Back to Persepolis

In relation to how the imposed “modest” attire for women becomes a symbol of larger oppressions. Persepolis:

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This idea of so much control by men. Of women, and their public appearance. How it is driven by religion, or culture as reinforced by religion. This concept of “public decency” being referenced to how women present. If considered too publicly tempting to men, it becomes indecent.

I must control your public presentation and appearance.

I also have a right to dictate how you will present and appear to me in private. If I want it, you give it.

Remember seeing this porn of some guy having the woman wipe him, with her hijab, after sex. He went from behind, not wanting to see his eyes in hers. She only turns to wipe.

See, I controlled you then, and now I am disgusted, so you must share in that disgust, since you are its object. And I expect decent dress in public.

Beginning to appreciate the slutwalks:

This is how you look for consent
Of course we don’t blame the nun

What is seen and not seen
What right is not seen

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Get Over Myself

From Somebody to Love? by Grace Slick, with Andrea Cagan (1998):

I see this life as a portrait that is mine to manifest in my own way, a universe of pictures we trade with each other as kids trade baseball cards. And on the other hand, if information comes through that renders that concept ineffective, I’m going to have to either swallow my pride or a bowl of battery acid and get over myself.

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Something else that you see

Wrote about cornet player Buddy Bolden, in relation to the disappearance and self-renaming of pianist Bobby Henderson. Didn’t know that Bolden was considered to be a founder of jazz, and the leader of the first jazz group. Finding out that Bolden had spent the last 24 years of his life in a psychiatric facility, then known as an insane asylum, suffering from schizophrenia, then known as dementia. Committed as of the age of 30. How Bobby Henderson renamed himself Jody Bolden and disappeared for decades, commencing in 1934, three years after Bolden’s death.

Was, once and forever:

Further alive in Wynton Marsalis:

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Have previously written about Bobby Henderson, the pianist considered to be the next Fats Waller, and an early or first fiancé of singer Billie Holiday.

The engagement ended, and so did he, for a significant period of time.

From With Billie, by Julia Blackburn (2005):

The last place where they worked together was the Bar Harbor in Utica, New York, towards the end of 1932. In the interview, Bobby did not explain what happened next, but the newspapers were full of reports about the break-up between Billie and her “fiancé”. It was around the same time that Bobby failed to turn up for an important recording session arranged by producer John Hammond. He then went into self imposed exile…

He changed his name to Jody Bolden, in honour of his namesake, the famous New Orleans cornet player, “King” Buddy Bolden (1877-1931), who was arrested for dementia [the term then used for schizophrenia] in 1906 and was committed to a mental institution in 1907, where he remained until his death.

…(Henderson) pretty well disappeared from the jazz scene until he was rediscovered and recorded by John Hammond in 1956.

Going away
Staying away

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In My Head

From With Billie, by Julia Blackburn (2005), in relation to Bobby Henderson (1910-1969), a pianist who accompanied and was an early fiancé of singer Billie Holiday (1915-1959). Considered to be the successor to Fats Waller (1904-1943):

Away from the night-life of work, Bobby Henderson lived quietly with his mother on 109th Street, just across from Mayor La Guardia. He spent a lot of time alone, walking the streets of New York with a bottle of wine in his pocket to keep him company. He said that was the only way he could think about what he called the “process” of his life and could listen to the stream of music playing inside his head. “I had a habit of walking…I know every path in Central Park: I know every path in every park in New York City. I’m one of the few people that walked from the Battery to the Bronx, from the Hudson River to the East River–you hear what I say? Through Chinatown. I don’t think there’s a street in New York I haven’t walked on. It’s a bit city, but since I was a kid I knew it. And thank God I could always hear some music when I was walking, whether a jukebox was playing or not, I was hearing sounds…”

Bobby Henderson went home and, before falling into bed, he emptied the money from his pockets onto the kitchen dresser. His mother woke up and looked at “all those twisted-up twenty-dollar bills, ten-dollar bills, five-dollar bills, two-dollar bills, one-dollar bills and she let out a yell. “What’s the matter, Mom? House on fire?” he said, and explained that he had not stolen the money and she could go right out and get herself some new dresses.

Later that same day he took ten of his own dollars and bought a bottle of dry white wine. Then he walked to the boating lake in Central Park and hired a boat and rowed out as far as he could go. He sat there quietly for a long time, thinking about this sudden change in his fortunes and the new direction his life was taking.

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Ortona 1943, 1998: Terry F. Rowe

Reading a major CBC news story on the Ortona Christmas reconciliation dinner, 1998, published January, 1999, uncredited, as “Return to Ortona: A Battlefield Redemption“. Fifty-five years after there was a brief respite from the fighting, to celebrate Christmas amidst bloodshed, in 1943.

Remembering this image of the Christmas dinner for Canadian soldiers, 1943, in a bombed-out church in Ortona:

In another story from Radio Canada International, by Marc Montgomery, “History: Dec 21, 1943, Canada and the bloody battle for Ortona“, published December 21, 2015, the background of the photo is given:

In one of Ortona’s more famous photos, the Seaforth Highlanders enjoy their Christmas dinner, in the bombed-out church at Santa Maria di Constantinopoli, Ortona, Italy, 25 December 1943. The dinner was made from foods scrounged, and troops were rotated away from the fighting just a couple of streets away, and then sent back to make room for others to enjoy a brief respite. For some, it would be their last meal. © Terry F. Rowe / Canada. Department of National Defence – Library and Archives Canada =PA-152839

Had wondered who the photographer was, and then noticed the copyright: Terry F. Rowe. Thought he must be a famous war photographer. Did a search and found, at “Canada at War Forums“:

Terry F. Rowe, killed on Nettuno Beach Feb.6,1944. Photographer for Winnipeg Tribune before joining Canadian 1st Division on the British 8th Army’s Adriatic front on the Moro River and Ortona. I am his neice and would love to be contacted by anyone who knew him or whose loved one knew him.

Photograph as personal legacy

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