Good Morning Ted and Jody:
Well, the physical therapist came and went. He gave her some standing up exercise. I guess they are a medical secrete for I have not seen them done. It could be that they are so dangerous she has to do them in the dark least she sees what she is doing and collapses in disbelief. While she can only transport what will fit in her pocket (she has small bed jacket pockets as most people wearing this apparel stay in bed and it is to keep one warm sitting up), she can move stuff about three feet, balancing on the refrigerator door, moving an item to the stove, closing the refrigerator door, moving her walker two feet, then moving the item from the stove to the edge of the counter by the pantry. Next, she moves the walker two more feet and moves the item from one side of the pantry door to the counter on the other side. Then she is home free as she can slide things along that counter to the kitchen sink. Then back for the next item. To make a sandwich this takes her five such maneuvers. When she is done, she goes to her recliner and askes me to carry the sandwich to her. Then I get to clean up after her. I’d suggest she get a bed jacket with bigger pockets, but then I would just have more laundry to do and more often. So, I keep quiet on that front.
I listened to the weather again this morning. A big mistake, for they change it every day. Now we are supposed to get some more snow. DA, look out the window; it has been snowing for an hour. Don’t these people ever look out the window. Snow is a big deal here as it is so infrequent. They are debating this morning about the impact of using salt on the icy roads. With the amount of salt they would have to use, it would cause a lot less damage than all the vehicles running into one another, stationary items (buildings and poles not to mention parked vehicles) and people who move too slow. Oh well, another vital public policy debate where everyone has an opinion (I have heard absolutely no facts).
While we did not watch closely, I did not see the humming birds again after I put fresh nectar out for them. I do hope they hightailed it for the river route to the coast (up the Columbia and they are home free into warmer climates, although the beach is currently getting a dusting of snow. But it supposed to get into the low 40s there during the day).
I am attaching the 11th installment of Amanda’s Saga. It may be time to think of a real title for this.
I trust you are staying warm and laughing at our feeble response to a feeble snowfall.
Warmest Regards, Ed
A Story Needs Balance
Fiction in 783 words by T. Edward Westen, 2016
Professor Martin Sander put down his computer glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Before I got those, I always had a stiff neck” he thought regarding his computer glasses. He sighed and put his computer glasses back on, opened his email app and began “Jeremy Eastman: If this isn’t a fairy tale two women have told you, you have two stories not just one. The women are most intriguing but their story needs confirmable information. Then there is the issue of the Child Protective Services Caseworker pulling more strings than her pay grade would suggest she should be able to pull. So, talk to Mrs. Gunderson and see what her side of the story is. I’ll be in my office after morning classes if you need to talk. Sanders.” He hit send and thought; “When I first started teaching journalism, it was papers and broadcast. In those days getting students to submit online was like pulling teeth. Now, journalism is so broad not even those in it know its full breadth. Getting students to think before they hit send is the problem today.’ He chuckled to himself, ‘I’m surprised the kid just didn’t publish on Facebook or in a blog.’
Jeremy Eastman read his professor’s email within minutes of the Professor hitting the send button. ‘Confirmable information, hmmm’ Jeremy thought. He opened his bookmarks and selected the NewsHist site and clicked on it. ‘Thank God the University Library subscribed.’ It asked for his user id and password. Jeremy complied and then entered the date range for 21 to 18 years prior and the name Amanda White. Close to instantly two news stories appeared for the arrest and trial of Amanda White. He read both the stories and pulled out the names: Patrolman Francis Milson, Caseworker Edith Gunderson and the minor Amanda NMI White. Amanda NMI White was only referenced in the reading of the charge at the trial as the minor neglected. There was no further reference to her. He further pulled out the name of the Judge, Franklin Belemany. After confirming that the story Mrs. White and Mrs. Hastings had told him was the same as that told by the online news morgue stories he went back and made a list of reporters covering the story and a note to himself to find out who the bailiffs, court recorders and the attorneys were and, if possible any members of that petit jury. ‘While I’m at finding out things, why do these two women always address each other by Mrs. and their last names?’ Jeremy went on to mentally castigate himself ‘I should have asked them last night. Fine detective, ah reporter, I am turning out to be.’
‘But first,” thought Jeremy Eastman, ‘to find little Amanda White.’ He went back 25 years this time. ‘Perhaps I can find a birth announcement.’ He searched until the minor would be 4 years old. Nothing. So, he kept changing the year until 8 years ago, Amanda White popped up in a prison release announcement. “Damn, she was in jail the whole 12 years.” He looked around, no one had heard him talking to himself. He kept changing the date rage until he hit Amanda White, aged 22, popped up in the marriage license applications announcements along with a Brice Clarkton; then a week later as Mrs. Brice Clarkton, the former Amanda White. Looking at his arraignment notes, “Eureka, I have found you little Amanda.”
Jeremy Eastman looked around again. No one had heard him as no one was in the lab. He looked at his smart phone, ‘6:33. Wow, I’ve been at this all night.’ Jeremy next thought of his stomach ‘Coffee with a Danish.’
The walk from the computer bank in the library to the coffee shop on 3rd Street, woke up Jeremy Eastman. Cold air will do that. While sipping his coffee and taking tidbits from his almond macaroon Danish, Jeremy reviewed his notes. Looking up, he realized he was only a block from the Hall of Justice. ‘Child Protective Services is in the basement of the Hall of Justice,’ thought Jeremy looking at his watch. ‘8:45. They will be open by the time I get there.’
Upon entering the Hall of Justice Jeremy was subjected to security screening just as he was yesterday. Indeed, the same guard. “Going to court again? It is a bit early.” the Guard inquired.
“No sir, I am going to see Edith Gunderson in Child Protective Services” replied Jeremy.
The Guard pointed behind him. “That’s her now.”
Jeremy turned around that took a step toward the approaching Edith Gunderson. “Edith Gunderson, I have a few questions for you” Jeremy said holding up his student identification.