Rural Free Delivery
pulls into her yard
Stench in his nostrils
Chunky rotting food
steams swimming in slop
Grunting rutting hogs
Apples of her eye
Food on her table
Money in the bank
Sweet smell of success
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 9 January 2016
Altadena, California style, Sept 1973. Dresses by Elouise; D’s tie by a friend.
Nothing like the experience I describe in Part 5 and Part 6 ever happened again. Going to seminary, and to Fuller Seminary in particular, was the most wonderful thing I could have done at that time of my life.
Nonetheless, this post is also about hard stuff. Read the rest of this entry »
Harvard Student Protests 1969
It’s spring 1969. Sentiment against the war in Vietnam, plus a laundry list of other issues, finally hits the Harvard University campus. Student protests erupt, Read the rest of this entry »
~~~Hot, Just-Baked Krispy Kreme Donuts
Fall 1965 to Fall 1968. I’m allergic to spending money. Unfortunately, I’ve married a man who isn’t at all allergic to spending money. Nor does he seem particularly concerned about Read the rest of this entry »
Meet my two part-time colleagues in the dean’s office. Without them, I might not have had a job. Their jobs were about money. Lots of it. Read the rest of this entry »
Fall 1965. Sometimes it seems I’ve died and gone to heaven! I’m living with a man who knows, loves and respects me. He doesn’t seem a bit perturbed about things I experience as shameful or diminishing. You know: my hair not looking ‘good enough,’ Read the rest of this entry »
Last year I began reading Émile Zola’s novel, The Ladies’ Paradise, because of the back cover, not the front cover (above). These quotes caught my eye.
‘Mouret’s sole passion was the conquest of Woman. He wanted her to be queen in his shop, he had built this temple for her in order to hold her at his mercy.’ (from the novel)
Octave Mouret, the store’s owner-manager, masterfully exploits the desires of his female customers. In his private life too he is the great seducer. But when he falls in love with the innocent Denise Baudu, he discovers she is the only one of the salesgirls who refuses to be commodified. (from the back cover summary)
New translation published by Oxford University Press 1995; first published as a novel in 1883
Commodified women. Read the rest of this entry »
This story is from a book I wrote in the 1990s. It’s my most vivid childhood memory of Christmas.
I couldn’t forget the look on my mother’s face when I opened my Christmas present from my grandfather. I was about 12 years old. My mother’s father lived in California; we now lived in Georgia. Gifts and letters had replaced lively visits to his apartment. Read the rest of this entry »
Summer 1951
I’ve been wanting to write you a private letter for a long time. Mother and Daddy won’t let me send you letters they haven’t read first. They don’t want me to tell you anything sad or anything about money. But I’m not going to show them this letter. It’s just for you. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 