Another flu epidemic section from "Votes, Love and War"

The Emergency Nursing Bureau, headed by the Lieutenant Governor's wife and the President of the Women Teachers' Club put out a call for home nursing volunteers. They especially wanted teachers, as we were available, out on salary, and worked in cooperation with public health nurses in the schools. When Baz's mother heard my plan to volunteer, she  said,"I'll go too."

Together we went to the Manitoba Medical College for the four hours of lectures that were our training before we were sent out into the community as home nurses. The women in charge of this crash course recognized Elizabeth Weaver (Baz's mother) as a doctor's widow and were especially welcoming to her.

"One would think," Elizabeth joked later, "that my husband's medical training was communicable, transmitted to me by marriage."

We were issued white arm bands with green crosses to show the public that we were volunteer nurses going crucial work. That very day, Elizabeth was assigned to a family of newcomers in the North End,  a young couple with two preschool children. She returned home exhausted but exhilarated.

"Neighbours helped the couple when they were first stricken," she said. "The people of that area have really banded together, but they need outside help now that so many have fallen ill. This young man and woman had high fevers at first but their temperatures are down, now and I think they'll make it.  They held my hands and said 'Thank you,' one of the few English expressions they know. They're lovely people and it's such a pleasure to hold a baby on my lap again."

The following morning she packed a hamper of food and bed linens to take with her. "I thought of giving the children Baz's toy horses and teddy bear, because they have nothing, " she said, "but I just can't."

I put my arm around her. "We may want those toys in years to come, when Baz comes home."

I was annoyed at the Emergency Nursing Bureau's delay in placing me. It was against the Bureau's policy to send a young girl where there were five or six ill persons, as it might be too much for her to deal with. Nor could young ladies go at night to poor neighbourhoods, nor care for delirious men, who might do something violent or improper. How silly and prudish!  I was twenty-two, a married woman. As for being out at night, male volunteers drove nurses to their assignments, so what was the problem?

When Mrs. Weaver got home that day, however, I had exciting news. The Bureau was sending me to care for a war widow with two children. When we were discussing my assignment, to start the following day, the telephone rang, and to my surprise it was [my brother] Henry. ....Marta [our stepmother, had the flu...

"I'll be on the next train," I told Henry.

...

On the train, the passing countryside blurred as I thought of Marta...I couldn't lose another mother.  Lily Kate and Francie, who had taken me under their wings and taught me so much, were so far away and we hadn't been in touch for months...I still had Elizabeth Weaver and Keira Waite to take a motherly interest in me and I was fond of both, but neither was a substitute for Marta. I couldn't lose her!

Review of Gillian Gill's new book on Virginia Woolf

 : http://www.compulsivereader.com/2020/08/09/a-review-of-virginia-woolf-and-the-women-who-shaped-her-world-by-gillian-gill/
Above is the  link to my review of Gillian Gill's Virginia Woolf and the Women who Shaped her World.

Review of "Becoming Lady Washington"

My review of Betty Bolte's novel, Becoming Lady Washington, has been published in Compulsive Reader. Check out the link, below, to find out why I didn't like the book.

http://www.compulsivereader.com/2020/07/17/a-review-of-becoming-lady-washington-by-betty-bolte/

More from "Votes Love and War" flu sections

More from my central character,  Charlotte.

Around her neck, Keira was wearing a small cotton drawstring bag of camphor, and Elizabeth remarked to me privately that the strong smell would definitely keep people from getting close enough to spread their germs.

Ned was well, Keira said, though the CPR shops were hotbeds of disease, as men who had symptoms still came to work, not wanting to stay home and lose pay. She and Ned thought the ban on public gatherings was being inconsistently enforced and that its aim was to prevent unions from holding meetings and planning for the November civic election. The Trades and Labour Council was sending a delegation to the mayor and council asking that those laid off their jobs because of the ban on public gatherings, like theatre employees and musicians, be compensated for their lost wages. I was lucky; teachers continued to get paid.

Dad phoned me from the Prosper General Store to ask how I was and whether there was news of Baz. There wasn't.....On the 8th and 9th of October, the Canadians and some British army units took the town of Cambrai, and on October 11th the Canadian corps was relieved, but we didn't hear anything from Baz.

Dad said I'd probably get a letter soon and changed the subject back to the flu. There were no cases at present in Prosper, but in other small towns there were. In Carman, three of the four doctors had fallen ill, leaving just the one to tend patients for forty miles around. At our home, all was well. The local school and Prosper Collegiate were still open.

"Your old suitor, Mr. York, was by a few days ago," he said jokingly. "He just got back from overseas and dropped in on us to see if we'd board his child. He wants the little lad nearer so he can see him more often. Marta said yes."

He said goodbye, then, asking me to keep the family informed about my health, and telling me not to worry about them. "Way out here in the country, no germs can reach us.

The Flu Epidemic Sections of Votes, "Love and War"

In my novel, Votes, Love and War (Ottawa, Baico, 2019 ISBN  978-1-77216-191-5, $32), my central character, Charlotte, writes of her experiences during the heyday of the Manitoba women's suffrage movement and World War I.  These experiences include the "Spanish" flu epidemic of 1918-1919.  One of my readers told me that the novel is especially relevant today as we experience the Covid-19 pandemic.

Canada in 1918-1919 was much less prepared for a pandemic than Canada of 2020, and the virus was not the same, in that the 1918-1919 flu struck down people in the prime of life, while in 2020 the elderly seem to be the most susceptible - though in both instances there were many exceptions to the pattern. In both epidemics, person-to-person transmission seems to have been the reason for the spread of the virus.

The 1918-19 flu was called "Spanish" because there seemed to be  more cases in Spain than in other countries.  Actually, some of the first reported cases were in an army barracks in Kansas. Spain was probably more honest in reporting its statistics, while the countries at war in 1918 did not report the full incidence of the epidemic for fear it would interfere with morale. The historian Eslett Wynne Jones has written an informative book about the impact of the pandemic of 1918-19 on Winnipeg.

I've decided to share some portions of Votes, Love and War to show how my fictional Charlotte, a young teacher,  and her mother-in-law, Elizabeth Weaver, cope with the 1918-1919 pandemic. Charlotte's young husband, Baz, is overseas at war at the time. See below:

In March 1918, Mrs. Weaver drew my attention to a news item about an influenza epidemic at a military camp in Kansas. Having lost her doctor husband to typhoid, she was interested in communicable diseases. I listened with mild concern but didn't think much about it. We'd all had the flu at one time or another; it was seldom life-threatening except in the cases of the frail elderly and fragile infants. My worries were focussed on Baz... (pp. 341-342)...

In late August, cases were reported in the Eastern United States where some of the victims died within twenty-four hours of exhibiting symptoms. Mrs. Weaver consulted her husband's medical books and said that this virulent flu was "mutating" - changing slightly into new strains for which there was no vaccine. The crowding and movement of troops, the weakened condition of both soldiers and civilians in Europe, the dirty  living conditions of the war - all contributed to its spread... (p. 346)...

Meanwhile, cases had been reported in Newfoundland and the disease seemed to  be creeping westward. Next, cases were reported in Montreal and Toronto. On September 30th the Winnipeg Tribune headlined: "Fifteen Spanish Flu Victims will Reach City Tonight.  The sick  men were on a troop train from Quebec, bound for Vancouver, thence to Siberia to fight against the Bolsheviks.  According to the Tribune, all the men had been healthy on leaving Fort William. When the train got to Winnipeg, the sick men were taken to the convalescent soldiers' home run by the Imperial Order of Daughters of the Empire. Other ill soldiers had been dropped off at  military hospitals en route. On  October 3rd, the Tribune reported that two of the soldiers had died. A third died on October 9th. The Tribune claimed that men who were supposed to be quarantined had been allowed out to attend movies, thus spreading the disease to the community.... (pp. 346-7)

With a mask over my nose and mouth, I went out and bought menthol, cough medicine and lemons, which were much in demand. Meanwhile the death toll mounted in Eastern Cities... Winnipeg public health officer  Dr Alexander Douglas introduced a fifty dollar fine for anyone caught spitting in the street. In a  public statement he told the sick to go to bed and everyone else to avoid crowds... As of midnight, October 12th, all public meeting places were ordered closed, including churches, movie theatres, libraries and schools.

"You're getting a vacation!" Elizabeth told me. I smiled, but neither of us felt lighthearted."

To be continued in next posting.

 

Always a Bridesmaid - not true, actually

As someone very fortunate in winning writing contests over my many years of writing, I shouldn't complain about being an  honourable mention in two recent contests,  My short story,  "Sometimes Crime Pays" was a H.M. in the Capital Crime Writers' Audrey Jessup short story contest this June.

Also, I was recently informed that three of the poems I entered in The Ontario Poetry Society's "Rain on the Brain" contest won honourable mentions.

It's always a thrill to win something or get published. My review of Isabel Allende's new novel, A Long Petal of the Sea, appeared recently in Compulsive Reader.  Here is the link

http://www.compulsivereader.com/2020/06/16/a-review-of-a-long-petal-of-the-sea-by-isabel-allende/

Co-authoring a story with Sheila Ferguson

A writer can learn a lot from co-writing a story with another author.  Recently Sheila Ferguson (a member of the Emerald Plaza writers' group that I used to facilitate in pre-Covid-19 days) and I decided to collaborate on a short story using the prompt below: Write a story about a runaway bride.  We took turns, each contributing to the plot and providing interesting detail.  I found it fun to see what she'd come up with next. Sheila then went through the manuscript, pruned out extraneous detail and put it in chronological order.  Here it is:


THE PROMPT: WRITE A STORY ABOUT A RUNAWAY BRIDE.

Ellery was a young lady of twenty-one, who was planning to marry the love of her life, Tom, on their special day. As she was getting ready for the wedding, an urge to bolt came over her while she was in the ladies' parlor of the church. As she looked out the window, she saw the florist’s van pull to the side of the church and her mother-in-law and bridesmaids ran to meet him because he was late. There was a mix-up at the florists. Ellery was alone in the deserted room in her satin bridal gown. Looking into the mirror, she thought she was seeing a ghost, she was so pale.

“ If only my mother was here?” she thought. But her mother had died nine months ago of cancer. “What am I doing here?” she asked herself. Then, out of the blue, she looked around, grabbed somebody’s raincoat off the coat hook by the door and put it on. She then went into her mother-in-law’s purse and took the keys to her car. She dashed out the door, along the hall, down the stairs, past the Sunday School room, and out the fire escape to the car. She sped down the main drag that led to the bridge out of town. She was way out of town before realizing what she was doing and where she was going. She slowed down and decided to go to the old cottage her grandfather owned to clear her head. “Nobody will ever think of looking for me there,” she thought. “It  has been closed down for years.”

As Ellery was driving down the paved road heading towards the cottage some forty miles from the church, she finally got to the bumpy dirt road to the cottage. As she proceeded, she heard a loud bang. She stopped the car and got out. “Oh no, what am I going to do now?  I have a flat tire.”  It was getting dark and she had her wedding dress on. She could not possibly change a tire now. She turned off the car and started to walk the short distance to the cottage. As she walked, she thought, “This dirt road is no good for my satin shoes.”

When she got to the cottage, she was cold and tired. Even though it was May, it had not warmed up much as of yet. “Now, if only I can remember how Granddad did the fire.” She put in some of the wood that he'd left stacked by the cabin door, then crumpled some old newspaper on top of it. She turned the damper the way he used to do and she hoped the chimney would draw the air. One year something blocked the chimney and the cabin filled with smoke. Grandpa had to climb up on the roof where he removed an old bird’s nest.


The fire started. Ellery sat down on the couch, put the old blanket around her to warm up and left the coat on as well to protect her wedding dress.  She waited for the place to warm and planned what to do next. “Tomorrow I will see if there are any old clothes here to change into and walk back to the car, fix the flat and bring the car back to the cottage.” She was tired so she lay down and slept. Early in the morning she walked back to the car. While she was walking, she was going over in her head how to change a tire. She had only done it once before. That was when she met her fiancé Tom some two years ago. He was tall and handsome. He worked as a bank manager in the town of Osgoode.

She fixed the tire, drove back to the cottage and sat and enjoyed the morning sun on the balcony for a while. Feeling a little hungry, she remembered that Tom’s mother always kept drinks and chips in the trunk for when she picked up Tom at the train station when he came home to visit. She went to see what there was. She had a drink and ate a bag of chips. That would hold her over till later.
She then went inside to think. They would  be looking for her for sure. She could not stay there forever.  She could not take the car. While she was deciding what to do next, she cleaned away the spider webs all over the walls. Maybe it would be a good idea to leave this afternoon, the sooner the better.

She remembered Grandpa always kept maps on the book shelf in the living room, so she got a kitchen chair to stand on. As she reached up to get the maps down, the chair slipped from under her. She landed hard on her back and lay there for a while before she got up.

“Now how can I walk to the highway?  I hurt all over.” She took two Tylenols, lay down and fell asleep. When she woke her back was slightly better, but she didn’t feel well enough to hike through the bush to the highway and flag a car down, especially in the middle of the night. Traffic would be thin, she might not get a ride, and who knew what sort of people would be out in the early hours of the morning?

Her idea was to hitch a ride to a city of about 80,000 people about two hours to the south, where some friends of her late grandparents used to live. This couple, in their early seventies, missed her grandparents as much as she did. Tom’s mother had invited so many guests to the wedding that this elderly pair hadn’t made the list of invitees. They would understand why she’d run away and would let her stay until she figured out what to do next.

Ellery had always imagined a fall wedding at the church she and Tom attended, then pictures at the little park at the end of the road. A simple buffet style meal, music and dancing, then they would drive off into the sunset. But Tom’s mother had invited so many people Ellerys did not even know and arranged for a full hot meal. Also, she'd hired a band to play some kind of old fashioned music, not Ellery's idea at all. When she tried to tell Tom, all he did was agree with his mother.

“Enough day dreaming. I should be off,” she told herself.  So through the woods she went. She knew she had to get to the highway as soon as possible as it had been forty-eight hours since she went missing and Tom would have gone to the police by now. They might even have figured out where she had gone.
As she walked quickly through the woods, there was a noise behind her. Then she heard a voice calling her name. She stopped.

“Ellery, stop! It’s me, Tom.”  Tom came to her and said “Why did you leave?”

“You would not listen to me. I wanted a small fall wedding. Let me go.”

She broke loose and ran down the path. As she did, she hit a ground hog hole and down she fell. Her head struck a boulder on the path. It knocked her out. Tom picked her up, took her  back to the cabin, put some cold water on her head and suggested that they go and see a doctor.

While the doctor was checking her out. Tom called his mother to tell her that he’d found Ellery and that she was all right. That evening Ellery and Tom talked and he said he was sorry that he let his mother manage the wedding. “If you still want to get married,” he said, “we will plan it ourselves.”