Memoir Byte: The Old Fur Coat in Rome #Terrorism

 

 

Memoir Byte: The old fur coat in Rome

 

27 December 1985, Rome, Vienna

Four members of the Abu Nidal Organisation attacked an El Al counter at Rome Airport, killing sixteen and injuring sixty-seven people. A similar simultaneous attack at Vienna Airport resulted in two deaths and forty-seven injuries.

Source: https://www.ict.org.il/Article/893/Terrorist-Incidents-against-Jewish-Communities-and-Israeli-Citizens-Abroad-1968-2003#gsc.tab=0

 

 

Fur coat in Rome
December 1985 – Pescara, Italy

 

 

 

On the day of the full moon on December 27th, 1985, I was on an Alitalia flight from my hometown in Toronto headed for Rome. I was going to meet up with my then boyfriend who was already there and was to meet me at the airport with his brother who would then drive us to Pescara on the Adriatic coast where the family lived, approximately a 2 1/2 hour drive away from Rome. I’ve always been a stickler for following rules and being on time. And I promised my dad I’d call him as soon as I landed.

Being the end of December, it was winter in Rome just as it was was back home, only not nearly as wintry. I wore my long silver fox fur coat, my pride and joy coat I’d treated myself to with a small inheritance I received from my grandmother a few years prior. I was excited to be spending New Years in beautiful Roma where all the beautiful people dressed immaculately when strolling the streets and cafes. I’d already been to Rome once before and fell in love with the ambiance of the country, the people and the shopping!

Nine hours later we landed. I was excited to get off the plane and see my boyfriend and begin our adventure. But many minutes had passed after we landed in the middle of the tarmac at Fiumicino International Airport,  ‘Leonardo da Vinci’ Airport. Not a peep from the airline staff or pilot. Nobody yet suspected there was anything wrong until a good 20 mins had passed then the natives began getting restless, including myself. Everyone peered out the windows to see what the hold up was, yet there was nothing unusual to see. It wasn’t until passengers, including myself, began bombarding the stewards with questions when the plane was getting stuffy and we just wanted to get off.

A good hour had passed until we learned there was a bombing inside the airport. We were kept on the tarmac for approximately 3 hours before we were released. I was feeling quite anxious as I was walked from the plane, worrying that my father –  the worry wart, had possibly seen the news, or maybe he hadn’t, but nonetheless I was concerned because I should have called him 3 hours prior to inform him I’ve landed safely. I could sense my father’s worry deep within my intuitive gut. I visualized him listening to the news – he was a news junky, and hearing about a bombing at Rome airport where his daughter was headed, while not hearing a word from that daughter for hours after he’d expected her to land.

I was happy to be comforted in my boyfriend’s arms after the ordeal and just wanted to get out of the crazy airport. We still had a 2  hour plus drive to Pescara before I knew I’d get to a phone. Too nervous to enjoy the beautiful country sights on the drive, or to stretch my ‘try to understand Italian’ thinking muscles, and not to mention it was now early afternoon after landing in the morning which was still the middle of the night on my body Toronto time and hadn’t slept on the plane. I remained tired and anxious and filled with a stomach full of angst, quiet.

At long last we arrived at the flat and with feigned interest at all the familial introductions and greetings, I just wanted to scream just take me to your telephone. Finally, my nervous fingers were dialing my dad. And then the floodgates opened up. The sound of my father’s voice had unleashed all the emotions and pent up anxiety in a stream of sobs I’d contained for hours. My father did the same. It took us both a few moments before we could actually converse with words between sobs. And as I had gone through my own journey of worry and a nagging sensation of urgency to call my father all the while stranded until I could get to a phone, I learned about the panic my father lived through.

My Aunty Sherry had seen the breaking news when the terrorists bombed El Al at Rome airport. According to my father, she’d seen many bodies sprawled out on the ground in the airport – some dead, some taking cover, and then she noticed a young blond woman wearing a long silver fox coat lying on the ground as the camera quickly panned over.

My aunt had called my father in hysterics alerting him to what she had just seen and was eager to find out if he’d heard from me yet. But he hadn’t. And two of the most important people in my family life panicked and prayed together that the blond woman in the fur coat wasn’t me lying dead in a Rome airport. All their anxiety had come through to me as the hours passed while I waited to be able to make that call. And God was good to me that day.

Some things we just never forget.

 

©DGKaye2020

 

Colleen’s Tuesday Tanka #Poetry Challenge – Poet’s Choice

Colleen Chesebro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge. This week is Poet’s Choice. I’ve written a Tanka.

 

 

Colleen’s 2020 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 176, #Poet’sChoice

 

It’s the first of the month and you know what that means! Poets, choose your own syllabic poetry form, theme, words, images, etc. It’s up to you!

Are you looking for inspiration for your syllabic poetry? Find an image on Pixabay.com or experiment with “found poetry” as a way to find some inspiration. Another option is to try some magnetic poetry. You still have to count syllables, but it’s like putting together a puzzle!

If that doesn’t work… take a walk in nature. Engage your five senses. Remember, always write your poetry for yourself. Make it meaningful to you! . . . continue reading at Colleen’s blog.

 

 

revelation

 

The Change

 

The drums beat louder.

Natives edging on restless.

Thunder rolls the sky.

History is repeating.

Sad endings – new beginnings.

 

Visit Colleen’s original post and join in the fun anytime! Different challenge weekly and your choice of style of poetry!

 

©DGKaye2020

 

Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge #SynonymsOnly – Deception

COLLEEN’S 2019 WEEKLY #TANKA TUESDAY #POETRY CHALLENGE NO. 135 #SYNONYMSONLY

for

Pretty & Ugly

 

HERE’S THE CATCH: You can’t use the prompt words! SYNONYMS ONLY! Except for the first challenge of the month ~ then, the poets get to choose their own words.

 

I’ve chosen to write a Double #Tanka

 

Deception

 

 

Deception

 

Disguised as promise

A chaotic clusterfuck

Beautifully concealed

Reality distorted

Hostility reigns rampant.

 

Suppressing the truth

Predator assumes applause

Undigested lies

Pandora’s present unleashed

Smorgasbord of hate revealed

If you’d like to join in the weekly poetry prompt challenge, please visit Colleen’s blog for the ‘rules’ and various forms of poetry.

 

Source: Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 135 #SynonymsOnly – The Faery Writer

 

©DGKaye

 

 

The Historical Role of Writers and Authors in Society – K. DeMers Dowdall

In our new world of fake news and certain attempts to block a free press, I felt compelled to share this amazing article by Karen Dowdall on a writer’s right to write, democracy, and the critical importance for writers to spread their written words.

 

I believe our global world is teetering on a precipice or an abyss. However we wish to view our global situation, because there are too many dictators that have now gained power. The supposed purpose of our American Democratic Republic was, and hopefully will be again someday, for religious freedom and economic prosperity. Democracy, however, is losing.

Therefore, in my opinion, writers can and should share their views.  The governmental policies are everyone’s business, because our lives, how we live our lives, are dependent upon on our written and verbal voices.  Writers have a voice, an audience, a vibrant and often collective voice.

Fiction, especially, is a vehicle to express societal needs and wants for a better life. Consider A Tale of Two Cities, To Kill a Mocking Bird, The Scarlet Letter, Jane Eyre, Oliver Twist, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Roots, and so many others.  All of these written works represent writers speaking out about the horrors of tyranny placed on people of poverty, of color, of sex, and of faith.

Furthermore, all of the above classic literature, speaks to the appalling human conditions forced onto society by tyranny, greed, hate groups, ignorance, and loathe. The cruelty of mankind is a poison without a cure…unless humankind speaks loudly, writes loudly about injustice, poverty, bullying, hate, fear, racism, greed, and tyranny. Please continue reading at Karen’s blog

 

 

Source: The Historical Role of Writers and Authors in Society – K. DeMers Dowdall

Moving Photographs from the last 100 years – #Haibun – Colleen Chesebro’s #Poetry Challenge

This week for Colleen Chesebro’s Weekly Poetry Challenge, I thought I’d try my hand at a Haibun and incorporate my Haibun with a powerful video that Sally Cronin recently shared at her Smorgasbord Invitation. Profound moments of time in the last 100 years of humanity. Powerful, memorable, and poignant moments in time.

 

 

Poetry Rules: – Choose your form of poetry and use SYNONYMS ONLY for the words – Hobby and Play

I’ve chosen to write a Haibun with a double Haiku

 

 

Humanity

 

I believe with all the madness in the world, these moments in times of turmoil serve as reminders of ongoing world struggles we live through and somehow overcome. But the past has a way of resurfacing. This video is a quick refresher course on some of the biggest things in life that can happen to us – things we often take for granted thinking  they’ve been eradicated – things we think won’t happen again. But they do.

 

Life is like a sport

We keep on striving to win

Winners and losers

 

Keep sight of the wins

The alternatives are dire

Lives become the game

 

Source: Smorgasbord Afternoon Video – Moving Photographs from the last 100 years. | Smorgasbord Blog Magazine

 

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