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So…my mother’s crystal glassware and the Nazis

Last Thursday, I received an email from my cousin, Shannon, asking me if I wanted my mother’s china.

How my cousin that I only see at funerals and sometimes we cross paths in Krogers came to have my long deceased china is a mystery but shit like that happens in the South.

I told her that I would take it off her hands and to leave it in a box on her porch. I would come by and pick it up. We’re still in a pandemic, people.

I bring home a small box that reeks of cigarette smoke. There are cloth and paper towels that are saturated with the lingering stink of my Mother’s cancer sticks. Inside, was not china plates as I was expecting but very fragile crystal glassware.

I decide to do some research and see exactly what it was I had inherited.

From the maker’s mark, the pattern, and the year I guessed my mother first received this wedding gift (1963-64), I was able to pray to the Great God Google and found out a few things:

  1. The glassware was made by a company called Rosenthal Porzellan.
  2. The pattern was called Shadow Rose.
  3. The company was founded in 1879 in Bavaria.
  4. Everything was rosy for the companyuntil the Nazis came into power and even though Rosenthal was Catholic, he was still Jewish enough to be a problem. He was forced out of his own company.
  5. In 1941, when the Decree on Companies of Deprived Commercial Enterprises was adopted, the “Aryan” management intervened with the help of JOSEPH GOEBBELS to continue the use of the Rosenthal brand name.

Come the 1950’s, Rosenthal’s son took over. It was during this time that the company was based in Nuremberg (yeah….that Nuremberg) and by 1997 the company was 90% owned by Water Wedgewood. Currently, the company is owned by Arcturus Group and based in Selb.

So, anyway, that’s the story of how I inherited my Mother’s Nazi stained glassware.

The End.

Sources cited:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rosenthal_(company)

http://www.styledesign.co.uk/guidepages/entor2.html

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Dish Washing Thoughts

  • Does the lone dirty spoon you find in the sink after you’ve already started the dishwasher feel left out? Like it didn’t get to have a spa day with heat rinse like the rest of its silverware brethren? Does it feel unclean and “not daisy fresh”?
  • I never really understood the premise of the tv show Bewitched. So….let me get this straight. First of all, how long did Darren and Samantha know each other before they got married? I mean….how do you keep the fact that you have supernatural powers that flip the bird at all the natural laws of physics under wraps? He basically married a freaking GOD. How did he not know? And, after finding out his wife can pretty much wriggle her nostrils and do all the things, why did he not use this? Quit his job and live a life of luxury? On the flipside, what the fuck Samantha? You have miraculous powers and are descended from a line of magical beings and you’d give all that up for the life of a charwoman? The only explanation for this insanity: Stockholm Syndrome. Because you could never convince me that Darren’s D was all that.
  • And speaking of Stockholm Syndrome, Marge Simpson. It’s the only thing that explains why she stays with that fat slob. OR unless they are bound by a suicide pact because they accidentally murdered Hans Moleman and have to stay together to make sure neither of them squeal.
  • And, yes, the irony of having these thoughts while doing the drudgery of housework is not lost on me.
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WIP Crown of Feathers

Proof of Life (ignore the sigils)

After weeks of rolling about in the pits of despair, I finally pull my head out of my butt and started writing my latest story, Crown of Feathers.

Full disclosure: I wrote a really quick 2000 word version of this about 2 years ago. I’ve always meant to go back to it.

The premise is simple: A woman is dying and three local hedgewitches known as The Sisters, are brought in as a last ditch effort to save her. Alas, they tell the family that her death was inevitable and that the crown of feathers beneath her pillow was proof positive that she was destined to die. The grandmother is told to make arrangements and so she leaves her grandson, Eli, to take care of his mother.

In an attempt to save his mother from the clutches of Death, Eli steals the ‘crown of feathers’ that has appeared beneath her sickbed pillow.

The next morning, Mother is out of bed, in the backyard, chasing chickens and ripping off their heads with her teeth.

Eli Kohl has twenty four hours to make things right before his Grandmother comes back with an entire buffet of family in tow.

Go here to hear Steve Shell of Old Gods of Appalachia fame read a bit of the WIP. https://www.facebook.com/nikcubed/posts/10223734696376306

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Interview with James Reid

Last week I had the privilege of being interviewed by James Reid for Authors in Focus. We had so much fun! After the interview, we spent 45 minutes talking about the impossibilities of alien life and the difficulty of terraforming Mars.

“BUT I WANT MY ALIENS, JAMES!!!”

Anyway, please click on the link and ENJOY*!

*Even if James doesn’t like aliens…