Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

FORMULA FOR DISASTER

March 11, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Eugene was a wreck – disheveled clothes, bloodshot eyes, tired, hungry and freezing. He had been working in the lab nonstop throughout this sleety March night, frantically perfecting a classified formula. He still had 300 small black-capped vials to fill, wrap securely in packing materials and stash inside porcelain statues before he could neatly stack them in crates and deliver them to the transportation facility before dawn. A HIGHLY TOP SECRET ASSIGNMENT, he was told.

The harried chemist was momentarily startled by a swift scurrying motion across the room. A rat? “Keep going – no time to dilly dally” he muttered to himself, choosing to ignore the unwelcome intruder.

There it was again, that scampering scurrying movement. Eugene glanced in the general direction of the noise, then did a double take, squinting. He removed his thick glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Putting his specs back on, he snuck another peek. On a shelf, partially hidden behind urns and sculptures, sat a leathery-skinned troll with enormous eyes and long, pointy ears.

“Great”, Eugene mumbled. “Now I’m hallucinating.”

“Real, am I. Working too hard, are you. Weebly will help”, whispered the troll in a raspy voice.

“What the…? This is insane!” Eugene rubbed his eyes again and took a swig of his now cold coffee, grimacing at it’s acrid taste.

“Finish, you won’t. My help, you need. Watch.” Raising one gnarled finger, Weebly pointed to the formula and magically poured it into the vial, sealed it, carefully wrapped and hid it inside a statuette and gently placed it in a box. Eugene was too stunned to move.

“Understand now, you do? Work together, we will. Four hands better.” Weebly cocked his head to one side, his long finger rubbing his chin.

Despite his incredulity, Eugene accepted the fact that this clever troll was his only answer if he hoped to finish the project in time or face the deadly wrath of the powerful men in charge. Working together, the duo swiftly got the job done. Eyeing the clock, Eugene saw he had ten minutes to carry the heavy crates to the terminal across the compound.

“Weebly’s help, you need. Too heavy, they are. Transport you, I will”, offered the sage intruder, but Eugene dismissed him. Straining, he placed the boxes on a hand truck and walked toward the stairs.

“Beware the stairs! Frozen, they are!”

Unwisely, Eugene ignored his helper’s warning. Struggling up the frozen stairs, his feet suddenly flew out from under him and he lost his grip on the hand truck. Eugene tumbled backwards, crashed into a shelf and knocked over a hefty basilisk statue which crushed his skull, killing him instantly. The hand truck slid down the stairs and landed with an incredible crash inside Eugene’s laboratory, scattering its shattered contents everywhere.

“Listened, you should have” clucked the wise old troll before scurrying away.

Uncategorized

SPEAKING WORDS OF WISDOM

March 10, 2023March 10, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

If there’s such a thing as a “religious mutt”, that would be me:

• Born and raised Presbyterian (totally laid back)

• Attended Lutheran school for 12 years (spiritually ardent)

• Married a great Catholic guy and converted to Catholicism (not a huge leap from Lutheran but a billion light years from Presbyterian)

I now think of myself as a Christian; it’s a long story for another time.

Though diverse in many ways, one basic tenet these three denominations espouse is the existence of heaven and hell.

As a teenager at our quaint Presbyterian church, I taught Sunday School to kindergarteners. We read Bible stories, watched animated videos about the Old and New Testaments, sang songs, did religious arts and crafts. It was uncomplicated – until one of the children asked what happens when we die.

“You go to heaven, unless you’ve been really bad” one girl adamantly answered.

“Yeah! Then you go to H-E-L-L!” another kid chimed in, spelling out the bad word.

“That’s right but only the girls get turned into angels and then God tries to do the best he can with the boys” claimed an intrepid little girl.

“That’s not true” yelled the boys. ”Everybody in heaven is an angel and God is the head angel!”

Suppressing a laugh, I figured I better take back control of my class and start asking some questions.

“Who thinks they know what heaven is like?” I asked.

The girls all agreed that “there’s lots of singing and dancing to harp music and everyone wears flowers in their hair.”

But the boys had different opinions, especially about wearing flowers in their hair. “Boys have halos just like Jesus and they help feed the animals in heaven.”

One boy raised his hand and answered very seriously “There are no doctors or lawyers in heaven because God does all the healing and arguments aren’t allowed.”

“There’s always angel food cake – not devil’s food cake” giggled a blue-eyed tyke.

A little girl was next to answer the question. “God sits in heaven but he isn’t on a throne or anything like that. He sits in a garden playing with the children, puppies and kittens and lets them climb on him. And the grownups just do stuff like they used to do at home.”

I asked another question: “How did heaven begin?”

Silence.

Then one timid, diminutive girl answered quietly “A really long time ago a lot of kids were crying because their grandmas and grandpas were dying so God said ‘Don’t cry. I’m going to make a beautiful place way above the clouds where all the grandparents and parents and pets can stay forever’. And so he made heaven.”

I felt a lump in my throat, perhaps thinking of my own grandparents, but in all honesty I’m sure it was the simple yet poignant answer of that sweet girl. I coughed a bit to mask the emotion in my voice and asked another question.

“Is there a special test to get into heaven?”

I was rewarded with a resounding “NO!”

I countered with “No? Well if there’s no test how do we get into heaven?”

An adorable red haired boy covered with freckles quickly raised his hand and said “When you get to heaven God whispers one question in your ear.”

“He does? What’s the question?” I asked.

“He asks ‘Do you love me?’ It’s really not a hard question. And when you say ‘Yes’, God kisses you and says ‘Come on in!”

Intrigued by that answer I asked “And how do you know this?”

Displaying a toothless grin he declared “My grandpa tells me every time I talk to him. That’s what God asked my grandpa when he got to heaven and he said ‘YES!’”

And all the kids shouted “YES!!”

I think I’m ready for my final exam. Are you?

Uncategorized

AT THE MOVIES (March 9, 2023)

March 9, 2023March 9, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Hope you’re enjoying our posts from
The Rhythm section.
Here’s one I just did for
At The Movies.
Take a look!

The Rhythm Section

Hi and welcome back to At The Movies! I hope you had a great week and are looking forward to the song for today. I have chosen a fantastic tune –“Alfie” – by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

“Alfie” was written in 1966to promote the movie of the same name. The film was about a young womanizing man in London who leads a self-centered, uncaring life as a handsome chauffeur. “Alfie” was nominated for the 1967 Academy Award in five top categories, one of which was best music. The movie starred the great British actor, Michael Caine.

While the song was originally recorded by British singer Cilla Black in 1966, I’m focusing on the 1967 version by Dionne Warwick, the most prolific interpreter of Bacharach/David compositions and the composers’ original choice for this song.

Warwick performed “Alfie” at the 1967 Academy Awards. In 2008, Warwick’s recording of “Alfie” was…

View original post 120 more words

At The Movies, Sixties

AT THE MOVIES (March 9, 2023)

March 9, 2023March 11, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Hi and welcome back to At The Movies! I hope you had a great week and are looking forward to the song for today. I have chosen a fantastic tune –“Alfie” – by Burt Bacharach and Hal David.

“Alfie” was written in 1966 to promote the movie of the same name. The film was about a young womanizing man in London who leads a self-centered, uncaring life as a handsome chauffeur. “Alfie” was nominated for the 1967 Academy Award in five top categories, one of which was best music. The movie starred the great British actor, Michael Caine.

Warwick performed “Alfie” at the 1967 Academy Awards. In 2008, Warwick’s recording of “Alfie” was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame. Both Burt Bacharach and Hal David called this their favorite song; that’s quite a statement.

Ok, enough talking. Here now is “Alfie” by Dionne Warwick.

Well, that was rather lovely, wasn’t it?

And now for the question of the day:

Sadly, we lost Burt Bacharach just last month. Bacharach had a prolific catalog of hit songs, some of the most beautiful and difficult tunes to sing. If you had to pick just one of his songs to call your favorite, which one would it be?

Thanks for joining us today; I hope you had fun. Catch you next Tuesday At The Movies. Have a great week!

See you on the flip side.

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

Uncategorized

world music – a

March 8, 2023March 8, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Welcome to our newest member
of The Rhythm Section –
DA Whittam
(the artist formerly known as Nope, Not Pam).
This segment is unlike any of the others –
it’s a global melodic excursion.
And what’s even better is
you don’t have to pack your bags
for this musical journey!
Sit back and take a trip around the
Word of Music.

The Rhythm Section

Welcome to World Music – a musical journey around the world. The object of this segment is to showcase artists from around the world, and in particular the musical styles synonymous with each country, and since this is the first segment, we will be starting at A.

Andorra

Andorra, officially the Principality of Andorra, is a sovereign landlocked microstate on the Iberian Peninsula, in the eastern Pyrenees, bordered by France to the north and Spain to the south.

Andorra is the sixth-smallest state in Europe, with an area of 468 square kilometres (181 sq mi) and a population of approximately 79,034. The Andorran people are a Romance ethnic group of originally Catalan descent. Andorra is the world’s 16th-smallest country by land and 11th-smallest by population. Its capital, Andorra la Vella, is the highest capital city in Europe, at an elevation of 1,023 metres (3,356 feet) above sea level. The official…

View original post 203 more words

Uncategorized

THE POKER GAME

March 8, 2023March 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“How do, ladies and gents? Allow me to introduce myself. I am Dougal James MacTerrier, but everyone calls me ‘Mac’. I’ve been top dog at Barktower Manor for ten years now. You see, his lordship, Hound Ruff Branan saved my life one night after that fleabag Angus ‘Scotty’ Montgomery caught me sniffing around his bitch and nearly tore me apart. In my clan, when another saves your mangy life, you’re beholden to them forever. Truth be told, I’ve had a good life here.

Tonight I’ll be donning my vest and tam as I’m the greeter for the weekly poker game. Sir Ruff and the boys always have a great night playing cards, drinking whiskey and smoking cigars. Well, there was that one game a few weeks back that didn’t turn out so well.

That particular night started out like any other. Sir Ruff, his four cousins the Hounds of Baskerville and the two Boxer Brothers were having a grand time. M’lord’s sweetheart, Madam Pompadour, owner of the fabulously successful pup salon Shampooch, and her saucy poodle assistants were there to cater to everyone’s needs. They looked extraordinarily fetching in their French maid outfits. Tails were wagging, for sure!

It was no secret that the Boxers were in debt big time to loanshark Weezy “Pit Bull” Mulally, and had cooked up a scheme to win back their losses that night. The game was going strong and the pot was getting bigger when one of the Boxers slipped the other a card under the table. Things were looking good for them and they surreptitiously exchanged a few more cards without anyone noticing. The hounds were growling their displeasure as the Boxers won game after game.

Just then Madam Pompadour and her delightful maids came in carrying silver trays of bones, kibbles and bits. When Sir Ruff looked up from his paw of cards, he saw on the bottom of the tray the reflection of the Boxers who were passing winning cards back and forth to each other. M’lord began barking and howling loudly, alerting the other hounds who immediately pounced on the cheating Boxer Boys. The two connivers were no match for the five ferocious hounds and things did not end well for the brothers that night … but they did end permanently.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I hear our guests scratching at the door, eager for tonight’s game. Let’s hope the night goes well. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, you know!”

Uncategorized

IN THE GROOVE (MARCH 7, 2023)

March 7, 2023March 7, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Here is my post for a new segment
of The Rhythm Section called
In The Groove.
For me to start with any group
other than The Beatles,
especially George Harrison,
just would have been wrong.
I hope you enjoy being In The Groove!

The Rhythm Section

Hi, everyone, and welcome to my first post at In The Groove! This site is dedicated to all the great songs we’ve come to love, anything from Ella Fitzgerald to Led Zeppelin. Maybe you’ll come across an old favorite you haven’t heard in a long time or find a new tune that really turns you on. My hope is that whatever videos I play here, someone will say “Yes! I love that song!”

Anyone who knows me also knows I love The Beatles so it seemed only appropriate that I open this site with a Beatles song. Now, for those of you who don’t like The Beatles (a concept I cannot wrap my head around), don’t panic – this site is not devoted to them but I believe you’re going to like what I’ve chosen today.

As Mr. Bump said in his first post, we’re going to try to…

View original post 480 more words

In The Groove, Sixties

IN THE GROOVE (MARCH 7, 2023)

March 7, 2023March 11, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

As Mr. Bump said in his first post, we’re going to try to keep our blurbs short and sweet. I can do sweet but I’m a storyteller so short doesn’t come easy. I will try my best. Please bear with me because sometimes there are some songs/artists that are too great to skim over – like this one.

“While My Guitar Gently Weeps” was written by George Harrison after his return from India where The Beatles had been studying Transcendental Meditation. The song appears on the 1968 double album The Beatles, also known as the White Album.

George Harrison said “The Eastern concept is that whatever happens is what is meant to be; every little item that’s going down has a purpose. “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” was a simple study based on that theory. I picked up a book at random, opened it and saw “gently weeps”. I laid the book down and started writing the song.”

“A simple study”, he said. Ha!

New Yorker columnist Mark Hertsgaard said “While My Guitar Gently Weeps was the single most impressive song on the White Album”.

Rolling Stone ranked George’s composition 136th on its list of “The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time”, seventh on the “100 Greatest Guitar Songs of All Time”, and at number 10 on its list of “The Beatles’ 100 Greatest Songs”. At long last George was getting his due!

I hope you’ve enjoyed my post and a tribute to George Harrison. Now you’re really going to get your money’s worth here at In The Groove– not one but two versions of this incredible song. The first video features today’s song from the White Album and the second video is from “Concert for George”. (Look for a very young Dhani Harrison among the concert musicians; he is without a doubt his father’s son!)

Now let’s get this show on the road!

On November 29, 2002, one year after George’s passing, Olivia Harrison and Eric Clapton organized a performance tribute to celebrate the life and music of George. Held at London’s Royal Albert Hall, the momentous “Concert for George” featured George’s songs and the music he loved performed by artists including Eric Clapton, Joe Brown, Dhani Harrison, Jools Holland, Jeff Lynne, Paul McCartney, Monty Python, Tom Petty, Billy Preston, Ravi & Anoushka Shankar, Ringo Starr and more.

Now for the question of the day:

If you were to pick the perfect band or perhaps a tribute concert for YOURSELF, which famous artists would be in the band and what song(s) would they play? OK, have at it! Let’s see what you got!

Thanks for tuning in; I hope you had as good a time as I did.

We have a brand new and totally different segment lined up next. I can’t wait to see what DA’s got planned for us!

Join me In The Groove next Tuesday. Have a great week!

See you on the flip side.

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

Uncategorized

Breaktime Whodunnit (6 March 2023)

March 6, 2023March 6, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Here’s a cool, mellow track from Mr. Bump
for his first segment of
“Breaktime Whodunnit”.
I LOVE the original version
of this song and
am digging this cover, too.
Check it out:

The Rhythm Section

To start the series, Hurrah for the Riff and Jealous Guy.

View original post

Uncategorized

JUST THE TIP

March 5, 2023March 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

On behalf of Mr. Bump and DA Whitam, I’d like to thank all our WordPress friends and followers who jumped on board The Rhythm Section bandwagon. It is extremely gratifying to see so many of you enjoying our new site.

What you’ve seen so far is just the tip of the iceberg; there are still three new categories we have yet reveal so you’re in store for lots more music, videos, interesting tidbits and a whole lot of fun!

We have posts scheduled for Saturdays through Thursdays with something in the works for Fridays. Just like any new project, it’s been a lot of work getting everything ready for you but we enjoyed every minute. This is a labor of love for all of us to enjoy together.

Mr. Bump has a cool new segment coming up tomorrow; I’ll be back on Tuesday with a new category and every Wednesday DA Whittam will take us on a musical journey. There’s plenty to read, see and hear; you won’t want to miss any of it.

We’ll continue to reblog The Rhythm Section posts for a while so you can have easy access to them. You can always check out the site at https://rhythmsection.blog/ or just search for rhythmsection.blog and it’ll take you right there.

Have any ideas, comments or suggestions? Let us know. Hitting any snags viewing the site? Let us know that, too. Whenever we can we will try to accommodate you.

Once again, thank you! We’re so happy to have you with us. See you next time at The Rhythm Section! 🎶

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

Uncategorized

Name That Tune (5 March 2023)

March 5, 2023March 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

HERE WE GO, BOYS AND GIRLS!
IT’S GAME TIME HERE ON
THE RHYTHM SECTION!
MR. BUMP HAS POSTED HIS FIRST
”NAME THAT TUNE”.
CAN YOU GUESS THE ANSWER FROM HIS CLUES?
READ ON:

The Rhythm Section

Anybody fancy a bit of fun? Exercise your memory?

I’m going to present a famous tune. I guarantee, it’ll be one you’ve heard. But the catch is, I’m not going to tell you what the tune is. Instead, I’m going to give you five clues. Can you guess the tune from my clues?

But it’s the weekend; I want this to be fun, so I’ll actually present the tune at the foot of the post. Maybe you’d like to share with us which clue gave it asway?

So, are you up for a challenge?

My song today is considered to be this artist’s signature tune. It was his debut single, gives rise to one of the artist’s nicknames, and also the name of the album on which it appeared.

The artist is synonymous with New York City. He was born in 1949 in The Bronx, grew up on…

View original post 180 more words

Uncategorized

CHUNK ‘O BURNING LOVE

March 5, 2023March 4, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Out of chunky peanut butter again!” Bruce had just woken up and all he wanted was a cup of black coffee and toast with chunky peanut butter. Was that too much to ask? Standing in front of the open cabinet scratching his substantial stomach, he began searching the kitchen shelves but there was no chunky peanut butter to be found. Sure, there was creamy but nobody likes that insipid crap except wusses and prissy women like his wife, Betty.

“BETTY! WHERE’S THE GODDAMN CHUNKY PEANUT BUTTER?” He listened closely but got no reply. “Probably at her stupid writing club — as if she could ever be an author!”

“Gotta do everything myself around here” Bruce muttered as he got dressed and headed out for his beloved chunky peanut butter. First stop – Acme Grocers. No luck. “Damn!” grumbled Bruce. On to Shoprite. Again no chunky peanut butter. Bruce was starting to get really pissed off, a huge headache beginning to pound in his brain. Another stop at Wegman’s; they have everything. There were all sorts of butters –peanut, almond, cashew, walnut, sunflower – and they were all creamy!

“Where’s my fucking chunky peanut butter?” – the words raged through Bruce’s brain. “What is this, a freaking conspiracy?”

Bruce started frantically searching the shelves, knocking all the jars onto the floor. Broken glass flew everywhere and Bruce bellowed in pain as huge shards ripped into his hands. That’s when he completely lost control. Customers ran from the the store in a panic as Bruce began roaring and morphing into The Incredible Hulk.

Hulk Bruce stormed out of Wegman’s and bounded down the street toward Walmart, ripping the doors off the store in his fury. People cowered in terror as an enraged Hulk trashed the store.

Just as he reached the peanut butter aisle, Bruce woke up in his own bed, sweating and panting. “Oh, sweet Jesus! It was just a nightmare.” Slowly Bruce got out of bed, splashed cold water on his face and shuffled into the kitchen. Betty came in through the back door with an armful of groceries just as Bruce poured himself a cup of coffee.

Then, as though off in a distant fog, he heard Betty speaking in slow motion: “SORRY — BRUCE — BUT — THEY — WERE — OUT — OF — CHUNKY — PEANUT —BUTTER.”

Bruce’s roar and Betty’s blood-curdling screams could be heard all the way down at Walmart.

Uncategorized

The Culture Club (4 March 2023)

March 4, 2023March 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Happy Saturday, one and all!
I hope you’re enjoying
The Rhythm Section!
Now here’s Mr. Bump’s first post,
something a bit different
but quite glorious.
Read on!

The Rhythm Section

For this week, I’m posting Handel‘s Arrival of the Queen of Sheba. Handel (1685 – 1759) was a German-born baroque composer who moved to the UK in 1712. Educated in Halle, he is famous for (among others) his operas and oratorios. He became anglicized, and was closely associated with the British nobility. He wrote music for four coronations, much of which is still used today. He died a rich man, and was so well-thought-of he was given a state funeral at Westminster Abbey.

Today’s piece comes from one such oratorio, Solomon, based largely on the biblical stories.

Okay, if, like me you’re asking What’s an oratorio?, it was basically a large composition of the time. Orchestra, choir, soloists… Italian in origin, as you can probably guess from the name, oratorios are very similar to operas, although while you can think of an opera as musical theatre, an…

View original post 95 more words

Uncategorized

AT THE MOVIES (March 2, 2023)

March 2, 2023March 5, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Greetings everyone and welcome
to our new site –
The Rhythm Section.
We hope you like everything
you see and hear.
Let’s get the show on the road!
Check us out at
https://rhythmsection.blog/

The Rhythm Section

Welcome to “The Rhythm Section”, a new site shared between The Sicilian Storyteller in the U.S.A., Mr. Bump in the U.K. and DA Whittam in Australia. We are here to entertain you with great music videos, give you some super interesting information, exchange thoughts and comments about music but mostly we just want to have fun.

As you follow our new site you’ll see us take turns posting about themes of great interest to us individually and as a team. And as a little bonus feature, we will invite you to play along by tackling our question of the day at the end of each post.

Today I’m kicking things off with a very cool category – “At The Movies”. As you can undoubtedly guess by the name, this is all about songs from hit movies (and possibly a few bombs as well!) and let me tell you…

View original post 344 more words

At The Movies, Sixties

AT THE MOVIES (March 2, 2023)

March 2, 2023March 11, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Who doesn’t enjoy going to the movie theater or watching a movie at home on TV? I know I love a good movie! How about you? Are you ready? Let’s get our popcorn and find a good seat for one of my favorite movie personas – James Bond.

While 007 fans may debate the best James Bond opening theme, many would likely point to Shirley Bassey’s “Goldfinger” as an all-time classic. With booming orchestration and Bassey’s roaring voice, the song conveyed the cold nature of the eponymous villain. In 2013 Bassey performed the song at the Academy Awards, celebrating 50 years of James Bond films – that’s quite a run.

Thanks for joining us today; I hope you enjoy our new site. I’m The Sicilian Storyteller, and I’ll see you next Thursday “At The Movies”! 📽️

Released: 1964
Performer: Shirley Bassey
Songwriters: John Barry, Leslie Bricusse, Anthony Newley
Producer: George Martin
Columbia United Artists

Wow! What a set of pipes on her!

Now for our question of the day:

Of all the actors to portray James Bond, which one was your favorite: Sean Connery, David Niven, George Lazenby, Roger Moore, Timothy Dalton, Pierce Brosnan or Daniel Craig?

Take a second and add a comment or a video of your own, if you wish. We can’t wait to see what you have to say and remember … it’s all about having fun!

Mr. Bump will be hosting on Saturday with a very special and unique post. You won’t want to miss what he’s got planned.

I’ll be here on Tuesday with a totally new segment of The Rhythm Section and again on Thursday talking about another great movie song.

Catch you next week and don’t forget your popcorn! Have a great weekend! 🍿

See you on the flip side.

I’m The Sicilian Storyteller

– Music: John Barry
– Lyrics: Leslie BricusAnthony NewleyNow for the movie question of the day: Of all the actors who have portrayed James Bond, and there have been more than you think, who is your favoriteNAR © 2023

Uncategorized

IT’S A WRAP!

March 1, 2023February 28, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

How’s everyone doing? I’ve got big news!

I’m delighted to announce tomorrow’s launch of an awesome music site called “The Rhythm Section”.

We’ve been hard at work for a couple of months and the big day is finally here. I’m happy to say that now DA Whittam (the artist formerly known as Nope, Not Pam) has jumped on board the soul train with me and Mr. Bump (mrbump.uk).

This project has been a labor of love and these last two months have gone by very quickly as we did research and compiled all we needed for a cool-looking, informative and fun site. We’re thrilled with it!

I will reblog the first couple of posts from The Rhythm Section right here so you’ll be able to see them and easily click on to the site.

I hope you’ll stop by “The Rhythm Section” tomorrow; I think we’re going to make beautiful music together.

See you on the flip side, friends! 🎶

Uncategorized

JUST THIS ONE

February 28, 2023February 28, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is a repost of a story from 2017, the first one I wrote for
The Elephant’s Trunk.
🐘

“Impressive collection you have here” said Jackson to the owner of the record store.

“Feel free to look around” came a voice from somewhere behind a stack of boxes.

Jackson browsed the tiny cubby of a store, appropriately named “The Inner Sleeve”, looking for nothing in particular.

“Psst. Down here!” A battered box stashed in the corner called out. Jackson crouched down to wipe the dust off a yellowed label.

“SIDNEY BECHET”

Feeling a jolt shoot straight to his heart, fingers racing through musty LPs, and suddenly there it was- “Les Annees Bechet”, #1: “Petite Fleur”.

“I’ll be damned”, whispered Jackson. No longer was he in “The Inner Sleeve”. It was Paris, 1982 in that enchanting café … what was the name?

“Café de la Paix. Yes, that was it!” he recalled. And then, in a barely perceptible hush, “Lisette”.

Slumping back against the wall, Jackson clasped the precious vinyl against his chest, caressed it lovingly with the same fingers that raced through the box just seconds before. The same fingers that released Lisette’s raven hair from its ‘pince à cheveax’ and showered it across her porcelain shoulders. The same fingers that traced her face as gently as butterfly wings – ‘ailes de papillons’ – from her widows peak to her crystal blue eyes, her nose, her blushed lips. “Just this one time” thought Jackson. Just once before returning to his insanely mundane existence in Stamford, Connecticut.

Oh, for just one more taste of Lisette.

Slowly Jackson stood, a sadness like none other enveloping him. He suddenly realized he had been crying and wiped at his eyes self-consciously. He wound his way through the maze of boxes overflowing with records that were meaningless to him. He had found what he didn’t know he was looking for.

“All done, sir?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, thanks”, Jackson replied. “Just this one.”

https://youtu.be/MFEo4QJIyk8

Uncategorized

IT’S A DOG’S LIFE

February 27, 2023February 26, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Here’s another fun one.
I changed it up a bit to include one of my friends;
she mentioned me in a poem a while ago so it’s time.
Enjoy this one, my people!
🐘

“Where are we going, Charlie? Huh, huh?? Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d go to the dog park. Would you like that, Earl?”

“The dog park? THE DOG PARK?? OMG! I’m so excited I think I’m gonna pee!”

“You better not! Now settle down and stop licking my face. I’m trying to drive. And quit running around the car or we’re going home.”

“I’ll be good, I promise. You brought the frisbee, Charlie? Oh, man, this is gonna be so great! I can fetch sticks and roll in the leaves and if I’m really lucky you-know-who will be there.”

“Yes, Earl. That cute poodle you’ve been eyeing. What’s her name – Misky?”

“Yup, yup, that’s it Charlie – Misky! ** SIGH ** Hold on, Charlie, this isn’t the way to the dog park. You gotta turn around. We’re going the wrong way! Charlie, turn around!”

“It’s ok, Earl. We have to make one stop first. Why don’t you just lie down and rest. We’ll be there soon.”

“Ok, Charlie. I’ll just lie here on the back seat and save my energy for … hey, why is my crate in the car, Charlie? We never take my crate to the park. Why did you bring my crate?? Why? What’s going on?”

“Earl, sit! Good boy. Look, here’s your chew toy.”

** CHOMP CHOMP **

“Ok, Earl, we’re here. Let’s go buddy.”

“Hey, I recognize this place. It’s the veterinarian’s office! Why are we at the vet, Charlie? I don’t need shots and my nails don’t need trimming. I don’t wanna be here. I wanna go to the park! Charlie, why are you taking my crate out of the car? Why do we need the crate? Charlie, I got a bad feeling about this.”

“Come here, boy. Sit next to me and listen, ok? You’re my best bud and I’ve never lied to you but I didn’t tell you the truth today. I’m sorry. We were never going to the park. I only said that because I didn’t want to upset you. We’re at the vet because it’s time.”

“Time? Time for what, Charlie? Am I sick, Charlie? Am I DYING? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m dying!! CHAAAAARLIE!! I don’t wanna die!”

“Calm down, buddy. You’re not sick and you’re certainly not dying. You’re here today to get snipped.”

“Snipped?”

“Yeah – neutered.”

“NEUTERED?!? ** HOWL ** I’d rather be dead! Why, Charlie, why?? What about Misky? That means I’ll never … you know.”

“Misky? Of course you’ll be able to … you know. You’ll just be shooting blanks.”

“C’mon, Charlie. Can’t we please just go home? I don’t wanna do this. Being a dog without balls is a bitch, metaphorically speaking, of course.”

“It’ll be over before you know it, Earl. Get in your crate now, boy. We’ll go to the dog park in a couple of days and Misky will be there waiting for you.”

“A COUPLE OF DAYS?!? ** WHINE ** This sucks, Charlie! Betrayed by my best friend.”

“Sorry, Earl. Sometimes life’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

Uncategorized

GOO GOO G’JOOB

February 27, 2023February 26, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Today is my birthday so I decided to give myself a gift
by posting one of my favorite stories from 2018,
my personal little twist on an old beloved nursery rhyme.
It always makes me chuckle. I hope it does the same for you.

May 4, 2000

TO: Mr. Al Bumen, Homeowners Association

FROM: Humpty Dumpty

Dear Mr. Bumen

It is with eggstream distress that I find myself writing to you once again.

Apparently the situation regarding the eggceedingly narrow wall upon which I often enjoy sitting has gone unaddressed as I have once again eggsperienced a great fall resulting in eggcruciating injuries.

Usually my mishaps leave me slightly scrambled with a few minor cracks. However, in this most recent fall, all the kings horses and all the kings men were unable to put me back together again.

As a result, I now find myself an impatient patient in Eggcelsior Hospital, completely covered in horrendous cracks .. some so deep that my yolk is eggscaping like yellow matter custard dripping from a dead dog’s eye. Do you not understand the severity of this situation? I am the Egg Man, goo goo g’joob!

The doctors have informed me that once I am healed I am to be hard boiled in an effort to protect my eggsterior shell should such a great fall happen again. This is no yolking matter as I have heard that hard-boiling is quite painful and there are no guarantees that the procedure will be successful.

In the meantime, I am being coddled in my hospital bed, sharing a room with a severely burned slab of bacon whose incessant sizzling keeps me awake all night.

Getting out of bed requires a gentle over easy roll maneuver with the assistance of the eggspert nurses on staff, but it is very embarrassing as the hospital gowns leave one quite eggsposed.

I’m trying to keep my sunny side up but unless the wall is widened, I’m afraid I have no recourse but to bring this situation to the attention of my attorneys Benedict, Deviled, Florentine and Poached. I assure you I will be doing a slow soft boil until I hear from you regarding this eggstremely urgent matter.

May 6, 2000

TO: Mr. Dumpty

FROM: Mr. Al Bumen, Homeowners Association

Dear Mr. Dumpty:

As you are aware, we recently had an issue with a maid who was in the garden hanging clothes when along came a blackbird and snipped off her nose. Wall sitting and clothes hanging are strictly forbidden, according to the Homeowners Policy. While we sympathize with your plight, the wall will remain unchanged. We suggest you try sitting on a cornflake instead.

NAR © 2023
Originally published 2018

Uncategorized

#9 DREAM

February 26, 2023February 25, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Head resting gently on his shoulder, her ever-so-slightly parted lips barely grazing his neck, he inhaled the intoxicating aroma of gardenias in her hair and traced her perfect ear with his mouth. Her arms caressed his upper back while his hands slid down hers and he pulled her closer. They swayed across the dance floor to the smooth rhythm of John Lennon’s “#9 Dream” – their first dance together as husband and wife.

Twenty seven years ago their mothers were best friends – army wives and neighbors, sharing morning coffee, exchanging recipes and sometimes a handkerchief to wipe away tears. Their babies napped in the same playpen…..he a dark-haired, brown-eyed, sweet-faced charmer and she a fair-skinned blonde little goddess with eyes as green as dewy grass.

When they were four she surprised him with a worm and he plucked a dandelion for her that made her giggle. As time went on and days turned into years, they remained inseparable – climbing trees to see if they could touch the clouds, catching lightning bugs and making a wish before setting them free, sitting in her room sharing their dreams, listening to their parents Beatles CDs while stretched out in his dad’s station wagon, kissing for the first time and a second and a hundredth.

They “went steady” in high school and became lovers in college. They found an apartment above a shuttered café in Brooklyn. They talked about taking a chance on the old place and bringing it back to life. They worked together and finally celebrated the grand opening of “The Glass Onion Café”.

It poured like cats and dogs on their wedding day – the old adage of a long and happy marriage. Could this be reality, their happily-ever-after? Dreams shared in a teenage girl’s bedroom come true?

Something old: her grandmother’s pearl necklace. Something new: the minuscule miracle of life growing inside her. Something borrowed: her mother’s “army wife handkerchief”. Something blue: her sapphire engagement ring.

The Master of Ceremonies made the introduction of the new Mr. & Mrs. to the guests and invited everyone to join them on the dance floor. The photographer snapped shot after shot of the stunning couple – she in her exquisite gown of Scottish lace and he in a fitted, perfectly tailored tuxedo.

It was the magical night everyone intrinsically knew was meant to be; their #9 dream come true.

Uncategorized

SOMETHING: A Fictional Interview with George Harrison, November 2001

February 25, 2023February 24, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Today is George Harrison’s birthday.
In his honor, I am reposting a story from 2021.

Interviewer: How did you get into music?

George: Ever since I was a small boy all I wanted was to be a musician – or a gardener (laugh). I remember the first time I heard Elvis on the radio. I didn’t know who he was at the time. This incredible voice was coming from someone’s window as I rode by on my bike and I had to find out who he was. Making music wasn’t about being famous; that was just a bonus. It was a way for me to express my soul. All I wanted was to make music and be in a band like John and Paul.

Interviewer: How are you and Paul getting on?

George: Paul’s a genius and he’ll be the first to say so! Listen, we love each other like brothers and always will but we have our fall outs, just like all families. We can really get on each others nerves but you just don’t stop loving somebody for that. The thing about Paul is his relentless need for mental stimulation and public adulation. He craves attention, being the center of the universe. He thinks he’s right all the time and won’t give up on something until he gets his way. That’s his personality, not mine. I’m an easy going guy and he treated me like a mariachi band guitar player at times. You think that didn’t hurt? He can be damn manipulative but from the day we met I felt he was truly great. It’s been my privilege all these years to make music with him.

Interviewer: Care to comment on the “Paul is dead” story?

George: Not really.

Interviewer: You’ve got to admit there’s some compelling evidence out there.

George: Conspiracy theories abound! Anything is believable if presented the right way. We all decided not to make a big deal out of the story. If we came out fiercely denying it, well that would have just drawn more attention to it. We felt it best to leave it alone and stay out of it. You can make up your own mind, man. I’m not going there.

Interviewer: Fair enough. How was your relationship with John?

George: John was brilliant, incredibly creative and spontaneous. People saw him cutting up and joking around but he was surprisingly insecure and withdrawn. John’s brain never stopped and he had a wickedly funny sense of humor. He could be a saint or a bastard but he was always honest and I loved him. And no matter what anyone felt – myself included – John was one with Yoko. They had an amazing bond; they loved each other deeply and just wanted to be in each other’s company all the time. They couldn’t help it and they didn’t care how people felt about it. That’s why Yoko was always a presence and I applaud John for that. After the group split our paths rarely crossed. Then that psycho shot him. This man of peace … killed so violently … the very thing he vehemently opposed. I like to think I’m a forgiving man but that is the one thing I will never forgive. (George stares off into the distance; we’re quiet for a moment)

Interviewer: What about Ringo?

George: Ha! Ringo! I smile just saying that name. He’s a really great drummer but he took a lot of shit from John and Paul, as did I. Ritchie was an easy target but he was thrilled just being in the band. He’s one of the happiest people I know. What you see is what you get with him. No airs about him at all. We were really good mates until I mucked it all up and had an affair with Maureen. That was a grave error in judgement on my part. Ritchie forgave me because that’s how he is but we lost that tight closeness we had. Listen, let’s be honest – we all had our share of infidelities. That doesn’t excuse what I did. Ritchie is all about peace and love. He’ll do anything for his friends. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like Ritchie.

Interviewer: Let’s talk about Eric Clapton.

George: (Big sigh) Eric. Well, what can I say? He’s my brother, you know. We have a connection – as close as the fine strings on a guitar.

Interviewer: What about his affair with your wife?

George: Well, it wasn’t exactly a stellar period for any of us. Eric was obsessed with Pattie for a long time. She was such a free spirit, luscious, impossible to resist! Pattie loved us both passionately but I had my flings and she chose to be with Eric. I don’t blame her. I was disappointed with them, sure, but how could I judge them when my behavior was just as bad? We all just moved on.

Interviewer: Which of your songs do you consider the best?

George: You probably think I’m going to say “Something”, right? Well, you’re correct because I always knew I was capable of writing a song like that but neither John nor Paul believed I could do it. Even George Martin had his doubts. They certainly didn’t give me much of a chance. Do you know Frank Sinatra said it was the greatest love song in the last 50 years? Well, I guess I showed them, didn’t I? (laughing loudly, coughing). But right up there with “Something” is “My Sweet Lord”, my first solo number one release. Both those songs are on the album for Bangladesh which I honestly believe is my best work. It wasn’t about just writing songs; I had something important to say, a message to get across to people. It was a very fulfilling time in my life.

Interviewer: After the split, did you think The Beatles would ever reunite?

George: No. We four guys – we came together to make music. We created something special and ended up making history. In a short period we lived a lot of lifetimes and as a group we were burned out, ready to have a go as solo artists. I had all the material things one person could ever want. What I needed was spiritual fulfillment, to be the best person I could be. I’m dying, you know. Cancer. My days are numbered. Those years with the Lads – they were brilliant. I’ll never forget a moment.

Dedicated to George Harrison on the anniversary of his death, November 29, 2001.

https://youtu.be/UelDrZ1aFeY

Uncategorized

SHE’S LEAVING HOME

February 25, 2023February 25, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Melanie! Breakfast is ready. Better hurry or you’ll be late for school!” Evelyn Coe yelled up to her daughter from the bottom of the stairs.

“Frank, I don’t know what’s gotten into Melanie lately” Evelyn complained to her husband. “I can’t keep up with her mood swings.”

“Remember when she was dating that loser Jeffrey and we insisted she end the relationship?” Frank asked. “I wonder where he is and what he’s up to. You don’t think she’s still seeing him, do you?”

“Last I heard he was selling used cars. Melanie said something about him working at that lot on Matthew Street near the Cavern Club, I think. I hope she didn’t go behind our backs and continue seeing him. She wouldn’t do that to us, Frank, would she?”

“Stubborn girl!” bellowed Frank. “Don’t forget how she fought us about going to public school with the ‘cool kids’ instead of attending Rigby Academy! She has never wanted for a single thing her entire life. She takes everything for granted. She’ll be going to college in a couple of months. Hopefully she’ll get her head on straight.”

“You’re right, Frank” Evelyn agreed. “But now she’s talking about taking a break before college to ‘find herself’. I can easily find her; she’s upstairs sleeping!”

Evelyn marched to the stairs and called out: “Melanie! You better be down here in two minutes or I’m coming up!”

“There’s no way in hell Melanie is taking time off to go gallivanting around God knows where!” Frank threatened. “Tonight we’re going to have a serious conversation. She’s had a very privileged life and if she thinks she’s going to take advantage of our generosity, she better think again!”

“I’m going upstairs and dragging her out of bed.” Evelyn thumped up the stairs to Melanie’s room but moments later came running into the kitchen clutching her handkerchief, tears in her eyes.

“Frank! Melanie wasn’t in her room. I found this letter. She’s gone! Our baby’s gone!” Evelyn wailed.

“What do you mean ‘gone’? Let me see that” and Frank snatched the piece of paper from Evelyn’s hands. He read out loud:

“Mother and Father.
I’ve run away with Jeffrey. I want my freedom.
I’ve lived under your thumbs long enough and
for the first time in my life I’m doing what makes me happy,
not what you want me to do.
Please don’t come after me or try to find me.
Goodbye, Melanie“

Running out of the house, Frank yelled for Evelyn to call the police. When he returned he breathlessly informed his wife that Melanie’s car was gone.

The police arrived soon after; Detective McKenzie asked the usual questions: Did the Coes think Melanie was forced to write the note? Did she leave against her will? Were any of her things missing?

Tearfully Evelyn answered the detective’s questions. “Her suitcase and some of her clothes are gone. She wasn’t forced to leave. She left us for Jeffrey. She did this to hurt us!”

“I’m sorry, folks, but unfortunately we have to wait 24 hours before filing a missing persons report. My hands are tied” Detective McKenzie replied sympathetically.

“God knows where they are by now!” Frank exclaimed.

“I can’t believe she would leave us!” Evelyn lamented. “She has everything here; a nice home, lots of clothes and her own car. Why would she treat us so thoughtlessly? How could she do this to me?”

“We never thought for ourselves. We worked hard all our lives to get by. What did we do that was wrong?” Frank cried in desperation and frustration.

Hundreds of miles away Melanie and Jeffrey were speeding down the highway heading for a new life.

“Any regrets leaving home like that?” Jeffrey asked.

“None!” Melanie replied without hesitation. “I’m finally having fun and that’s the one thing money can’t buy!”

She snuggled close to him and they sped away without looking back.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: In 1966 Paul McCartney read a newspaper story in the Daily Mirror about a girl named Melanie Coe which inspired him to write the song “She’s Leaving Home”. Although most of the content in the song was embellished, McCartney said that a great deal of the story about Coe, who was 17-years-old at the time, was accurate. She left with her boyfriend in the afternoon while her parents were at work. In my story, the names of Melanie’s parents, Frank and Evelyn Coe, as well as her boyfriend Jeffrey, are fictitious. Coe was found ten days later having previously mentioned where her boyfriend worked; she was pregnant and her mother took her for an abortion. An update on Coe appeared in The Guardian in December 2008 and she was interviewed about the song on the BBC program The One Show on November 24, 2010. In May 2017 Rolling Stone magazine carried an interview with Coe to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the release of The Beatles album, “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”.

https://youtu.be/LA6VlQ7L4j8

Uncategorized

MY WORK, MY WORDS

February 23, 2023February 23, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

I AM BOTH HUMBLED AND THRILLED TO SAY THAT TWO OF MY STORIES HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED AT LITERARY REVELATIONS PUBLISHING HOUSE, GABRIELA MARIE MILTON – EDITOR.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO CHECK OUT THE REVIEW AND READ MY WORK, HERE IS THE LINK:

https://literaryrevelations.com/2023/02/23/feature-of-the-week-nancy-richy-and-the-art-of-telling-stories/

THANK YOU TO ALL MY FRIENDS AND FOLLOWERS FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT. VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO GABRIELA MARIE MILTON FOR HAVING FAITH IN ME AND THE WORDS I WRITE.

IT’S A REALLY GOOD FEELING!

Uncategorized

ONE MORE WEEK

February 23, 2023February 23, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

A VERY COOL, INTERESTING AND ENTERTAINING NEW MUSIC SITE WILL BE MAKING ITS DEBUT ON WORDPRESS IN EXACTLY ONE WEEK!

I AM SO PROUD AND EXCITED TO BE A PART OF THIS NEW PROJECT.

AT THE SAME TIME YOU CAN STILL FIND ME RIGHT HERE AT THE ELEPHANT’S TRUNK, BRINGING YOU NEW STORIES EVERY WEEK.

THURSDAY, MARCH 2, IS LAUNCH DAY.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE NEWS ….. YOU’LL BE GLAD YOU DID!

Uncategorized

WHEN GYPSIES CRY

February 22, 2023February 21, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Normally I don’t take the subway to work but I heard there was a bad auto accident backing up traffic for miles on the highway so driving wasn’t an option. My train was already at the station when I arrived. Every seat was taken except for one in the corner. I quickly sat down as the train began filling up with passengers.

Glancing around I caught a glimpse of a man seated about fifteen feet from me reading a newspaper. He looked over in my direction and gave me a big grin, his light blue eyes twinkling. He bore an uncanny resemblance to my late father, Gino, and I was unable to resist smiling back at him. He was well-groomed, wearing a fedora with a white feather neatly tucked into the hatband. He had a thin mustache and I imagined he was a barber like my dad. He went back to reading his newspaper and when he turned the page I was surprised to see it was La Stampa, the Italian newspaper my father used to read.

Suddenly the subway stopped and the lights went out for a few minutes. When they came back on I looked over at the man but he wasn’t there. I looked all around but didn’t see him. We were stuck in a dark tunnel – where could he have gone?

The train started up again and at our next stop many people entered, including two women with five young children; they looked like gypsies. One woman was younger, obviously the mother of the children, and the older woman was their grandmother. The mother protectively held a toddler while the other children clung to her skirt and the grandmother clutched the handle of a baby carriage. The women whispered rapidly in a foreign language as their wide eyes frantically searched the train. They were clearly frightened as though they were running away from someone or something.

The ride was choppy and the children were getting restless; the women tried desperately to quiet them. At the next stop people brusquely shoved their way off and on. Suddenly a swarthy-looking man pushed the old gypsy woman, snatched the baby carriage and dashed out the train just as the doors closed. The hysterical mother screamed what sounded like “My baby! My baby!” but no one paid her any attention. I stood up to see if I could help but the train jerked to a start. I was thrown back into my seat, hitting my head.

The harsh train whistle jolted me and I was amazed to discover I was in my bed; the whistle was my alarm clock. It was only a dream! Sleepily, I shuffled to the door to collect my newspaper, then turned on the tv. Opening the newspaper, my eyes widened in disbelief as I saw the banner – La Stampa – the same paper my father used to read. The date was November 17, 1992, the day my father died.

A voice from the tv roused me from my trance: “A happy ending yesterday for a Romanian woman whose baby was snatched from a crowded subway by her estranged husband. Witnesses directed police to an alley next to “Gino’s Barbershop” where the husband was found hiding behind a dumpster. The baby was reunited with its relieved and very grateful mother.”

There on the screen was the same gypsy family I saw on the train! In the background stood my father’s old barbershop.

Stunned, I dropped the newspaper and slumped onto my bed. So it wasn’t a dream after all! From the corner of my eye I noticed something sticking out of the newspaper. With trembling hands I gently pulled out a white feather.

“Dad,” I whispered,“it was you.”

Uncategorized

THE CIRCUS WAGON

February 20, 2023February 20, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Going through some old posts and I came across this one.
I don’t usually write poems but I always thought
this was pretty good;
hope you think so, too.

Rumors the Clown is coming to town.
He’ll take your frown, turn it upside down.
Saturday night at Monument Park West.
Come see the joker who’s the best of the best.
Yes, Rumors the Clown is coming to visit
So run children, run, or you surely will miss it

The circus wagon chugged through the streets
Extolling Rumors the Clown’s incredible feats.
The star of tv, the stage and the screen
Would roll into town, a sight to be seen,
This violet-haired, bumbling, zoot-suited jester,
The idol of Harold and Mary and Lester

The kids scampered home to ask mom and ask dad
“Can we go? Can we see him? We haven’t been bad.
It’s true! It’s true! We heard and we saw
Go look it up at the newspaper store!”
Nothing this special has happened before.
Rumors the Clown will be here for sure!

The next day the newspaper store was a-buzz
As people poured in to make sure it was just
As their children had told them, their faces a-glow
Like the bright flaming torches at the juggling show.
Could it be? Was it true? Were their children mistaken?
Were dreams fed to them by somebody faking?

The storekeeper shouted “You all think you’re so clever!
Stop pushing and shoving! Such discourtesy – I never!
You’re all here in my store for the very same reason –
Are the Rumors rumors true or is somebody teasing?”
The children stood round with their eyes all a-gape
When a shout rang out “Here it is, right here on page eight!”

“Make way! Let me through” the town librarian barked.
“I’ll take a close look with my assistant, Miss Lark.”
They put on their glasses and read every word.
Was the news printed here what the children had heard?
“Now quiet everyone while I read the whole story;
If you dare interrupt me you will surely be sorry!”

Come one and come all to the best show in town!
We’re speaking of course of Rumors the Clown.
At Monument Park West on Saturday night.
The most splendid performance will thrill and delight!
Rumors will juggle, ride bareback and walk the high wire
And perhaps – if you’re lucky – swallow a sword blazing with fire!

The extravaganza is free of charge to all who attend,
Sponsored by philanthropists and the hospital band
For the benefit of sick children and orphans here and there
Who desperately need fun from some people who care.
Saturday at eight – write it down and be there!
Monument Park at the west wall – that’s where!

“That’s tonight!” someone yelled and they ran home to dress
In their dandiest clothes so they’d all look their finest.
In dresses and new shoes and even a vest
They headed out laughing, not stopping to rest
They ran all the way to Monument Park West.
But when they arrived at the end of their quest
The west wall was locked, closed to all guests.

“There’s nobody here! Where’s Rumors the Clown?
The newspaper ad said the west side of town!”
And everyone cried, even mean Mr. Brown.
In his shop the printer wore a terrible frown.
He’d made a mistake – he deserves a fool’s crown
For the “WEST” – not the “EAST”– is what he wrote down.

At Monument Park East Rumors sat crying alone
The east side was empty for no one had shown.
“My days as a great clown are over and done;
It’s time to retire, go live in the clown home.”
Blowing his nose Rumors pulled out his phone.
“Bozo? It’s Rumors. And I’m so very alone.”

Uncategorized

INEFFABLE

February 18, 2023February 19, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Piano music drifted up to her as she leisurely strolled the aisles of the exclusive Manhattan department store – not the unremarkable, annoying background Muzak one usually hears in waiting rooms and elevators. No, this was definitely different.

Being a devotee of the piano, she was convinced no one else in the world could possibly love its sound more than she. Enchanted, she felt compelled to find the source of the music.

As she approached the escalator, the volume increased minutely. Gliding down, gently floating closer and closer, she realized “this is LIVE music”.

Arriving at the store’s café level, she stood still, tilting her head slightly in the direction of the beckoning music. Sensing an invisible hand on the small of her back, she swayed slightly as the unmistakable melody of “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered” trickled above the polite chatter of the ladies who lunch.

“Someone is definitely playing the piano” she thought, quickly adding “Oh, please, don’t let it be one of those self-playing digital pianos.”

Now the music was clearly audible and she followed the winding hallway from the escalator into the center of the café area. Suddenly standing before her in all its glory was a glimmering ebony Steinway baby grand. The lid was open, revealing the hammers and strings, but concealing the pianist .. if there even was one.

As if on cue, she heard a silky rich voice as smooth as Maker’s Mark Bourbon and she imagined Harry Connick or Frank Sinatra. “She’s a fool and don’t I know it but a fool can have her charm.” As she made her way around the curves of the Steinway, the illusive piano man came into view. She kept her eyes downcast, afraid to look, and just listened as this sorcerer cast his spell on her.

Slowly she raised her head to surreptitiously glance at the singer. He wasn’t the handsome, debonair Harry or Frank; actually, he looked more like Billy Joel but when he caught her eye everything fell away and all that mattered was the here and now. She approached him tentatively, her hand gliding along the piano, eyes still locked with his.

Ruefully she thought to herself “Why do I always fall in love with musicians? I would follow this man anywhere.” The feelings deep within her heart, her body, her soul were ineffable; why they happen and where they come from she could not say. She sat beside him on the piano bench, their legs touching.

She laid her head on his shoulder as natural as a helpless infant. “Please don’t ever stop playing for me.”

Uncategorized

THE LOSER

February 14, 2023February 14, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

“Instantly Irresistible” read the label on the perfume bottle at a shop in Bangkok. I was, shall we say, drawn here after several misunderstandings with the Sydney Police Department. I called it “gaining a profit”; they called it “pickpocketing”.

Contrary to what the Sydney Police, my parents and my friends all say, I’m not a complete loser – just a partial one. I worked in a book store back home but got canned when I ‘borrowed’ a few dollars from the register. The shop owner called the cops on me, even though “he really liked me and hated doing it”. Then there was the ‘incident’ which brought me here.

Now I’m washing dishes for a restaurant, just barely getting by. The waitresses, all sisters, live together downstairs in a shoebox of an apartment near the supply room. I sleep on a cot in the basement and use the grungy bathroom – better than nothing. There’s a basement window which I crawl through when I get home late and the restaurant is closed. Only the owner and the eldest sister have a key.

Sometimes when the sisters are working I’ll go downstairs for supplies, take a small detour into that shoebox and help myself to their tip money. I’m wondering – can I be considered a ‘housebreaker’ if the door isn’t locked?

I have a clandestine girlfriend, too; her name is “Piti”. She’s a cleaner at the shoemaker’s shop nearby. I saw her through the shop window and she looked up and smiled. One dark night after work I waited for her outside the shop and asked if I could walk her home. She agreed but said only half way – her family would not approve. She lives with her parents and 11 siblings. All of what she earns goes to her family. She owns only a few clothes and a ragged cloth pouch.

I surprised her with a bottle of perfume which I found in a moldy wood crate behind the shop. She smiled happily when I called her “my Valentine” and giggled when I asked her to “be my baby“. She slipped the bottle into her pouch. and whispered “thank you, Sam”, which isn’t even my name but that’s ok. No one knows I exist.

After dark the next night I waited for Piti but she never showed. Disappointed, I skulked home. The same thing happened the next two nights and on the fourth day during my break I glanced in the shoe shop window only to see a different cleaning girl. “Where was Piti?” I wondered, becoming concerned.

Several days later I overheard the sisters talking. Piti had become horribly sick – an apparent toxic reaction to old perfume from a bottle found in her pouch. She had been in quarantine, but died this morning.

I was reeling. I did this to Piti! I killed her. She was a perfect angel, the sweetest part of my life. Everything I do hurts someone. In the course of three weeks I’ve gone from petty thief to murderer. Everyone is right. I’m a complete loser. I don’t know how I’m going to live with myself.

Uncategorized

IT’S A SECRET

February 12, 2023February 12, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Psst! You over there on the other side of the screen. Yeah, you. I’ve got a secret to share but you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Deal? OK!

You may have seen my references here and there to a “new project” I’m working on. Mr. Bump (mrbump.uk) and I have been putting our heads together for a while and it’s almost time for the unveiling which will be Thursday, March 2.

I hope you enjoyed my post today called “Misty”. Well, keep “Misty” in mind as you follow my site. You’ll notice a theme for each post scheduled for the next two Sundays. I don’t want to give anything away so that’s all I’m gonna say except for this: after all our time together, you might know there’s something in addition to storytelling that’s very close to my heart.

That’s it. Not another word; wild horses couldn’t drag it out of me! I do have a tendency to be a bit garrulous so I better stop now before I give anything away. Are you curious? I hope so! We’re very excited about our joint venture and are looking forward to presenting it to you. Believe me, kids; it’s gonna be a lot of fun!

See you all on the flip side very soon and remember – mum’s the word!

Uncategorized

MISTY

February 11, 2023February 11, 2023 Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It was one of those stormy evenings, the kind of weather that could make people think twice about venturing out into the elements. But “The Divine One”, the legendary Sarah Vaugan, was set to perform at the Blue Note.

Founder and owner Danny Bensusan’s business policy was well known: book big-name acts into a classy place with an elegant atmosphere and great food and the place would be packed night after night. That’s exactly what he managed to do and the Blue Note soon became the city’s premier jazz club.

I’d been working as a coat check girl at the Blue Note for a couple of months when I was “discovered”, if one could even call it that. The crew was cleaning up after the final show, me in the “Lost and Found” section of the coat room. It always amazed me how people could leave behind such things as mink coats and solid gold cigarette lighters! Were they that drunk or was money no object for the elite slumming it in “The Village”?

Well, there I was, stashing a forgotten cashmere scarf into the bin, absentmindedly singing ‘Misty’, when I heard a friendly voice behind me.

“Hey, you been holding out on me, kid? You’re singing like an angel back here!” It was Danny. “What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Michelle” I replied, tapping my name tag with long red fingernails. “Michelle Grant.”

Pointing his index finger and winking, Danny clicked his tongue at me as if we were in cahoots over some kind of secret pact and walked off.

About two weeks later I got called into Danny’s office – something that never happened. I thought for sure I was getting canned but that wasn’t the case. Danny offered me a singing gig as a member of the group that performed with the house band. It was nothing special – just singing ballads while the people danced and dined – but it got me out of the coat check room and on stage. I also got a nice little increase in my paycheck and the clientele started recognizing me as one of the singers. I got to hang out with some pretty big names back then: Lionel Hampton, Carmen McRae, Oscar Peterson and the one-and-only Ray Charles who Danny booked for a full week every year.

So there we were on this particularly nasty night, ears glued to the weather report on the radio, hoping people would still come out in this February snowstorm ….. and we were not disappointed. Slowly the house filled up with fans eager to hear Sarah Vaughan. Danny was beaming, grinning from ear to ear. This was going to be a night to remember. There was just one little hiccup: Sarah Vaughan was nowhere in sight.

Danny kept pacing back and forth, checking his watch every minute. I could see him starting to sweat. Then the call came in: “The Divine One” and her crew were stuck in snow on the FDR Drive! They said they’d get there “as soon as they could” but who knew when that would be?

By now the natives were getting restless and calling out for the show to begin. Danny grabbed me by the elbow and said “It’s up to you, kid. Stall ’em as long as you can. Just get out there, sing something and act like everything’s okay.” Before I could object, Danny shoved me onto the stage; hundreds of eyes stared at me like “Who the hell is this chick?”

I stared back like a deer in headlights; you could hear a pin drop. Even the waiters stopped working. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Danny gesturing for me to get the show started.

I walked up to the mike with feigned confidence and in a hushed tone that got everyone’s attention said “Good evening and welcome to the Blue Note. I’m Michelle Grant and this is ‘Misty’.”

The audience gasped; that was Sarah Vaughan’s signature song. Even Danny and the piano man, Erwin “Sweetness” Brown, looked up in stunned disbelief. I sang the all-too-familiar first three words, “Look at me”, a cappella and “Sweetness” joined in just like we planned it that way.

I sang like my life depended on it and I guess, in a way, it did. When I was done the place was silent, then all hell broke loose, everyone standing on their feet cheering and applauding. I was floored, thrilled that they liked me that much! I twirled around in delight and that’s when I saw “The Divine One” standing about 10 feet behind me. Reality slapped me in the face; the people weren’t applauding for me; they were cheering the arrival of Sarah Vaughan.

I wanted to get off that stage as fast as I could but Sarah took my hands in hers and smiled broadly. She hugged me like a proud mama on her daughter’s wedding day and whispered in my ear “Nice job, honey – but you do know ‘Misty’ is MY song, don’t you? And you ain’t ever gonna sing it again, except maybe in the privacy of your shower! Ain’t that right, sugar?”

I nodded mutely.

“Now, what’s your name, honey?” Sarah asked.

I whispered my name and before I had a chance to scramble off the stage, Sarah turned me around to face the audience and raised my arm up in the air like a champion. “How about showing some love to my protégé, Michelle Grant? She took a pretty big leap of faith tonight by jumping into my shoes. That takes guts and I admire her.”

And the people went wild but this time they were clapping for me!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Andorra

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: