Month: July 2023

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BEYOND THE SEA

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

We were at our yearly reunion in Montauk – me and three friends from college on a break from our husbands and kids. 

My friends wanted to take the ferry from Montauk to Block Island and return the next day. I’d been there before and it was exactly like Montauk. I suggested we do something different like rent a sailboat or go hang gliding but I was vetoed.    

After I got used to the idea of being alone, I thought “This is great!” I was relishing the idea of being able to do something by myself. I decided to take our inflatable raft down to the water – spend some time working on my tan, then check out that new restaurant by the harbor. The raft was no frills – a nylon ladder, a paddle and a 15 foot docking rope.    

As I paddled out of the harbor, people waved to me from nearby waterfront restaurants and fishing boats. Clearing the jetty, I stopped paddling and let the ocean swells carry me out to sea. I stretched out as the sun danced off the water and the waves lulled me to sleep. 

When I awoke I had no idea where I was. The sea was choppier than before my nap, too. Judging by my sunburn and parched throat, I slept longer than I intended. I retrieved my water bottle from my backpack and downed the contents – probably not a wise move considering I wasn’t quite sure where I was or how long it would take me to get back. There were no buoys or markers anywhere in sight.

Just then I became aware of something unsettling. I heard it before I saw it – a surging rush of water quickly approaching me. I grabbed the inner ropes of the raft and held on tightly. Then it was upon me – a huge wave heaving me forward and pulling me back again. I have no idea how long the surges continued – hours, perhaps only minutes of being tossed about like a rag doll – but I managed to keep my grip and stay afloat in the raft. 

The large waves had apparently carried my little raft further than I realized. I could see a large rock formation in the water I had not seen before my nap. If I could paddle around the rock, I might be able to determine where I was, possibly even spot a beach. I began paddling, careful not to get too close to the rock in case the waves picked up again. As I feared, I could feel the swell of the ocean and the surging waves beginning once again. This time the waves were even stronger than before and I was starting to get scared. Then, almost as quickly as the waves began, they stopped.

Just as the waters calmed I became aware of something butting the side of the raft. There it was again! Whatever was attacking my little craft was trying to get in – or flip it over! It was long and slimy; “Could it be an eel?” I thought. I instinctively reached for the paddle which was secured in place. I swung at whatever this creature was until I finally made contact. Somehow it made its way into the raft and was whipping around like a whirling dervish. I pounded it repeatedly until I was certain it was dead. I scampered as far away as I could and curled myself into a ball. 

All was quiet. I opened my eyes and squinted in the sunlight at the lifeless blob in the middle of my raft. As I inched closer I realized it was an octopus and I had a momentary pang of guilt for having killed this amazing sea creature. But then on closer inspection I saw something that stopped me dead in my tracks. Sticking out of the side of the octopus was a bright red inflation valve. The sea creature I had done battle with not more then 10 minutes earlier was nothing but a child’s inflatable water toy! I was fighting with an incredibly life-like blow-up rubber octopus! Thank goodness no one was around to witness that ridiculous spectacle.

I kicked the offending inflatable toy across the raft and grabbed my paddle, determined to find my way back to shore. As I turned around I came face to face with a large group of people on a chartered fishing boat drifting casually in the water. Obviously the waves I experienced earlier were caused by the boat’s engine as the captain drove around searching for a good place to drop anchor.

All eyes were on me and I’m sure my embarrassment showed through my sunburn. I feebly waved to the people on board; they waved back, then everyone started laughing. My struggle with the “vicious sea creature” was likely the funniest thing they’d seen all day! If anyone recorded me and posts it online, I’ll never be able to live it down. How humiliating!

“Ahoy!” rang out the captain’s voice. “Do you need help?” 

“Yes.” I replied somewhat sheepishly “Can you give me a tow to the nearest dock?”

“Well, I could but it would be a hell of a lot easier for you to paddle over to that beach” he replied, pointing to my left. “By the way, sure looks like you showed that ferocious octopus who’s boss!” 

Mortified, I paddled away to peals of laughter. 🐙

NAR © 2023

Float on by today
for a little game of
Name That Tune.
It’ll be fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

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THE SITUATION

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Marla, from Marla’s World, has created a writing challenge. The challenge is for multiple authors to write a single story. She will choose a story that she has written, or that another author has submitted for this challenge, and she will nominate the next person to continue writing it. Once that person has added their section, they will nominate the next author. It will continue like this until the story is complete.

THE STORY SO FAR …..

Marla has started this story

“Drive! Get the hell out of here,” he thought as he sped down her dense tree-lined driveway. “Thank you,” he said to his car, the first time he felt truly happy his old car died. This one just needed a fob in his pocket to unlock the doors and start the car.

Since they matched on the app, their conversations had been so interesting and wide-ranging. Their first date went well too; she was even more beautiful than her pictures had shown. The conversation continued to flow smoothly, and the kiss at the end of the night removed any doubt from his mind that he truly liked her.

He broke convention asking her out again for the next week as soon as he had gotten home, and she agreed. They continued to talk every day, and he was getting more and more excited about tonight’s date as the week went on.

This time, she picked a restaurant an hour away, but close to her house, and he happily agreed. Once again, the date had gone really well and she invited him back to her house to watch the Netflix special they had discussed, and he followed her to her house.

He followed her down her long, dark driveway that wove through a dense forest, becoming increasingly anxious, but unable to pinpoint why. Finally, they got to the house and he was ready to jump out of his skin, but he decided to follow her inside anyway. That’s when he noticed…

Sadje continued the story

…that it was awfully quiet. No insects or birds chirping, no sound of any kind was heard. It was quiet as a graveyard. It felt like he was in another dimension altogether with the sound on mute.

He could see Rebecca beckoning him from her front door, her lips were moving but he couldn’t hear her words. His unease and jitteriness increased. She was saying something but…

“What?” he shouted.

There was no reply. He saw that she had disappeared into the house. The light coming out of the open doorway changed hue and was now purplish blue.

He slammed on the brakes. He held his breath, expecting impact, he couldn’t drive as he was almost blinded by the flash. But there was no impact and everything was instantly quiet again. He tried to get his breathing back under control, hands gripping the steering wheel with force, and opened his eyes.

He jumped into his car and reversed out of the driveway. The blue light was following his car.

Suddenly there was a very bright flash and he couldn’t see anything…

Christine added this part

What the hell is going on? he thought. Looking straight ahead he could see Rebecca’s house out the front of the windshield but there were no lights and Rebecca was nowhere to be seen. Hadn’t he just followed her here? What was going on?

He didn’t know if he should park the car and get out, going to the front door or if he should just put the car in reverse again and get the hell out of there. They had had a great dinner, he liked her and she seemed to like him, but this was all so confusing. He felt like he was dreaming. Was he in some sort of Twilight Zone?

Di added this section

With his breathing back to normal and the fear of what had just happened slowly starting to diminish, he had to chuckle to himself. It had to be that he had drunk too much. That was it. He was “seeing” things because he was drunk. They had shared the bottle of Prosecco before dinner had even started. Grabbing the driver’s side door handle, he pulled up to open his door to get out, but…

…the door was locked. He ferreted around for the fob, cursing the car, modern electronics, and technology. Where was it? He’d managed to get away so it had to be inside somewhere. The interior lights started to blink on and off, and of its own accord, the car started to move. The blue light was back, pulling him like a magnet towards Rebecca’s house.

There was still no sign of life there, but the door was wide open now. He decided he wasn’t drunk. He would never have gotten behind the wheel if he thought he’d had too much, so something else was playing with his mind, and he didn’t like it. No Sir. He didn’t like it one bit.

His fingers closed around the fob which had fallen into the passenger footwell. At his touch, the engine started and smoke came from the rear tires as he slammed it into reverse to get away. The force was strong, but the car responded brilliantly, eventually breaking the hold and the light went out. He spun the car on a dime and hightailed it down the wooded drive towards safety.

Suddenly, a shape materialised in front of him, her clothes in tatters, and her eyes wide with terror. It was not Rebecca.

Fandango wrote this part

Jason slammed on his brakes and the car came to a stop maybe five feet in front of the terrified girl. Jason’s hands on the wheel were shaking and he was breathing rapidly as he and the girl were staring at each other. Finally Jason had calmed down enough to open the car door, step out, and walk around to the girl he’d come close to running over. “Are you all right?” he asked her. “Who are you and what are you doing out here in the middle of the road?”

She didn’t say anything but started pointing back in the direction of Rebecca’s house. Jason turned to look behind him and he could see the blue light slowly moving in their direction. “Shit! Quick, get in the car,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her to the passenger side of the car. She resisted, but she was small and he managed to open the car’s passenger door, and literally throw her inside. He then ran around to the driver’s side, but she had engaged the automatic door locks, and with the fob still inside the car, he wasn’t able to get into it.

“Unlock the goddam door!” he yelled. “I’m trying to get us both to safety, don’t you understand?” He started to look for a rock to break the car door’s window, but it was too late. The strange blue light had engulfed Jason and the car with the girl inside of it.

Sicilian Storyteller wrote this part:

Jason felt as though he were being sucked into some sort of vortex, spinning wildly out of control. As he was drawn in deeper and deeper into the whirlpool, objects and images flew by him and he held up his arms to keep from crashing into them. In this dizzying state he was still able to recognize some of the debris that was swirling around him, memories and people from his past.

The eddy began to spin faster and faster; Jason felt like he was about to be catapulted out at any moment when he suddenly bolted straight up in bed, drenched in sweat. He looked around and did not recognize the room he was in. Quickly he looked to the other side of the bed; it was empty. He didn’t know why but he was relieved.

Getting up, Jason walked around the room, hoping something would look familiar; no luck. There was a large window on the opposite side of the room, covered by a curtain. In two strides Jason reached the window and pulled back the curtain, not knowing what he would find on the other side. Beyond the window was a scene that bewildered Jason and he stood there staring like an idiot. The view was a sun-filled garden with beautiful fruit trees, a freshly mowed lawn and neatly-planted flowers edging the driveway. And there were two young children happily playing on swings that hung from a large oak tree off to the side. The children gaily waved at Jason and he waved back, perplexed.

Where was this place and who were those children?

Suddenly Jason became aware of a scent – the unmistakable aroma of coffee and bacon – and his stomach involuntarily grumbled. He followed the delicious fragrance to an unfamiliar kitchen. There was a slender woman in a sundress, her blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, standing by the stove, cooking and softly singing along to a tune coming from a radio. Her back was to Jason. Just then she turned around and Jason was stunned to see who it was.

For last month’s Pass the Baton, I tagged https://mrbump.uk/ (aka Pete), and he did such a good job that I’m going to tag him again.

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ST. MONICA

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬
© Ayr/Gray

Frank Rogan, a huge man with a fearsome-looking scar down the side of his face, hoisted himself out of the police car; ice blue eyes cold as death stared at his detective.

“What’s up, Finney?”

“It’s them Italian boys, Chief, the ones from the projects. We nabbed ‘em!”

“Where are they?”

“In the tunnels below St. Monica’s.”

Shoving his way passed the detective, Rogan stepped into the dank tunnel; it reeked of urine, paint and hopelessness. At the bottom of the steps were two patrolmen, hands firmly detaining two scared boys. A third boy leaned against the wall, hands thrust deep in his pockets, cap low on his forehead.

“Well, if it ain’t Nicky Pisano and his two stinkin’ turds.”

The cops laughed; Rogan ordered they take the two boys back to the police car. “You too, Finney. Me and Nicky got business to take care of.”

Once alone, Rogan shoved Nicky to the ground. “You and your bastard ginzo friends have been busy down here, Nicky, desecrating the church. Now you’re gonna pay for this sullying.”

Rogan loomed over Nicky. “You’re one of them pretty boys, ain’t ya? You look like your mother sprawled on her back.” Rogan sneered, his hand rubbing the scar on his face.

Nicky roared and sprang to his feet but Rogan was ready, grabbing Nicky by the neck.

“Up against the wall or on your knees, pretty boy – however you like it.”

Unbearable pain seared through Rogan’s groin as Nicky’s shiv found its mark.

NAR © 2023
250 Words

Authors’ Note: St. Monica is the patron saint of wayward children and troubled boys.

The Unicorn Challenge – 07/07/2023
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THE ART OF DYING

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The mysterious figure emerged from the shadows of the dimly lit alley and started walking toward her, sending chills up and down her spine. Christine turned and quickened her pace as the figure drew closer. Just then she heard the sound of an approaching trolley and ran out into the street. Without looking behind her, she jumped on board and found a seat. Catching her breath, she settled down for the ride to her job at the hospital. Whatever it was, Christine was safe now. Being in a new and strange city could be disconcerting; it was probably just her imagination playing tricks on her in the pre-dawn hours.

The south side of Chicago is a dangerous place. Every other street throughout the city is dotted with dingy bars, seedy hotels, strip joints and dark alleys where unspeakable things happen. Gordon Peters had a taste for all of them – along with bourbon, brunettes and black silk stockings. 

Most nights Gordon would slither into his favorite bar, The Death Trap, jacket collar turned up and hat low on his forehead.  He’d sit in the shadows on the end barstool, order a bourbon and case the joint; just the usual losers. But Gordon had patience. He’d nurse his bourbon, smoke his Marlboro’s and sooner or later she’d walk in, maybe a secretary working overtime or a bored and lonely housewife. 

About 45 minutes later, she ran in from the rain, shook her damp dark brown hair, headed to the bar and ordered a martini. Glancing around the room, her eyes landed on Gordon, then quickly looked away. She rummaged through her purse searching for her cigarette lighter. He walked over as stealthily as a cat and offered her a light. Removing his hat, he asked if he could join her. she nodded in assent, surprised to see how handsome he was. 

Careful to retain his gentlemanly demeanor, Gordon made himself comfortable. He motioned for another round. They talked for a while; her name was Christine and she had recently taken a job as a pathologist at Chicago General. He was immediately intrigued, wondering how such a beautiful and feminine woman could be comfortable being around the dead all day. Breaking from the norm, he asked if she’d like to get a bite to eat; she agreed.

Dinner was pleasant and afterwards Gordon was ready to make his move. “Look, it’s stopped raining. Let’s take a walk” he suggested. Strolling the dimly-lit streets, he suddenly pulled her into a dark alley and pinned her against the wall. Christine could feel his hardness against her belly. She was unable to move and forced herself to remain calm as she thought “please don’t have a knife”. He pulled a black silk stocking from his pocket and, slowly wrapping it around her neck, began strangling her. The wetness in his pants and bourbon on his breath repulsed her. Gagging, suffocating, Christine’s eyes rolled upward and she slipped to the ground. Removing the stocking from around her neck, he draped it across her face and whispered  “Courtesy of Gordon Peters“. And then he was gone. 

But Christine was not dead; the only way she knew how to save herself was to let Peters believe that he had killed her. As a medical examiner, she knew a thing or two about the art of dying and how to feign death. She stayed perfectly still for a very long time, her head flopped to the side and her unblinking eyes focused on a rock a few feet from her face. Finally, when she felt certain she was safe, she carefully made her way to the street, looking in every direction in case Gordon Peters was lurking about. There were no people anywhere.

Across the street Christine noticed an idling taxi. She scurried to the cab and hurriedly told the driver “Chicago General. And hurry, please.” When she arrived at the hospital, Christine called the police to report the attack. She was told a team of detectives had been looking for this guy since four women were found murdered – all in alleys, all strangled. Now, thanks to her, they had his name, the name of the bar and a weapon. Gordon Peters had been sloppy that night, an oft-made mistake of the arrogant.

The next night as Gordon left The Death Trap, he was unceremoniously picked up by the police. The brunette on his arm had no idea what she was missing. 

NAR © 2023

Fandango’s Story Starter #104
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SUMMER AND SMOKE

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is a photo of a rock in my backyard, one of many in the town where I live. It’s actually more than just a rock; it’s a boulder and what you’re seeing is just the tip. The rest of this massive rock is underground and a section twice as big as what’s visible above ground takes up one corner of the very rear portion of our basement workshop/laundry room. So common are these large rocks that there are areas in my neighborhood with names like Rockcliff Estates, Rockingstone, Rocky Hollow and Rock Ridge.

In the middle of the rock is a fairly large patch of moss; that is something new, brought about by the recent extreme humidity and lack of sun. The branches of our Kousa dogwood tree are drooping lower than ever; even I, the vertically-challenged member of the family, need to duck under the branches when walking in the yard. It’s the thick dampness in the air that’s weighing down tree branches and plants. Canadian smoke hangs suspended in the atmosphere; it’s surreal.

We’ve been stuck in this weather pattern here in New York since mid-June. It’s oppressive. The unforgiving trifecta of summer – haze, heat and humidity with daily on again/off again rain – is relentless and leaves us feeling drained and on edge. Our clothes and bed covers are warm and damp. The AC helps, of course, but the wetness lingers, and makes everything now feel cold and damp. There’s no escaping it; even the birds hide in the shade of thick bushes. It’s eerily quiet and still outside.

It feels like I’m living in the middle of a Tennessee Williams play. I could really use a mint julep served in a hammered copper mug with generous amounts of bourbon and shaved ice.

NAR © 2023

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS July 1, 2023
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MY DEAREST FRIEND

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Known to everyone as Baby Mary, she was my dearest friend for three fleeting years, from age four to seven. Nearly seven decades later and I can still picture her heart-shaped face the color of warm caramel framed by waves of chocolate-brown hair, her wide eyes glistening shyly.

At the time my family occupied the corner house of a row of two-family homes on Eastchester Road in The Bronx. Baby Mary and her large family, the Romanos, shared one of those houses. She lived on the ground floor with her parents and maternal grandmother. Her father’s side of the family lived upstairs.

We were just three houses away – close enough for little girls to run giggling back and forth multiple times a day. We spent all our time together, busy with important little girl things.

The residents of Eastchester Road were immigrants who adhered devoutly to their Italian heritage and love of family. They were proud to be living in the United States and strove to become citizens; some passed the test, others didn’t. We delighted in celebrating all the traditional Italian holidays and festivities while embracing all the new and exciting American holidays.

The 4th of July was without a doubt the noisiest day of the year on our street. Some how the men managed to get their hands on firecrackers, sprinklers, cherry bombs, ash cans, rockets and fireworks. Baby Mary’s uncles always seemed to have the most. I remember her uncle Joe had a massive lead pipe with a diameter of at least 12″. He’d prop the pipe against the fence in their backyard so that it was angled and facing the sky. With the glee of a little boy he’d toss firecrackers, cherry bombs, etc., into the pipe and yell for everyone to cover their ears. The explosions were deafening and we’d all cheer. The best was when he’d toss fireworks down the pipe and they’d shoot out into the night sky, erupting in glorious colors. Baby Mary and I would sit together in the corner with our sprinklers taking it all in with eyes as wide as saucers.

I was fascinated by Baby Mary’s mother and grandmother. They did work from home, sewing little bows and pearls onto ladies’ panties. Their hands moved rapidly as they sat in their crowded living room watching soap operas and sewing. I rarely saw Baby Mary’s father; he worked in New Jersey in his cousin’s shoe repair shop and only came home on weekends.

At the age of five Baby Mary and I started kindergarten. Every morning my mother would walk us to school and pick us up in the afternoon. The best times were when she came to get us in her car. My mother was one of the few women in our neighborhood who had a driver’s license. We would gleefully hop into her Ford Fairlane 500, begging she take us to Carvel for ice cream. Sometimes we’d stop for gas and my mother would complain about the price being 30 cents a gallon, calling it highway robbery.

When it was time for us to go to first grade, my parents decided to send me to a private school. It was the first time I was going to be away from my dearest friend and we were heartbroken. We would run to meet each other after school and we played together as much as possible but it wasn’t the same. And our trips to Carvel were few and far between.

One day after school Baby Mary didn’t run to meet me. I looked up and down the street but she was nowhere in sight. My mother brought me inside and told me the saddest news I had ever heard: the Romanos moved away that day. She explained that they went to live in New Jersey where Baby Mary’s father worked. I cried for days and couldn’t understand why she had to leave; I felt so lonely. There was no one to tell my secrets to, play with my dolls or happily share ice cream. I had to see my dearest friend, even if it was for an occasional visit. I pleaded with my mother to drive me to New Jersey but she never did. There was always some reason why we couldn’t go. When a young couple moved into the Romano’s house it was as though Baby Mary never existed.

Years later I learned the truth: Baby Mary’s father was in The States illegally, a fugitive hiding from immigration authorities. He had committed a terrible crime before fleeing to America. He was apprehended in New Jersey and deported; the whole Romano family returned to Italy. I never saw or heard from Baby Mary again. I think of her often and wonder if she ever thinks of me, her dearest friend.

NAR © 2023
Originally published 2020

I hope you’ll join me today
At The Movies
for a very interesting post.
https://rhythmsection.blog/

A very, very long time ago, At The Movies

AT THE MOVIES (July 6, 2023)

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Welcome back to At The Movies!

Since we’re just coming off the July 4th holiday in The States and I’m still in a patriotic mood, I hope you’ll grant me one more indulgence. I went pretty far back today so some of you youngsters out there might not know this particular artist – and what an artist he was!

He could act – anything from comedy to gritty crime stories. He could sing and he could dance. He’s got a real Irish tough guy persona but not in the movie video you’re about to see.

Any idea who I’m talking about? Well it’s none other than an American institution, the one and only Jimmy Cagney doing the best George M. Cohan I’ve ever seen.

From 1942’s “Yankee Doodle Dandy”, a biographical musical film about George M. Cohan – an  American entertainer, playwright, composer, lyricist, actor, singer, dancer and theatrical producer known as “The Man Who Owned Broadway” – here is Jimmy Cagney singing and dancing to “Yankee Doodle Dandy”.

Just sit back and have fun with this one.

Now that’s about as entertaining as they come!

So what could possibly be our question of the day? Well, there is none! Just enjoy this:

As I mentioned earlier, Jimmy Cagney acted in some pretty gritty and grisly crime dramas. He’s famous for the catchphrase “You dirty rat!” but in reality Cagney never actually said that. He said something pretty close and here it is, just a bit of fun for all you Cagney buffs out there. This is from the 1932 movie called “Taxi!”

That was intense! I thought for sure the girl was a goner – not to mention the guy hiding in the closet!

Did any of you know the name of the movie? I never even heard of it!

Jimmy Cagney was an amazing man. If you don’t know much about him, I urge you to check him out on Wikipedia. He was one of a kind!

Well, that’s it for this week. Thanks for hanging out with me here At The Movies and joining vicariously in my July 4th celebration.

Nick’s up tomorrow Breaking Boundaries in his own inimitable fashion; stop by and check it out.

See you on the flip side.

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

NAR © 2023

Uncategorized

PAINT IT BLACK

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It is raining; Little Joseph, only four years old, is riding in the back of a big black car, his mother Carla by his side, following a long, flower-covered car and Mommy said Daddy’s in that car but Joseph can’t see him.

Their car stops and other cars arrive, depositing crying people dressed in black who follow some men carrying a long black box into a grassy field as Joseph wonders ‘Is this a picnic?’ but then the men lower the box into a large hole in the ground and Mommy tells Joseph to “say goodbye to Daddy.”

Joseph is confused but follows her lead, tossing a flower into the hole and returns to the car where Carla lights a cigarette, smiles and tells Joseph Daddy won’t be coming back; this makes Joseph feel so very sad – he can’t understand why Daddy would leave without saying goodbye – so he looks out the window and waves bye-bye with his little hand.

It is raining again and Joseph wants Mommy to play with him but she says “No … I’m busy on the phone” so little Joseph goes exploring in the cellar where there are lots of boxes … great for climbing and building; Joseph spots a small box among the big ones and decides it’s perfect for the top of his fort and just as he’s placing it on the tippy top, it slips from his hands, scattering torn photos of Daddy and newspaper clippings, too, but he can only read a few words – ‘BOAT’ … ‘LOST’ … ‘ROMANO’ – his surname; Joseph doesn’t understand any of it but he instinctively knows Mommy would be mad at him so he puts the box back where he found it and goes upstairs. 

It is still raining but Joseph hears laughter outside and from the window he can see Mommy and a man kissing under a tree; the man takes a suitcase from his car and he and Mommy run to the house, throwing open the door, dripping wet, still laughing and Joseph thinks it’s all very strange for grown-ups to act this way.

Carla looks at Joseph and scolds, “Naughty boy! Don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” but Joseph just stands there, looking at them; “Well, silly goose”, purrs Mommy, “Say hello to my friend … he’s your Daddy now.” and they run up the stairs laughing, hugging and kissing, leaving Joseph alone in the hallway so melancholy and wondering if it will ever stop raining.

NAR © 2023

Reprised, reworked and rewritten from a 2018 piece
[because I lost track of time and forgot to write a new one].
It’s a 6, don’t you know! Punctuation be damned!
❤︎

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!
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SOMETIMES LATE

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

The Tin Man’s trusty companion
Rusted by his side
They didn’t hear the call for rain
And had no time to hide

NAR © 2023

Photo Challenge #470
Uncategorized

TRUST ME

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Alright, people! Listen up! In case you don’t know who I am, let me introduce myself. I’m Nina Russo, director for tonight’s broadcast.

What you see here are our two presidential candidates and the moderator for this evening’s debate, courtesy of the fine ladies and gentlemen over at carpentry. Candidates, say hello to my crew. Oh, I forgot. They’re dummies, incapable of doing anything; that, my fine people, is your job, to turn our three Pinocchio’s here into real live men.

OK, let me see a show of hands from everyone in AI. Excellent! I’ve been told Preston’s in charge of all the magic you guys are going to create. You have a question, talk to Preston. He’s the man who will advise you about everything. I want you to be sure the eyeballs move and blink and don’t just stare into space like the real candidates. The eye and the mouth movements … it’s imperative they are perfectly in sync with their CG voices.

I almost forgot! Teeth! Dr. Mike Hillman, dentist extraordinaire, is here to assist you in choosing the perfect set of teeth for each mouth. It’s the little, overlooked things like teeth and birthmarks that can spell disaster.

I cannot stress the importance of making these bozos look like they’re really talking. You people running the computers and teleprompters … you screw up, even by a nano second, and that could be a catastrophe. My ass will be grass and that will make me very unhappy. And when I’m unhappy, everyone is unhappy.

There will be no cell phones in the studio tonight. No books, magazines, iPads, Wordle, Candy Crush, Solitaire, WhatsApp, Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, TikTok, texting, yadda, yadda, yadda. Get it? I don’t want anything that might distract you. In fact, I want my computer guys, recording synchers, camera operators and teleprompters in plexiglass booths like we did during the Covid press conferences. Concentration is key tonight, people. Gary, you were in charge of the team working on the booths three years ago … is that correct? And do we still have the booths available to us? Great, I want you in charge again tonight.

Arm and hand movement is crucial; I want these puppets doing every little thing you’d see the man on the street doing: gesticulating, pointing a finger, putting a hand up to its head, sticking a hand in its pocket, holding a glass of water, pounding the podium, rubbing an ear, crossing arms. AI people – you hearing me?

And speaking of ears, where are my makeup people? Claudia, you’re in charge of makeup. Look, those are the worst ears I’ve ever seen. Fix them, please; they need to be exact. Regarding makeup, I want perfection tonight. Hair, eyebrows, eyelashes, lip color, complexion. You all have photos of these three clowns: study them, refer to them. I don’t want anything out of place – not a mole, a scar or a nose hair, got it?

Wardrobe! Again, study their photos. Pablo, give me some good news and tell me the padding is here. Yes? Excellent! Look people, we’ve got body padding of every size imaginable. Find the right one and pump these guys up a bit. Remember … they’re not gym rats, they’re politicians so easy on the muscles. We’ve got suits on racks in the back along with shirts, belts, ties, socks and shoes. Match them up perfectly with each candidate. If he wears a wedding band or a Masonic ring, make sure it’s on his finger and for God’s sake, make sure it’s the right ring. That goes for watches, cuff links, tie bars, tie tacks and lapel pins. And if he cut his finger this morning, don’t forget the band aid. Detail is paramount; I cannot stress that enough.

Glasses. Neither of the candidates wears glasses but the moderator does. Make sure he’s wearing the right pair.

Listen, you may think the viewers at home are easily fooled and you’re right. Still, I will not put my reputation on the line by anyone mucking up even the slightest thing. I want perfection. I don’t want so much as a questioning glance from their parents, their wives, their kids, their pets, their lovers, their doctors, their call girls, rent boys or drug dealers. Do I make myself clear?

OK. It’s seven hours till showtime. Millions will be watching at home, in bars, in gyms everywhere across the world. We need to keep this believable until our man’s in office. Then it becomes someone else’s problem. I’m counting on each one of you. And for crying out loud, if you need a break, take five and plug yourselves in. There are ports all around the studio. I want you all on top of your game tonight. Is that clear?

Ok everyone, I want you to meet Chase Bennett and Kate Reynolds, my assistants. They’re going to take over for the next hour or so. Do everything they tell you to do.

Chase, walk with me. I presume my ionic bed is fully charged? Good! I’m going to rest a bit, plug in and recharge for tonight’s broadcast. Keep everything on track, Chase. The eyes of the world will be on those bobble heads tonight. We need those lying presidential eyes looking straight into the camera saying ‘Trust me’.”

Nina Russo,
AKA humanoid Nancy Richy

NAR © 2023
#FFFC

Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #225

Uncategorized

POTUS & FLOTUS

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Ah, marital bliss! Ain’t it grand?
A little peek into some presidential wedding albums.

After graduating with a Bachelor of Arts in French literature from George Washington University in 1951, Jacqueline Bouvier started working for the Washington Times-Herald as an inquiring photographer. The following year, she met then-Congressman John F. Kennedy at a dinner party and sparks flew. Just 10 days before her wedding to JFK, the dress designed for Jackie by fashion designer Anne Lowe was ruined in a water pipe disaster. With access to a team of skilled seamstresses, excess ivory French taffeta and pink silk faille, the famed designer was able to pull off a presidential wedding miracle.

Jimmy and Rosalynn Carter wed early in life in 1946. He was 21 and she was 18. She initially refused his first proposal but eventually accepted once Jimmy graduated from the U.S. Naval Academy. They married in their hometown of Plains, Georgia. Rosalynn chose a knee-high dress and matched it with a pair of gloves, hat, and corsage while her husband went with his dress uniform.

Nancy Davis was a respected actress when she met Ronald Reagan in 1949; he was the president of the Screen Actors Guild at the time. After his recent divorce from Jane Wyman, Ronald was not shaping up to be a marriage-material man. Nonetheless, her charm won out. The duo married in 1952 – so last minute, in fact, that the only guests were the best man and matron of honor. Nancy wore a simple dress that covered her growing baby bump.

George H.W. Bush remembers meeting his bride – “They called it a holiday dance at Christmas time and here she was in this red and green dress. ‘Who is that beautiful girl over there?’ I asked. ‘That’s Barbara Pierce from Rye, New York’ said a guy named Wozencraft and he introduced us. And the rest is history.” The two married in 1945 at First Presbyterian Church in Rye, N.Y. (my former church). Barbara was gifted a veil from George’s mother for the ceremony.

Hillary and Bill Clinton met each other as they both attended Yale Law School in 1971. Supposedly, Hillary Rodham noticed Bill staring at her in the library (what a shocker!). She took the initiative and introduced herself. Three years later, Bill would propose. Bill wanted a large and extravagant wedding but Hillary couldn’t be bothered with the idea. They married in their living room; Hillary’s wedding dress was a Jessica McClintock Victorian lace gown, purchased just the day before.

Laura Lane and George W. Bush met at a backyard barbecue in Midland, Texas, on November 5, 1977. They were so devoted to each other that they were engaged only three months later. Laura chose a simplistic tan dress she bought easily off a department store rack while her mother wore a more traditional and extravagant gown. 

Much like the Clintons, the Obamas met each other while working at Sidley Austin law firm of Chicago. Michelle refused numerous dinner invitations from Barack but finally relented in 1989; three years later they were married at Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago. She wore a white gown with  tapered tip sleeves on her shoulders alongside a traditional veil. The husband and wife shared a dance to “You and I” by Stevie Wonder.

In 2005, Melania Knauss married Donald Trump. Her dress was designed by Dior and featured 300 feet of tulle with over 1,500 pearls and rhinestones. Her dress, weighing near 60 pounds, took over 600 hours to complete and is estimated to have cost $150,000. It was so heavy and cumbersome that it was suggested to Melania that she should have a full meal before the ceremony to be able to have enough energy to carry around the dress. Oh, my aching back!

Joe Biden lost his first wife and one-year-old daughter to a tragic car accident in 1972, leaving him to raise his two young sons by himself. Three years later he met Jill Jacobs while she was a student at the University of Delaware. It took more than one proposal for Jill to say yes. In fact, Joe proposed five times before they officially got engaged! They were finally married on June 17th, 1977 in a small ceremony at the United Nations Chapel in New York City.

Hmm, no July 4th wedding days? Well, if you were married on this day, Happy Anniversary!

I hope you enjoyed this little trip down the presidential wedding aisle.

NAR © 2023

Uncategorized

AMBER WAVES

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬
Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery © Misky 2023.

The song “America the Beautiful” was based on a poem written by professor, poet, and writer Katharine Lee Bates during an 1893 trip to Colorado Springs, Colorado. When she got to the top of Pike’s Peak, the view was so beautiful that it inspired her to write “All the wonder of America seemed displayed there, with the sea-like expanse.”

The poem that Bates wrote first appeared in print in The Congrega-tionalist, a weekly journal, on July 4, 1895. Within a few months it was set to music by Silas G. Pratt. Bates revised the song in 1904 after receiving many requests to use it in publications and special services. An additional change was made to the wording of the third verse in 1913 to give us the version we know today. The song is considered by many to be the unofficial national anthem of the United States.

Wishing all my friends and family who are celebrating today a very happy and safe 4th of July.

Special thanks to my dear friend Misky across the pond in the U.K. for allowing me to use her gorgeous graphic. Thanks, Misk!

NAR © 2023

Please join me today
In The Groove!
It’s the 4th of July, baby!
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Eighties, In The Groove

IN THE GROOVE (July 4, 2023)

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Let’s cut to the chase.

The 4th of July is a big holiday here in the U.S.A. What better way for people around the world to join us as we celebrate than with a native son singing what has become a universal rock anthem. 🎇 🎆

Here is Bruce Springsteen with “Born In the U.S.A.”, live from Paris in 1985.

And that’s what we call “rocking” no matter what language you speak!

However, let’s not lose sight of the true message of this song. The lyrics of “Born in the U.S.A.” make its subject pretty clear. This 1984 hit describes a Vietnam War veteran who returns home to desperate circumstances and few options … just one of the tragic results of war realized by vets throughout the world.

As I read some of the comments on YouTube, I came across two which I wanted to share with you:

WAAOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I´M NOT AN AMERICAN CITIZEN,
BUT I FEEL MY HEART FULL OF PROUD EVERY TIME I HEAR THIS
EXTRAORDINARY SONG, IS MY ANTHEM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
USA IS A GREAT NATION!!!!!!!!!!!!! WE WANT FREEDOM HERE IN VENEZUELA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love this song, !!! I’m born in England with Irish parents,
to me I just love his raw voice,
believe you don’t have to be American to love this song

Those are perfect examples of why I chose this song today.

Alright, it’s time now for our super easy question of the day:

Sinatra is the Chairman, Elvis is the King, Aretha is the Queen so what’s Springsteen’s very famous nickname?

The answer is on the bottom of the page.

Thanks for sharing another great day with me getting our groove on.

I’ll be back Thursday for a very special movie day; meet me At The Movies where the celebration will continue!

See you on the flip side.

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

NAR © 2023

Springsteen’s very famous nickname is ….. The Boss.

Uncategorized

TIDES OF TIME

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

She lost her dearest friend last night.

Her friend did not die but their precious relationship did. What makes a solid friendship come crashing down like a sandcastle, a friendship we think will test the tides of time and prevail?

The vitriolic words from her friend’s mouth were like a slow-burning poison in her gut. Never had she been so verbally and needlessly attacked. It was shocking; she will never speak with her friend again. Anger of such magnitude reveals a person’s true colors.

What a selfish way to act. What an awful way for a friendship to die.

NAR © 2023
#99WordStories
Written for Carrot Ranch Challenge


Uncategorized

THE FINAL PLAYLIST

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Jim at Song Lyric Sunday has asked us today to name a song we’d like to have played at our funeral. Well, I don’t want a funeral – a small gathering after my cremation will suffice – but I’ve always had music in my life so why not in death?

Truth be told, I already have a playlist prepared when I “shuffle off this mortal coil”. It wasn’t easy to choose the songs – not because I was getting verklempt but because there are just too many songs I love. However, there’s one special song that has always meant a great deal to me and it only seems appropriate.

I’m talking about “In My Life” by The Beatles.

The song is said to be based on John Lennon’s life; he wrote most of the lyrics after writing his book “In His Own Write”. The lyrics about friends refer to Stu Sutcliffe, an early Beatle and great friend of John’s who died in 1962, and a school mate named Pete Shotton. John also thought of his Aunt Mimi (who raised him), his wife Cynthia and his mother Julia who in 1958 was knocked down and killed by a car driven by an off-duty policeman.

When The Beatles recorded the song, they left an opening in the middle for the instrumental break. Producer George Martin filled it in by playing a piano solo and speeding up the tape to make it sound like a harpsichord, giving the song a baroque feel and inspiring pop music producers to use harpsichords and other similar instruments in their future arrangements.

“In My Life” is found on The Beatles’ “Rubber Soul” album; it was voted the best song of all time by a panel of songwriters in a 2000 Mojo magazine poll. Rolling Stone magazine ranked “In My Life” number 23 on its 2004 list of “500 Greatest Songs of All Time” as well as fifth on its list of The Beatles’ “100 Greatest Songs”. The song placed second on the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s “50 Tracks“. According to Acclaimed Music, as of 2020 it was the 194th most celebrated song in popular music history. Judy Collins, Ozzy Osbourne, James Taylor, Johnny Cash, Rod Stewart, Bette Midler, Diana Krall and Boyz II Men are among the many artists who have recorded covers.

“A little piece of artwork” was the way John referred to “In My Life”. I feel the same way; I have a framed copy of the lyrics in my bedroom – see my graphic above. There isn’t one word in that song that does not resonate profoundly with me. The musical accompaniment, in my opinion, could not be a better match. “In My Life” is just one more example of why The Beatles are and always will be the greatest musical group to ever grace this planet.

There’s a good chance you know all the words to this song; I certainly do – they are carved into my heart. I hope whoever is at my celebration of life will sing along with this touching and beautiful song.

NAR © 2023

Life After Death

 

IN MY LIFE

There are places I’ll remember
All my life though some have changed
Some have gone and some remain
All these places had their moments
With lovers and friends, I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I’ve loved them all

But of all these friends and lovers
There is no one compares with you
And these memories lose their meaning
When I think of love as something new
Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life, I’ll love you more

Though I know I’ll never lose affection
For people and things that went before
I know I’ll often stop and think about them
In my life, I’ll love you more.

In my life, I’ll love you more.

Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Written by: Lennon-McCartney
Recorded: October 18-22, 1965
Producer: George Margin
Engineer: Norman Smith
Released: December 3, 1965 (UK) December 6, 1965 (US)
Available on: Rubber Soul

PERSONNEL –
John Lennon: vocals, rhythm guitar
Paul McCartney: harmony vocals, bass
George Harrison: harmony vocals, lead guitar
Ringo Starr: drums
George Martin: piano, tambourine

Uncategorized

PHAT ASS RAP

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Breaking out a fun old one for Fandango’s One Word Challenge!
#FOWC – Ounce

🎤  🎼 🎤 🎵 🎤 🎶 🎤

Weighed myself on the bathroom scale today.
I gained fifteen pounds. No goddamn way!
Eatin’ Dunkin Donuts – now what you gonna do?
With an ass that big no man will look at you.

Planned a two-week vacation in the land of Eritrea.
Lookin’ like a tub of lard they just might mistake ya
For an elephant, a rhino, or a hippo or a pig.
Why’d I ever let myself get so freakin’ big!

An ounce here, an ounce there.
OMG! I’m pulling out my hair!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Listen when I tell ya it just ain’t fair!

Suppose I could put myself on a damn diet.
I really don’t wanna cos I know I won’t like it.
Maybe I should get a pass to my local gym;
Hop on the treadmill and get myself slim.

Lots of them gym rats look mighty hunky;
Maybe one or two will like a girl who’s chunky.
But working out will have me sweating like crazy.
Fact of the matter is I’m just too goddamn lazy!

An ounce here, an ounce there.
OMG! I’m pulling out my hair!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Listen when I tell ya it just ain’t fair!

Got me a pair of some violet spandex pants
But I didn’t look like JLO when she does a sexy dance.
I looked like a balloon in the Christmas Day parade
Or a big fat-ass clown in the penny arcade.

At the gym was some guy called Aristophanes,
All greased up, looking pretty as you please.
This guy was hotter than melting candle wax.
I wanna take him home, give his ass a few smacks.

An ounce here, an ounce there.
OMG! I’m pulling out my hair!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Listen when I tell ya it just ain’t fair!

I started warmin’ up and I know I caught his eye
Cos he walked right up to me saying “My, oh my!
You are one fine mama in those pants so tight.
Let’s blow this joint and have some fun tonight!”

I said “Oh yeah, baby. You lookin’ mighty hot.
Come back to my place and show me what you got.”
But when we got home he couldn’t get my pants off
He was a-huffin’ and a-puffin’ like Sir Peter Ustinov.

An ounce here, an ounce there.
OMG! I’m pulling out my hair!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Listen when I tell ya it just ain’t fair!

My ass got so big it filled up my recliner
And here I was thinkin’ I looked even finer
Than Kim Kardashian and her big ass sister too
But I was plenty wrong! Oh, what’s a girl to do?

Now wait just a minute – there still may be some hope.
That guy called Aristophanes thought I looked dope.
I’ll go back to the gym in my spandex all a-glitter
And this time they will have a nice long zipper!

An ounce here, an ounce there.
Let’s cut out all this drama!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
I’m a phat ass mama!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Let’s cut out all this drama!
An ounce here, an ounce there.
Just call me when you wanna!

🎤  🎼 🎤 🎵 🎤 🎶 🎤

NAR © 2021

FOWC with Fandango — Ounce

Want to play a little
Name That Tune?
Join me today at
https://rhythmsection.blog/

Fifties, Name That Tune

NAME THAT TUNE (July 2, 2023)

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Happy Sunday and welcome back to another installment of Name That Tune.

I hope you’re ready for some fun and a bit of a challenge today! This one might be a little more difficult so get out those thinking caps.

Misky, my money’s on you today; “five’ll get ya ten” it’ll be a shoe-in for you [HINT HINT].

Without further ado, here are your clues:

  1. Today’s song came from a 1928 German “play with music“, lyrics by Bertolt Brecht and music by Jurt Weill. That musical play was based on an 18th-century English ballad opera by John Gay called “The Beggar’s Opera”.
  2. The singer of today’s tune was born in 1936 in New York City, his birth name being Walden Robert Cassotto. In 1959 at the age of 22, he made his first big “splash” in the music world by recording our featured piece which became a million-selling single.
  3. Today’s tune about a blade-wielding criminal of the London underworld was performed by numerous artists; however, according to Frank Sinatra, our featured artist recorded the “definitive version”.
  4. Today’s performer was extremely versatile; in addition to singing, he was a songwriter, a dancer, an accomplished musician on various instruments, a music arranger/conductor and an actor. As a child he had recurring bouts with rheumatic fever which left him with a seriously weakened heart. Sadly, we lost this giant of the music industry in 1973; he was only 37 years old.
  5. This song, easily recognizable by its 8 beat intro, is our featured artist’s signature piece. It was inducted by the Library of Congress in the National Recording Registry. It was also ranked as No. 15 in the list of Songs of the Century by the Recording Industry of America and the National Endowment of the Arts. No small potatoes.

Those are some impressive credentials and I could not gloss over them. It doesn’t matter when you were born; this is one of those songs that transcends generations and will live on long after we’re gone.

Do you have any ideas? Let’s see who got this brain teaser today. Scroll down for the big reveal.

The video is about to start and I can’t wait to see it again; it’s one of my favorites!

Our very famous performer is the one and only Bobby Darin doing his signature piece, “Mack The Knife”.

Let’s listen, shall we?

What an amazing talent he was! His gestures and arm movements aren’t just for show; he’s actually leading the orchestra during this performance, something he did many times.

Here’s a little factoid I did not include in the questions: Bobby Darin was an adult when he found out the woman he thought was his sister was actually his mother, an embarrassing fact his family thought best to keep from him. This is not as bizarre as it sounds; some other victims of the same ruse are Liv Tyler, Eric Clapton and Jack Nicholson.

Well, that does it for today. Join us next time for another installment of Name That Tune. Have a great day!

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

NAR © 2023

Uncategorized

JULY

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Did you ever lie on you back
on warm July grass and
watch the clouds change
from one glorious design
to another,
sun rays streaking through
like beams from heaven
while a hint of a rainbow appears
and you whisper in wonderstruck tones
“This is so ineffably awesome”?

Yeah, me too.

NAR © 2023
51 words

Weekend Writing Prompt #318 – Design