Time is an Enigma by Katherine Pym

Wondering what the date is

We’ve just passed into a new year. By the Gregorian calendar, it is January 4, 2015. We are firm in this belief, and are happy with the algorithms that caused this. We trust the calendar. It is one of our rocks that anchor us to this world. 

But what if it weren’t always like this? How would people handle a moving, mushy calendar? I’d be nervous, and always wonder what the day was. I’d be afraid to travel, thinking wherever I went, the date wouldn’t match the place I left.

This was the case in England prior to 1752. Back then, they followed the Julian calendar when almost everyone else followed the Gregorian calendar. This differential caused problems within the government, amongst the merchants, or anyone who communicated with those abroad.

EXAMPLE: If you woke up in England January 1^st 1700, according to the Julian calendar, the date would really be December 21^st, 1699, since the Julian was a slug-a-bug, and trailed the Gregorian by approximately 11 days (all depends on who is counting). The dates would follow this lead until March 25, which was the New Year in the Julian calendar.

What if your country was at war with England and a treaty ensued? Would you lay down your arms on January 1^st or December 21^st? That’s rather a large gap of days. I can imagine war weary soldiers staring across the fox hole at each other, wondering what to do.   

Confused? Oh my, I do see exasperation in your eyes.

ANOTHER EXAMPLE: If you were born to English parents in France (Gregorian) on July 8, 1660, but returning to England, your birth date would actually be June 28 or 29, 1660 (Julian), again, depending on who is counting. 

If I were that child, I'd wander through life in a daze.

In September 1752, England finally succumbed to adopt the Gregorian calendar, but people fussed because they would lose days. How many, even the experts aren't certain. It ranges from 10-12 days.

One source I found gives the count of eleven days (or is it twelve?). The other day, I ran across a little booklet titled: Murders Myths and Monuments of North Staffordshire, by W.M. Jamieson. This booklet is a compilation of stories based in this lovely English shire. He entitled a short piece: 'Give us back our eleven days'.

This is what a good Staffordshire fellow did about the switch from Julian to Gregorian:

"William Willett was born in the early seventeen hundreds and lived in Endon where, according to local mythology he was something of a character... always fond of a gag or wager.  

"During the year 1752, ...the Government ordered that the days September 3rd to September 13th would not exist and people going to bed on the evening of the 2nd would wake up on the morning of the 14th.    

"...this appeared to be a government trick to rob the people of eleven days of their life and there were demonstrations outside Parliament demanding that the people were given back their eleven days.

"William Willet of Endon saw the possibility of a great joke and a profitable one, and also a chance to leave his indelible mark on Endon's history. He wagered that he would dance nonstop for twelve days and twelve nights and eagerly took bets from many of the villagers. 

"On the evening of September 2nd, 1752, William Willett started to jig around the village of Endon. Next morning, September 14th, he stopped dancing and started to claim his bets."

Good William Willet was pretty clever. Hopefully, the fair people of the village didn’t think too badly of his trick, and he made lots of money.

BUT I'm still confused on the missing days. Based on this story, England lost eleven days, when it seems to everyone, including W.M. Jamieson that William Willet danced for twelve days. 

Hmm, perhaps, this is a riddle better left unresolved.

 

http://bookswelove.net/pym.php

New Year, New Beginnings by Diane Bator

I am one of those busy people who manages 3 teenagers (one at University), 2 part-time jobs, a fledgling writing career and a new editing business as well as a husband. Yes, I am my own special kind of crazy and can cause myself all sorts of stress. I also make sure to create all kinds of joy in my life to keep some semblance of balance.

During a really busy, extremely stressful, time in my life recently, I took the time to make a list of the things that relaxed me and gave me joy. This list is in no particular order, but simply as they popped into my head.

1.       Baking Cookies

~ I don't do this enough because of the inevitable side effect - I eat them!

2.       Laughing

~ the light-hearted, silly moments are the ones that inspire me the most and open the creative portal.

3.       Snuggling with my cat

~ our furry baby was a rescue animal 9 years ago as a newborn kitten. He's funny, chatty, and always seems to know when anyone needs a hug.

4.       My kids

~ good, bad, or ugly, the kids are always entertaining to some degree and a constant source of laughter, hugs and inspiration in my life.

5.       My friends

~ coffee dates and lunches aren't as common as they used to be so I savor every one. My friends all know I write (as to many of them!), they all know I use the best lines they toss out at me, and they all know I treasure every one of them!

6.       Yoga

~ I love yoga to restore my body and spirit - my mind I'm still working on. Mind tends to be a wild horse that does NOT want to be reined in and constantly needs the gentle reminder to be still. I seek the calming effect, which helps me focus on my writing later.

7.       Christmas Movies

~ Okay, I admit it. I'm a Christmas movie junkie, especially those made-for-TV movies. Have you ever noticed about 95% of them feature writers?

8.       Walking

~ A great moving meditation, I love as how my feet move, my brain sweeps out the bad thoughts and lets my creativity flow - just when I have no pen or paper within reach!

9.       Martial Arts

~ my hubby and kids did karate for 6 years before I started nearly 3 years ago. Another form of moving meditation, students are trained to empty their minds, yet be aware of everything around them.

10.   Writing

~ My Happy Place! When the rest of the world is getting me down, or life gets out of control, I find escaping to write is one of the best ways to regain my joy, calm my spirit, and find my focus.

As the New Year begins and the glitter and busy-ness of the Holiday Season fades, we all need to find take a deep breath and return to being the creative souls we are. This year, make Joy your constant companion. Find the awe and wonder in the little things and make your own list of the things that make you happy for those days you'd rather tear the world - imaginary or otherwise - apart.

My wish for all of you in 2015 is to learn how to stop once and a while and just breathe.

Happy New Year!

Diane Bator

Author of the Wild Blue Mysteries Series

~ The Bookstore Lady

~ The Mystery Lady

~ The Bakery Lady

....more coming soon!

WOMEN DRIVERS - SAINTS OR SINNERS - MARGARET TANNER

ROAD RAGE VICTIM

Recently, I witnessed a car accident.  A truck ran up the back of a woman’s car outside a local shopping mall. The man jumped out of his truck and abused the woman. Luckily no-one was hurt, but this incident brought to the surface something that happened to me more than twenty years ago.

I was involved in a serious accident when a fully laden semi trailer ran into the back of my car, virtually demolishing it. How I survived was a miracle, how I was able to walk away with just a few bruises was even more miraculous. Even the emergency workers who arrived on the scene couldn’t believe it. My car was crushed, the semi-trailer jack-knifed and ended upside down, and the driver had to climb out the window, but all I could blubber about was losing my shoes.  They weren’t even designer ones, just the low-heeled type I always wore to work. “Stupid woman,” I heard a by-stander remark. “Worrying about her bloody shoes.”

***

Everyone knows me – the lady who sits on or just below the speed limit. The one who gets tail-gated and abused by impatient road users who ignore speed signs.

 
I always leave a reasonable distance between my car and the one in front of me, only to be out-maneuvered by someone else squeezing into the gap. When the skies open up and the rain buckets down, giving the road surface the texture of an ice-skating rink, I reduce speed, while others roar past leaving fountains of water in their wake.
 
There are those who abuse me for stopping a few feet from a railway crossing when in a long line of traffic, instead of waiting in the middle of the tracks.  Everyone knows the cars in front will move before the train comes. Perish the thought that when the lights do change, someone might stall and hold up the flow, so I’m left like a sitting duck at the mercy of the boom gates crashing on to my roof, or the 5.08 express train, running me into the ground. Selfish woman driver that I am – don’t I realize everyone else is in a hurry.
           
Why do I get upset when some maniac passes me on the wrong side of the road? After all I can easily slam on my brakes, and let them in front of me when the third lane they have created peters out.  Tough luck if the truck almost sitting an inch away from my bumper bar can’t stop, but a few precious seconds gained, a few extra vehicles passed, means a lot when a driver is in a hurry. Don’t I realize how busy everyone is?
 
The lights are green in the distance; they change to amber when I am meters away.  How can a woman be so stupid? All I have to do is accelerate, as long as my front wheels are at the intersection when the lights turn red, it’ll be o.k.  The tooting driver behind me is obviously running late, and there are no police cars around.
           
One might be moved to ask what all the fuss is about. Everyone knows you have to take risks on the road, show the machine you’re driving who the boss is, intimidate other road users so they know how tough you are.  After all, you’ll never have an accident because you’re such an expert driver.
           
A metamorphosis seems to come over many people when they climb behind the wheel. Their well-mannered, easygoing ways evaporate.  They become ruthless predators, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting victim, whose only crime is that they try to obey all the road laws.
 
***
Margaret Tanner is a multi-published Australian author

"Let's Go to the Movies!" "No, I'd Rather Stay Home." by Shirley Martin

 Recently I saw a wonderful musical from the early fifties, "Showboat."  Whenever I mention this movie to a friend, I invariably get the reply that they don't make movies like that anymore. Doubtless there are many who may not care for musicals, but I feel that there are many more who miss the films of yesterday.

    Oh, for those great dramas from the '40s, black and while films such as "Laura" or the very suspenseful "Woman in the Window." Those films of yesteryear, with their great plots and intriguing story lines, are sorely missed. Actors employed good diction then, an attribute sadly absent from today's movies, when we're forced to turn the volume up on the remote, just so we can understand what the actor is saying. 

    The early '40s covered World War II, so war movies proliferated during this period. Movies such as "A Walk in the Sun" or "Purple Heart" told a great story, well done. Unfortunately, many war movies were poorly made, with American actors posing as German soldiers and speaking English with a German accent.

    As a kid growing up in the forties, going to the movies was the high point of my week. My older brothers and I walked several miles to the nearest theater. For a dime, we saw the feature film, plus various extras, such as Movietone News, "The Phantom" (an adventure series), The Three Stooges and/or "The Passing Parade", a special interest extra. Often, the theater showed a sing-a-long, with words to the song on the screen, so that the entire audience could sing. (Yes, I know. Corny.)

    The early fifties heralded musical extravaganzas like the aforementioned "Showboat," "Carousel," "Kiss Me, Kate" and many more, all in technicolor. This period also brought us biblical epics, such as "The Robe" and "The Ten Commandments." 

    An innovation of the fifties were drive-in theaters, soon dubbed "passion pits."  (I wonder why!)

    My mother was born in 1906, so she came of age when silent movies were still in vogue. One memory must have stood out in her mind. The film showed a train hurtling down the track. Everyone in the audience jumped from their seat and ran out. They thought the train was coming after them!

    We've come a long way since then. These days, more sophisticated audiences are treated to realistic battle scenes, with all of its attendant blood and gore. On the other hand, special effects can create a truly enjoyable movie, such as the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, with its terrifyingly realistic monsters and walking, talking trees. Great battle scenes here, without the gore. 

    As we ventured into the '70s, former restraints and restrictions fell away. Sex, violence, nudity and foul language became common movie fare. These changes prompted a codification of movies, from G for general audiences, to PG (parental guidance), and on to PG-13 and R rated. It remains a mystery--at least to me--why Hollywood produces so many R-rated films, since by their very content viewership is reduced.

    Another change came with the seventies, this one quite undesirable. For reasons I can't  understand, theatergoers--not all of them, but many--became unbearably rude. Lots of people, with apparently nothing else to do on a Saturday night, headed for the movie theater and loaded up at the concession stand with a large bag of popcorn, munching throughout the movie. But it didn't end there. These same people threw the box on the floor when they were finished, then headed to the concession stand again to get a soft drink, all this while most moviegoers just wanted to watch the film.

    Just in time, video cassettes came on the scene. Now you could watch a movie in the comfort of your living room, and not worry about noisy theatergoers. Now, too, DVDs have replaced video cassettes. You can find a wide range of movies at your local library or rent them through Netflix. And you can buy them from Amazon. With streaming, you can watch movies on the Internet. Actually, there are many movies you can access with just a click of the cursor.

    Watching movies is fun again.

    And if, besides watching movies, you like to read, do I have a great selection for you. Click on this link:

http://amzn.to/1zN7YAq  and you'll find my historical, paranormal, and fantasy romances. Two of them--"Night Secrets" and "Dream Weaver" are also in print. Check at your local bookstore. 

Shirley Martin

http://bookswelove.net/authors/shirley-martin/#

   

Numbers by Eleanor Stem

2014 is an even-numbered year. Only a few more hours, a tick of a clock, and we’ll be in 2015, an odd-numbered year.

Which do you prefer, the odd or even numbers? Which years bring you more happiness, or more pain? Do you emerge from those painful years like a phoenix flying from its ashes? 

I like even-numbered years. They seem more rounded, less pointy. Four is more rounded than fourteen, i.e., ’t’ in teen is spiky, the 'ee' brash. Five is less desirous than four, harder to say, to read. Fifteen is definitely on the corrupt side.

2020 is a good round number. Only the 't’s' are a bit spiky. The rest just rolls off your tongue like sweet juice. Tomorrow, 2020 will be closer than we've ever seen it. We're half way through the teens, going into the twenties. My, how time flies.

That doesn't mean odd-numbered years are bad. 2013 that had lots of spikes, and is far too brash, was a pretty good year. My husband and I built a house in 2013, which could be a nightmare, but it wasn't. Our builder was really professional. He gave us no hassles, and now he and his wife are good friends.

Despite odd or even-numbered years, life’s road leads us through the landscape of different experiences.

My husband wouldn’t say he liked even-numbered years. For years, the Universe kept telling him to move out of his status quo existence, but he wouldn’t listen. In 2008, he lost several friends through illness and accidents. In September, Hurricane Ike pushed his house off the foundations, and the world called it a total loss. Two months later, we were married. A true up and down year. By 2009, his whole life had changed, and he was much happier for it.

I believe throughout our lives, we go through issues that make us better, help us to gain a higher spiritual level. Sometimes, we are supposed to make changes in our lives, but we are afraid, or we stall, thinking we’ll be fine if we don’t upset the applecart.

An odd year, 2005, which as I said I’m not too fond of, did that for me. No discreet knocking on my door worked to make changes. Apparently, everything I knew had to be broken before I saw the light.

Almost out of the gate into the new year, I noticed trickles of water running down the wall of my carport. I called a roofer, where not only did the roof leak, but the electrical gizmo that sends electricity into the house was pulling away from the structure. I needed an electrician and a roofer. The kitchen sink kept stopping up and the plumber said the sewer hadn’t been installed properly when the house was built. The entire sewer line under the house had to be replaced. At the same time, the car started leaking transmission fluid. I needed a new car. Then, I went to the doctor for a routine checkup and she said a lump in my breast was 99% cancer. January 2005 had been an eventful month.

My oncologist said, ‘Give me a full year, and then I’ll set you free, healthy and whole.’ With those words, I relinquished my care into her capable hands. This opened up a whole new world for me, gave me freedom to find out who I was. I took off work during the process, sat outside with a cup of tea and listened to the birds in the trees. I focused on the beauty that was all around me. I appreciated the differences in the human psyche, their own trek through life, how they responded to bumps in the road, and I bought a puppy.  

They say it’s not what you go through but how you come out of the experience that makes the difference. If you are a better person for it, then your journey was good. The odd numbered year of 2005 was a good one for me, one of the best years of my life.

Let’s drink to 2015. May this year bring you happiness and good cheer. May your experiences, good or bad, bring you joy.  

http://bookswelove.net/stem.php