Martinis are Good

January 10, 2015.

Passing Thoughts
The Paris terrorists were killed.

These global events are the reason for my 'Passing Thoughts by Lady Peach'.
Recall that France, and her revolution in the 18th Century inspired America towards 'Freedom, Equality, and Brotherhood'.  I guess we are not all brothers yet.  The violence against the journalists tells me we are not.  The attack at the kosher market tells me I should now choose where I shop carefully.  But wait, the attack in Australia was in a cafe.

I think I must be the oldest person in Ontario, or at least the only old person who can remember watching 'Cops and Robbers' and 'Cowboys and Indians' on TV in the 50's.  I can't believe that I am the only one who can remember that the bank robbers wore kerchiefs to cover their faces when robbing a bank.  The bad guys always had masks.  In Roman times, the martyrs didn't cover their faces or plot heinous attacks.  In the past, martyrs were defined as people who died for their faith in the hands of others.  Today, martyrs are people who blow themselves up, kill others for an ideology that promises 60 virgins in heaven?  I have no interest in that heaven.  Who are the mothers that taught little boys to prey upon their sisters?  All of this is very confusing.  I love Paris.  I love the French and I love Quebec.  What happened to the activists from the 60's and 70's?  Women in the west haven't even clebrated the 100th anniversary of getting the right to vote yet.  Why is it that only the French appreciate looking at women?  Why is this so difficult to understand?

I think, seriously, no foolin' we need to examine our vocabulary words.  What is a martyr?  What is terrorism?  What did humanity accomplish in the 20th Century?  Are we all willing to turn out the lights and live in darkness?  Have we all gone mad?

The other news story that caught the attention of an old Peach, was that a blogger was flogged in Saudi Arabia.  Like the comedians from the other day, suddenly, I too say, perhaps I should think twice before blogging anything.  Blogging and flogging doesn't sound so good to me.

The Tale

I had my first call from Abe Dole.  The New York law firm had hired him.  He would handle Greg's defence from Montgomery.  We were to meet in a Tuscumbia law office on Wednesday, as Greg was to appear in court Thursday morning.  I was told that Abe was able to get special permission for me to see Greg on Wednesday.  It was explained that this was an amazing achievement and I should be incredibly thankful for this most amazing opportunity, as it was unheard of to visit inmates during the week, and I wouldn't even have to apply for permission.  Abe gave me the address of the law office where we would meet.  Abe needed a local firm since the case was to be heard in Colbert County and he couldn't do everything from Montgomery.  People from MBI and the Toronto lawyer would be flying in for the meeting as well, to discuss bail and bond options and other legal matters before the Thursady court appearance, and I was told that Karina and I should be at the office for 11:00 AM Wednesday.

That meant we were set back a full day.  Karina and I had to fill our day in Nashville.  I think that we bought the doughnut pillow at the airport kiosk, but I am not sure, I just know that Karina insisted on having a travel log of photos of the doughnut going to see Greg.  Whatever it took to keep my team sane!  I took pictures of the doughnut in airport security, waiting in the terminal, flying, and eventually arriving to our hotel in Nashville.  A crazy Peach and her lunatic daughter.  'This should be good' I thought.

We wandered down that main street lined with bars and souvenir shops, the three of us, me, Karina, and the doughnut.  Every bar had a country singer busy at work at three o'clock in the afternoon.  Bath salts were sold right at the front entrances of the souvenir shops.  I was confused and so was Karina.  We took pictures of the doughnut on a bench with an ad for bail/bond companies.  At least we were in the right place!  We found a nice restaurant and ordered the first meal we had thought about in over a week.  We also ordered martinis.

I called MBI and spoke to Greg's secretary.  She told me that the former Prime Minister had called and expressed his concern.  Other top ranking people in the grimmet business had also called.
The clock was moving slowly and a couple of martinis later, Karina was composing country songs.
She rhymes easily and we began laughing hysterically over her new found talent:

"Oh, I'm so sad, it is really bad, what a stinker, my Dad's in the clinker" She went on and on in a similar vein for quite a while, all the while encouraged by me and the martinis.

Nightfall, and we started to wander back to the hotel.  Walking uphill, a bus stopped for us and asked if we needed a ride.  The ride was free. We hopped on and a couple of blocks later we needed to get off.  Emboldened by the free spirited atmosphere of the city, Karina called out to the other passengers as we were stepping off, "pray for our family, my Dad's in jail".  A chorus of supporters replied that they would.

And that is how I learned that we were not alone in our troubles.

Today would have been Greg's Dad's 100th Birthday!