βWhat does it look like Iβm doing, Morris? Iβm going to go sing with that band.β
βYou canβt do that. Youβre almost 73 years old!β her son replied. He was becoming impatient.
βWhat the hell does my age have to do with anything? Tony Bennett, Tina Turner, David Crosby were all in their 80s and still going strong.β
βMother, youβre not exactly in the same league as Tina Turner!β
βThank you for pointing that out to me and the family, Morris. Youβve turned into a self-righteous little prig β¦. certainly not how I raised you.β
βWell, one of us had to grow up, Mother. Youβre not going to sing with that band. I wonβt allow it. This isnβt Woodstock!β
βGrammy? Whatβs Dad talking about? You were at Woodstock?β Dina asked her grandmother in disbelief.
βAs a matter of fact, I was! You know, I wasnβt always your grandmother! I lived a whole other life before your father was born.β
βGrammy, why am I just hearing about this now? Iβm 22 years old and never knew this! How is that possible? Dad, how come you never said anything?β
βYouβre fatherβs embarrassed by me, Dina. I was always a very free spirit; I met a lot of incredible people before and after Woodstock.β
βGrammy, were you a groupie?β Dina asked conspiratorially.
βOh, Dina! Lets just say I had great fun.β
βMother, this conversation ends now!β
βOh, shut up, Morrison!β
βMorrison?β Dina whispered knowingly, eyes wide.
Itβs been dreadfully cold lately; I seem to get a chill much easier now that Iβm older. Maybe my βSenile Under-Skin Bleeding” is a direct result.
I spoke to my dermatologist about the thinning, drying and bruising skin on my lower legs; she suggested sauna bathing. The benefits include detoxification, increased metabolism, weight loss, increased blood circulation, pain reduction, anti-aging, skin rejuvenation, improved cardiovascular function, improved sleep, stress management and relaxation.
What could possibly go wrong?
I located a spa with a sauna. My glasses steamed up, I tripped and bumped into the frozen water bucket.
β¦ Authors Note: “Senile Under-Skin Bleeding”, also known as βSenileΒ Purpuraβ, occurs when the skin and blood vessels become more fragile as people age, making it easier for the skin to bruise from minor trauma.Β While it is mostly associated with older people, it is a common problem among those in their 30s and 40s. This frustrating and painful skin issue with a very ugly name can be improved slowly following a dedicated regimen of gentle exfoliation, daily Vitamin D and a skin lotion rich in Vitamin C. Staying out of the sun and wearing sunscreen, keeping hydrated and eating fruits and leafy greens are also extremely important and helpful.
Welcome toΒ Birthday Thursdays! Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on this 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 Bobby Goldsboro January 18, 1941 in Marianna, Florida
Live from The Ed Sullivan Show, “Everybody’s Talkin'”
From “The Best of Bobby Goldsboro”, this is “Honey”
“See the Funny Little Clown” from The Bobby Goldsboro Show
Sammi at Weekend Writing Prompt has challenged us to write a piece of exactly 87 words, making sure to include the prompt “appointment”. This is my response to that challenge.
Itβs week three of the Mixed Music Bag and Glynβs theme is a solo artist or band beginning with the letter A or B.
Donβt ask me the date β¦. early 70s is as close as I can get β¦. we went to the Nassau Coliseum to see Bedlam, Badger and Black Sabbath. It was one of the most bizarre nights with a strange vibe in the place. A guy in the audience must have gotten his hands on some of the brown acid left over from Woodstock because he decided it would be cool to set his arm on fire. I can say with 100% certainty of all the many, many concerts we went to from ’67-’77, no one ever set fire to any part of their body before or after that night. What people won’t do fortheir 15 minutes of fame.
Thereβs no need to discuss Black Sabbath, is there? I decided to feature Bedlam in my post today; they had a good sound and the group’s members were infinitely better known than Badger’s. But the whole story about Bedlam is a bit weird.
Originally known as Beast when it formed in 1972, Bedlam was one of the UK’s least-known supergroups, a hard rock band featuring singer Frank Aiello (from Truth), guitarist Dave Ball (from Procol Harum), bassist Dennis Ball (formerly with Long John Baldry), and drummer Cozy Powell (who made his name with major rock bands and artists such as The Jeff Beck Group, Rainbow, Michael Schenker Group, Gary Moore, Graham Bonnet, Brian May, Whitesnake, Emerson, Lake & Powell and Black Sabbath). Wow!
In 1973 they made one self-titled album produced by Felix Pappalardi, best known as the bassist and co-lead singer for Mountain. Like I said, the lineup was a good one but in 1974, after just two short years, the group fell apart when Cozy Powell left. That one studio effort showed the band to be a talented, bluesy, hard-rock outfit in the vein of the Jeff Beck group and Rory Gallagher’s band, but without the new twist of originality that might have sustained interest.
Adding to the ambiguity surrounding this group, I was unable to find lyrics for any of Bedlamβs songs; I hope you enjoy the tune Iβve selected for you today.
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge is challenging us to write a Six Sentence Story using the word “kick”. I threw in 8 other prompts I had in my back pocket; this is my response.
Last week I had my bi-weekly (every two weeks) session with my pain management doctor; I always get a perverse kick out of the term ‘pain management’ and feel like I need to say something witty and clever (sarcastic) about it to the insentient people who work there, hereafter referred to as ‘the staff’.
βYou know, the term ‘pain management‘ is all well and good however I’m really here in search of ‘pain termination‘”, I mention to the front desk receptionist who is characteristically unresponsive; my darling, unceasingly patient husband stands to the side with a sheepish yet accepting half-smile on his face (sometimes accompanied by a masterful eye-roll) knowing all to well there are times I cannot or simply will not control my Sicilian forked tongue, being the perspicacious and savvy sort that I am.
My doctor’s office is in a building with other doctors so thereβs always a soft parade of wheelchairs and people with canes, crutches, walkers or other means of physical assistance going into the various offices; many have spouses/friends/caregivers accompanying them with dogeared paperbacks, sudoku puzzles or endlessly-beeping cell phones except for my husband and me who both have appointments with the same doctor for ‘management’ of our pain, he at 11:00 and me at 11:20, and so we accompany and entertain each other.
Akey is needed to unlock the door to the ‘Guest Restrooms’ which are located near the elevators; this is a majorinconvenience and I have issues with this arrangement since there’s not one but two ‘Staff Only’ restrooms in the doctor’s office which screams HYPOCRISY considering the patients are the ones who would benefit from having a restroom nearby and because the ‘staff’ sometimes uses the ‘guest’ restroom when they have their own damn restrooms (but we can’t use theirs), and since no one is actually resting in the ‘restroom’, let’s drop the euphemism and call it what it is β a toilet, FFS!
I persevere and consider the walk to the ‘Guest Restroom’ part of my daily exercise but rest assured β I am seething inside and secretly hope there’s a member of the ‘staff’ in the ‘Guest Restroom’ who might accidentally trip over someone’s cane; there are a lot of canes at ‘pain management’.
Speaking of canes, I bring along my boldnew walking stick; I don’t always need it but I think it makes me look erudite, sophisticated and elegant in a nonchalant sort of way, even though my knees are barking like angry junkyard dogs; looking good is half the battle.
Lisa is serving as host for todayβs dVerse Prosery prompt. We are to write a piece of up to 144 words and include the line βBut that smile was the last smile to come upon her faceβ. This is my response for Lisaβs dVerse Prosery prompt.
We were living in Tennessee with my Aunt Luella and Uncle Boz after my mam and pap were killed in the South Carrollton, Kentucky train wreck of 1917. Just five days before Christmas and our family was torn apart. My mam and Aunt Luella were sisters; mamβs death nearly destroyed Auntie.
Back in January we all had such high hopes for 1917. My cousin Henry, Aunt Luella and Uncle Bozβs firstborn, was set to graduate high school in June, the first one in the family with that distinction. Aunt Luella was so proud of Henry, she couldnβt help smiling thinking of Henryβs bright future.
But that smile was the last smile to come upon her face.
Henry enlisted in the army one month before graduation. He died in the Battle of Cambrai on Thanksgiving Day.
When Ekon and Mosi awoke they were not in the same place as the night before. They were in a higher elevation; it was colder and there were traces of snow. They were laying in a rudimentary tent, comfortably covered in blankets with a small fire nearby. Shiga happily munched on a shrub to which she had been tethered. Besides the change of location, there was a much more obvious and puzzling difference in father and son: both had aged approximately five years. Mosi looked to be about 25 years old and Ekon’s hair and beard were now as grey as the mountain sky.
A group of strange-looking men emerged from the woods and started walking in their direction; immediately Ekon patted his chest, feeling for the vial in his wrap, and was relieved to find it where he always kept it; he placed one drop on the tip of his tongue. The leader of the group, who looked like nothing more than a dead tree branch, spoke in a senescent voice, explaining that two of his people, while out hunting, had found Ekon, Mosi and Shiga unconscious near the brook and brought them back to a safe clearing just outside their village. The brook had been poisoned years ago after a mysterious storm and the tainted waters resulted in a deep, years-long sleep for anyone who drank; there was no antidote that they knew of.
These men were the last of the Twigorian order of monks; they were learned men, wise in the ways of the universe, science and nature. They lived among the members of the ancient San tribe as leaders and teachers. The chief monk assured Ekon and Mosi they were in no danger. When Ekon answered in San, the monks were surprised but quickly discerned that Ekon possessed the power of the Jalβmboor. After the men had talked for a while, a few San women approached; they asked Ekon and Mosi to follow them into the village where they would be able to wash, don clean clothes and eat. Mosi immediately caught the eye of a beautiful young woman called Tayla and they exchanged smiles.
Ekon and Mosi listened as the San people explained their ways. They knew how to preserve food in such a way that it could be dried to last a long time and reduced to a compact size for easy transport and storage. They developed a shield of invisibility which allowed them to disappear at the first sign of danger, thus avoiding any conflict, violence or harm to themselves or their land. They were philosophers and great thinkers but lacked basic skills such as tool-making and construction. Their homes were straw huts and tents in a great state of disrepair and their boats were rotting; everything was falling apart.
Mosi and Ekon told the San people of their quest to reach the top of the Sky Mountain Pines. Many had tried but very few succeeded. It was a treacherous journey but the San promised to help if Ekon and Mosi did something in return: teach them to make tools to build homes, boats and proper implements for hunting, fishing and farming. The pair agreed and spent the next two years working with the San people. During that time Mosi and Tayla fell in love and he promised to return to her after they reached the summit.
The San warned Ekon and Mosi about the Sanguine Precipice, the Gralapthian Dragon Den and the bloodthirsty gorillas known as the Ikorana Buhangi. The monks gave Mosi and Ekon a map to help them safely pass the precipice. In addition, the monks presented them with the invisibility shield to evade the monstrous beasts along their way. Their promise and mission now complete, Ekon and his son prepared to leave the San people the following morning.
Shiga was loaded down with new flasks containing safe, clean water, sacks of food, blankets and the invisibility shield. Bidding Tayla farewell, Mosi and Ekon followed the monks until they were safely on the other side of the poisoned brook. At the last minute, Mosi fetched a dozen old water skins and filled them with tainted water. Now they were truly on their own, prepared but anxious. The higher they climbed the colder it became and they blessed the San women for the warm clothing they now wore.
The pair hiked for days, sometimes not uttering a single word. In one terrifying second, their silence was shattered by horrific screeches and savage bellows. They knew they reached the first deadly threat: the Gralapthian Dragons. The sound of enormous flapping wings filled the sky and father and son covered their ears from the deafening noise. Mosi grabbed the invisibility shield just before catching a glimpse of the nightmarish creatures; he quickly covered himself, Ekon and Shiga, gently stroking the terrified mule’s nose to keep her quiet. The Gralapthian hovered over them, sniffing the air with gargantuan nostrils. Mosi gripped the shield tightly to keep it from flying off in the great gush of wind caused by the dragon’s wings.
The Gralapthian angrily flew away only to return moments later, obviously in the hope of catching their prey unawares. Again Mosi almost lost control of the shield. The Gralapthian spewed fire in different directions and spittle like molten lava rained down but Mosi, Ekon and Shiga stayed put undercover and the dragons missed their mark. Disgruntled, the Gralapthian flew off beyond the high pines. Mosi and Ekon remained where they were until they were sure all was safe. When they felt the time was right, they carefully retracted the shield and secured it onto Shigaβs back. The shield had served them well and once again they silently thanked the monks.
At first Ekon kept a journal of the passing days and nights but eventually lost count. They walked for what seemed an eternity and Mosi questioned himself a thousand times over if this was only a fool’s quest. Lost in their thoughts, Ekon and Mosi were surprised when they came to a divide in the path. Unsure which direction to go, they consulted the San map but it was of no help. Not knowing which way to turn, they finally settled on one of the paths; it proved to be the wrong choice.
Rounding a bend they found themselves face to face with the much-feared kings of the mountain β the Ikorana Buhangi Gorillas. They were hideous beasts, a mutation of a gorilla and a rhinoceros. Ekon froze as the monstrous creatures slowly came closer, snorting loudly, beating their breasts and baring massive teeth. Mosi thought quickly and placed a drop of the Jalβmboor potion on the tip of his tongue.
To the bewilderment of the gorillas Mosi began speaking in fluent Buhangarian: βWe are travelers. We seek no trouble. All we wish is to pass by safely.β
The largest of the gorillas growled: βHow is it you can speak to us, human?β
βWe are magicians. We can offer you whatever you desire. What is your greatest wish?β Mosi asked, covering his fear.
βTo rip your body to pieces and eat you!β shouted the Ikorana Buhangi.
βBut you can do that any time. Surely there is something you desire above all other thingsβ countered Mosi. βI repeat β what is your greatest wish?β
βABSOLUTE POWER!β roared the beasts. “RULERS THE UNIVERSE!”
βIf that is indeed your greatest wish, I can instantly grant it. Itβs as easy as drinking the mystical waters in these skinsβ and Mosi tossed the twelve old water skins to the gorillas. They greedily swallowed every last drop the tainted brook water and were poisoned before they hit the ground. The earth under their feet shook from the tremendous weight of the gorillas but Mosi and Ekon were safe.
Elated with their quick thinking and great success over the Ikorana Buhangi, Ekon and Mosi quickened their pace as they moved on. Their relief was short lived, however, when they reached the Sanguine Precipice. Never before had they seen such a narrow path or so steep a cliff. Mosi checked the San map and saw a widening in the path about four feet ahead. Crossing that short but deadly span would mean victory or defeat, life or death. They could not make one false move. Mosi believed he and his father could do it but he wasnβt sure about Shiga. The men decided to lighten Shigaβs load by dividing it among themselves. She stood a better chance without the extra weight. Slow as snails they placed one foot before the other, Mosi leading Shiga and Ekon gently pushing her rear.
Just as they reached the safety of the clearing, Shiga lost her footing and landed full force on top of Ekon who howled in agony. Working quickly, Mosi uprighted Shiga and tied her to a tree, then he returned for Ekon. As soon as he tried to lift his father, Ekon screamed and fainted; Mosi immediately knew his fatherβs back was broken. Mosi gently carried Ekon and laid him in the shade of the Sky Mountain Pines; it was only then that he realized they had made it to the summit. His quest was complete but at what cost?
Slowly, Ekon opened his eyes and whispered βWe made it, my son!β Then quietly he exhaled and died. Mosi cried out in grief and Shiga softly brayed where she stood, still tied to a tree. Mosi buried his father on the summit of the Sky Mountain Pines, laying his trusty spear across the grave. Snow began to lightly fall as Mosi packed his belongings and secured them onto Shigaβs back. Now, knowing the safe route, Mosi and Shiga began their trek back to Tayla and home to the Sangala Valley. They left the summit without looking back.
The sun was just beginning to rise over the Sangala Valley and the day was already warm. Ekon, a middle-aged widower and his son Mosi sat outside as they did each morning eating their breakfast before beginning their long day. It had been just the two of them since Ekonβs wife Bisa died from a mysterious illness several years earlier.
The Sangala Valley is very small but a good home for Ekon and Mosi. There is an abundance of sunlight for growing crops and copious amounts of fruit trees to provide food and much needed shade during the hottest times of the day. Mosi fishes daily in nearby Lake Caballo; he has become quite proficient but Ekon is the hunter, always keeping them well-fed with rabbits, pigs, deer or fowl. They also keep roosters, chickens and have a mare mule for milk.
Three other families live in the valley and share the area peacefully, frequently trading with each other. Ekon and Mosi are fortunate to have a variety of foods to eat; however, they have had little luck growing wheat or other grains β something Bisa excelled at. Sometimes the women bring them flatbread and loaves of Green Mealies, a fluffy corn bread, in exchange for fish or rabbits.
Forests of wild pine trees grow in the distance and the view from the valley is magnificent. One evening as father and son relaxed by their campfire, Mosi expressed his greatest desire: βFather, one day I shall visit the Cloud Mountain Pines.β
βOne day?β exclaimed Ekon and laughed heartily. βMy son, the pines are hundreds of miles away, a rigorous and dangerous journey of many months. It is a quest, not a dayβs adventure.β
βBut how can that be, Father?β Mosi questioned. βI can see them as clearly as I can see Lake Caballo.β
βMosi, the wild pines are enormous and tower over everythingβ Ekon explained. βTheir closeness is a mere illusion.β
βBut Fatherβ Mosi argued. βLook across the lake. The pines are plainly visible and the land is flat. We can get there in two days!β
βThat is true, my son, but reaching the pine trees on Cloud Mountain is another story. You must give up this fantasy. Now, off to bed for both of us.β
Mosi did not mention the Cloud Mountain Pines again for a long time but he never abandoned his dream. One morning during breakfast Mosi told his father that he had decided he would not be able to rest until he traveled to the woods β or at least tried. Ekonβs first reaction was to once again talk Mosi out of his idea but as he looked at his son he realized he was no longer a child and his mind was made up. Ekon told Mosi he understood the need that drove him and they would make the trek together.
Mosi was overjoyed and immediately began to prepare. Ekon said they must bring only the barest of necessities, their fishing and hunting tools and their mule Shiga. There was also one priceless object which Ekon would never leave behind, a treasure handed down from generation to generation: a tiny vial containing the Tincture of Jalβmboor. One small drop on the tip of the tongue would enable the user to speak in any language chosen and the spell would remain until no longer needed.
They set out the following morning, reaching the woods at dusk on the second day. Mosi was shocked to find how much bigger everything was. Even the smallest trees were taller than him. Ekon and Mosi camped under the moon at the foot of the lake; after an early breakfast of fruit and nuts, they set off. The terrain was flat and easily passable until the fifth day when they came upon a vast, swiftly moving river blocking their path. Having no craft, the duo consulted an old map and chose to travel east. This would take them out of their way but it was the safest route. After many days of walking, they reached a shallow section of the river which they crossed safely.
The new terrain was steeper and difficult. The forests were dense and hardly any light shone through. They were keenly aware of the ominous stillness and Ekon kept his spear at the ready. Without warning the trees began to quake; suddenly hundreds of birds flew out and disappeared. A second later a massive Basambi Kurumandi Tiger appeared. He stared at Ekon and Mosi, deadly pale green eyes observing their every move. He snarled, exposing razor sharp fangs. Ekon whispered for Mosi to stand perfectly still but Shiga was spooked and whinnied loudly. In an instant the tiger leapt but Ekon was ready and felled the giant cat with his trusty spear through its heart. Father and son refilled their water skins from the river and, exhausted, went to sleep far from the felled tiger. They would start fresh in the morning.
For todayβs challenge, Jim at Song Lyric Sundayhas asked us to write about a Scandinavian song and/or performer. This was a no-brainer for me; I couldnβt write about anyone other than the incredible Yngwie Malmsteen. Honestly, for many years I didnβt think there was any better guitarist than Ritchie Blackmore; then I heard Yngwie.
Born in 1963 in Stockholm, Sweden, Yngwie first became known in the 80s for his neoclassical playing style in heavy metal. In his career of more than 40 years (and still going), Yngwie has released 22 studio albums. In 2009 he was listed in Time magazine as #9 on its list of the 10 best electric guitar players of all time.
Really? There are 8 better guitarists than Yngwie? I wonder who they could be. Well, let’s take a look: in descending order starting with #8 they are β Les Paul, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, B.B. King, Slash, and Jimi Hendrix. Iβve got issues with this list. And where are Ritchie Blackmore, Eddie Van Halen, Matteo Mancuso, Henrik Freishlader, Tommy Emmanuel, Joe Bonamassa and Guthrie Govan, FFS?
Anyway ….
As a teenager, Yngwie was heavily influenced by classical music, particularly Paganini and Bach. During this time he also discovered his most important guitar influence, Ritchie Blackmore. Yngwie has sad that Hendrix had no musical impact on him and did not contribute to his style but seeing him on TV smashing and burning his guitar at the Monterey Pop Festival of 1967 was βreally coolβ.
Yngwie Malmsteen has been a member of Steeler, Alcatrazz, Hear βn Aid, G3 and is currently with Generation Axe. Addtionally, he has had side projects and made special appearances with many other groups and performers.
In a 2005 issue of Guitar Player magazine, Yngwie Malmsteen discussed his often-ridiculed behavior, saying that, “I’ve probably made more mistakes than anybody. But I don’t dwell on them. I don’t expect people to understand me, because I’m pretty complex, and I think outside the box with everything I do. I’ve always taken the untraveled path. Obviously, people have their opinions, but I can’t get too wrapped up in that, because I know what I can do, and I know what kind of person I am. And I have no control over what anybody says about me. Back in Sweden, I’m ‘Mr Personality’ in the tabloids, but obviously I can’t take that seriously. I know in my heart that if I do the absolute best I can do, maybe ten years from now people may turn around and say, ‘he wasn’t that bad’.”
Letβs get down to business and listen to some Yngwie tracks.
This is Yngwie Malmsteen playing “Allegro and Adagioββby Paganini with the Japanese Philharmonic Orchestra
While with Alcatrazz, here is βLost In Hollywoodβ by Yngwie Malmsteen and Graham Bonnet
This is a real treat: Yngwie Malmsteen and Dio performing Aerosmithβs βDream Onβ
The following is an interview with Yngwie Malmsteen and Rick Beato (the human music encyclopedia).
βIt was a glorious day, greener than Killarney in spring. We were out for a stroll, the leaves sparkling with dew. You looked so beautiful, Maggie, you made my heart skip a beat. Bluer eyes than Iβd ever seen and hair the aroma of fresh peaches. We stopped and I picked a wildflower. I donβt know how you did it but you twisted the stem and made a ring. That was the day we became βengagedβ. You said we needed to walk under the branch that stretched out over the path to make it official. I held your hand and we walked to the middle of the little bridge. We stood there and I knew from that moment on we would always be together. Thatβs where I kissed you for the first time. We were very daring, you being an older woman and all. I was 11 and you were 13 but we knew then we were made for each other.β
βItβs exactly as I remember. Tell me more, Tom. Put your arm around me. Iβm so very cold.β
βDo you recollect the day we walked into the woods and discovered that cabin? I called it a βdilapidated shackβ; you said it was βour dreamβ. We fixed that place up good, filling it with dreams. We raised our family there and welcomed our grandkids. Now our grands are getting married. Three generations of dreams, Maggie. Maggie? Oh, my sweetest love. Sleep now and dream forever.β
In previous years at this time weβd be covered in a blanket of snow. With that in mind, hereβs a story from January 14, 2023 ~ my response to Linda G. Hillβs Just Jot it January 2024 prompt word: βtoastβ.
A couple of years ago, New York was hit by a major snowstorm. Wearing thick-padded booties, the snow silently tiptoed in while we slept and when we awoke there was a three-foot-deep crystalline blanket everywhere we looked. It was coming down pretty heavy and we could barely see anything in the backyard as we looked out our bedroom window β¦ almost as if someone was standing on our roof shaking out a king size comforter full of feathers. Bill and I stood there for a while taking in the silent beauty of it all, then shuffled into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee and a few slices of my homemade banana bread.
The instant we were done making breakfast, the lights went out. There was no point in trekking down to the basement to check the circuit breakers; we knew the area had experienced a power outage. We sat in the kitchen by the still-hot radiator enjoying our coffee and warm toasty bread, a pale white glow from the snow enveloping every room in the house. Before retreating to the living room, I poured our pot of coffee into a thermos to stay hot for a few hours.
I went to the closet and brought down Billβs emergency hand-crank radio with LED flashlight, AM/FM stations including the NOAH weather channel, a power bank of phone chargers and USB ports. This baby would serve us just fine until the power was restored. In the meantime Bill ventured out to the frozen tundra of the screened-in porch to retrieve some logs for the fireplace.
Bill got a nice fire going while I set up the radio on the table between our recliners. The phone chargers and USB ports were lifesavers; we were able to keep our cell batteries from dying and my laptop going so I could work on my stories. I was even able to plug in my new electric blanket which used a handy dandy USB port. Bill marveled at the technology of the little red radio and only bemoaned one design flaw β there was no TV.
We were happily ensconced in our recliners enjoying our little haven. All was silent outside except for an occasional gust of wind and every so often weβd spot a blue jay out our front window picking berries off the holly bush. I think we must have dozed off for a bit when we were roused by the harsh sound of steady scraping. We listened for a few seconds, then realized someone was outside shoveling the snow. We peered out the window to see our two little neighbors, six-year-old twins Jackson and Connor, shoveling our front path. At least thatβs who we figured they were; it was impossible to tell by the way they were bundled up.
We sat back in our chairs, sipping our coffee and listening to the steady scrape-scraping of the boysβ shovels. Closer and closer the sound came; now they were clearing the steps leading to our front door. The adagio of their shovels was replaced by a sharp staccato knocking on our front door. I sank deeper into my blanket while Bill went to get some money to pay the enterprising kids, delighted that he didnβt have to shovel our front path himself. He opened the heavy wooden door and stood just inside the glass storm door to settle up accounts. Jackson and Connor stood on the front porch leaning on their shovels; toothless grins, cherry-red faces and sparkling blue eyes glistened in the still-rapidly falling snow which clung to their long blonde eyelashes.
βWe cleared your path for you, Mr. Richy!β they proudly declared in unison, looking over their shoulders to admire their handiwork which was now covered by a fresh Β½β of new snow. They looked back at Bill, staring up at him for his approval, their faces sporting the goofiest, most irresistible smiles imaginable.
βI see that, boys, and a fine job it is, tooβ replied Bill. βSo tell me, whatβs your going rate?β
With furrowed brows and crinkled noses the twins eloquently asked βHuh??β
βHow much do I owe you for shoveling our path?β Bill asked in a way they could understand.
Very matter-of-factly with absolutely no sign of embarrassment or regret, the boys announced βOh, weβre not allowed to accept money. Our mom and dad said we have to do good deeds.β
βHold that thought, boys, and donβt go anywhere.β
Bill scurried back into the living room. βAre you hearing any of this conversation?β he asked me, clearly incredulous. βA concept like that in this day and age is mind-blowing!β
βWell, whatβs your game plan?β I asked, knowing Bill always had a plan brewing.
Bill scurried back to the boys and, opening the door just a crack to keep the cold out, shoved $20 and two packs of cards into their pockets.
The boys immediately started to put up a fuss about taking the money but Bill told them to stash it in their piggy banks for a rainy day and if their dad had a problem with it, he was more than welcome to come over and talk about it. With new-found treasures in their pockets, the toothless twosome raced home to show their friends their unexpected booty. Their little friends cheered loudly at the sight of the boyβs riches. Even their dad came out to see what the hubbub was all about.
The big financial deal now settled, Bill sat back in his recliner and sighed contentedly.
βYouβre such a soft touchβ I teased. βYouβre rather pleased with yourself, arenβt you?β
βAs a matter of fact, I am!β he replied. βListen, Iβm all for good deeds but when I was their age, I was out shoveling snow and I know itβs hard work. Those kids did a damn good job. If their dad objects to them getting paid, Iβll just tell him to think of it as a tip for his two fine sons. I canβt believe heβd have a problem with that.β
Well, it came as no big surprise when the twins soon returned and began shoveling the snow off our driveway β and this time they had reinforcements. Their momma didnβt raise no dummies! You havenβt lived until youβve seen five six-year-olds shoveling one driveway like their little lives depended on it.
βBetter get your wallet out, Rockefeller. Theyβre back and they brought companyβ I laughed.
Bill may have unwittingly created a couple of monsters; during the spring the twins started going door-to-door pulling a wagon behind them. They were selling rocks! Iβm reasonably certain their parents did not give permission for their budding business venture because it ended as abruptly as it started. Too bad; Iβm sure they had the rock-selling market cornered. Very entrepreneurial kids; even Warren Buffett had to start somewhere!
Well, kind of a pity when you think about it. The boys scrubbed those rocks until they glistened in the sparkling sunlight. They really were impressive-looking rocks β thereβs no denying that β but they were still just rocks, not exactly a priceless commodity.
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 