congress has never sanctioned National Gumdrop Day and no president has honored it with a proclamation, Milton-Bradley did immortalize the confection in its Candyland board game. First introduced in 1949, the game includes Gumdrop Mountain and Gumdrop Pass. Chew on that, my friends!
Yeah, not the way Ray Milland lost it in the 1945 movie. In the movie, Milland goes on a four-day bender and sees how he screwed up his life. Generally speaking, a right jolly film and a mention just in time for this year’s Oscar season. For those who want to know, The Lost Weekend was based on a semi-autobiographical novel written by Charles R. Jackson and won four golden statues: for best actor Milland, director Billy Wilder, best picture, and best screenplay (Wilder and Charles Brackett). In the movie, the Ray Milland character is also a writer, and he pawns his typewriter (1945, remember) for a drink.
My lost weekend was not exactly lost, certainly not this way, just sort of misplaced. I wanted to work on my own book, but my characters are stuck in a car half-way across Nevada. What are they supposed to do now?
So instead I worked on other people’s books. And it was a very productive time, peaceful and sometimes needing a bit of a push, like hatching an egg, I suppose. I felt happy. Except I just don’t know how to get those people out of the car and out of Nevada.
While I was sick last fall and then over the holiday break I caught up on old TV shows. Well, “catching up” is the nice way to put it. I was glued to the set. One of my all-time favorites: 
Perhaps it was a consequence of my feverish flu, but I’ve been wondering why these old shows didn’t employ more drop-dead handsome actors. Hollywood certainly had plenty of them. Today, you can’t turn on the tube without finding zillions of shows full of people who, despite their many professional acting talents, could also win beauty pageants by the score. Some of these new shows I like to watch, because the writing is good and the acting is fun. But many times I find these shows really depressing. Whose lives look like that? Who knows these people? It seems like the producers look for two or five pretty faces and think, Let’s put on a show! And the story can come afterwards.
