#grisham hall for ladies

[recentlyheardcom]

Welcome to Editorial Picks of Entertainment, your monthly reminder of what’s coming down the pike in the world of home entertainment. We have actually obtained the most up to date TELEVISION programs, flicks, publications and also even more– all appearing in December. Glance and also see what’s up this month. TELEVISION Vanderpump Guidelines(Slice) Best day: Monday, Dec. 3 at 9 p.m. ET/PT Season 7 of Vanderpump Rules begins with the awaited opening of TomTom. Lisa Vanderpump networks her power right into ensuring her latest endeavor is the embodiment of excellence, however, when final troubles emerge, she needs to designate extra obligation to her younger companions Tom Schwartz and also Tom Sandoval– whether they prepare or otherwise. Jax ultimately recommends to sweetheart, Brittany, after a roller-coaster of a year. After an uncomfortable breakup, Stassi recovers with an amazing brand-new transaction, an eccentric brand-new guy, and also a shocking relationship with Ariana. After being the target of body-shaming remarks, Katie decides for the ladies of SUR and also supplies the last offer to Lisa that sends out echoes throughout the whole dining establishment. Typically enjoyable and also easy going, Lala deals with the untimely end of her papa leaving every person asking yourself if she’ll ever before coincide. As well as certainly, still the resident DJ, James mixes up the difficulty when an ill-conceived rap lands him in warm water with the team. Rust Valley Restorers( History Channel) Best day: Thursday, Dec. 6 at 10 p.m. ET/PT In the foothills of the Rocky Hills exists “Corrosion Valley”– a junkyard composed of acres upon acres of old and also abandoned automobiles as for the eye can see. There lives a distinct automobile repair neighborhood and also the topic of Background’s brand-new Canadian-original Corrosion Valley Restorers The collection concentrates on one repair store in the “Corrosion Valley” that differs from the remainder. Store proprietor Mike Hall and also his vibrant team are professionals at changing rusted accidents right into collectible automobiles. His group passionately functions to return automobiles to their previous splendor– at some time for a profession, in some cases up for sale, and also not constantly at earnings. More: Ant McPartlin Divorce: Lisa Armstrong Makes surprise Appearance on It Takes Two Hours The Fix(Netflix) Premiere day: Friday, Dec. 14 at 12 a.m. ET/PT In this panel program, a revolving team of leading comics will certainly handle the globe’s most difficult troubles and also attempt ahead up with the excellent options. The Innocent Man ( Netflix) Premiere day: Friday, Dec. 14 at 12 a.m. ET/PT This six-part docudrama adjustment of John Grisham’s only non-fiction publication, The Innocent Guy: Murder and also Oppression in a Village, elevates unpleasant concerns regarding 2 murder situations in Ada, Oklahoma, in the 1980 s– and also the questionable chain of occasions that complied with. Motion Pictures Mowgli: Legend of the Jungles Launch day: Friday, Dec. 7 This Netflix motion picture’s celebrities consist of Christian Bundle, Cate Blanchett and also Benedict Cumberbatch. Supervisor Andy Serkis re-invents Rudyard Kipling’s tale, in which a child torn in between 2 globes approves his fate and also ends up being a tale. Mowgli has never ever really belonged in either bushes of the forest or the civil globe of guy. Currently he needs to browse the intrinsic risks of each on a trip to find where he really belongs. More: Latest TOP 10 Christmas Songs Of All Time – Best Holiday Music Aquaman Launch day: Friday, Dec. 21 Aquaman is the only DC motion picture to strike movie theaters this year. Complying with the occasions of Ju stice Organization, Arthur Curry (Jason Momoa), the hesitant leader of the undersea kingdom of Atlantis, is captured in between surface area occupants contaminating the world and also his very own individuals, that prepare to get into the surface area.

Disney is checking out even more of P.L. Travers’ Mary Poppins publications, in a follow up to among its most precious movies. Emily Blunt is taking control of the duty from Julie Andrews. Prick Van Dyke and also Julie Andrews will certainly both be emerging in this motion picture as well. Embed in London, England, 25 years after Mary Poppins, the follow up includes Poppins going back to the brand-new generation of the Financial institutions household after they experience a loss. Michael Banks (Ben Whishaw) has 3 youngsters: Annabel, Georgie and also John. More: Top 10 Fashion Tips Every Woman Should Know Books The Mindful Glow Cookbook by Abbey Sharp Available Tuesday, Dec. 4 Registered dietitian, food fan and also YouTube celebrity Abbey Sharp shares her launching recipe book that includes healthy and balanced dishes that will certainly spark your relationship with food. In over 100 dishes, Abbey reveals us exactly how she consumes: healthy and balanced and also beneficial dishes that are loaded with flavour like PB & & J Healthy Protein Pancakes, Fall Butternut Squash Mac and also Cheese, Stuffed Hawaiian Hamburgers, Poultry, Sugary Food Potato and also Curry Cauliflower, Delicious Chocolate Stout Vegetable Chili, Chewy Crackle Almond Apple Cookies, and also Ultimate Mini Sticky Toffee Puddings. A number of her dishes are plant-centric and also without milk, gluten, and also nuts. Others include some protein-rich, lean beef, fowl, eggs, and also milk, so there are lots of scrumptious dishes for every person and also every celebration. Revolution Sunday by Wendy Guerra (Equated by Achy Obejas) Available Tuesday, Dec. 4 An unique regarding prestige, security, and also corruption in modern Cuba, from a worldwide bestselling writer that has actually never ever previously been converted right into English Cleo, successor of a once-prominent Cuban household and also an appealing young author in her very own right, takes a trip to Spain to gather a prominent honor. There, Cuban deportees see her with uncertainty, thinking she’s a source for the Castro program. To Cleo’s shock, that uncertainty follows her house to Cuba, where she locates herself under continuous security by the federal government. When she fulfills and also loves a Hollywood filmmaker, she finds her household is not that she assumed they were … and also neither is the filmmaker. More: Kanye West Says About Wanting to “Smash” All Four of Kim Kardashian’s Sisters in New Song

[adamantiumdragonfly]

No Ordinary Time: Part Two “wherever you are tonight”

"...A time when the United States is what we fight for..."

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and current sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military-grade pencils and scraps of paper.

Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she's left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover's voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.

wherever you are tonight

Taglist:  @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701  @wexhappyxfew @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @thoughpoppiesblow  @pxpeyewynn @50svibes​

Norfolk, VA. 4th of April, 1944. 

While some found the adjustment to loved ones being taken from their grasp rocky, Elizabeth Ferguson had the advantage that only a select few possessed. She had already lived through it, making the sting nothing but a fond memory. It didn’t stop stinging though, no matter how many times one felt it. A dull ache would be a more appropriate term, the bruised flesh tender, and the black discoloration fading but the strain of muscles didn’t let the memory fade entirely. It was enough to make a first-timer bedridden for a week but to a repeat offender like Elizabeth, it was a mild discomfort. She had said goodbye before and did her best not to, when given the chance.

She held onto forlorn books, ragged quilts, and threadbare shirts to keep the end at bay, trying to prevent the inevitable ache. Elizabeth tried her best to limp about when the goodbyes were unavoidable. That could be said of everything she attempted. Bessie was a trier, an all-around trier and failer. She didn’t have a wall of degrees like Estelle or a self-assured flick to her head like Vera. She was just Bessie Ferguson, who had clattered and crashed her way through twenty-one years of life.  Not that she hadn’t attempted school (she wasn’t the best student) and not that she hadn’t attempted to walk with the confidence that her theatrical friend possessed (it ended in a twisted ankle and a scraped-up knee) but by god, she tried.

She liked to think that her determination was her best attribute, right up there with the dimple on her left cheek that had gotten her more than her fair share of tips when she had been employed at Charlie’s. The real Charlie had said she was one of his best workers and his gruff voice in her head still brought a smile to her lips, bringing out the money-winning dimple.

Even when goodbyes were said, Bess found ways to hold onto the people or things. She still frequented her old place of work long after she was employed in the noble service of her country. Every Friday, like clockwork, she was in the second to last booth, the red vinyl striking against the blue of her uniform.

I look like the American flag, Bess thought, examining herself in the reflection on the glass of the window. Red booths, white mugs, and a blue uniform. How was that for patriotic?

She looked different, hair sleek and uniform pressed. Was this really Bessie Ferguson who knew every waitress and cook’s name in Charlie’s Diner? Or was Bessie older now, with the WAVES blue wool on her shoulder, finer and warmer than anything she had owned in her twenty-one years. 1941 seemed like a century ago, not three years.

“Hiya, Bess,” Angie was still there, her bouffant of pin curls still perched precariously on her brow. “You got a letter from your boy, I see,”

Bess came in every Friday, with a new letter or to write her own. The grease-stained walls had brought her luck and good memories. She thought that she could imbue them into the stationary, sending them across the ocean to him.

“Yup,” Bessie said, smiling.

“About damn time,”

She had been sat without a letter for some two weeks now. The patrons and the staff of Charlie’s had been concerned, fretting more than Bessie had herself.

“He was a dear thing, that Powers boy,” Angie said, tucking her pad back into the apron Bess was all too familiar with. There was no need to take her order, Bess ordered the same thing every time. “Two sugars, right?”

No matter how tenderly she tried, the bruise was liable to be bumped or brushed. She tried not to wince at the words.

“I saved you a seat,” He would say, even though she was working. He knew full well she shouldn’t sit during her shift but he would say it anyway and she could never say no, either. His smile had seared itself into her mind, a soft glow that warmed her better than any cup of coffee ever did. He would pour her a cup anyway, from the pot she had brought to refill his own mug. “Two sugars, right?”

That had been before rationing. That had been before the war had been set to boil when it was brewing like the dark roast that soaked every inch of this diner. It had been percolating, slowly dripping and staining their country. He had been a machinist at the shipyard’s graveyard shift and she had been a waitress at his favorite diner, that served coffee with “the prettiest smile I ever saw”. It had been a romance sweeter than any baked good in the case and more poetic than Jeannette’s Shakespeare.

She had been a different person then, just a little girl in her third house in three years. Bessie hadn’t known Mrs. Grisham’s motherly touch or the soft smile of her beau. Bessie had only known how to try and try she did.

the ‘30s hadn’t treated Bessie’s family well but she knew they weren’t special in that aspect. The world had been gripped by the choking thorns of financial strain and the vines had pulled the last strains of life out of her parents. When her father had died, Bessie had thought things would be okay. The farm she had grown up on and the family she had been surrounded with was invincible, or so she had thought. She would grow up under the bows of that oak tree that towered in the yard, swatting the swarms of yellow flies and raking up the leaves in the fall. It was her home.

But Bessie watched her family home disappear from view in the backseat of a second cousin’s car, eight years old and she had never seen her new home before. Her oldest brother, Arthur, was sent some twenty miles to the west, only twelve, to provide labor to yet another distant relative’s floundering farm. Eight years old and Bessie would never see home again.

Elizabeth Ferguson hadn’t been raised to admit defeat. As the Depression stretched on and her bags were packed and unpacked, Bessie kept trying. She made her peace with every attempt, trying hard to be useful, helpful, and liked. Her name provided a blank slate, quickly covered in her current caretaker’s preferred nickname. Elizabeth. Beth. Bess. Bessie. Lizzie. Liz. Eliza. She answered to them all and she didn’t mind, truly she didn’t. She would try her best to be what that family wanted, what that home demanded but she’d end up with the suitcase in her hand and a new route to a new home.

Elizabeth had parted ways with the last relative, the last attempt at home, at the age of eighteen. April had dawned cold that year, 1941. She had found employment with the sticky floors and chrome edgings of Charlie’s, turning up on the Grisham’s doorstep. It had been Carrie, Vera, and Estelle back then. Before the war.

Before the war. She worked hard, shoes wearing thin and bones aching when her head hit the pillows. Elizabeth had worked hard and tried to cling to what she had left, the friends she had gained, and the home she had made. Maybe if she clung to them, the one god thing wouldn’t slide away from her, finding a home in some other harbor.

She hadn’t been looking for him or anyone and yet, they had found each other. Drawn towards each other, blending and blurring in watercolor of perfection. Maybe the best pieces of art were the ones that weren’t intended.

“Has anyone seen to you two?” She had asked, whirling around on the slick tiled floor. They were a grease-stained pair, smelling of oil and sleepless nights like every machinist who crossed the line from Portsmouth for a cup of coffee after work.

“No, ma’am,” The tallest, a thin, rake of a boy who didn’t seem much older than Bessie said. His voice was soft, not loud and course like the usual Shipyard folk. “We are fine to sit for a spell-”

“Nonsense,” Elizabeth shifted the bus bucket of dirty dishes to her hip, bracing it with her arm so she could retrieve the pad and pen from her pocket. “What can I get you two?”

“Ma’am, do you need a hand?” The soft-spoken one made to reach for the bucket but Bessie raised a hand to stop him.  

“It’s not heavy.  I’m stronger than I look.” She smiled. “Now what can I get you two?”

Faces came and went in that little diner on the corner of College and Duke, there were the regulars and there were the strangers. Elizabeth had treated them all the same, a bright smile and a warm plate. It was the least she could do and she knew what it was to need a smile from a stranger or two. These two machinists weren’t the only blue collars who sat in the vinyl booths but she fought to keep her eyes on the paper and not straying towards the one who offered her help. The orders were taken and the niceties exchanged, Bess turned on her heel, biting her lip to keep from grinning.

As she marched towards the kitchen, his companion jabbed and teased, the blush creeping up the soft-spoken boy’s face, settling into his hairline. She

These two machinists quickly became regulars, coming back every Friday. Small talk was made and a rough sketch of their characters was established. Elizabeth had never been one to chase but it seemed the work was being done for her. Mr. Wynn and Mr. Powers returned week after week. As the months dragged by and April came and went, Mr. Powers would linger.

“Where are you from, Mr. Powers?”

“Clincho, ma’am,”

“I’ve got family out that way,” Elizabeth had said. “How long you been in the area?”

“I’ve been in Portsmouth for about a year now, I reckon,”

“I’ve an aunt in Portsmouth. Over on Bains Creek,”

“Where don’t you have family, ma’am?’

“The moon,”

He had smiled, bright and warm. Elizabeth felt like she had taken a warm cup of coffee and held it tight to her chest, fingers warming on the ceramic. The dimple on her left cheek appeared in response.

“It’s Elizabeth,” She said. “Elizabeth Ferguson.”

“Darrell Powers,”

Elizabeth had never thought that sharing a smile could be something so special. She had smiled at hundreds of patrons, offering a grin here and there until the muscles in her face hurt, all for a few extra quarters thrown on the table. Elizabeth had never expected a tip from Mr. Powers, or Shifty, as he said the boys called him. Mr. Powers, he remained to her, even on their tentative agreement to a show at the cinema on some Friday night. Mr. Powers, he would be, until he walked her home from her shift, offering her his jacket in the rainstorm that sent them racing towards the nearest porch. There, standing on a stranger’s porch, in the April rainshower, Elizabeth wrapped his jacket tighter around her disheveled uniform, breathing in the smell of cigarette smoke and oil. There, the rain beating down around them and his hair slick against his blushing face, he asked her if he could call her Elizabeth.

“Liz, Bess, I don’t care,” She said.

“Which do you like better, ma’am?”

“My brother used to call me Lizzie,” She admitted.

His eyes studied her like she was some fine painting he had spent hours perfecting and the name on his lips was the signature at the bottom, declaring the work as his. The colors could run and the ink would fade but Elizabeth Ferguson would cling to that coat in its smokey comfort. She had worn it as the rain had lightened up enough to begin their route to the Grisham front door. She wore it on the front porch and burrowed her hot face into the leather as Vera pounced on her, pounding her with questions and squeals.

Elizabeth Ferguson knew what it was to lose thing but Lizzie was willing to try and hold onto this boy as tight as she could. Lizzie was going to try her damn near hardest. This boy with his soft words and bright smile would be taken from her kicking and screaming. She allowed herself to be lulled into a sense of security, taking the two sugars in her coffee and his offered hand too. Lizzie was all bright paints and newly sharpened pencils and Shifty Powers was all steady hands and fresh paper, the perfect medium for this new home Lizzie dared dream of. She was ready to start something new, something untouched by the inevitable goodbyes.

Then the bubbling brew of Europe had overflowed into the spitting flames. Steam rose and Pear Harbor shattered like a ceramic mug on hard tiled floors. Vera left, caught up in the theatrics of secrets and intelligence and Carrie joined up, bringing her soft words and soothing hands to the wounded. Estelle left her school and allowed her talented mind to be lent to the Navy, putting together pieces of puzzles and breaking codes like they were the Sunday crossword. Lizzie wasn’t brave or smart or soft like her friends. Elizabeth Ferguson was a stumbling, bumbling trier and she grasped for the remaining pieces of that home she had searched for. She had spent years searching for family in the faces of strangers, reaching for that oak tree and rope swing in houses that would never be her home and she wasn’t about to lose it. Not to war, not to an Army, and most definitely not now.

“Don’t worry about me,” he had said, gripping her hands in his own calloused ones. He had volunteered, given himself up willingly. Lizzie could have screamed. The Airborne had terrified her, the planes and the silk chutes were terrifying. Their kiss on the Grisham Hall’s front porch had tasted like possibility and tears. He left for Georgia that morning, leaving her in Norfolk with only a pen and an empty hand.

She had told him she wouldn’t if he promised not to worry about her. She had tried not to be worried but maybe he had every reason to be worried about her.  

“Bess?” Angie said again, snapping her fingers. “You good, sugar?”

“Yes, sorry,” Elizabeth said, smiling sheepishly. This diner could pull her back when she didn’t have a thought for the present.

Angie shook her head. “Baby, I think they are working you too hard over there,”

“There” was the mailroom on base. “They” were the WAVES, summoning Bess to their cause. She had joined up in April of ‘43. He had been gone for a week and Bess couldn’t stare at the booth where he had once sat for hours. She didn’t mind the work, and she told Angie so. Being surrounded by all those letters and being the reason soldiers and families heard from their loved ones was the only thing that kept Elizabeth sane. She could try and offer some peace to the fellow fretting wives and friends who longed for a letter, a word, or even a telegram that told them that he was safe.

Angie wandered back to the counter, Elizabeth’s order safely scribbled in the confines of her mind, leaving her with her thoughts and her pen. Staring at the traffic that passed outside the window, her fingers gripped the pen, sketching out the twist of his head and the twinkle of his eyes as she remembered it. As his face burned into her mind.

She didn’t draw him as often as she wanted to. Elizabeth’s sketchpads were filled with the same sketches over and over, page after page, burned into her memory. She didn’t have to look at a reference anymore, the oak trees and the slopes of the house never changed. The smiling faces and the bright eyes as she remembered them didn’t shift. Every so often, a new face would grace the pages but that wasn’t a usual occurrence and was a great honor when a stranger or new face caught her attention. Flipping through the sketchpad, Elizabeth saw his face etched into the pages. She only put pen to paper and chronicled his features on the days she missed him the most. He haunted her more than she drew, hours spent with her finger on the desk tracing out his smile.

“They said you’d be here,” Jeannette Edwards stumbled through the door, arms full of books as she slid into the seat across from Bess. In the few weeks that Jeannette had lived in Grisham Hall, she had slowly acclimated herself to the Norfolk streets.

“Jeannie,” Bess smiled, closing her sketchpad. “Estelle still working?”

Jeannette nodded. “She said to meet you here and that we’d take the bus home.”

Bess folded her letter, sliding her belongings to the side so that Angie could place her order on the sticky tabletop. The mug of coffee, two sugars carefully rationed and dissolved, and the apple pie. Offering Jeannette the fork, she encouraged her to take a bite. Bess was passionate about oil pastels and pastries, making it her mission in life to share those passions with her friends. When a pie or a drawing was offered, Bess’s trust soon followed.

“Why do you rank pie, if you don’t mind me asking?” Jeannette asked, using the side of the fork to cut a piece off of the wedge of glistening golden pie.

“Every home is the same but the apple pie is different everywhere you go.” Bess explained.“Mrs. G’s is third best, this is the second-best apple pie.”

“Who is the first place?”

“Mine,” Bess smiled.  

“You are multi-talented then,” Jeannette said around the mouthful of second-best pie, dipping her head towards the sketchbook she had abandoned.

“I just doodled,” Bess shook her head but she offered the book to Jeannette all the same. Watching her thumb through the pages, Bess’s heart was wedged firmly in her throat, not daring to hope for any kind words or critique.

“These are beautiful,” Jeannette said, her fingers tracing the lines that intricate leaves that had first taken hours and now took a matter of minutes. “Where is it?”

“That’s my family’s farm.”

“You must visit often to sketch it so much,” Jeannette said.

Bess smiled, taking the sketchpad back and tucking it into her bag. Reaching for the cup of coffee, she stared into its dark depths. Maybe Jeannette knew the words to describe how she felt. Jeannette was better at words than Elizabeth.

“It’s hard to forget,” She admitted.

A knock on the window beside their booth made both women jump, the fork clattering on the shared pie plate. Estelle’s face pressed against the window as she beckoned them out, her lipstick faded after the long day hunched over the papers and codes. Estelle Tran was rarely seen with a hair out of place, much less with her signature red lipstick anything but striking against her pale skin. Bess insisted she looked like a real version of Snow White, something that Estelle had always shake her head at. Disney’s princess hadn’t been college-educated, she reminded them.

Bess dropped the money on the table and gathered up her purse and hat, waving goodbye with her fistful of gloves to the cooks and the regulars who still knew her name.

“See you next Friday, Bess,” Angie called as the door swung shut behind them.

“How was work, Stell?” Elizabeth asked, looping her arm through her friend’s as she tugged the gloves over her graphite-smudged hands.

“Heinous,”

The disheveled appearance of the usually put-together Estelle was indication enough. Bessie nodded.

“Let’s go home,” she said.

It was, in moments such as this, when rest is most needed that the world decides to test you.

The bus pulled up to its spot, just as it always did. It was a route that Bess was familiar with, a routine that she welcomed. Fridays were spent at the diner until Estelle got off of work. They would then walk home or, if particularly exhausted, take the bus. Bessie hopped inside without hesitation, ready to sit in a seat and watch the world pass by while she finished the letter she had drafted in her mind. The bus driver, a new face, said nothing as she entered. But, on the days when rest is most needed, inconvenience is the Devil’s worst weapon.

“We don’t let your people on,” The bus driver said, the passengers peering over the edge of the nest, not daring to disagree.

“I beg your pardon?” Bess looked back, seeing that he was not referring to her in her American blue uniform but Estelle. Dear Estelle with her features nothing like the usual faces of Norfolk, Virginia.

Jeannette’s mouth hung wide and Estelle froze, foot perched on the step. Her face fell and Bessie could almost hear it shatter on the pavement. The Grisham girls had been informed that Estelle’s family hailed from the Indochina islands in the Pacific and had been in America since Teddy Roosevelt’s days. She was most ardently NOT the enemy. Mrs. Grisham would sniff indignantly at such a mention and Vera, before she had left, had been known to glower at anyone who dared say such a “fucking disgusting thing”.

Bessie stepped forward, ready to give the man the facts but a hand encircled her arm, pulling her out of the bus and back on the pavement before the doors swung open. Swearing so loudly and vehemently that Mrs. Grisham would have been sent to an early grave, Bessie aimed a kick at the tire of the bus before it sped off, sans three passengers.

“It’s fine,” Estelle said.

“You aren’t Japanese!” Elizabeth growled, her shoes stomping on the pavement. Bess was a trier and she was a fighter. She was ready to try fighting for Estelle, even if that meant throwing a fist at this burly bus driver.

“It’s fine, Bess,” Estelle said.

“That was a despicable thing to do,” Jeannette fumed.

“Let’s just go home,” Estelle muttered, squashing her hat more firmly over her brow and leading the way down the street.

What good was it, Bessie grumbled to herself as she followed Estelle, to serve your country when you were still considered the enemy?

Estelle worked harder than any man and she had been working hard for many years. She had been a teacher and now fiddled with codes that boggled even the male mind. And yet, she was only seen as the enemy. Estelle Tran, by seniority or by necessity, had taken the unofficial role of den mother among the women of Grisham Hall. On the third floor, nothing went on without Estelle knowing. She guarded the girls like they were her own, a grim mother hen who warded off broken hearts and bruised feelings with wise words and her own experience. Bessie loved Estelle like she was a sister and she would have gladly punched that bus driver if she wasn’t wearing the uniform of the US WAVES. Women’s work in the war was precarious enough as it was.

Elizabeth didn’t say a word, as she slipped her hand into Estelle’s, gripping it tightly as they marched through the streets of Norfolk, their heads held as high as they could manage. She knew she couldn’t fight to change every mind or man in this country but Bessie Ferguson was a trier, through and through. Home may not have looked like that oak tree or the face she had sketched so often but she’d hold onto it as long as she could.

#world war two women #grisham hall for ladies #estelle tran #Bessie Ferguson #bessie x shifty #jeannette edwards #no ordinary time #bessie backstory #flora skye writes #tildy writes #band of brothers fanfiction #hestias of the homefront

[pancakeke]

OK continuing this post on today’s events (1/6)

Twitter gave Trump a fun new banner

but then deleted 3 of his tweets and gave him a 12 hour ban. They said if he does it again he’s suspended.

Facebook deleted Trump’s video. An internal memo was sent to employees regarding the situation.

Rudy Giuliani, Trump’s lawyer, called for a “trial by combat” this morning.

Trump did not call in the National Guard, Pence had to do it with Congress. Trump resisted calling them in.

The woman shot in the Capitol has died.

DC police chief says rioters deployed ‘chemical irritants on police’ to gain access to US Capitol.

Pipe bombs were found at the headquarters for the DNC, RNC and grounds of the United States Capitol. They were detonated by bomb squads.

Rioters were stealing items from the Capitol building.

A rioter was seen with zip ties, potentially signaling he wanted to take hostages.

Rioters seized and destroyed equipment belonging to the Associated Press. They also turned a cable into a noose.

Police gingerly helped a member of the rioters out of the Capitol building and down its steps while holding her hand. Several videos have been posted showing police collaborating with rioters.

A Pro-Trump march took place in Tokyo.

Senator Tom Carper (D - DE) doesn’t believe any action should be taken against insurrectionists within the government.

Rep Michael Burgess (R - TX) has sponsored Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis’ bill to crack down on protests.

Virginia has issued a State of Emergency, along with a curfew.

First lady's chief of staff, former WH press secretary, and one of the longest serving Trump staffers Stephanie Grisham resigned over the protest.

WH Deputy Press Secretary Sarah Matthews resigned.

WH social secretary Rickie Niceta resigned.

National security adviser Robert O'Brien, deputy national security adviser Matt Pottinger and deputy chief of staff Chris Liddell are all considering resigning.

Trump banned Pence chief of staff Marc Short from the WH.

Former WH Director of Communications urges Trump supporters to admit they lost.

Newly sworn in Rep Derrick Evans (R - VW) was among those who broke into the Capitol and posted video of himself doing so.

Former PA. state lawmaker Rick Saccone was among those who stormed the Capitol.

Rep Mary Miller (R - IL) posted a video of herself at a rally on the Capitol where a speaker brought up a way in which “Hitler was right”.

Only 15 or so people were arrested in DC so far. In comparison, 14,000+ arrests were made during the George Floyd protests.

Incomplete lists of:

People condemning the rioters: GOP Communication Director Michael Ahrens, Acting Attorney General Jeffrey A. Rosen, UK Prime Minister Boris Johnson lol, Rep Elise Stefanik (R - NY), Former WH Chief of Staff Reince Priebus

People who have issued statements against Trump’s behavior: Swedish Prime Minister Stefan Löfven, Trump's former Sec of Defense Jim Mattis, former president Barack Obama, Rep Liz Cheney (R - WY), Senator Richard Burr (R - NC), Former homeland security adviser Thomas Bossert, Sen Ben Sasse (R - NE), former President George W Bush, Sen Ed Markey (D - MA)

People calling for Trump to be impeached again: Rep Carolyn Bourdeaux (D - GA), Rep David Cicilline (D - RI), Rep Ilhan Omar (D - MN), supposedly 7 reps total but I can’t find everyone

People calling for use of the 25th amendment: Lucy McBath (D - GA), the National Association of Manufacturers

Congress floor staff rescued the electoral ballots before the rioters broke into the building. Congress reconvened to finish counting the electoral votes. DC metro police are patrolling the halls. Photo. Pence spoke out against the rioters. McConnell called them an “insurrection” while condemning their behavior.

Twitch removed the PogChamp emote after the real PogChamp guy was saying dumb shit on Twitter in support of the rioters.

And probably more but this is so long.

#current events #long post #bignotes

[unofficialkfamtranscripts]

King Falls AM - Episode Two: That Book Is Overdue, President Lincoln!

View in Google Docs

[Podcast intro music]

Mayor Grisham [”sincere” politician voice] Stay vigilant, but most importantly: stay hopeful. And Tim, wherever you may be, just know that your friends, family, and everyone in King Falls is looking forward to your eventual, and safe return.

[KFAM rock intro music]

Sammy Good evening, I’m Sammy Stevens and you’re listening to 660 on the AM dial. Welcome to King Falls AM. I’m here with Ben Arnold-

Ben Again?

Sammy Yes, again, Ben! Uh my producer-slash-cohost, emphasis on cohost. Uh, that voice we just heard from was Mayor Grisham, of course, speaking out about the recent disappearance of Tim Jenson.

Ben If you or anyone you know has any information about Tim’s disappearance, we urge you to reach out to the King Falls Sheriff Department.

Sammy Now, on a lighter note, we’ve got a big show tonight, folks. We’ve got an interview with Emily Potter, who will be telling us all about the grand re-opening of the King Falls Library in just a few short days.

Ben [dully] Plus, a call from Doctor Raúl, later in the hour.

Sammy I can hear the excitement in your voice, Ben. You’ve got your Gunnin’-for-Network-News Underoos on today.

Ben Any network but Channel 13, Sammy! [quieter but with feeling] They can suck it.

Sammy Now, before we bring in the lovely Miss Potter, we’re going to—

Ben [dubious and laughing] Is she lovely?

Sammy Well, I mean, I haven’t met her, but I assume she’s a lovely person. Small-town librarian and all.

Ben Lovely— personality? Gotcha.

Sammy *slight laugh* It counts.

Ben That’s what they say.

Sammy So, okay. Before we bring in Miss Potter—

Ben Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t use any adjectives that time.

Sammy Ben, is there something on your mind?

Ben Not at all. It’s just that, our old librarian, Mrs.Kilpatrick, was not what you’d call a lovelyyy… *pff* anything. Lady got her scholarship in war-torn Nazi Germany, so I’m a bit apprehensive to call anyone running the town bookshack “lovely.” Can I just say? for the record? that Mrs. Kilpatrick used to place the “learn-to-draw” books in the reference section? [getting worked up] If anything, they were self-help books, and if a kid wants to check one out- learn how to draw Droopy the damn Dog- then maybe, they, should let him.

Sammy *chuckle* You’re not wrong, Ben, but maybe—

Ben [still worked up] I haven’t told this to anyone ever, but when I was a kid, [slightly quieter like sharing a secret] I was walkin’ down the aisles, and I saw that old whisper-Nazi put “Mein Kampf” in the children’s section, and she—

Sammy [cuts Ben off] Maybe! we can ask Miss Potter her opinions on the King Falls Hitler youth, uh, as well as opening up the phone lines to you, dear listeners, right after this commercial break.

[jaunty, polka-esque music]

Ernie [New York accent] ‘ey, I’m Ernie. Maybe your car your truck ain’t runnin’ so good. Maybe you thinkin’ you need a new one! I’m ‘ere to tell youse, that ain’t always the case. Maybe all you need is bring your car your truck down to Ernie’s Mufflers! Maybe you ask yourself, “ERnie, whateveR Do You mEan?” What I mean is: bring your car down to Ernie’s Mufflers. We’ll have a trained and/or certified technician check on all your whosies, your whatsies, and maybe get you and your car your truck feelin’ good again.

[music stops]

Announcer Ernie’s Mufflers! Come on down and ask about our King Falls AM discount.

[KFAM theme]

Sammy Welcome back folks, and thanks for tuning in to King Falls AM. Sitting in the studio with us this evening is— can I say lovely now, Ben?

Ben [awestruck] Stunning.

Sammy Is the lovely Miss Emily Potter. She’s here to talk more about the town’s library’s Grand Re-opening later this week, is that correct?

Emily It is! Aand thank you for having me on, Sammy, and Ben! I’ve been listening to you every night!

Ben [still awed] Beautiful.

Sammy Well, we certainly appreciate it. Now- if you don’t mind, catch me up to speed on why our fair town’s library was closed in the first place.

Ben [murmured]Gorgeous.

Sammy [softly prompting] Ben?

Ben *gasps* Hey! Sammy.

Emily Well, the library was closed due to renovation. It’s an older building, and—

Ben  [fast tour-guide-voice] Built by Francois Swindle, 1912. Largest brick-and-mortar structure in King Falls until 1918 when City Hall was built.

Emily Oh my gosh! you are exactly right, Ben! So smart.

Sammy Y’know, I’ve driven past it. It is a magnificent building, uh- So they’re just replacing some older fixtures, and what-have-you.

Emily Oh no, the top floor of the library was set on fire.

Sammy I’m sorry, purposely? Wh-who tries to burn down a library?

Emily Unfortunately that mystery is yet to be solved, but not for lack of trying. Sheriff Gunderson and Deputy Troy have been hard at work these past few months. Though, I think the bigger problem was the disappearance of Mrs. Kilpatrick.

Sammy [hold-up-now voice] Wait a second. The library was set ablaze. The old librarian, Miss Kilpatrick—

Ben God rest her soul.

Sammy -has disappeared. What is going on here? I mean, a-are there any leads? Y’know, other than Ben?

Ben [nervously] Hah! Good one, Sammy! *nervous laugh* What a kidder! I’m no-I’m not- I’m not sure why you’d say that, at this time.

Sammy Two words. Book. Shack. Uh, but- but I mean, seriously, folks. How many people are missing in this town?

Ben *clears throat* Emily- uh, c-can I call you Emily?

Emily Please do!

Ben Ca-can you tell the listeners anything that might- help shed some light on these subjects?

Emily Well, for weeks leading up to the fire, Mrs. Kilpatrick had been having… visions.

Sammy [skeptical] Visions.

Emily Yes. To the point where upper management had been talking about retirement. [hesitantly] I… I don’t know if we should be talking about this, with the investigation ongoing and all.

Sammy I think—

Ben [overly earnest] Maybe it could help, Emily- your words, your magnificent words, could be our best- last chance at saving- dear Mrs. Kilpatrick.

Emily [she sounds like a smile] You’re right, Benny.

Sammy Um…

Emily The vision she had was by the checkout desk? At first it was a shadowy figure carrying a book. Upon closer inspection— she realized it was actually [timidly] President Lincoln, who, she believed, was trying to check out a book.

Sammy [very skeptically] President- Abraham Lincoln.

Ben [mocking] Sixteenth president of the United States, geeeez Sammy, catch up, will ya?

Emily This went on every night at closing for close to a week. Until the second vision appeared.

Ben Go on.

Emily She watched from the second floor as President Lincoln brought the book to the front desk.

Sammy [clearly not buying it] Just by chance, uh, what book does a deceased president of the United States try to check out?

Ben “Twelve Years a Slave”, duhh.

Sammy Alright, too easy, Ben. How ‘bout, uh, “How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.”

Emily I don’t think-

Ben I like it, but I think Lincoln is probably more of a “Who Moved My Cheese?[1]” type.

Emily Privacy and all— I-I couldn’t say even if I wanted to.

Ben Yeah Sammy, privacy and all!

Sammy [sarcastic chagrin] Of course. Library-patient privilege, gotcha. So, please continue, Miss Potter.

Emily So, she watched from afar, quietly putting away the periodicals. Then, she felt a wind rush past her to the ledge. That’s, when she saawww—

Sammy What did she see?

Emily A vision of John Wilkes-Booth. Peering over the ledge, watching the president as he waited for a librarian that never came.

Ben Fascinating.

Sammy Okay—

Ben Oh here comes Mr. Skeptic- [aside] he didn’t believe in General Abilene— Lemme guess Sammy, you don’t believe in Presidents of the United States either? The Great Emancipator.

Sammy [peeved] Oh Ben, will you stop it. I’m just wary- that a ghost of—

Ben and Emily Vision.

Sammy Right. Eh- That a vision of President Lincoln and his assassin would be wandering the halls of King Falls Public Library, that’s all.

Emily I understand your reticence to believe in the visions, Sammy. I thought the same thing. But, as I’m sure as Ben can attest, Mrs. Kilpatrick wasn’t one to—

Ben If she said she saw it? She saw it.

Sammy So, she has visions. Um, what does that have to do with the fire?

Emily Well- Mrs. Kilpatrick actually lived in a small apartment in the library.

Sammy In the library?! Ugh, that might be creepier than the visions.

Emily She complained to management about the noises, the visits. Apparently, there were arguments—

Sammy Arguments? Between Lincoln and Booth?

Ben So they were keeping Old Lady Kilpatrick awake at night.

Sammy And, y’know, then Kilpatrick gets fed up. Uh, there’s no Peter Venkman[2] to call, so she does what she can do and sets the place on fire?

Emily Well, I don’t know if Mrs. Kilpatrick would’ve done that.

Ben All due respect? Oh, she would have!

Sammy [glibly] I think it’s cut and dry, actually, you know? Maybe we should call Deputy Troy and solve this cold case.

Ben Well, what do you think happened, Emily?

Emily I have to assume that Booth did what he could to get to the president again. Unofficially, of course. Ah— god, we- we shouldn’t even talk about this with the investigation and all.

Sammy Alright, well, that said, we’re gonna open up the phone lines now. We’re talkin’ about the library opening back up later this week, uh, after some difficulties; maybe you’ve got a question for Emily!

Ben Maybe you’ve seen the visions in the library as well, we-we’d love to hear about that.

Sammy Or that too. Uh, You’ve heard our story, now let’s hear yours. 424-279-3858.

Ben Or tweet us @KingFallsAM. Line 12, uh, wouldn’t give a name.

Sammy You’re on King Falls AM.

Line 12 Yeah, I’ve got a question for Emily.

Emily Hi!

Line 12 So let’s say that… my friend checked out a book last year, and- due to the fire and the closing- wasn’t able to return it on time. Are overdue charges being forgiven?

Emily If you couldn’t return it due to our renovation, then, I’m sure we can overlook it.

Line 12 Cool!

Sammy Thanks for the question.

Line 12 Wait! I’ve got another question for Emily!

Emily Oh! Okay?

Line 12 Are you seeing anybod–

[click, dial tone]

Ben Next caller! Uh, we’ve got line 4, Cynthia.

Sammy Hello Cynthia, you’re on the air.

Cynthia [Cynthia has a high-pitched, nasally, persistent “I want to speak to your manager” voice] From what I gathered on this interview as well as the news report that Channel 13 ran—

Ben *snickers* You shouldn’t listen to them, Cynthia.

Cynthia Excuse me Ben! Excuse me!

Sammy Cynthia—

Cynthia From what I’m gathering, the library- if you wanna call it that- is a Despot of Desolation. Arson? Check. “Fifty Shades of Grey”? Check. Presidential assassins? Cheeeck!

Emily Cynthia, I believe—

Cynthia What are you, twelve? And you’re running the show? Could we at least get an adult to watch over that Den of Depravity?

Sammy Cynthia, I think we could probably argue that the worst of the library’s problems are behind it.

Ben This is a new chapter in its history! *stutters* Did you see what I did there, Emily?

Emily *laughs* You’re so funny!

Cynthia Oh my god. Hose those two down, Sammy. It’s unbearable.

Sammy Cynthia, did you have a question regarding the library?

Cynthia Yes. My boys are ten and six. Does the revamped library have a kids’ corner?

Emily It most certainly does!

Cynthia [snooty] Are you overseeing it?

Emily Yes I am!

Cynthia *scoffs* [click]

[dial tone]

Ben Weee’ve got line 8, Sammy.

Sammy King Falls AM.

Line 8 Hey King Falls. Long-time listener. First-time caller.

Ben Long time?

Sammy Uh- The station appreciates the patrionage.[sic]

Line 8 I don’t listen to the station really, I- [low, “seductive” tone] I listen to you.

[click, dial tone]

Emily Oh.

Sammy Okaaay.

Ben Yikes. Uh, try 14, Sammy.

Sammy Good evening, welcome to the show.

Line 14 [shaky, old-woman voice] I saw the president.

Ben Oh! Another sighting!

Sammy Ma’am, are we talking about President Lincoln at King Falls Library? or President Obama on Fox News type’a thing?

Line 14 Lincoln.

Ben [triumphantly] Hoh!

Emily Mrs. Kilpatrick?

Probably Mrs. Kilpatrick I saw him! [click]

[dial tone]

Sammy Well terrific, I mean, I didn’t need to sleep tonight anyways, it’s fine.

Ben Uh, one more before commercial. We- we’ve got Greg, line 1.

Sammy Greg, do ya have a question for us?

Greg [def. Line 12 from earlier]  Yes, this question is for Emily? If a man, such as- my friend- wanted to court you, would you be availabl—

Ben [click, dial tone]  Pay some bills, Sammy.

Sammy Emily, thank you so much for being here with us tonight- enlightening us with the tales of the library.

Emily Oh it was my pleasure. I just want all the listeners to know that, while we can’t wish the visions away? they more than likely will stay away from us in crowds, so please come join me for the re-opening ceremonies this Thursday at 10AM!

Ben I will be there.

Emily You’re a sweetheart, Benny. Thanks for having me on, guys.

[door shutting]

Ben [excitedly] Any time, Emily!

Sammy She’s gone, “Benny.”

Ben [hostile] Ben.

Sammy Oh! So only Emily can call you Benny.

Ben Sh-she didn’t call me… “Benny”. *scoff/laugh* You’re ridiculous.

Sammy Oh yeah, that’s me. Look, I get it. I mean, she’s a very attractive girl, and you guys hit it off—

Ben [pleased] We did, didn’t we.

Sammy But really, she called you Benn—

Ben Don’t

Sammy *chuckles* That’s the Ben we know and love, folks.

Ben Yeah, yeah.

Sammy Alright! Now after this quick message from our sponsors, we’re gonna be back and we’re gonna be talking with Dr. Raúl from the King Falls Chiropractic Center and getting daily tips to keep our backs on the straight and narrow. And I’m sure Ben will be just as flirtatious with the good doctor.

Ben *tsk* [lightly] Is he lovely too?

[outtro music]

[CREDITS]

References:

[1] “Who Moved My Cheese?” - per Wikipedia: “Who Moved My Cheese? An Amazing Way to Deal with Change in Your Work and in Your Life”, published on September 8, 1998, is a motivational business fable. The text describes change in one's work and life, and four typical reactions to those changes by two mice and two "Littlepeople", during their hunt for cheese.”

[2] Peter Venkman - Dr. Peter Venkman is one of the original Ghostbusters. He has doctorates in both psychology and parapsychology. Played by Bill Murray

#King Falls AM #King Falls #KFAM #sammy stevens #ben arnold #KFAM transcripts #KFAM ep2 #emily potter #cynthia higgenbaum #greg frickard

[theliterateape]

Ten Shocking Revelations from Stephanie Grisham’s Book!

written by Joe Janes

Stephanie Ann Grisham served as press secretary and as communications director for the Trump administration from July 2019 to April 2020.  She served as Chief of Staff and Press Secretary for the first lady of the United States, Melania Trump from 2020 to 2021, and previously as her Press Secretary from 2017 to 2019. 

She was the first White House press secretary in American history to hold no press conferences.  

She resigned on January 6, 2021 following the 2021 storming of the United States Capitol.  Her book about her time working in the Trump administration is I'll Take Your Questions Now, except it’s a book. You still don’t get to ask her anything.

 10 Shocking Revelations from her Book.

 -       Vladimir Putin hired a pretty interpreter to distract Trump at a summit and make him easier to manipulate.

-       I’m pretty.

-       It was a mistake to work for Trump and I regret enabling him, but, look, a book!

-       Trump tweets a lot, calls news shows,  and talks to reporters on his own. He doesn’t notice when you’re not doing your job as press secretary. 

-       I like horses.

-       Trump wanted the third debate with Biden to be in a cage with Ivanka being a ring girl. 

-       Eric Trump had a plan to live in the walls of the White House to convince the Bidens the place is haunted and make them leave. I also believe this plan may have been implemented by Eric acting alone. Has anyone seen Eric, lately? 

-       Melania Trump’s greatest achievement as First Lady was building a tennis court. 

-       Please help me pay for my new kitchen. 

-       Late at night, Trump likes to wander the halls of the White House in his boxers with his bathrobe open wearing a MAGA hat and sloppily eating burritos handed to him by secret service agents.

Stephanie Grisham’s book went on sale yesterday. Please don’t buy it.

#Stephanie Grisham #Trump #comedy #satire

[freenewstoday]

New Post has been published on https://freenews.today/2021/01/07/transportation-secretary-elaine-chao-is-first-trump-cabinet-member-to-quit-after-riot/

Transportation Secretary Elaine Chao is first Trump Cabinet member to quit after riot

U.S. Transportation Secretary Elaine Chao resigned Thursday because of the mob attack on the Capitol fueled by President Donald Trump‘s rhetoric, saying the riot had “deeply troubled” her.

Chao is the wife of Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, and is the first Trump Cabinet member to quit in connection with Wednesday’s chaos.

Her departure came after several other resignations by Trump administration officials on the heels of the riot.

“Yesterday, our country experienced a traumatic and entirely avoidable event as supporters of the President stormed the Capitol building following a rally he addressed,” Chao said in a statement.

“As I’m sure is the case with many of you, it has deeply troubled me in a way that I simply cannot set aside,” Chao said.

Chao’s husband, along with other Republican members of Congress, had deeply angered Trump by refusing to block the confirmation of the election of Joe Biden as the next president.

Earlier Thursday, Tyler Goodspeed, the acting chairman of the Council of Economic Advisors, resigned over the violent invasion of the Capitol complex, which occured during those Electoral College voting counting proceedings in Congress.

“I can confirm Tyler’s resignation effective today,” said a CEA spokeswoman.

“The events at the U.S. Capitol yesterday led Tyler to conclude his position was untenable.”

Later Thursday, Eric Dreiband, the assistant attorney general in charge of the Civil Rights Division of the Justice Department announced he was leaving office Friday.

Also leaving is Trump’s deputy national security advisor Matt Pottinger, according to a tweet Thursday by National Security Advisor Robert O’Brien.

Earlier Thursday, Trump’s former chief of staff Mick Mulvaney said he resigned as special envoy to Northern Ireland because of the riot.

“I called [Secretary of State] Mike Pompeo last night to let him know I was resigning from that. I can’t do it. I can’t stay,” Mulvaney said during an interview on CNBC’s “Squawk Box.”

“Those who choose to stay, and I have talked with some of them, are choosing to stay because they’re worried the president might put someone worse in,” Mulvaney said.

But he also said that other officials may quit.

On Wednesday, first lady Melania Trump’s chief of staff Stephanie Grisham — who is the former White House press secretary — resigned in part due to the riot.

Deputy White House Press Secretary Sarah Matthews resigned because of the incident.

“As someone who worked in the halls of Congress I was deeply disturbed by what I saw today. I’ll be stepping down from my role, effective immediately,” Matthews said a statement, according to NBC News.

There were growing calls Thursday for President Trump to be removed from office, either through Vice President Mike Pence invoking the Constitution’s 25th Amendment, or through impeachment by Congress.

Sen. Chuck Schumer, the New York Democrat who is on the verge of becoming Senate Majority leader, on Thursday said that Trump needs to be booted from office “immediately.”

The president has refused to concede that he lost to Biden, claiming without actual evidence that he was the victim of widespread ballot fraud.

During a rally outside the White House on Wednesday, Trump encouraged thousands of supporters to march to the Capitol, where Pence was about to preside over the confirmation of Biden’s victory in the Electoral College vote.

A mob of Trump supporters then swarmed around and through the Capitol complex, invading lawmakers’ offices and the Senate chambers. Four people died in connection with the incident, one of whom was fatally shot by Capitol police.

Two improvised explosive devices were found during the melee. U.S. Capitol Police Chief Steven Sund said the reported pipe bombs were found to be hazardous. They were disabled and turned over to the FBI for further analysis.

In the wake of the invasion, Trump backers have suggested, again without evidence, that the riot was the work of anti-Trump activists known as Antifa.

Biden was confirmed by Congress early Thursday morning as the winner of the presidential election. He is due to be sworn into office on Jan. 20.

Source

#Breaking News: Politics #business news #Donald Trump #Elaine Chao #Joe Biden #Laws #Melania Trump #Mike Pompeo #politics #Steven Mnuchin

[kingfallshistoricallibrary-blog]

Episode Two: That Book is Overdue, President Lincoln.

Grisham: Stay vigilant, but most importantly, stay hopeful. And Tim, wherever you may be, just know that your friends, family, and everyone in King Falls is looking forward to your eventual and safe return.

[KFAM music]

Sammy: Good evening, I’m Sammy Stevens and you’re listening to 660 on the AM dial. Welcome to King Falls AM. I’m here with Ben Arnold.

Ben: Again?

S: Yes, again, Ben! My producer slash co-host, emphasis on co-host. That voice we just heard from was mayor Grisham, of course, speaking out about the recent disappearance of Tim Jensen.

B: If you or anyone you know has any information about Tim’s disappearance, we urge you to reach out to the King Falls sheriff department.

S: Now, on a lighter note, we’ve got a big show tonight folks. We’ve got an interview with Emily Potter, who’ll be telling us all about the grand reopening of the King Falls library in just a few short days.

B: Plus a call from Dr. Raul, later in the hour.

S: I can hear the excitement in your voice Ben. You’ve got your gunning for network news underoos on today.

B: Any network but channel 13, Sammy. They can suck it.

S: Now, before we bring in the lovely Miss Potter, we’re going to-

B: Is she lovely?

S: Well, I mean, I haven’t met her, but I assume she’s a lovely person, small town librarian and all.

B: Lovely...personality? Gotcha.

S: It counts.

B: That’s what they say.

S: So, okay, before we bring in Miss Potter-

B: Couldn’t help but notice you didn’t use any adjectives that time.

S: Ben, is there something on your mind?

B: Not at all! It’s just that, our old librarian, Mrs. Kilpatrick, was not what you’d call a lovely...anything. Lady got her scholarship in war torn nazi Germany, so I’m a bit apprehensive to call anyone running the town book shack lovely. Can I just say, for the record, that Mrs. Kilpatrick used to place the learn to draw books in the reference section. If anything, they’re self help books, and if a kid wants to check one out, learn how to draw droopy the damn dog, then maybe they should let him.

S: *chuckles* You’re not wrong, Ben, but maybe-

B: I haven’t told this to anyone, ever, but when I was a kid, I was walking down the aisles, and I saw that old whisper nazi put Mein Kampf in the children’s section, and she-

S: Maybe we can ask Miss Potter her opinions on the King Falls Hitler youth, as well as opening up the phone lines to you dear listeners, right after this commercial break.

Ernie: Hey, I'm Ernie. Maybe your car, your truck, ain’t running so good. Maybe youse thinking you need a new one. I’m here to tell youse that it ain’t always the case. Maybe all you need is bring your car your truck down to Ernie’s mufflers. Maybe ask yourself, Ernie, whatever do you mean? What I mean is, bring your car down to Ernie’s mufflers. We’ll have a trained and/or certified technician check out all your whosies, your whatsies, and maybe get you and your car, your truck feeling good again.

Announcer: Ernie’s mufflers, come on down and ask about our King Falls AM discount.

S: Welcome back, folks, and thanks for tuning in to King Falls AM, sitting in the studio with us is, can I say lovely now Ben?

B: Stunning.

S: Is the lovely Miss Emily Potter. She’s here to talk more about the town’s library grand reopening later this week, is that correct?

E: It is, and thank you for having me on Sammy, and Ben, I’ve been listening to you every night.

B: Beautiful.

S: Well, we certainly appreciate it. Now, if you don’t mind, catch me up to speed on why our fair town’s library was closed in the first place.

B: Gorgeous.

S: Ben.

B: Hey, Sammy.

E: Well, the library was closed due to renovation. It’s an older building and-

B: Built by Francois Swindle, 1912, largest brick and mortar structure in King Falls until 1918, when city hall was built.

E: Oh my gosh you are exactly right Ben. So smart.

S: You know, I’ve driven past, it is a magnificent building. So they’re just replacing some older fixtures and what have you?

E: Oh no, the top floor of the library was set on fire.

S: I’m sorry, purposely? Who tires to burn down a library?

E: Unfortunately, that mystery is yet to be solved, but not for lack of trying. Sheriff Gunderson and Deputy Troy have been hard at work these past few months. Though, I think the bigger problems was the disappearance of Mrs. Kilpatrick.

S: Wait a second, the library was set ablaze, the old librarian, Mrs. Kilpatrick-

B: God rest her soul.

S: -has disappeared. What is going on here? I mean, are there any leads, uh, you know, other than Ben?

B: Ha! Good one Sammy! *forced laughter* What a kidder! I’m not, I'm not sure why you’d say that at this time.

S: Two words. Book. Shack. Uh but I mean seriously folks, how many people are missing in this town?

B: *clears throat* Emily. Can I call you Emily?

E: Please do.

B: Can, can you tell the listeners anything that might help shed some light on these subjects?

E: Well, for weeks leading up to the fire, Mrs. Kilpatrick had been having...visions.

S: Visions?

E: Yes. To the point where upper management had been talking about retirement. I don’t know if we should be talking about this with the investigation ongoing and all…

S: I think-

B: Maybe it could help, Emily. Your words, your magnificent words, could be our best, last, chance at saving dear Mrs. Kilpatrick.

E: You’re right Benny.

S: Um.

E: The visions she was by the checkout desk. At first it was a shadowy figure carrying a book. Upon closer inspection, she realized it was actually President Lincoln, who she believed was trying to check out a book.

S: President Abraham Lincoln?

B: 16th President of the United States. Jeez Sammy, catch up will you?

E: This went on every night at closing for close to a week, until the second vision appeared.

B: Go on.

E: She watched from the second floor as President Lincoln brought the book to the front desk.

S: Just by chance, what book does a deceased president of the United States try to check out?

B: “Twelve Years a Slave”, duh.

S: Alright, too easy Ben, how about uh, “How To Lose Friends and Alienate People.”

E: I don’t th-

B: I like it, but I think Lincoln is probably more of a “Who Moved My Cheese” type.

E: Privacy and all, I...I couldn’t say even if I wanted to.

B: Yeah Sammy, privacy and all.

S: I uh, of course, library patient privilege, gotcha, so please continue Miss Potter.

E: So, she watched from afar, quietly putting away the periodicals, then she felt a wind rush past her to the ledge. That’s when she saw….

S: What’d she see?

E: A vision of John Wilkes Boothe. Peering over the ledge, watching the president as he waited for a librarian that never came.

B: Fascinating.

S: Okay.

B: Oh, here comes Mr. Skeptic. He didn’t believe in General Abilene. Lemme guess, Sammy, you don’t believe in president of the United States either? The great emancipator.

S: Oh Ben will you stop it, I'm just wary that a ghost of-

E&B: Vision.

S: Right, that a vision of President Lincoln and his assassin would be wandering the halls of King Falls public library, that’s all.

E: I understand your reticence to believe in the visions, Sammy, I thought the same thing. But, as I'm sure Ben can attest, Mrs. Kilpatrick wasn’t one to-

B: If she said she saw it, she saw it.

S: So, she has visions, what does that have to do with the fire?

E: Well, Mrs. Kilpatrick actually in a small apartment in the library.

S: In the library? Uh, that might be creepier than the visions

E: She complained to management about the noises, the visits, apparently there were arguments?

S: Arguments? Between Lincoln and Boothe?

B: So they were keeping old lady Kilpatrick awake at night?

S: And, you know, then Kilpatrick gets fed up, there’s no Peter Venkman to call, she does what she can do and sets the place on fire?

E: Well, I don’t know if Mrs. Kilpatrick would’ve done that.

B: All due respect, oh she would have.

S: I think it’s cut and dry actually, you know, maybe we should call Deputy Troy and solve this cold case?

B: Well, what do you think happened Emily?

E: I have to assume that Boothe did what he could to get to the president again. Unofficially, of course. Uh. God, we shouldn’t even talk about this with the investigation and all.

S: Alrighty, well, that said, we’re gonna open up the phone lines now. We’re talking about the library opening back up later this week, after some difficulties. Maybe you’ve got a question for Emily?

B: Maybe you’ve seen the visions in the library as well, we’d love to hear about that. S: Or that too. You’ve heard our story, now let's hear yours. 424-279-3858.

B: Or tweet us @kingfallsam. Line 12, uh, wouldn’t give a name

S: You’re on King Falls AM.

F?: Yeah uh, I’ve got a question for Emily.

E: Hi!

Frickard: Lets say that...my friend checked out a book last year and due to the fire and the closing wasn’t able to return it on time. Are overdue charges being forgiven?

E: If you couldn’t return it due to our renovation then I'm sure we can overlook it.

F: Cool.

S: Thanks for the question.

F: Wait, uh, I’ve got another question for Emily.

E: Oh! Okay…

F: Are you seeing anybo-*hang up*

B: Next caller! Uh...we’ve got line 4, Cynthia

S: Hello Cynthia, you’re on the air.

Cynthia: From what I gathered, in this interview, as well as the news report that Channel 13 ran-

B: *scoffs* You shouldn’t listen to them, Cynthia

C: Excuse me Ben, excuse me.

S: Cynthia.

C: From what I'm gathering, the library, if you wanna call it that, is a despot of desolation. Arson? Check! Fifty Shades of Gray? Check! Presidential assassins? Check!

E: Cynthia, I believe-

C: What are you, twelve, and you’re running the show? Could we at least get an adult to watch over that den of depravity.

S: Cynthia, I think we could probably argue that the worst of the library’s problems are behind it.

B: This is a new chapter in its history. Did you see what I did there Emily?

E: *laughing* You’re so funny!

C: Oh my god, hose those two down Sammy, it’s unbearable!

S: Cynthia, did you have a question regarding the library?

C: Yes. My boys are 10 and 6. Does the revamped library have a kids corner?

E: It most certainly does.

C: Are you overseeing it?

E: Yes, I am.

C: Ugh. *hang up noise*

B: We’ve got line 8, Sammy

S: King Falls AM.

?: Hey King Falls, long time listener, first time caller.

B: Long time?

S: Uh, the station appreciates the patronage.

?: I don’t listen to the station really. I listen to you. *hang up noise*

E: Ooh.

S: Okay…

B: Yikes. Uhh. Try 14 Sammy.

S: Good evening, welcome to the show.

Old Lady: I saw the president.

B: Oh! Another sighting.

S: Ma’am, are we talking about President Lincoln in the King Falls library or President Obama on Fox News type of thing?

OL: Lincoln!

B: Oooooh!

E: Mrs. Kilpatrick?

Mrs K: I saw him! *hang up noise*

S: Well terrific, I mean I didn’t need to sleep tonight anyways, it’s fine.

B: Uhh...one more before commercial, we’ve got Greg line one.

S: Greg, do you have a question for us?

Frickard: Yes, this question is for Emily. If a man, such as...my friend, wanted to court you, would you be avail- *hang up noise*

B: Pay some bills Sammy.

S: Emily, thank you so much for being here with us tonight, enlightening us with the tales of the library.

E: Oh, it was my pleasure. I just want all the listeners to know that, while we can’t wish the visions away, they more than likely will stay away from us in crowds. So please come join me in the reopening ceremonies this Thursday at 10am.

B: I will be there.

E: You’re a sweetheart, Benny. Thanks for having me on guys! *sounds of her leaving*

B: Any time, Emily.

S: She’s gone, Benny.

B: Ben.

S: Oh, so only Emily can call you Benny?

B: She, she didn’t call me Benny. You’re ridiculous.

S: Oh yeah, that’s me. Look, I get it. She’s a very attractive girl, and you guys hit it off.

B: We did, didn’t we?

S: But really, she called you Benny.

B: Don’t.

S: That’s the Ben we know and love folks.

B: Yeah, yeah.

S: Alright. Now after this quick message from our sponsors we’re gonna be back, and we’re going to be talking with Dr. Raul from the King Falls Chiropractic Center, and getting daily tips to keep our backs on the straight and narrow. And I'm sure Ben will be just as flirtatious with the good doctor.

B: Is he lovely too?

#king falls am #king falls spoilers #episode two #grisham #emily #dr. raul #king falls library #president lincoln #channel 13 #mrs. kilpatrick #ernie salcedo #gunderson #troy #deputy troy #greg #greg frickard #line 12 #line 4 #cynthia #line 8 #line 14 #line 1 #line twelve #line four #line eight #line fourteen #line one

[adamantiumdragonfly]

“...A time when the United States is what we fight for...” 

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military grade pencils and scraps of paper. Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she’s left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover’s voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.  

taglist: @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701  @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @jamie506101-deactivated20210209 @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @easy-company-tradition  @pxpeyewynn @50svibes​

No Ordinary Time

When the doorbell rang at the Grisham Hall for Ladies, it was a house-wide thrill, shivering down the very spine of the building and sending chills into every resident. A doorbell ring, with its chime calling every girl to their feet in a downward flight, could mean one of two things: a visitor or a postman. Visitors, particularly of the sought after male variety, were scarce since the war had been put on to boil some three years previously. Now, with the residents tending home fires and not the flaming passions of suitors, a postman was more likely. A postman, or rather post-boy, were the only kindling to the fires of romance. 

But, on a dim March morning with the sky heavy and ready to bleed, the doorbell had been run and so began the usual stampede of pumps on hardwood floors. There should have been only two possibilities and yet, Jeannette Edwards wasn't a postman or anything that the anxiously awaiting faces expected. She had rung the bell and stepped back in surprise and a tiny bit of fright at the fervor and hunger that met her behind the door wrenched from it’s frame by a seemingly harmless girl. 

She shouldn’t have been so ferocious of a predator as she seemed, this little thing with short brown hair and a dickie color edged in red ribbon but Jeannette stepped back all the same. This hadn’t been what Jeannette had expected either. 

Grisham had come highly recommended, as a good, upstanding place for good, upstanding girls. Jeannette thought she had fit that description rather well and had packed her things in the carpet bag she now clutched tightly in one whitened fist. Could this carpet bag that had first belonged to her mother be used as a weapon to fend off this frightening girl and her hungry eyes? 

“You aren’t Davis,” The girl huffed and moved to shut the door. Jeannette hadn’t come all the way from Hughestown to be turned away by someone looking for a Davis but she didn’t move fast enough. 

A hand, surely one of God’s angels come down from heaven, stopped the door before the girl could shut Jeannette out from her new home. 

“Sorry about that,” The hand’s owner said. She might as well have been an angel as she pushed the door open again, giving full view of her face. Not nearly as intimidating as this little rabid creature before her but there was something in her dark eyes that didn’t set Jeannette completely at ease. 

“Oh,” Jeannette said. “That’s quite alright.” 

“It isn’t really. Bess turns into a monster when she hasn’t heard from her beau in a few days,” The girl said, tossing her long black curls over her shoulder. She wore them loose, a stark contrast to the tight pins in the other girl, Bess’s, locks of chestnut brown. “Sorry you had to be in her path.” 

“Who’s Davis?” Jeannette stammered, gripping her carpet bag tighter and trying not to wobble in her too big pumps. She had bought them before the war, when she had still been hopeful that she’d grow to fit them. But with spending frivolously unpatriotic and her shoe size stubbornly remaining, Jeannette had been left with loose pumps and aching feet. 

“THERE HE IS!” Bess leapt past Jeannette, brushing her roughly in her flight off the wooden porch and flying into the dripping rain. She wore no shoes and her bobby socks were soaked on the puddled pavers as she ran towards the approaching youth in a yellow raincoat. 

“Davis is the mail carrier.” the dark haired girl explained. “He was running late today. We get antsy when we don’t get our letters. I’m sorry I don’t think I-” 

“Jeannette.” She extended her hand. “Jeannette Edwards.” 

Those dark eyes studied her, flicking over her navy blue hat into which her frizzy tomato red hair was tucked, all the way down her too big pumps before shaking Jeannette’s outstretched hand. “Estelle Tran.” 

Behind those dark eyes lay a studious mind that wrote down every variable and equation the world threw at her, bringing up the final unfair sum and accepting it as fact. Estelle was a woman of facts, something that Jeannette rarely dealt in. 

The idea of chasing a mail carrier down flooded steps to retrieve a sought-after letter had never once crossed Jeannette’s mind but it seemed these girls found it a daily occurrence. Jeannette’s gaze was cast to the left of the doorway where the mailbox was hung, the address and the name of the establishment emblazoned on the wood in cut out letters. 

“I’m sorry, I believe I came to the wrong place,” She said, gesturing at the box where the “I” had been replaced by a mystifying “E”. “I’m looking for Grisham Hall,” 

“Oh you are in the right place,” Bess jogged back up the path, her stockings slapping against the stone pavers like webbed feet. “We knocked the ‘I’ off and had to make do. Grisham, Gresham. It’s all the same, really,” 

“Jeannette Edwards,” The redhead pushed her hand forward, offering it to the creature who had been ready to shut her out in this damp cold. Bess seemed in better spirits now, a wad of letters in her hand.

“Elizabeth Ferguson,” Her bobbed brown hair bounced against her cheeks as Elizabeth leaned forward to take Jeannette’s hand. “You can call me Bess, Beth, I really don’t mind. Crops good this week,” Bess turned to Estelle and waved the mail under her companion’s nose. 

“Stop waving and let me look,” Estelle plucked the letters from Bess’s hands, holding them out of reach as the brunette leapt for them. 

“Hang on,” Bess cried, trying in vain to reach the envelopes. “Two of them are for me.” 

When the correspondence had been returned to their rightful recipient, Bess squealed and darted back into the house, sliding across the foyer in her slick stockings. 

“Better wake Connie and Margo,”  Estelle called over her shoulder as she sorted through the last of the letters. She turned to go inside but paused, as if remembering that Jeannette was there, out in the drizzling rain and the damp air. “You are looking for Grisham Hall, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “I’m-” 

“The new tenant,” Estelle finished for her. “Mrs. G told us. Come on then,” 

Allowing herself to be waved inside, Jeannette cast her gaze around the foyer of cherry-stained wood and bright electric lights, a stark contrast to the gloom and doom of the world outside. The scent of lemon cleaner that hung in the air was the same brand that Jeannette’s mother had used in the houses she cleaned. A strange connection between the hills of Pennsylvania and the riverside of Virginia that was a comfort as much as a weight. This house was far too clean to be anything from Jeannette’s home and it fit the bill for good and upstanding. This house was the picture of American dreams and patriotism with it’s large staircase and adjoining room for a grand piano and little else. 

Jeannette hung back as Estelle pushed her way further into the house as if she wasn’t stunned by the cherry-wood and lemon cleaner. Those too big shoes looked foolish and the wish for a pair that fit was unpatriotic in this bright house with it’s star banner in the window. Shuffling her feet, Jeannette cast her gaze down. 

“Mrs G!” Estelle shouted. Deep from the belly of this house, came a faint response. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” Estelle waited for Jeannette to follow her through the side door into a back hall, past the dining room set for an army and a sunroom that was dark under the storm brewing outside, and into the even brighter kitchen. 

“Mrs. G, Ms. Edwards is here,” Estelle called and the woman at the counter turned away from the scraps of dough, her hands dusted in flour. 

“I was expecting a call from the station,” Mrs. Grisham chided, wiping her hands across a spotless apron, sending a wince through Jeannette’s frame at the destruction of such clean linen.  “We were going to send the car with Constance.” 

“I took a bus and then a cab. It was no trouble,” Jeannette said. “I didn’t want to impose,”

Mrs. Grisham blustered and waved a hand, sending flour cascading into the air, assuring Jeannette that it was no trouble at all. She was a matronly, if not clumsy, woman who’s nice house and nice clothes set the tone for the good and upstanding boarding house she ran. The girls who had been in her care were loved fiercely and looked after tenderly with a maternal, if not iron, fist. She was no stranger to hard work and saw the running of this hall for ladies as her battlefield. While the muddied stairs and the young women were not German soldiers or Pacific islands, they were a worthy opponent all the same. 

 “I saw your banner, Mrs. Grisham,” Jeannette said, gesturing back the way she had come. “Your son?” 

Stars marked windows and hearts, declaring that the ultimate show of patriotism had been brandished in that home. Their home fires were stoked a little more vigorously and their women sat in wait a little more earnestly. Jeannette had seen many on her trip down from Pennsylvania and knew still more in her hometown; there it stung to put names to the stars in windows. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Grisham said, with a thin smile. “Arthur is in the Pacific. And you?” 

“Two brothers in North Africa,” Two stars for Jeannette’s mother. “A cousin in the Navy, and a friend. Last I heard, he was in England.” 

Those names were hard to forget. Brothers. Friends. Family. Everyone knew someone who was fighting, everyone had a letter that they could send. 

Her friend had taken up space in her mind since he had waved goodbye on that train. She carried those dark eyes and that crooked smile in her carpet bag across state lines and into Norfolk, etched into her memory with the letters and the memories. Jeannette hadn’t heard from him in several weeks and she was growing steadily more concerned. They had grown up together and he had always been in her life in some form or fashion, in letters or in days under the trees. 

“Mine too!” Bessie cried. “Postmarked Aldbourne.” 

“Now, you know how Estelle feels about all this talk,” Mrs. Grisham said softly. “Did you have your address changed, dear? Letters are a big to-do around here.” 

Jeannette didn’t cling to every letter, every word at first.  She hadn’t known what a lifeline those pencil-etched papers of military issued paper, in the storm of the current world. She had begun to see how impervious the lead was to the wiles of the storms. 

“My mother will forward any letters from home,” Jeannette said. 

“Now, enough of all this letter talk,” Mrs. Grisham said. “You got a job on base, didn’t you?” 

Jeannette nodded. 

“You are in luck. Most of the girls here work on base and there is always plenty of room in the car. Dinners and breakfasts are as a home but lunches are up to you. I trust you’ll join us tonight? I’ve been saving my coupons.” 

“Mrs. G is making her apple pie,” Bessie said. “It ranks 4th best.” 

“I will win first place, mark my words,” Mrs. G teased. “You’ll find we are very relaxed here, Jeannette. I don’t care much what you get up to, just keep your wits about you. These Navy men-” Mrs. Grisham shuddered as if repelled by the thought of that branch of the US military. “Bess and Estelle will show you your room. You’ll have to share.” 

Once Jeannette had assured Mrs. G that she had shared a room her whole life and it didn’t matter to her, the landlady smiled and waved them up the back staircase. Following the damp footprints of Bess up the third floor, she let her eyes wander to the photos on the walls. Scenic views of the river that Jeannette knew was only a few miles away shared space with the portraits of a young boy and a much younger Mrs. Grisham. Beside her was the assumed Mr. Grisham, who’s dark eyes followed Jeannette up the stairs long after his face had ceased to be represented in the family photographs. It was almost poetic, to see the changes in the family as Jeannette followed Bess and Estelle up the stairs. 

Between the days by the river and the picnic blankets on the beach,  Arthur grew up and Mrs. Grisham grew grayer. Jeannette had been a girl prone to empathy often to her detriment and felt the pang of nostalgia deeper as they ascended till the final frame on the landing showed the now older and grimmer son who Jeannette had seen as a child not seven steps back, dressed up in his uniform. Bess and Estelle had passed these photos daily and knew the stories behind them, having seen Arthur in the flesh before the Navy had stolen him away. They felt the pang as Jeannette did, but sharper. They knew the shy and quiet boy wasn’t in that uniform.  

They ignored the second floor, leaving Mrs. Grisham’s shrine to how things had been before Arhtur untouched and continued to the third floor, where the photos were scarce and replaced with paintings of long forgotten relatives and odd landscapes. Bess paused to point out that the oar on the side of the boat depicted wasn’t actually an oar but a “sneaky duck. I didn’t know until Carrie told me. Looks like an oar, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” Jeannette admitted. “Did a Grisham paint it?” 

Estelle turned from where she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lagging Jeannette and Bess. “The previous owner of this house, a great aunt of Mrs. Grisham’s, Beverly Simmons, was an amatuer artist.” 

“Emphasis on the amatuer,” Bess muttered as she jogged up the last few steps. “Mrs. G doesn’t want to see ducks that look like boats on the main floor so we are forced to look at their sorry tails everyday.” 

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Jeannette said, wanting to defend the ducks. She tilted her head, getting a better look. “Well…” 

“They wear on you after a few weeks,” Estelle said, beckoning Jeannette up the stairs. ”You’ll see.” 

The frightening vision of these misshapen ducks waddling up the stairs after her was enough to quicken Jeannette’s pace, securing her safety on the landing where Estelle and Bess had already moved on. 

“You’ll be on the left,” Bess said, poking her head into a doorway and shouting, “Margo! Calm down, it’s just me. You’ve got a letter.” 

The landing had an overstuffed armchair, a bookcase where all the inhabitants leaned to the left, and a single window that sent slanting gray light onto the wooden floor that creaked under Jeannette’s uncertain feet. It looked like a cozy place to sit and read on a rainy day such as this if there hadn’t been a weight in the air. It wound between the branching doorways, under the floorboards, and sank into Jeannette’s bones. It was an anticipation that was as intoxicating as it was melancholy. 

The American homefront had known only one thing in the two years since they had found themselves in a simmering war and had taken it upon themselves to bring it to an unrelenting boil. In the heat of the flames of passion, love, and patriotism, the country was left with an immense shadow. The waiting. Like dolls abandoned in their beautifully crafted house, dust collected on their painted, smiling faces. 

Jeannette had known the numbing of waiting, the thrill of the letter in her hands, the way she held them so tightly. Her mother hadn’t understood, quite so deeply. Ada didn’t understand, quite so sharply. She had never felt it as strongly as she did in this house. Women in a war but not fighting for it. Women who were aching for those who did fight but putting up their own battles. It was almost poetic, the anticipation. 

This anticipation had become the drive behind her movement, the striking match to her move down to Norfolk. This fire needed to be stoked by more than just letters. Ink didn’t catch  quite like working for the war effort. Jeannette had been fond of the meter and beat of poetry, finding solace from the cole-tinged air in the yellowed pages of Maffei, and Shakespeare. Her brothers and their friends never understood her obsession, save one. He would sneak books from the library in Pittston and slide them under her window. Jeannette smiled at the memory. She had spent many summer nights poking her head out that window, looking for what literature had been left in the window box of daisies. 

“On the left, she said?” Jeannette looked at Estelle and pointed to the first door on the left. She made for the handle, palm grazing the cool metal when Estelle’s voice cut through the weight like a sharp knife. 

“Not that room!” She snapped. 

Jeannette would have stepped back if her shoes weren’t prone to wobbling so dangerously. She settled for snatching her hand back from the cold doorknob. Estelle’s fire had subsided but there was no apology, no retraction of her word. Jeannette didn’t offer an apology. She didn’t know what she had done. 

“Oh, Jeannette,” Bess said, coming to her rescue. “Not that left. That’s Carrie and...Oh never mind, I’ll show you.” 

Jeannette was ushered toward the next door and winced as Bess shouted at the inhabitant. “CONNIE! YOU’VE GOT A LETTER!” 

There was a long stretch of silence followed by the snuffling sounds of deep sleep. Jeannette’s prospective roommate seemed to be undisturbed by Bess’s screech while Jeanette’s own ears were still ringing. 

“Constance works nights with my roommate, Margaret,” Bess explained, her voice not at all strained by the scream from a moment before. “They are machinists on the aircraft for the Navy. We don’t see them very often.”

The carpet bag was suddenly quite heavy in Jeannette’s hand and tugged on her already aching shoulders. Bess noticed her wince and took pity on her new housemate. “Constance, I’m sorry but I have to turn on the light.” 

The dark, peaceful oasis was suddenly illuminated by the light overhead and the lamp on the bedside that Bess mercilessly flicked on. Jeannette glanced around the now visible furniture, that no longer looked like looming creatures from nightmares. An empty bed, a dresser opened to reveal barren drawers, and a desk with the stability of a drunken sailor fresh from sea duty.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite alarm clock,” The lump of blankets that Bess insisted was Constance, said, her voice muffled. “Morning, Beth,” 

“Very funny, Constance,”  Bess said. “Do you want your letter or not?” 

A calloused hand, scarred and rough from the late nights among the heavy machinery and scrabbling over metal carcasses of aircraft, withdrew from the quilts. Bess placed the offering in the waiting palm and, like the jaw of a predator, the hand snapped it up eagerly, drawing back to the safety of the quilts. 

“Do you need help unpacking?” Bess asked Jeannette brightly. “I’m an ace at moving. I’ve helped most everyone on the floor. Except Estelle, of course, she’s been here since before the “I” fell.” 

Bess was, indeed, an ace at packing and unpacking. This skill had been cultivated long before she had received her first letter, before she had been the smiling waitress at that destined cafe, when she was just Elizabeth Ferguson. Jeannette liked Bess. It was impossible not to. There was something about her short brown hair framing her face and the big brown eyes that made her so endearing and begged to be helpful. Jeannette couldn’t say no. 

“If you don’t mind,” She started to say. 

“I don’t!” Bess said, snatching up the carpet bag and throwing open the wardrobe on Jeannette’s side of the room.  

Jeannette had never known a great abundance of belongings. Most of her life, she had seen this as an embarrassment, to know few and to have few seemed to be a weakness. That was, until she had accepted the translator position in Norfolk and packed up what little she had into a carpet bag. The carpet bag that had housed her pieces from home, her few books, and the clothes that had been worn through all in the name of the war effort, was thrown open. Bessie Ferguson no longer stood in that room, but a whirlwind of limbs, flying clothes, and knick knacks being placed just so. 

“Where are you from, again?” Bessie asked, not waiting for a response, before plunging on with the next question. “Your brothers are in North Africa? I have a brother. He’s not fit for service, lucky bastard. Don’t tell Mrs. G that I swore-” 

“Beth,” Constance groaned, tossing back the covers. “What time is it?” 

“A quarter past four,” Jeannette supplied, glancing at her watch. 

“I was hoping to get another hour,” Constance sat up, letter still in hand. She smirked at its contents.  

“Another poem?” Bess asked, setting Jeannette’s Shakespeare and Maffei volumes on the teetering desk. “Connie’s beau is something of a poet.” 

Constance’s mussed curls bounced as she shook her head at the younger girl’s words.  “That’s generous of you, Beth,” 

Whether or not the gift of prose was possessed by her pen pal, Constance didn’t seem to mind. Her sea green eyes scanned the page, soaking up every thoughtful word and stumbling line. Her fire was stoked by the glint of steel at night and the scrabble of poems written to the “lady by the sea”. It mattered not that Norfolk was on a river, not the Atlantic, the letters were addressed like that and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like the title. 

Constance peeled back the blankets to set free the cat trapped beneath the coverlet, and chuckled at a particularly horrid, if not well meant, line. Her eyes fixed on Jeannette and extended a calloused hand to the newcomer. 

“Constance Ramos. You must be Jeannette,” 

The redhead nodded, accepting the rough hand in her own and giving it a shake. “I don’t suppose we will be seeing a lot of each other. I’m on the day shift.” 

Constance shrugged. “We’ll be like ships in the night. We keep busy around here.” 

“Passes the time,” Bess agreed. 

“Between letters?” Jeannette guessed. 

“We sound crazy about those damn letters, don’t we?” Constance said, chuckling softly. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the wooden floor as she stretched out her aching muscles. “They keep us going, more than a war effort ever could. I can keep bolting sheets of metal when I know my soldier is alive and when I don’t hear from him, it gets heavier. Do you understand?” 

“I do,” Jeannette murmured. 

Those letters had made a ship to steer among the waves of this new world Jeannette found herself in. Uprooted and unfamiliar, she clung to the letters signed with their scribbled J and the indiscernible followers. The thought of buying that ticket from Pennsylvania to Virginia had been encouraged by the letters in her pocket. If he could be thousands of miles from home for her, she could be transplanted to a new state for the aid of the troops.   

Connie glanced over the books on the teetering pile of poetry on the desk as Bess hummed along to some tune.  “You like to read?” 

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “My mother had mostly Italian books but I have some in English now.” 

The English volumes had been collected over the years, from the window box of daisies to the exchanges on the hill overlooking the breaker. The last book, The Grapes of Wrath, had been the final exchange on that hill. He had been given his orders and was only on leave for a few days. He had brought her a book. He had asked if he could write to her. Jeannette had said yes. Jeannette had cried. There had been no romantic declarations or bouts of infatuation. The words had been plain, just how he liked them and how Jeannette despised them. 

Bess shut the wardrobe with a snap and turned, her skirt swishing around her knees and damp socks. “You a translator on base?” 

Jeannette paused, not sure how much was allowed to be discussed. This attic seemed as safe as could be but what did those posters promise? Ships sunk by the careless whispers of loose lips. Glancing at the window, as if a German spy would be listening from the third floor windowsill, Jeannette nodded quickly. 

“Oh you’ll likely see Estelle!” Bess cried. “She’s working as a computer on base.” 

Dumbfounded at the disregard for secrecy, Jeannette sputtered. “Shouldn’t we-” 

“Who’s going to hear us?” Connie shook her head. “We all know how to keep a secret.” 

Bess nodded, setting the now empty carpet bag on the neatly made bed. She hadn’t been kidding about her skills in unpacking. Jeannette had barely had time for a single melancholy notion about the blouse she had worn to the movies with her friends or the books with the coal stained fingerprints. Jeannette hadn’t noticed this room becoming her own but in the space of a few moments, it looked like her childhood bedroom. The quilt was the same, the books were present and accounted for. It looked like home. 

“Speaking of secrets,” Bess said, snatching up the patchy tabby cat set free from Connie’s bed and cuddled it tight to her black sweater, not minding the fur shed across the yarn. “Are you going to hide that poem from us, Connie?” 

Constance blushed. “Maybe Jeannette can give it an educated read. I’m dying to know if my pen pal has a future in the arts,” 

Jeannette flushed. Her hobby of studying beat, meter, and stanza had been an asset to her application for the NIS but she was hardly a professional. Perhaps, more of an avid appreciator. Her love of poetry hadn’t been the final mark in her favor for her application. The real seal to her employment had been the native fluency that having an Italian mother and late father provided. 

“I’d be delighted to provide an opinion,” Jeannette smiled, sitting on the lumpy mattress where she would rest her weary bones for the foreseeable future. 

Constance cleared her throat, making a big show of unfolding the letter and straightening her flannel pajamas. 

“Someday I'll get back to you/ When the war is finally won/Then you know just what we'll do In the sheets-” 

The rest was cut off by Bess’s shriek of surprise and a cackling laugh from Constance. Jeannette’s cheeks flushed red but couldn’t help a bark of laughter escaping her mouth, never mind the good and upstanding standard that Grisham ladies were known to uphold. 

“Do you all get such poems?” Jeannette wheezed. 

Bess’s mouth gaped in shock at such a suggestion, only furthering Constance’s giggles. 

“I have never gotten such a thing from-” Bessie started to say but was cut off by the appearance of Estelle in the doorway. Drawn by the laughter and shrieks, her brow furrowed at the neatly put together room but the girls in various states of disarray found there. 

“What’s all this then?” 

“Another poem,” Bess said. “And no, Jeannette, I don’t get that kind of poetry from Dar-” 

“Don’t say their names, Bessie,” Estelle chided, in the same sharp tone. As if Bess had put her handle onto a door she didn’t understand what lay beyond. “You’ll get attached.” 

“I’d say it’s too late for that,” Constance said, folding up the letter and stowing it under her pillow. It wasn’t a disagreement but the statement of a fact. 

“You say their name and they can break your heart,” Estelle said. It sounded as a warning to Jeannette.

“I don’t think names hold much power over love,” Jeannette whispered, almost to herself but Estelle heard. 

Estelle’s calculations were rarely wrong. In mathematics and personal life, her calculations were quite often correct. Estelle was known to be the guardian of the third floor, taking the wandering women under her wing. While Jeannette had seen an angel, Estelle was a self described tragedy. She sought a way to shield each girl who crossed the wooden floors of Grisham Hall from such flights toward the sun. 

“We don’t tempt fate here,” Estelle said, firmly. 

A silence stretched between them. Estelle’s dark gaze and small stature didn’t lend itself to the imposing figure she truly was. Jeannette didn’t think she was afraid of Estelle. Jeannette didn’t know what she thought. There was a truth behind her words. The war bubbled and boiled around them and one couldn’t make too many plans for the future. Jeannette didn’t like to think more than one letter ahead. 

“Estelle is ever so jaded,” Bess said, chuckling softly, trying to break the tension. 

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Estelle winked at Bess but her steady gaze sent Jeannette’s skin crawling. “We don’t say their names so we don’t have to say goodbye.” 

                                       *        *       *

To the real horatio, 

I don’t suppose you can tell me where you are but know that I am safe in Norfolk. Mother will be forwarding any of your letters down to me. The girls I’m living with are quite the characters. 

Bess is a little younger than me but such a dear thing. She’s the embodiment of springtime. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as happy as she is. Estelle seems to be the ringleader around here, like Adrian was to us in our childhood. I’m still forming an opinion on her. Constance is my roommate and we’ve gotten on like a house on fire. She works night shifts at the shipyard but when we do see each other it’s always good fun. We went to the cinema last week and saw Citizen Kane on her day off. She’s making songs on the piano out of her boyfriend’s poems. It’s very entertaining and has caused our landlady to faint out of shock more than once. There’s also a girl named Margo who lives on our floor. I haven’t met her for more than a few minutes but she seems lovely. 

I’m glad to know that your CO is gone, the dreadful beast. 

I’ve started to read the book you gave me. I’d like to read it to you sometime, like we did in high school on the breaker hill. If I sent you one of my books would you read it and think of me? 

Your letters, as always, brighten my day. I know you fear that you have nothing of any interest to say but I find anything you say of interest. You say your words are not poetic but there is poetry in everything you do. You want to fly through the sky and end the war. While that’s admirable, do you know that I don’t expect this from you? 

I’ve known you without money. I’ve known you without fame or excellence. I don’t care if you have either. 

You are probably bothered by my ‘damn flowery words’. We’ve grown up together. Surely you are fluent in my own language by now. 

It’s late. I have an early shift tomorrow. Be safe. 

Love, Nettie

#band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers OFC fic #Original female characters #No Ordinary Time #this is no ordinary time folks #jeannette edwards #estelle tran #bessie ferguson #constance ramos #margaret griffin #vera elliot #carrie rose #home fire hestias #hestias of the homefront #grisham hall for ladies #new anthology #one shot series

[go-redgirl]

Kellyanne Conway: Pelosi Should Focus on School Choice, Not Paintings

Presidential counselor Kellyanne Conway Wednesday spoke out about the difference in reactions to peaceful protesting versus violence and vandalism between President Donald Trump and others in government, taking aim at House Speaker Nancy Pelosi for removing statues and portraits of former speakers who had been slaveholders from the halls of Congress.

"She has walked by those statues and paintings for years and has never yet cast a positive vote in favor of school choice which disproportionately helps, thank god, kids of color in communities where they are trapped in failing schools," Conway commented on Fox News' "Fox and Friends."

Her comments came after she was asked about Twitter's decision to put a warning label on a Trump tweet threatening those who would try to establish an autonomous zone in Washington, D.C., with force.

Meanwhile, vandalism and violence are not helping, said Conway, pointing out that the families of George Floyd and Rayshard Brooks have called out for peaceful protesting.

Conway also spoke out about a tweet from Food Network host John Henson after he questioned the parentage of the president's youngest son, Barron, on Father's Day, telling the 14-year-old that he hopes he "gets to spend today with whoever his dad is."

"I didn't even know who he was and now people do but sure, but the first lady has been very protective of her son, (both) of his parents are," said Conway, noting that Melania Trump's' spokeswoman Stephanie Grisham was right for slamming the tweet.

"Look Chelsea Clinton was 12 when her father was elected, the Obama daughters were very young, even younger than that, I believe but we should all treat them, you've got to treat them like eggs," said Conway. "They are off-limits. You don't touch them, you don't talk about them."

[actutrends]

Escape to Mar-a-Lago: Trump gets a post-impeachment mood lift

For aides, Mar-a-Lago can often be a headache, as there is less control over who gets face time with the president and who may be able to whisper an idea in his ear. That’s the method Trump likes to be, unconfined and able to do what he likes best– playing host, playing golf with pals, watching television and working away from the confines of the West Wing.

On Friday, two days after being impeached by the Home, the president was invited house to applause by a who’s who in MAGA world. The conservative group Turning Point U.S.A.’s Student Action Top on Saturday brought his most significant supporters to town at a historic minute in his presidency, and Trump enjoyed to see his old buddies from New York back in Palm Beach for the holidays.

The weekend appeared designed to improve the president’s state of mind– the possibility to air his complaints and provide a speech to a friendly and enthusiastic audience of young advocates, golf with friends like conservative radio firebrand Rush Limbaugh and PGA gamer Jim Herman, and join his greatest fans in the lavishly embellished halls and ballrooms of his resort.

At Mar-a-Lago on Saturday night, the president visited a party themed after Studio 54, the bar he utilized to regular in New york city, and was surrounded by his family, former White House press secretary Sarah Sanders, Fox News’ Laura Ingraham, Juncture U.S.A.’s Charlie Kirk and Candace Owens, radio show host Howie Carr (who explained Trump as “in fantastic spirits”) and even his individual lawyer, Rudy Giuliani.

Members of Trump’s administration– including Kellyanne Conway and the president’s child and senior consultant, Ivanka Trump– have actually dodged concerns about whether or not they think Giuliani, who is under federal investigation, is excellent counsel to the president.

The president and very first lady Melania Trump also met with retired Navy SEAL Eddie Gallagher and his partner. In a move last month that resulted in the resignation of Navy Secretary Richard Spencer, Trump intervened in Gallagher’s war crimes case and reversed a demotion that would have taken away his Spear pin.

Trump was described as pleasant, smiling for pictures with fans and touting a boost in rankings as he made his method from table to table in the dining room stating hey there to guests and pals.

” I’m up 6 points in the polls!” he informed members.

The president’s children Eric and Don Jr. were also identified at the club, while Ivanka, who is understood to primarily keep to herself, stayed away from the crowds.

A small group of aides, consisting of acting chief of staff Mick Mulvaney, press secretary Stephanie Grisham and national security consultant Robert O’Brien, took a trip with Trump to Florida for the weekend prior to Christmas, although more are anticipated to join later on to keep the president up to date on the possible Senate impeachment trial.

Till then, the president has actually primarily seemed happy to be taking a break from the rancor in between the White House and Democrats on Capitol Hill.

” He’s simply a little a bit sad there’s not so much sunlight to play golf the way he wishes to,” Lombardi said.

The post Escape to Mar-a-Lago: Trump gets a post-impeachment mood lift appeared first on Actu Trends.

[thisdaynews]

Escape to Mar-a-Lago: Trump gets a post-impeachment mood lift

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/escape-to-mar-a-lago-trump-gets-a-post-impeachment-mood-lift/

Escape to Mar-a-Lago: Trump gets a post-impeachment mood lift

For aides, Mar-a-Lago can sometimes be a headache, as there is less control over who gets face time with the president and who might be able to whisper an idea in his ear. But that’s the way Trump likes to be, unfettered and able to do what he loves best — playing host, golfing with friends, watching television and working away from the confines of the West Wing.

On Friday, two days after being impeached by the House, the president was welcomed home to applause by a who’s who in MAGA world. The conservative group Turning Point USA’s Student Action Summit on Saturday brought his biggest supporters to town at a historic moment in his presidency, and Trump was happy to see his old friends from New York back in Palm Beach for the holidays.

The weekend seemed designed to boost the president’s mood — the chance to air his grievances and give a speech to a friendly and enthusiastic audience of young supporters, golf with friends like conservative radio firebrand Rush Limbaugh and PGA player Jim Herman, and mingle with his biggest fans in the lavishly decorated halls and ballrooms of his resort.

At Mar-a-Lago on Saturday night, the president stopped by a party themed after Studio 54, the nightclub he used to frequent in New York, and was surrounded by his family, former White House press secretary Sarah Sanders, Fox News’ Laura Ingraham, Turning Point USA’s Charlie Kirk and Candace Owens, radio show host Howie Carr (who described Trump as “in great spirits”) and even his personal attorney Rudy.

Members of Trump’s administration — including Kellyanne Conway and the president’s daughter and senior adviser, Ivanka Trump — have dodged questions about whether or not they think Giuliani, who is under federal investigation, is good counsel to the president.

The president and first lady Melania Trump also met with retired Navy SEAL Eddie Gallagher and his wife. In a move last month that resulted in the resignation of Navy Secretary Richard Spencer, Trump intervened in Gallagher’s war crimes case and reversed a demotion that would have taken away his Trident pin. On Instagram, Gallagher’s wife, Andrea, said they were able to say “thank you” to the president and present “a little gift from Eddie’s deployment to Mosul.”

Trump was described as cheerful, smiling for photos with fans and touting a boost in ratings as he made his way from table to table in the dining room saying hello to guests and friends.

“I’m up 6 points in the polls!”he told members.

The president’s sons Eric and Don Jr. were also spotted at the club, while Ivanka, who is known to mostly keep to herself, stayed away from the crowds.

A small group of aides, including acting chief of staff Mick Mulvaney, press secretary Stephanie Grisham and national security adviser Robert O’Brien, traveled with Trump to Florida for the weekend before Christmas, although more are expected to join later to keep the president up to date on the potential Senate impeachment trial.

Until then, the president has mostly seemed happy to be taking a break from the rancor between the White House and Democrats on Capitol Hill.

“He’s just a little a little bit sad there’s not so much sunshine to play golf the way he wants to,” Lombardi said.

Read More

#Foreign #Politics #post-impeachment #Trump

[fullspectrum-cbd-oil]

Melania Trump’s Spox Tears Into WaPo for Calling FLOTUS’ Outfit ‘Ridiculous’ in Christmas Reveal

Melania Trump’s spokesperson is shredding a fashion critic for The Washington Post after the paper criticized the jacket worn by the first lady during the annual Christmas decoration reveal at the White House.

The first lady unveiled this year’s White House theme for Christmas on Monday: “The Spirit of America,” as IJR previously reported. The theme honors “those who have shaped our country and made it the place we are proud to call home.”

Watch the video below:

“The Spirit of America” is shining in the @WhiteHouse! I am delighted to share this beautiful exhibit of patriotism for all to see, and excited for everyone to experience the beauty of the #Christmas season! pic.twitter.com/qGxxl9qBrd

— Melania Trump (@FLOTUS) December 2, 2019

The Post published an article by fashion critic Robin Givhan on Tuesday in which Givhan called the Christmas decorations “lovely” before proceeding to bash Trump’s coat as “ridiculous.”

“For her tour, Mrs. Trump wears all white: a dress with a simple jewel neckline, white stiletto-heeled pumps and a white coat. The coat is draped over her shoulders as she strolls through the White House. The coat looks ridiculous. But more than a silly fashion folly, the coat is a distraction. It’s a discomforting affectation taken to a ludicrous extreme.”

“The coat tossed over the shoulders is a generic styling maneuver,” Givhan wrote, later adding, “For Trump, the cliche seems to be a crutch — a way of not having to be fully present.”

In response to the Post’s article, Trump’s spokesperson, Stephanie Grisham, told Fox News, “It has become an annual holiday tradition for the media to attack all that the First Lady does. If this was a Democratic Administration, I suspect Mrs. Trump and her work would be featured positively in every mainstream news outlet.”

“The Spirit of America”#ChristmasWhiteHouse2019 pic.twitter.com/4zgxBJN4L1

— Melania Trump (@FLOTUS) December 2, 2019

Trump has drawn criticism in the past. Her 2018 Christmas decorations led people on Twitter to mock the red Christmas trees that lined one of the halls of the White House, saying they were “a real life nightmare before Christmas.” Her decorations also were criticized in 2017.

The Post was among those who took aim at Trump’s “blood-red Christmas trees” last year. Reporter Avi Selk wrote, “At the Trump White House, it’s never too early to start inducing flashbacks to phantasmal nightmares from our shared cultural memory.”

Nestled beneath the trees are the boxes of thistles, and stockings stuffed with existential pain. #VeryScaryWhiteHouse

— Karen DaltonBeninato (@kbeninato) November 26, 2018

The first lady hasn’t let the criticism bring her down. She previously said that “everybody has a different taste” and that she hopes “everybody will come over and visit it in real life.”

Other media outlets have also targeted the first lady’s appearance around the Christmas season. Last year, Vogue magazine published a story by an anonymous author saying that the first lady and President Donald Trump looked like “wax statues” in their White House Christmas portrait, as IJR previously reported.

from IJR https://ift.tt/2RiHXXZ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #IJR

[kansascityhappenings]

President Trump in Afghanistan for surprise Thanksgiving visit

BAGRAM AIR FIELD, Afghanistan — President Donald Trump paid a surprise Thanksgiving visit to Afghanistan, where he announced the U.S. and Taliban have been engaged in ongoing peace talks and said he believes the Taliban wants a ceasefire.

In his first trip to the site of America’s longest war, Trump arrived at Bagram Air Field shortly after 8:30 p.m. local time Thursday and spent more than two-and-a-half hours on the ground, serving turkey, thanking the troops and sitting down with Afghan President Ashraf Ghani.

As per tradition, reporters were under strict instructions to keep the trip a secret to ensure his safety in the country. About 12,000 U.S. forces remain in Afghanistan.

Traveling with a small clutch of aides, including his acting chief of staff, press secretary and national security adviser, but not the first lady, Trump appeared in good spirits as he was escorted around the base by heavily armed soldiers, as the smell of burning fuel and garbage wafted through the chilly air.

His first stop was a dining hall where he plated turkey and sat down for a meal.

During his visit, Trump said the U.S. and Taliban have been engaged in peace talks and insisted the Taliban want to make a deal after heavy U.S. fire in recent months.

“We’re meeting with them,” he said. “And we’re saying it has to be a ceasefire. And they don’t want to do a ceasefire, but now they do want to do a ceasefire, I believe… and we’ll see what happens.”

The trip comes after Trump abruptly broke off peace talks with the Taliban in September, canceling a secret meeting with Taliban and Afghan leaders at the Camp David presidential retreat after a particularly deadly spate of violence, capped by a bombing in Kabul that killed 12 people, including an American soldier.

That ended a nearly yearlong effort by the U.S. to reach a political settlement with the Taliban, the group that protected al-Qaida extremists in Afghanistan, prompting U.S. military action after the Sept. 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. U.S. and international forces have been on the ground ever since.

It was not immediately clear how long or substantive the U.S. reengagement with the Taliban has been.

Trump ran his 2016 campaign promising to end the nation’s “endless wars” and has been pushing to withdraw troops from Afghanistan and in the Middle East, despite protests from top U.S. officials, Trump’s Republican allies in Washington and many U.S. allies abroad. For months now, he has described American forces as “policemen” and argued that other countries’ wars should be theirs to wage.

Tens of thousands of Afghan civilians and more than 2,400 American service members have been killed since the war began 18 years ago.

Just last week, Trump flew to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware to oversee the transfer of remains of two Army officers killed when their helicopter crashed as they provided security for troops on the ground in Logar Province in eastern Afghanistan. The Taliban still controls or holds sway over about half of the country, staging near-daily attacks targeting Afghan forces and government officials.

The U.S. and Taliban had been close to an agreement in September that might have enabled a U.S. troop withdrawal.

Trump said he was proceeding with a plan to reduce U.S. troop levels to about 8,600, telling reporters we’re “bringing down the number of troops substantially.”

Still, he said, the U.S. will stay in the country “until we have a deal or we have total victory.”

Trump also met briefly with Ghani, the Afghan president. Ghani thanked the Americans who have made the “ultimate sacrifice” in Afghanistan

“Afghan security forces are taking the lead now,” Ghani said.

The White House took pains to keep the trip a secret after Trump’s cover was blown last year when Air Force One was spotted en route to Iraq by an amateur British flight watcher.

Cell phones and other transmitting devices were confiscated for the duration of the trip from everyone traveling aboard Air Force One. And Thanksgiving-themed tweets were teed up to publish ahead of time from Trump’s account to prevent suspicions arising about the president’s silence.

A small group of reporters was told to meet Wednesday night on the top floor of a parking garage and transported in black vans to Andrews Air Force Base. Meanwhile, the president was secretly flying back from Florida, where reporters had been told he’d be spending Thanksgiving at his Mar-a-Lago club.

The plane he’d flown to Florida — the modified 747 painted in the iconic white and blue of Air Force One — remained parked on the tarmac at West Palm Beach Airport to avoid revealing the president’s movement.

About 9:45 p.m. Wednesday, the president boarded a nearly identical plane concealed in a hangar at Andrews Air Base, taking off and landing under the cover of darkness, with cabin lights dimmed and window shutters drawn.

White House Press Secretary Stephanie Grisham said plans for the visit had been in the works for weeks.

“It’s a dangerous area and he wants to support the troops,” Grisham told reporters before Trump landed. “He and Mrs. Trump recognize that there’s a lot of people who are away from their families during the holidays and we thought it’d be a nice surprise.”

Shortly after midnight, Trump and his entourage departed.

The president told the troops he was honored to spend part of his holiday with them.

“There is nowhere I’d rather celebrate this Thanksgiving than right here with the toughest, strongest, best and bravest warriors on the face of the earth,” Trump said.

from FOX 4 Kansas City WDAF-TV | News, Weather, Sports https://fox4kc.com/2019/11/28/president-trump-in-afghanistan-for-surprise-thanksgiving-visit/

from Kansas City Happenings https://kansascityhappenings.wordpress.com/2019/11/28/president-trump-in-afghanistan-for-surprise-thanksgiving-visit/