Oh la.

There is a strike going on in France today. This is not so unusual. The French are notorious for striking against anything they see as an infringement of their rights. Today there are ferry workers striking over the loss of $135 bonus.

I chuckle at this, though not without an affectionate but exasperated feeling.

I wonder about those strikes. The French system of government is certainly less lasseiz-faire than our own. The government provides a health care system that gives ample opportunity for visits to the doctor and medical prescriptions, plentiful vacation time, and a limited hour (only 35!) work week. High taxes cover these expenses, sort of.

Like our own Social Security and Medicare, etc., the French programs are not currently sustainable without some reform. At some point the amount of money going out will overwhelm the amount coming in. Some French however, are angry that somehow they should be asked to either work longer hours, or give up some of their vacation time or give up anything, even the equivalent of 135 dollars.

I am not an expert on the French government and social systems. I lived there for a year and a half. I experienced a transportation strike in the middle of December. It was cold. A few buses, which were still working, were packed with humanity resembling sardines. I found a flyer one day which I kept that called the strike obscene because of the effects on the general population, the reasons ranging from preventing people from getting to work to having the populace herded into buses like cattle and smashed together with no sense of dignity.

This is not a commentary on certain governmental systems, I am not being political. It's not really even about France. I am just wondering about human nature and the extent to which we are willing to inconvenience or harm others for what we perceive as our rights. There are rights worth fighting for. There are "rights" that aren't. This is a complicated issue and not what I planned to write about. But I guess that's what happens when listening to NPR News as I sit down to blog.

Easter Sunday

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so,

For those whom thou think’st thou doest overthrow,

Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go –

Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery.

Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,

And doest with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well,

And better than thy stroke, why swell’st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

And death shall be no more, death thou shalt die.

~ John Donne, Holy Sonnet X

April Come She Will

I turned the page on my calendar from March to April last night before I went to bed. April finds me in fast-forward mode; a state of mind that often manifests itself when I am expecting and am anxious to get through the rest of a pregnancy. I mark time by the appointments with my midwives (it's a clinic, hence the plural). My next visit is in four weeks. Then come the two week appointments, then the weekly appointments which I hope, frankly, last only two weeks themselves. I know it's dangerous, but I am already banking on an early arrival for this baby.

In the meantime, my tulips will open and my crocuses, bursts of small cheery brightness, will wither under a brighter sun. My rolling lawn (rather uncomfortable to sit on) will green up and I will dream about ripping it out one day and laying down sod, nice and even.

Today there is a covering of spring snow on the lawn. It is icy and white and will probably melt by this afternoon. I shall drink a lot of water, hope to get the dishes done and the bed made, and look forward to Spring.

image from here