Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has challenged us to write a 100-word story prompted by the photo below. Incorporating prompts from Weekly Prompts Wednesday and FOWC with Fandango, this is my response to Rochelle’s challenge.
How many years does someone need to spend in a loveless marriage before the word divorceis mentioned?
That was Barbaraβs regrettable life. When her husband finally approached her, she didnβt hesitate; she knew she couldnβt love him as heβd hoped.
Their split was swift and formal.
Now Barbara walked out of the Prada shop in Salamanca and, with thrilling expectation, waved when she saw Evelyn across the street.
Their pace quickened and they embraced passionately, unafraid and unashamed to show their love for each other.
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There wonβt be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures β just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday, Clarence Clemons Born January 11, 1942 Norfolk, Virginia
“You’re a Friend of Mine”β~ Clarence Clemons & Friends
“Jungleland”
“Unchain My Heart” ~ Joe Cocker & Clarence Clemons
Our host Glyn says βIn the month of January, the Mixed Music Bag theme is to find a group or solo singer beginning with the letter A or B.β I missed last week so Iβll just jump in today.
When I was 14, somebody incredibly cool entered my life; he came and went for a couple of years, never really sticking around very long. He was a 17-year-old beanpole named Steven Tallarico β Google him; Iβll wait.
There were one or two times when I felt like kicking myself for not running off with him but my whole life would have turned out differently and Iβm sure not for the better. On my short list of “No Regrets”, that 3-year-period during my teen years would be very near the top.
If youβve finished Googling, you are now aware that the guy I knew all those years ago as Steven Tallarico is the legendary Steven Tyler, lead singer of Aerosmith ….that Boston band with a front man born in The Bronx, NY (my hometown).
Iβve written a story or two about Steven but Iβm not here to talk about him. And there’s certainly no need to talk about Aerosmith. To paraphrase Hyman Roth in The Godfather: βTheyβre bigger than U.S. Steelβ.
One of my favorite Aerosmithtunes is βWalk This Wayβ, written by Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, which was originally released as the second single from their album Toys in the Attic (1975). It peaked at number 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 in early 1977, part of a string of successful hit singles for the band in the 1970s.
This song is one of the reasons Toys in the Attic was a must-have for everyone growing up in the 70s. βWalk This Wayβ has a trademark Joe Perry riff and quite a few of Steven Tylerβs slyest lyrics; itβs a wonder some of his double entendres ever made it onto AM radio. It also became a groundbreaker ten years later when the group re-cut the song with Run-DMC.
Check out Stevenβs clever and colorful lyrics as we listen to βWalk This Wayβ by one of the greatest bands in the US β¦. Aerosmith!
Lyrics
Backstroke lover always hidin’ ‘neath the cover ‘Till I talked to my daddy, he say He said, “You ain’t seen nothing ‘Till you’re down on a muffin Then you’re sure to be a-changin’ your ways”
I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder All the times I can reminisce ‘Cause the best thing lovin’ with her sister and her cousin Only started with a little kiss, like this
See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school With your feet flyin’ up in the air Singin’ “Hey diddle-diddle with the kitty in the middle Of the swing” like I didn’t care
So I took a big chance at the high school dance With a missy who was ready to play Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘Cause she knew what she was doin’ And I know love is here to stay When she told me to
Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Ah, just give me a kiss
Like this
School girl sweetie with the classy kinda sassy Little skirt’s climbin’ way up her knees There was three young ladies in the school gym locker When I noticed they was lookin’ at me
I was a high school loser, never made it with a lady ‘Til the boys told me something I missed Then my next door neighbor with a daughter had a favor So I gave her just a little kiss, like this
See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school With your feet flyin’ up in the air Singin’ “Hey diddle-diddle with the kitty in the middle Of the swing” like I didn’t care
So I took a big chance at the high school dance With a missy who was ready to play Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘Cause she knew what she was doin’ When she told me how to walk this way She told me to
Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, talk this way Just give me a kiss
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has challenged us once again to write a Six Sentence Story and to include the word “stock”. This is my response.
Monday after school, me and my friends were in our usual hang out β¦. Caroni Brothers Grocery Store β¦. where we go for snacks, gum, you know β typical things 10 year old boys like β and, as usual, my mouth was watering for my favorite candy in the whole wide world, Tootsie Rolls, BUT I forgot my allowance and my friends didnβt have any extra money to loan me so I just walked around the store feeling glum when all the while those chocolatey Tootsie Rolls kept calling my name; before I could even think about what I was doing, I reached into the display box on the shelf, snatched a handful of Tootsies and bolted out the side door, but instead of running as fast and as far away from the store as I could, I tossed my candy into my backpack and sat on the ground leaning against the wall, relieved that I got away with it, when suddenly Mr. Caroni appeared outta nowhere, looming over me like a gorilla, and he reached into my backpack for my stash of Tootsie Rolls, shook his beefy fist and snarled something about cleaning him out lock, stock and barrel and to βget outta here, you mangy little thief, and never come back!βΒ Β
That night I prayed Caroniβs would burn down β no such luck, by the way β and every day that week I gazed at the store with longing as my school bus passed by with one sickening thought haunting me: this coming Sunday morning, when me and my Dad are gonna take our weekly walk to Caroniβs for a loaf of Italian bread, a box of macaroni, a half-dozen cannoli and the newspaper; there’s no way I’m gonna be able to walk into that store and I’m thinking maybe I should just run away from home right now and never look back, but that would break my Mom’s heart.Β
Sunday arrived and Dad called out for me to βget a move on!β, all the while Iβm making up excuses why I canβt go but he ainβt buying any of them; thatβs it β dead man walking β and I dilly-dallied the whole way to the store, watching caterpillars, kicking pebbles, stopping to tie my shoelaces .β¦ again β¦. until my Dad couldnβt take it anymore and shouted βCβmon, kiddo; what is this .β¦ a funeral?βΒ and Iβm thinking βyeah, mine!β and before I knew it, I started crying and blubbering like my baby sister.Β
Squatting down and taking hold of my shoulders, Dad looked me square in the eye and askedΒ βOk, whatβs going on?βΒ and sobbing pathetically like a little sissy, I told Dad the whole sordid tale about me, Mr. Caroni and a handful of Tootsie Rolls; he took out his handkerchief, wiped my face, held it to my nose and said βBlow; listen, kiddo β¦. what you did was wrong and itβs obviously eating you up inside, but I’m afraid itβs not over because you still have to apologize to Mr. Caroni, which won’t be easy, but you have to do it β¦. and not a word about any of this to your Mom because this is a “guy thing” and it stays between us guys.βΒ
We walked into the store, picked out our usual items and brought them up to the counter where my day wasted no time mincing words and saidΒ βMr. Caroni, my son has something to sayβ;Β shaking in my shoes, I managed to look up at Mr. Caroni’s face and squeaked outΒ βIβm sorry for taking those Tootsie Rolls, sir, and Iβll never steal anything from you ever againβand I extended my hand; an eternity seemed to go by but, to my shock and relief, Mr. Caroni took my little hand in his large meaty one, gave me one solid shake and nodded in agreement.Β
βAnything else?βΒ Mr. Caroni asked, to which my dad replied βJust theseβ as he tossed a handful of my beloved Tootsie Rolls onto the counter; I’m sure glad my secret’s safe with Dad ’cause the last thing I wanna do is break my Mom’s heart.
Our prompt for today’s Just Jot it January 2024 is to write a story, poem, etc. and include the word “pastime”. This is my response.
Just like most people, I have some favorite pastimes such as gardening, cooking, listening to music, watching sports, doing crossword puzzles, walking and writing for my site. Nothing terribly exciting but I enjoy them.
Iβm reminded of Frank Morelli from a story I wrote in 2022. He had a favorite pastime, one that brought him more trouble than he bargained for. Hereβs that story about Frank; some of you may remember him, others may not. I hope you enjoy it and please bear in mind something very important: This is a humorous work of fictionwith no intention of disparaging any people, nationalities, ethnicities or professions.
This is βThai One Onβ
If you are seeking a woman with beautiful, exotic looks and a lovely disposition, a single Thai lady is the way to go. Thai women love to laugh and tend to be quite happy. They are demure and sweet in public, perhaps a bit shy, but when alone with their partner they are open and sexually accommodating.
Reading that online advert made Frank Morelliβs eyes widen. One of these Thai girls could be just what he was looking for. Intrigued, Frank decided to read a bit more. He scrolled down to see a bevy of available women β 922 to be exact. Beneath each pic was a name, age, contact address and the city in which the woman resided. There were also three options: 1) π¬ Say Hello; 2) π§ Send a Message; 3) β€οΈ Add to Hotlist.
There were some like Primmie who looked like she was just 17 and you know what I mean β a captivating schoolgirl-type with huge brown eyes, pouty lips and dewy skin. Primmie gave the impression of being a sweet, shy young thing with her glossy hair in pigtails wearing a short school uniform when in reality she could have invented sex. She was capable of teaching most men a thing or ten, taking them to erotic levels theyβd never experienced before.
Then there were others like Opia who looked like sheβd gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson β and won. She had an angry scowl and a leathery face that could stop a clock. She wouldnβt even be able to arouse a blindfolded Wilt Chamberlain β and he is reputed to have had sex with 20,000 women!
More than a few of the girls could easily be adult movie actresses while others looked like the ubiquitous hunchbacked dishwashers in greasy Chinese takeout joints that smelled like burning rancid oil. And by some miracle they were all available and willing to be dutiful wives and make anyoneβs wildest dreams come true. At what cost? That part of the equation had not entered Frankβs mind. Even if it had, Frank was the type who acted first and thought later, if at all β a habit that got him into trouble more times than he was willing to admit.
The truth was most of these girls were looking for a ticket to The States, for some poor unsuspecting sap exactly like Frank to get them to fall madly in love and secure a green card and a one way ride out of Bangkok.
Frank made himself comfortable in his battered and patched pseudo-leather Barcalounger, his iPad nestled comfortably on his lap. A 25oz can of Bud Lite to his left and a bag of Utz pork rinds to his right set the stage for what could be the luckiest night of his vapid life. Frank loosened the drawstring of his sweatpants and wriggled his feet out of his Air Jordan knockoffs; this online mating game could take a while.
For lack of a better word, Frank was a βloserβ β a thirty-something, short, stocky, balding, bespectacled, single, white, Italian Walmart shelf stocker living in his parentβs basement in Queens, New York. In other words β he was George Costanza.
This wasnβt exactly the ideal living arrangement as far as Frank or his parents were concerned but it didnβt cost him a dime and his mother did everything for him. Besides being as lazy as a slug, he just didnβt have that many friends and most of the ones he did have were married with children. He went on a couple of dates but he wasnβt what youβd call βa catchβ and couldnβt hold a womanβs attention for very long. Frank wasnβt attracted to any of the women at work and the feeling was mutual.
There were a few things he enjoyed doing but most of them were solo activities like playing video games, listening to heavy metal music and watching porn. His father called him a no good, lazy bum and dreamed of the day he would move out of the house and stop being a drain on his wallet. His mother called him Frankie Boy and waited on him hand and foot, cooking his meals and washing his laundry all the while lamenting the fact that she was not and probably never would be a grandma. She tried matching him up with a couple of her friendβs daughters but Frank left them cold.
So there sat Frank, comfortably reclining in his βman caveβ, taking his time perusing the ladies on the Thai bride website, adding his favorites to his hotlist when suddenly a photo of a girl named βNiki β appeared. Frank nearly choked on his pork rinds when he saw her and he believed with all his heart she was the one for him. His iPad began to levitate as he felt himself getting hard. She was a hot number, that Niki, and Frank was only looking at a still photograph!
Frank made himself presentable and clicked the FaceTime icon, his finger hovering over option #1: π¬ Say Hello. It was now or never so, mustering all the courage he possessed, he pushed the button which could determine the outcome of the rest of his life β a life with the enchanting Niki.
A few strange electronic sounds were followed by a shrill ring, then a child-like yet sultry voice was heard coming from behind what appeared to be a satin curtain:
βOoh, swasdi. Hellooo, this Niki. You want Niki?β
Frank was flustered, intrigued and aroused all at the same time. βOh, yes. Hi. Yes, I want nookie β¦ I mean Niki. Hi, Iβm Frank; is this Niki?β
Giggles from behind the curtain on the iPad gave Frank an erection. βTee hee hee! Ooh, Frang want Niki nookie? Tee hee hee! Yes?β
βYesβ replied Frank. βNo. Yes and no. Is this Niki?β
More giggles. βYes, Frang. This Niki. You want Niki?β
βItβs Frank and, yes, I definitely want Niki.β
βWhat you want, Frang? You want tawk Niki, see Niki? You want marry Niki? Niki be good wifey.β
While Frank imagined Niki as his life partner from the moment he saw her photo, this was all moving very fast. On one hand he was thrilled to be speaking to a woman, especially a beautiful willing woman, and he hoped to have a relationship someday but on the other hand, was he ready to fly off and get married to a total stranger?
βFrang? Hellooo? You want Niki?β
Frank said the first thing that popped into his head: βHow much will it cost me?β
Giggles. βTawk free, see free on FaceyTime. Airplane tickie to marry.β
βI want to see Nikiβ replied Frank with an uncharacteristic smidgen of common sense.
βOkay, Frang. Here Nikiβ and the satin curtain was pulled back. There she was; Frank recognized her immediately from her photo. She was even more bewitching in person β long silky black hair, porcelain skin with tiny, doll-like features, a small mouth painted red and a diminutive body which Frank found delightfully appealing. Niki looked like Frank could snap her in two, like a delicate glass swizzle stick. She wore a lacy camisole which was surprisingly modest and revealed nothing. Niki was the opposite of all the blonde, busty, Botoxed porn stars he was used to where everything was supersized.
Frank was mesmerized.
βOoh, hellooo. You Frang?β
βYes. Hi. Iβm Frangβ was Frankβs dimwitted response.
Giggles. βOoh, Frang hansom Merican man from USA. You big strong. Niki like you. You like Niki?β
βYes, I like Niki very much.β
βNiki make good wifey. You come Bangkok. Marry Niki.β
Frankβs head was spinning. βWow! Yeah, that sounds great Niki! But first can we just talk like this for a few days and get to know each other?β
βOoh, Frang. Niki no do nookie on FaceyTime. Betta you come Bangkok. You like Niki, marry Niki.β
It was now or never time for Frank and he was squirming in his pants. He had to ask himself what was holding him back. There wasnβt a thing going on in his life; he had nothing to lose by jumping in. This could be his one shot at happiness.
As usual, before Frank knew what he was doing, he blurted out βYou know what, Niki? Youβre right, dammit! Iβm gonna fly over there and make you my bride!β
βOoh, yay!β Giggles and little hand claps. βFrang let Niki know when you come Bangkok.β
βI definitely will, sweetie. Talk to you soon, Niki. Bye byeβ and Frank wiggled his pudgy fingers at Niki like a ten-year-old boy.
Frank jumped up excitedly. He was a man on a mission. He went into the laundry room to retrieve his luggage and there stood his mother. Her face was as red as her hair and her expression said it all.
Mrs. Morelli clutched Frankβs suitcase and screamed at him: βYou ingrate! You are a complete moron! Look at you, all hot to trot! Why canβt you go out and find yourself a nice Italian girl like your cousin Gerald instead of traipsing half-way around the world to some Godforsaken placecalled βBangkokβ? What kind of sick, perverted name is βBangkokβ anyway?Oh my God, I think Iβm going to be sick!β
Befuddled and feeling like a little boy, Frank snatched the suitcase from his motherβs arms, yelling back at her βYou donβt know anything about it. Iβm a grown man! Just mind your own business!β
Frankβs father heard the arguing and was now in the basement. βWhat the hell is going on down here?β he demanded. βYou idiot! Look how upset your mother is!β
Mrs. Morelli wailed βHeβs running off to someplace called βBangkokβ where he thinks heβs gonna find a wife!β
Mr. Morelli slammed his hand on the washing machine. βYou ungrateful bum! Canβt you see what youβre doing to your mother? What kind of a sicko are you? I had a war buddy from my time in Korea who took off for Bangkoklooking for a little filly. Nobody ever saw him again!β
βIf you leave here for that sex den, you better not step one foot back in this house!β Mrs. Morelli shrieked. βI work my fingers to the bone for you and your father. If you think Iβm going to start waiting on you and some mail order sex kitten living in my basement, you got another thing coming!β
βYouβre a disgrace to this family, Frank! A disgrace!β bellowed Frankβs father.
Frank sputtered ineffectually, pulled at what little hair he had and scurried back into his room. He could hear his parents shouting upstairs. Not live here? Where would he and Niki stay? Frank hadnβt thought about that. Well, heβd figure something out. Besides, once his parents saw Niki theyβd welcome her with open arms.
βIβll think about that later. Itβll all work outβ Frank muttered to himself. “Right now I’ve got a bag to pack.”
Yesterday’s prompt from Sadje for Just Jot it January 2024. Here’s my tardy but heartfelt reply. βοΈβ π₯―
With Humble Gratitude For my husband Who, every morning, Without hesitation, Brings me my coffee in bed. Sometimes heβll bring a warm bagel. I couldnβt ask for anything more! With humble gratitude for my husband.
This is the Manhattan Transfer with “I Love Coffee, I Love Tea”.βAnd I love Bill!
Dectina Refrain: This refrain is written as follows: 1st line β 1 syllable, 2nd line β 2 syllables 3rd line β 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone line.
Prompts today from Jim at Song Lyric Sunday and Linda at Daily Prompt – JusJoJan
Todayβs challenge from Jimβs Song Lyric Sundayis to write about a song that mentions clothing accessories suggested by Christine of Stine Writingand Miniatures. Now thatβs an interesting topic!
I started working on this post a couple of days ago, thinking about βaccessoriesβ; at the time I didnβt have Christineβs list of suggestions and some of the items I came up with were shoelaces, hats, ties, scarves, belts, hairpins, assorted jewelry, purses and socks. And thatβs where I stopped β at socks. I was curious about that because I thought socks were not considered “accessories” but rather actual articles of clothing. It’s definitely debatable and when I saw them on the list I was thrilled because I had a great song in my head.
And that song is ββIβve Got a Feelingβ by the Beatles. Thereβs absolutely no need to discuss the group so letβs just get into the song.
“I’ve Got a Feeling” is from the Beatles 1970 album βLet It Beβ and was recorded almost 55 years ago on January 30, 1969 during the Beatlesβ rooftop concert. It is a combination of two unfinished songs β Paul McCartneyβs “Iβve Got a Feelingβ and John Lennonβs βEverybody Had a Hard Yearβ.
McCartney’s unfinished song was written for his girlfriend Linda Eastman and is quite upbeat, telling her that she was the girl he had always wanted. In Lennon’s song, each line begins with the word “everybody” and isnβt as light as Paulβs. John had a bad year: he divorced Cynthia, he and his son Julian became estranged, his girlfriend Yoko Ono had a miscarriage, he was arrested for drug possession, and he was increasingly discontent in the group. Critics called it a βlitanyβ and they were right.
So, βWhatβs socks got to do with this song?β you ask. Very simple: one line that goes βEverybody pulled their socks upβ. Sound familiar? Letβs have a listen:
From that legendary rooftop concert, here are the Beatles with βIβve Got a Feelingβ. I honestly think this is one of the greatest things they ever did. To capture this performance on a roof with no monitors in the freezing cold with the police breathing down their necks is just incredible.
This is “I’ve Got A Feeling” from the Beatles rooftop concert
Lyrics
I’ve got a feeling A feeling deep inside Oh yeah Oh yeah, that’s right I’ve got a feeling A feeling I can’t hide Oh no, no Oh no Oh no
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah
Oh please believe me I’d hate to miss the train Oh yeah, yeah Oh yeah And if you leave me I won’t be late again Oh no Oh no Oh no
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah I’ve got a feeling
All these years, I’ve been wanderin’ around Wonderin’ how come nobody told me All that I been lookin’ for was somebody who looked like you
Ooh, I’ve got a feeling That keeps me on my toes Oh yeah Oh yeah I’ve got a feeling I think that everybody knows Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh yeah
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah Yeah
Everybody had a hard year Everybody had a good time Everybody had a wet dream Everybody saw the sunshine Oh yeah (oh yeah) Oh yeah, oh yeah (yeah) Everybody had a good year Everybody let their hair down Everybody pulled their socks up (yeah) Everybody put their foot down Oh yeah
Yeah Woo
I’ve got a feeling (everybody had a good year) A feeling deep inside (everybody had a hard time) Oh yeah (everybody had a wet dream) Oh yeah (everybody saw the sunshine) I’ve got a feeling (everybody had a good year) A feeling I can’t hide (everybody let their hair down) Oh no (everybody pulled their socks up) Oh no, no (everybody put their foot down, oh yeah) Yeah, yeah
I’ve got a feeling (oh yeah) I’ve got a feeling (oh yeah) I’ve got a feeling Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Oh my soul, so hard)
There I was, sitting in my car taking a smoke break. Damn shame! We canβt smoke anywhere these days and thatβs a perfect example of discrimination.
Anyway, Iβm looking out the car window, and thatβs when I spotted it …. a rubber glove on the ground. Disgusting!
Since I was parked just across from a nursing home, I figured that glove belonged to one of the employees there and that made me even angrier than I was. Imagine, a health facility employee tossing a glove away like that! I bet they throw their masks on the ground, too. Pigs!
Whatβs wrong with people? Youβd think after 3+ years of Covid, they’d finally get it right and stop ditching their used gloves or masks on public property. I could never understand how someone, especially a health-care worker, could show such disrespect for other people. If I had seen whoever tossed that glove so indiscriminately, I would have said something.
Well, thereβs only one thing to do β¦. I donned a glove, picked up the offensive litter and deposited it in the trash. Puffing on my smoke, I walked back to my car feeling very proud of myself.
Just then a pigeon landed on the trash can, picked out the glove and flew off only to drop the glove on the road. Well, Iβll be damned! It wasnβt a deliberate act of human negligence after all! I chuckled, my faith in mankind restored.
Flicking my cigarette butt out the window, I drove off.
Leyland spoke softly as he comforted his weeping wife, Willow.
βHush, darling. Another season has come and gone and Iβm still here to protect you and the children. I realize I had a couple of close calls but so far, so good. I never thought Iβd say this but Iβm thankful for my disfigurement; itβs kept me from being selected and close to you.β
Willow sighed. βI feel terribly guilty. Thereβs no chance I will ever be chosen and I fear for our friends and family.β
βI know, darling. Iβll check on Douglas today. Pray the family is all safe.β
Author’s Note: Leyland and Douglas are very popular evergreens sold as Christmas trees. One of the saddest things is seeing all the dead and forgotten Christmas trees discarded by the curb after the season. Next time you go looking for a Christmas tree, consider buying one with its root ball intact instead of one that’s been chopped down; you can replant it in your yard or place it in a pot. Your tree gave you so much joy during the holidays; why not give it a chance to keep living?And BTW, artificial doesn’t need to have a negative connotation!
No one’s been messing with your devices!βEach week Birthday Thursdays will now be seen here on The Elephant’s Trunk where I will feature someone from the world of music who is celebrating a birthday that day. There wonβt be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures β just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music
Happy Birthday to Michael Stipe Born January 4, 1960 in Decatur, Georgia
Linda G. Hill has challenged us with another prompt for JusJoJan using the word βcaptivatingβ. Here is my submission β a Dectina Refrain. This refrain is written as follows: 1st line β 1 syllable, 2nd line β 2 syllables 3rd line β 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone line.
Eyes of green like the sea captivating and pulling me in with every crashing wave. Those eyes frighten and thrill me. Should I run to them or from them? The heady allure outweighs the fear. Eyes of green like the sea captivating.
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has challenged us to write a Six Sentence Story and include the word “task”. This is my response.
Not having practiced the piano at all that one week, I called my instructor who was waiting for me at the church and declared into the phone βMrs. Ridgeway, itβs Nancy and I canβt make it to my lesson today because itβs rainingβ; I was quite proud of myself for coming up with such a creative and foolproof excuse.
In her clipped New England-accented voice, Mrs. Ridgeway replied βYouβre not a sugar cube and wonβt melt in the rainβ, then went on to say βSurely you have an umbrella you can useβ; I was quick to inform her that I had left my umbrella on the school bus, adding that no one was at home with me to lend me an umbrella and my mother didnβt approve of me walking unprotected in the rain to which my piano teacher replied βWell then, Iβll just come to your house for your lessonβ.
You could have knocked me over with a feather because I certainly was not expecting that response and, true to her word, ten minutes later Mrs. Ridgeway appeared at my front door, ready for the task at hand; I dilly-dallied as long as I could looking for my book of Schirmerβs Library of Musical Classics β Selected Piano Masterpieces, setting up my metronome, cracking my knuckles and swinging my arms a la Ed Norton and shifting butt cheeks searching for the most comfortable position until Mrs. Ridgewayβs patience reached the breaking point and she barked βEnough!β which nearly made me jump off the piano bench in a panic.
Shaking like the last leaf on a branch in a windstorm, I opened my lesson book to the appropriate page and began playing Beethovenβs FΓΌr Elise while Mrs. Ridgeway sat next to me, staring over my shoulder and glaring; I played as though I was wearing boxing gloves and, being the master sleuth that she was, Mrs. Ridgeway saw right through my brilliant plot.
Angrier than my sister the day she discovered I had ripped off all the heads on her Barbie dolls, Mrs. Ridgeway exclaimed I had wasted her valuable time and she doubled my lessons for the next week which would have been tolerable if she hadnβt reported to my mother who got so mad because of my lack of responsibility, she withheld my allowance for the next two weeks and took away my TV privileges β¦. even Dr. Kildare.
This is what FΓΌr Elise is supposed to sound like; youβll notice Lang Lang is not wearing boxing gloves (but I bet heβd sound just as good even if he was).
The incomparable Jackie Gleason and Art Carney in a clip from the Honeymooners – Suwanee River. How could I possibly resist?
The prompt for JusJoJan January 2, 2024 is brought to us by my friend Willow; the prompt word is βGregorianβ. Here is my submission.
The Abbot rushed toward the chapel, his robes kicking up dust all around him. He had never heard sounds like that before; he had to get to the bottom of this mystery.
The chanting continued, increasing in volume. Finally the Abbot reached the room and threw open the doors to the chapel. Immediately the startled monks stopped singing, all eyes on the Abbot. One look and everyone could tell he was furious.
βWhat is the meaning of this?β he demanded, his eyes sweeping the faces of all the monks in the chapel. βSomeone answer me! I demand to know why you are not chanting in the traditional manner. Who gave you permission to do this!β
With great trepidation, one brave monk stepped forward. With eyes lowered he spoke softly. βAbbot, forgive me, but while you were attending the funeral of your beloved mother, word was received from His Holiness, Pope Gregory, that all chants are to be sung in this manner. In his honor, the chants are called Gregorian.β
His Holiness! The Abbot was momentarily stunned by this information. He cleared his throat and replied βOf course! His Holiness. It must have slipped my mind while I was preoccupied with the funeral.β
The monks remained silent, all staring at the Abbot. At last he put everyone out of their discomfort by declaring βThe new chants are indeed quite lovely. His Holiness is most wise. Carry on, my sons.β The Abbot quickly turned and left the monks to their chanting. A slight smile came to his face as he heard their beautiful voices singing the praises of God.
Linda G. Hill has challenged us with the first prompt for JusJoJan January 1st 2024: and the #1 prompt of the year is βtrain.β Here is my submission.
Every morning I take the train to work in lower Manhattan from Far Rockaway, New York and back home again in the evening. Along with a multitude of fellow commuters, I ride the underground transit system (affectionately known as βthe subwayβ) for a total of three hours round trip. Thatβs a long time to observe the parade of weirdos entering and exiting the train.
Riding the subway for as long as I do, itβs easy to become familiar with my fellow passengerβs quirks and foibles β even assigning them made up names to go with their peccadilloes. And let me tell you β people are strange!
Far Rockaway is where the commute originates so Iβm always guaranteed a seat. A couple I call Marge and Homer gets on the same train as me. I have determined from their heated conversations that they have been engaged for about six years. Marge is ready to get married; Homerβs not. She talks about her biological clock; he talks about nothing but his upcoming promotion at work. Then Marge reminds Homer heβs been saying the same thing for five years now and their discussion becomes more heated with every chug of the subway.
First stop: enter Malodorous Man. This guy is always guaranteed a seat in the corner all by himself. The fact that he desperately needs a shower would be enough to keep people away but he also brings his breakfast on the train β a raw onion which he peels and eats with gusto as one would an apple.
At our next stop Mr. Obsessive gets on. He immediately takes out a can of disinfectant and sprays it in the direction of Malodorous Man who indignantly shoutsβHey, Iβm eatinβ here!β
Mr. Obsessive goes to HIS seat (where no one else dares sit because everyone knows itβs HIS seat), cleans it and begins his routine. First he unties his shoe laces making sure they are of equal length. Satisfied that they are, he reties his laces, then adjusts his socks so they reach the exact same height on both legs. He smooths his trousers, unbuttons and re-buttons his jacket, aligns the amount of shirt cuff visible from his jacket sleeves, straightens his tie and adjusts his hat repeatedly. Finally all is well in OCD Land.
At stop number three Malodorous Man departs and the Tattoo Twins get on, a teenage boy and girl covered from the neck down with multicolored tattoos. They lean against the door and start making out while Mr. Obsessive huffs in disapproval.
Totally out of character Marge suddenly declares to Homer that sheβs βhad enoughβ and moves to another seat next to Bob the Builder, a good-looking construction worker. Homerβs not happy about this; perhaps heβs noticed the same thing I have: whenever Bob the Builder enters the train he winks at Marge and pats his impressive tool belt. Bob and Marge begin a quiet conversation while Homer fumes.
Next stop and Mr. Obsessive fearfully sidles, past the Tattoo Twins who reach out and knock his perfect hat right off his head. Shocked by this unnecessary assault, Mr. Obsessive stares at the now unwearable hat, sniffs in disdain and scurries off the train.
Impulsively, a jilted Homer jumps up and punches Tattoo Boy in the nose who retaliates by shoving Homer backwards on his ass. A few passengers give Homer a thumbs up. Somewhat embarrassed yet proud of himself, Homer glances over at Marge for her approval. She, however, is too involved with Bob the Builder to notice. Homer tells Marge βitβs our stopβ but she shakes her head and snuggles closer to Bob. Homer huffs off and looks back just as Marge fondles the tip of Bob’s hammer.
Welcome to the daily subway sideshow where everyone is strange except me β or am I?
To everyone reading this right now, all my friends on WordPress, Iβd like to thank you for sticking with me, reading my posts, liking them and sharing your thoughts. Your comments mean a great deal to me; when I read them I know I have touched you in some way β¦. with laughter, fear, sorrow, hope, even anger. And you have touched me as well. I am very fortunate to have you in my life; thank you for being here day after day.
Thanks for appreciating the videos I attach to every post. That was just a lark I tried one day and I decided to stick with it. I think they really add something special to my stories. Itβs fun looking for just the right ones and from reading your comments, I know you enjoy them.
And speaking of music, try to listen every day to whatever moves you at the moment. Music provides a total brain workout. Listening to music can reduce anxiety, blood pressure and pain as well as improve sleep quality, mood, mental alertness and memory β just what the doctor ordered!
My wish for you is that your new year be filled with peace and love. May you be safe, may you be compassionate, may you choose wisely, may you be happy while bringing happiness to others and may you be blessed with good health and good friends.
Now itβs time for something really cool. While the visual quality isn’t the greatest, the audio is out of sight! From 1998, this is βHappy New Yearβ with guitar legends BB King and David Gilmour and on piano, the incredible Jools Holland.
Happy New Year! Rock on, my friends! π π π« β¨
The Elephant's Trunk 