One Simple Act to Save Lives

 

Jonathan Rhys Meyer
as Henry VIII
in "The Tudors"

 

Jane Seymour

 I was recently watching the mini-series, “The Tudors”, and found out that both Henry VIII’s mother (Elizabeth of York) and his third wife, Jane Seymour, died of “childbed fever”, Jane, after giving birth to Henry’s only son, Edward VI. Both women came out of the delivery just fine, but died a short time later. How could a simple fever cause their deaths?

Because it wasn’t a simple fever. Childbed fever was a bacterial infection caused by one thing: doctors not washing their hands.

Doctors, who were usually gentlemen, thought their title and status was enough. “Doctors are gentlemen," Charles Meigs of Philadelphia’s Jefferson Medical College said, arguing against hand-washing, stating that “gentlemen's hands are clean.” But stats and facts obviously said different. In fact, there were far fewer deaths of mothers who had children born at home than those cared for by doctors in hospitals, proving that the doctors habits of not washing their hands between patients created periodic epidemics of childbed fever deaths.

Hospital 1840

 In the late 1700’s and early 1800’s more than one doctor put two and two together and tried to make changes in medical procedures. But to no avail—and often to their own professional downfall. Doctors held themselves above other professions and didn't want to hear that they were at fault, or culpable in anyone’s deaths—even though washing hands reduced childbed fever deaths by 90%. Pride goest before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall. . . unfortunately, new mothers’ destruction.



Mary Wollenstonecraft

There have been other famous women who died of this streptococcus-virus, the same bacteria that causes strep throat (among other ailments.) Eighteenth century feminist, Mary Wollenstonecraft, who wrote A Vindication of the Rights of Woman and who was the mother of the author of Frankenstein, Mary Shelley died of the fever, as did Isabella Beeton—who wrote the well-known Victorian home guide: Mrs Beeton's Book of Household Management.  Women's rights and household management... if only these logical-thinking women could have helped the medical profession before it killed them.



Katherine Parr

Katherine Parr, Henry VIII’s sixth and last wife, died of the fever after Henry was dead, and she had married her fourth husband, Thomas Seymour—who just happened to be the brother of Jane Seymour, the king’s third wife (who, as I said) also died of childbed fever. Interesting interweavings that show the pervasiveness of this type of death.

A famous person to be born of a mother who contracted the fever--and lived--was the French philosopher, Jean-Jacques Rousseau

Now, sanitary measures have all but eradicated childbed fever, or if contracted, it can be treated with antibiotics. Just another reason to be thankful we live in modern times with soap dispensers at every sink, anti-bacterial sprays and gels, and Wet Wipes.//Nancy

High School in 1889

I'm reading a history of my home town as part of the research for next year's book, The Shadow of a Name. As I read, I've been creating a timeline of what happened when ... because I don't want to have my main character riding a horse-drawn trolley that didn't exist, or living in a part of the county that was populated only by wolves at the time. Just this evening, I've been adding the growth of the school system to my timeline, and I read something amazing:

“The high school curriculum comprises four parallel courses of three years each, the English, the Latin, the German, and the Classical. These courses include instruction in algebra, book-keeping, geometry, botany, human physiology, physical geography, chemistry, physics, geology, English composition, word analysis, technical grammar, orthoepy, elocution, history and development of English literature, rhetoric, political economy, civil government, elements of commercial law, general history, three years each in Latin, Greek, and German. It will be seen that the public schools furnish a good practical education, well rounded out. 9 instructors.

A notable feature of the high school is a series of lectures on subjects directly or indirectly connected with the course of study, given by persons prominent in educational circles, and occurring once or twice per week throughout the year. Among the lecturers have been the Governor of Nebraska, and other State officers, the Chancellor and other members of the faculty of the State University, lawyers, ministers and physicians of Lincoln, and the instructors of the high school.”

Does that course of study amaze anyone else? I remember my mother, who was born in 1913, saying that elocution was her favorite subject ... in 8th grade. I don't know any 8th graders who would even know what that is. I had to look it up. It's "the study and practice of oral delivery, including the control of both voice and gesture."  

And ... orthoepy? a. The study of the pronunciation of words. b. The study of the relationship between the pronunciation of words and their orthography.

Well, now I have to look up orthography. This is getting embarrassing: the art of writing words with the proper letters, according to accepted usage; correct spelling.

Lincoln's 1889 graduating class was about three times the size of the one pictured at the left. Still, I imagine our graduates dressed much the same. I love the flowers  and the general "feel" of the photo, which says to me that they were proud of what they'd accomplished and they were making the day memorable. 

I wonder how many of those flowers ended up pressed and treasured for years to come. Did any of those young women go on to higher education? What opportunities lay before them? Whatever came their way, I wonder if they used their orthography, orthoepy, and elocution?

As to the high school portrayed above, that is the Lincoln, Nebraska high school, built in 1873. Historian James McKee says that "the trees, it was quickly pointed out, were not for shade or decoration. In the parents' haste to locate the school, they had chosen a site so far to the east of the city that a green belt was needed to protect the building from prairie fires ... Well into the next decade many parents would not allow their children to walk to school in winter for fear that they might be attacked by wild animals." 

Honestly, the more I learn about "the good old days," the happier I am that all I do is write about them.

--Stephanie

The Ultimate Sacrifice--Arland WIlliams

Ice on the wings.

That’s all it took to fell a plane. Today is the 30th anniversary of the crash of Florida Flight 90. Those of you who are over 40 might remember the coverage of the crash on TV. The flight took off in icy conditions, and because of ice of the wings, it couldn’t gain altitude. It crashed into the 14th Street bridge in Washington D.C., breaking apart and sinking into the Potomac.

We watched as only six survivors clung to wreckage amid ice floes in the frigid water. Heroes were born that day. And one died… I’ll get to him later.

Survivors were saved by heroics from the shore, and one bystander, Lenny Skutnik, flung himself the icy water to pull a woman to safety.

And some were saved by a helicopter rescue. Don Usher, the pilot, hovered precariously over the handful of survivors, while his partner, paramedic Gene Windsor, dropped a life line to the victims in the water.  Their bodies nearly frozen, their fingers stiff, they had trouble holding on.

On one occasion, Usher flew so low that one victim was pulled onto the skid of the helicopter. So low that Windsor—standing the on skid to reach her—had his shoes covered with water. Here’s a video.

All this happened while we watched on TV. Horrified. Praying. Spellbound.

And one thing we saw—that has still haunted me these thirty years—was seeing one man repeatedly hand the lifeline to others. Over and over he gave the line away rather than save himself.

And when the others were safe, and the pilot went back for him? He was gone.

His name was Arland D Williams.  He died while offering his fellow passengers--strangers--the greatest sacrifice.

Of the 74 people who died in the plane (and four died on the bridge), all but one died of blunt force trauma.

Only one died of drowning. Arland Williams. Because of that fact, they were able to identify the brave man who gave his life so others might live.

They named the 14th Street bridge the Arland D. Williams Memorial Bridge in his honor.

And yet today, as I read accounts of the crash, few are mentioning him. That is a tragedy. And so I felt compelled to remind the world of his heroism.

Here is a story on Mr. Williams.  He also has a Facebook page in his honor.  There is an Arland D. Williams Elementary school in Mattoon, Illinois, and the town has a college scholarship fund in his honor. The Citidel, a military school in South Carolina, has an Arland D. Williams Society, "to recognize Citadel graduates who have distinguished themselves through community service, heroism and bravery."  He also received many posthumous honors. 

That makes me glad.  And humbled. One ordinary man who stepped up, who gave up everything . . . I'm an ordinary woman.  What would I have done in his situation? What would you do? 

I have always been so moved by this event, and in Mr. Williams sacrifice, that I wrote a book inspired by the crash and the rescue: The Seat Beside Me. Although my characters are fictional (in deference to the survivors who are still living) I explored the humanity of the crash.  For it all comes down to this: You’re sitting in a plane, chatting with your seatmate—who is quite an amazing person. But then the plane crashes. They die and you live. Why them? Why you? How can you live with the burden of being a survivor?

Let me tell you, writing the scenes with my characters in the water, writing the scenes from the hero’s point-of-view . . . it was one of the most excruciating and emotional things I’ve ever done.  And because of that, it's the book of my heart.  My heart broke a hundred times while writing it... 

I wrote it for the heroes of Flight 90, but also for the heros of  9/11, the heroes before and since, the sung and the unsung.  I wrote it for the men and women who unexpectedly rise to their greatest while helping others.

But above all, I wrote it for Arland. //Nancy