🐘 Nancy is a storyteller, music blogger, humorist, poet, curveballer, noir dreamer 🐘
I cherished you
Once beloved
friend
confidant
brother
How you
eviscerated
me
Your eyes
radiate
hate
Your mouth
spews
Lies
Aspersions
Deceptions
Distortions
Fabrications
Dishonesty
Duplicity
Hypocrisy
Inaccuracy
Mendacity
Perfidy
You are
dead
to me
NAR © 2023
35 words
While reading the real estate section, my wife Jen called out to me. “Hey, Eric, check this out. You know that community we love? One of the houses is available, has everything we want plus a big yard and a pool. And get this – they’re asking only $275,000! That’s well within our budget!”
“Seriously? Those houses usually go for twice as much! Wonder why it’s so low.”
“The agent’s number is right here” replied Jen. “Let’s call.”
After a brief phone conversation, we agreed to meet at the house at noon. When we arrived, the real estate agent explained to us that the previous owners had moved back to England for work purposes and were anxious for a quick sale – even at a loss.
The community was lovely and families were outside enjoying the great weather. The house we had our eye on was even more beautiful than we imagined – not a thing wrong. We asked the agent to make arrangements for an inspector to check everything out and a few days later he reported the house to be in excellent condition. Any doubts were removed from our minds.
“Well, babe”, I said, giving Jen a hug, “looks like we just found our dream house!”
Two weeks later we moved in and everyone was extremely welcoming. In fact, the guy next door came over the first night we were in the house to invite us to a barbecue that weekend. We knew we were going to love this place.
The barbecue was fun and gave us a chance to meet all our new neighbors. Later that night at home we talked about how nice everyone was; in particular, Jen was surprised by how helpful the men were – “Except for that one awkward scene when Barb got annoyed with Gil because his potato salad had too much mayo!” she laughed.
As time went by, we couldn’t help noticing that all the men were house-husbands while all the women went to work. How odd! One night Gil called to invite me to the weekly Friday night poker game at his house and Jen to a ladies book club night at Susan’s.
The card game was going well and I was on a winning streak when out of the blue Gil asked “So, Eric, when are you gonna get your balls snipped?”
Totally thrown off base, I gagged on my drink. “Excuse me??” I sputtered.
“You know. Snipped! We’re all snipped” Gil answered, making little scissor cutting gestures with his fingers. “Dr. Susan does it, smooth and easy. Our wives convinced us life would be much calmer that way and it is. Here’s her number.”
Mumbling hasty excuses, I hurriedly left the game and dashed home, colliding with Jen running home from the other direction.
“Do you know what they do here?!?” she asked, horrified.
I nodded frantically. “And the only things getting cut are our losses! C’mon! We’re outta here!”
NAR © 2023
I hope you’ll join me today
as I take you on a
new musical journey
In The Groove.
It’s gonna rock your world!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
🤘🏼 ☠️ 🤘🏼
During the late 1960s and early 1970s, a new musical genre was developed. It kicked in the door of the music world and turned into a phenomenon that is still going strong some 55 years later. And there are no obvious signs of it slowing down any time soon. In case you didn’t get the hint from my subtle new header image, I’m talking about heavy metal! 🤘🏼
We all know what it is: a genre of rock music that developed largely in the United Kingdom and United States with roots in blues rock, acid rock and psychedelic rock. Metal bands created a thick, monumental sound characterized by distorted guitars, extended guitar solos, emphatic beats and loudness.
WHAT?? Oh, I think I know what you’re trying to say, Mr. Wikipedia –
In other words, heavy metal crashes through the safety of your walls, grabs you by the throat, flips you around like a rag doll, tosses you upside down onto the Helter Skelter for a few spins at Mach 3.3, drags you off by your hair, straddles you and screams in your face “HEAR ME!”, then slams you down Centerstage Row A without any sissy earplugs where you stand dripping in blood, sweat and tears, wonky legs barely supporting you, arms extended, fingers shaped like 🤘🏼 as your heart races frantically inside your chest like John Bonham on speed, your head starting to erupt into a trillion bits and, like Ozzy, you howl at the moon “All aboard! This is bloody freakin’ awesome!!”
Get the picture? Good. Now let’s get this show on the road!
In 1968 three of the genre’s most famous pioneers were founded. Often referred to as the “unholy trinity”, their hope was to attract wide audiences with their musical message; they were often misunderstood and ridiculed by critics. That didn’t stop them.
That same year, March of 1968, Bill and I met on a blind date. The following week for our second date, we went to the concert mecca of the Lower East Side of Manhattan – the Fillmore East. It was our first time there and the start of a long run of concerts. Ten months later we saw a relatively unknown group at the Fillmore who would go on to become one of the greatest bands of all time. That band is the group I’m featuring today in Metal Madness.
Between 1968 and 1977 – the period known as B.K. (Before Kids) – Bill and I saw the “unholy trinity” as well as many other groups, multiple times. Back then, even the good seats were cheap and we were always in one of the first three rows. I laughingly remember the night Robert Plant tossed back his magnificent mane of blonde curls and rained droplets of sweat on us. It was fabulous!
Allow me now to delve a little deeper into our first group in Metal Madness: Led Zeppelin.
Formed in London in 1968, Led Zeppelin developed their style by drawing from a variety of influences, including blues and folk music. The band was comprised of vocalist Robert Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page, bassist and keyboardist John Paul Jones and drummer John Bonham. With a heavy guitar-driven sound, they are cited as one of the forerunners of hard rock and heavy metal music. Zeppelin has been credited as significantly impacting the nature of the music industry, particularly in the development of album-oriented rock and stadium rock.
Led Zeppelin is one of the best-selling musical groups of all time, with total sales estimated at over 300 million records sold worldwide. The group achieved eight consecutive UK #1 albums and six #1 Albums on the US Billboard 200, with five albums certified diamond in the United States. Rolling Stone magazine once described Zeppelin as “the heaviest band of all time”, “the biggest band of the 70s”, and “unquestionably one of the most enduring bands in rock history”. Led Zeppelin was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1995; the museum’s biography of the band states that they were “as influential during the 1970s as the Beatles were during the 1960s”. That’s quite a statement.
For me listening to these great songs is like eating potato chips; I can’t eat just one! I have several video selections for you today. Listen to any, listen to all; the choice is yours and each one is great!
Ok, no more talking; it’s time for some music. And if you look hard enough, you just might spot me in the audience!
This is Led Zeppelin!
I’d like to close with what I consider to be an indelible moment in time – Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart performing at the Kennedy Center in a concert honoring Led Zeppelin. This is no hype; you’ll know what I mean when you see the reaction from the honorees watching from the best seats in the house. The song is one you all know; it has been called “the single-most important and celebrated song Led Zeppelin ever recorded”.
This is “Stairway To Heaven”.
That’s the way it is with heavy metal and groups like Led Zeppelin; you can’t stop at just one!
I hope you enjoyed your first ride on the Metal Madness Express. Thanks for being here! I’d love to know your thoughts so kindly leave a comment.
Please join me right here next week for an introduction to the second group in the “unholy trinity”. Can you guess who it is? You don’t want to miss it; I’m just warming up! 🔥 🤘🏼
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
Since publishing my story Honeysuckle and Provolone, I have received a few requests for my lasagna recipe. I’m happy to share a great Italian dish which I’m sure will become a favorite of yours. I’ve been making lasagna for more than 50 years and I have a few tricks that will prevent major headaches for anyone who is making lasagna for the first time.
The most difficult part about preparing lasagna is handling the boiled pasta sheets; they can be delicate and I always suggest cooking them al dente as they will continue to cook while in the oven. I know some people who prefer to skip the boiling step altogether since the sheets will cook and soften up in the tomato sauce while baking.
Another option is to place the lasagna sheets in a pan, cover with boiling water and let them sit for 30 minutes before rinsing in cold water. The people at Barilla make traditional lasagna sheets as well as ones that are oven-ready and do not require boiling; I have never tried making lasagna without first boiling the pasta sheets so I’m not an authority on the oven-ready method. However, I do know enough about cooking to know that the pasta will soften up sufficiently while baking as long as you use enough tomato sauce to cover it entirely.
I prefer to use Barilla pasta; I believe it is a superior product – lighter and tastier than other brands. That’s just my preference; please use whichever brand you like.
If you’re making a traditional lasagna and boiling the pasta first, it’s very important to use a BIG pot. The lasagna sheets are long and wide and need plenty of room to move around in the water; I prefer to cook six sheets at a time for less crowding in the pot. Also, it’s extremely helpful to add a splash of oil to the pasta water; this will keep the lasagna sheets from sticking together. Once lasagna sheets get stuck together, it’s extremely difficult to separate them without tearing. A little oil in the cooking water will prevent a big sticky problem. Boil the lasagna sheets for the amount of time indicated in the cooking directions on the box. And don’t forget to salt the cooking water.
Boiled lasagna sheets should be rinsed and separated in a colander under cold water immediately after cooking and kept in a pot or plastic tub of cold water while the meat is cooking and the cheese filling is being prepared. Just as you would use an ice bath to stop vegetables from overcooking and to retain their color, use a cold water bath for the cooked lasagna sheets.
Here’s another trick a lot of cooks ignore. When assembling lasagna in a baking pan, the direction of the lasagna sheets should be alternated every other layer. The first layer of pasta should be placed lengthwise in the baking pan with the edges slightly overlapping; the next layer should be placed widthwise in the pan. Since the width of a standard lasagna pan is shorter than the length, the lasagna sheets will need to be trimmed to fit the pan. This is easy to do with standard kitchen scissors. Alternating the layers will make for a firmer lasagna that will not fall apart when cut into; this is the best assembly method to use regardless of the size of the pan and you will always have neatly cut squares of lasagna.
Here is an image of layering lasagna sheets; there’s no sauce or other ingredients in this image so you can clearly see what I mean by alternating the layers:
This may seem like a lot of information but don’t let it scare you; it’s basic reference info only. If you refer to it as you cook, you shouldn’t have any problems.
Now, let’s take a look at the ingredients:
1 lb sweet Italian sausage
1 lb ground chuck 80/20
½ cup diced onion
1 teaspoon minced garlic
28oz can crushed tomatoes (+see below)
12oz can tomato paste (+see below)
15oz can tomato sauce (+see below)
¼ cup water
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
½ cup freshly chopped basil
1 teaspoon Italian seasoning (*see below)
1 teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon black pepper
4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
12 lasagna pasta sheets
15oz whole milk ricotta cheese
1 lb whole milk mozzarella, shredded (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna)
½ cup grated Romano cheese (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna)
½ cup grated parmigiano cheese (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna)
1 large egg
dash nutmeg
+ I am not a fan of tomato sauce in a jar. My mother taught me to make her tomato sauce and that is the only one I use. On a day when I have nothing to do, I’ll whip up a few batches, portion it out into Tupperware and freeze it. It’s nice to know it’s there whenever I need it; however, canned tomatoes for this recipe are fine.
* Using a store-bought mixed jar of Italian seasoning is perfectly fine but you might want to try making your own. Combine 2 tablespoons each of dried basil, cilantro, marjoram, oregano, parsley, red pepper flakes, rosemary and thyme. Store in a tightly sealed spice jar. Using store-bought Italian seasoning for this recipe is fine.
COOKING INSTRUCTIONS
This recipe makes a large pan of lasagna.
I use a deep dish Pyrex lasagna pan or a deep 9×13” baking pan.
LET’S PUT OUR LASAGNA TOGETHER!
(I suggest reading through before starting)
That’s all there is to it! You’ve made lasagna! 👩🏼🍳
It’s been a pleasure sharing with you the recipe for one of the most popular Italian dishes. There are many different variations of lasagna – meatless, wholegrain, vegetable, béchamel, kosher, etc; don’t be afraid to experiment and make whatever changes you like. Google is a chef’s great friend! If you’re not a fan of sausage, this recipe can be made using all ground beef.
More important that anything – enjoy your cooking experience. Cooking should be a joy – not a chore. To that end, I’ve added a full concert video by Il Volo to accompany you while you cook.
Happy cooking and eating! Buon appetito!
NAR © 2023
This week Jim at Song Lyric Sunday is asking us to write about a song that mentions a food suggested by Christine of Stine Writing and Miniatures. Here is a unique little ditty just about as old as bread itself.
“Bread and Butter” is a 1964 song by the American pop vocal trio Newbeats; it was the group’s first and most popular hit. The song served as the Newbeats’ demo in an effort to obtain a recording contract with Hickory Recording.
The opening two-chord piano riff and the lead falsetto of Larry Henley are the most notable features of the song.
“Bread and Butter” was the inspiration for the advertising jingle of Schmidt Baking Company used in the 1970s and 1980s; it went like this:
“I like bread and butter,
I like toast and jam,
I like Schmidt’s Blue Ribbon Bread,
It’s my favorite brand”.
Catchy, isn’t it?
The song has been featured in numerous movies and TV shows as well as a variety of television commercials. It is part of music compilations found on Billboard Top Rock’n’Roll Hits: 1964 as well as Classic Rock (Time-Life Music).
Let’s have a listen to this quirky hit from 1964:
Lyrics
… Ah, he likes bread and butter
Ah, he likes toast and jam
Ah, that’s what his baby feeds him
Ah, he’s her loving man
… Well, I like bread and butter
I like toast and jam
That’s what baby feeds me
I’m her loving man
… Ah, he likes bread and butter
Ah, he likes toast and jam
That’s what his baby feeds him
Ah, he’s her loving man
… Well, she don’t cook mashed potatoes
She don’t cook T-bone steak
She don’t feed me peanut butter
She knows that I can’t take
… Ah, he likes bread and butter
Ah, he likes toast and jam
Ah, that’s what his baby feeds him
Ah, he’s her loving man
… Well, I got home early one Monday
Much to my surprise
She was eating chicken and dumplings
With some other guy
… No more bread and butter
Ah, no more toast and jam
He found his baby eating
Ah, with some other man
… No, no, no
No more bread and butter
Ah, no more toast and jam
I found my baby eating
Ah, with some other man
… No, no, no, no
No more bread and butter
No, no, no, no
Ah, no more toast and jam
… No, no, no, no
Ah, no more bread and butter
No, no, no, no
Ah, no more toast and jam
No, no, no, no
Ah, no more bread and butter
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Jay Turnbow / Larry Parks
Bread and Butter lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
From the movie 9 1/2 Weeks:
Buffet of Options
As Jim pointed out to me, the big surprise in this song is when the guy comes home early and finds his lover eating chicken and dumplings with some other guy! What a great ending!
Well, I gotta run; I think I smell toast burning! 🍞 🧈 🥫
NAR © 2023
We were so busy bailing water from the basement, I forgot to post a story for today!
Did you miss me?
Well, there’s good news! You can still hop on over to The Rhythm Section for a little game of Name That Tune.
Hey, they’re my websites so I’m gonna self-promote the hell out of them! 🤣
Thanks to so many of you for your kind words and best wishes during our water-logged “setback.”
I bow before Mother Nature.
PS: What a difference a day makes, 24 little hours! Today is warm, sun-shiny t shirt weather and not a raincloud in sight! 🌟 😎
NAR © 2023
Name That Tune.
The Rhythm Section.
Come on over!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome back to Name That Tune!
Today we are featuring a famous American group and what I believe is their best known song. I had forgotten this group was together only three years, from 1965 to 1968 and when I read that, it was shocking to me. They’re one of those groups you just assume were together much longer than they were.
Nuff said! It’s time for some fun! Let’s play Name That Tune. Good luck!
Did my clues help you figure out the answers to today’s mystery? Well, we’ll find out in few seconds. Just scroll on down for the big reveal.
If you answered “California Dreaming” by The Mamas and The Papas, you rock!
Let’s listen to that very cool song right now:
Michelle Phillips wrote the lyrics, “Well, I got down on my knees, and I pretend to pray,” but Cass Elliot had sung “began to pray” on the original recording and had continued doing so on tour until corrected by Phillips.
They really had a terrific sound, didn’t they? Of all their many hits, do you have a favorite Mamas and Papas song? Let’s hear from you; drop a line in the comments section or add your favorite video. We love videos!
My time is up for today. Be sure to check in with The Rhythm Section all week for some really great music. Thanks for hanging with me today playing Name That Tune!
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
Rooms with locked windows
Tombs for the undead
Rats flee scurrying
Cats hide in waiting
Bell tolls in the wind
Hell waits on the doomed
Screaming in the night
Teeming black waters
Full moon’s graveyard shine
Pull demons from earth
Tombs for the undead
Rooms with locked windows
NAR © 2023
The early morning air was thick with the smell of rain, the stillness almost suffocating. I was determined to finish my walk and get back home before the storm hit. Still on the historic Leatherstocking Trail which snakes its way through the woods near the old train station, I had about a mile to go.
There was an alien look about the sky, otherworldly and menacing. Tenebrous clouds, clumsy and swollen like an over-full bladder, partially obscured a series of long, jagged slashes of coppery-red. I was reminded of the familiar adage:
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
Red sky at morning, sailor’s warning.”
Nothing about this day bode well.
I stopped to tie back my hair and pull the hood of my jacket over my head, securing it snugly with the drawstring. A few rumbles of thunder warned me not to dawdle; there would be no stopping this rain.
The threat of the approaching nor’easter brought with it the unwelcome promise of flooding – a frequent visitor in these low-lying areas of the Hudson Valley.
I quickened my pace, the only sound the muffled slap of my sneakers hitting the leaf-strewn path.
An impressive bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a barrage of thunder. By now my indignant left knee was barking ferociously and I cursed for having walked so far.
My house finally came into view. The rain started as I climbed the steps to my front door; a forlorn train whistle howled in the distance.
NAR © 2023
250 words
NB – As I am writing this, New York, the place I call home, is in a State of Emergency due to unrelenting rainstorms and severe flooding. This rain is the worst we’ve had in years. Four continuous days of rain last week and now this. The saturated ground cannot hold any more water and it has nowhere to go but up. Exhausted from bailing out our basement, we finally gave up, defeated. No matter what we do, the water will always win.
“Grammy, come see our new homework room. Daddy painted the walls for us. Come look!”
My grandchildren tug at my arms, leading me into their newly decorated room. There were three workstations for them to do their schoolwork, shelves lined with books and a big old wooden chest filled with treasures.
The underwater scenes my son painted were wondrous; honestly, the theme didn’t matter.
It was the memories that came flooding back to me from thirty years ago when he painted the walls of his own room with cartoon characters he created.
“Crying? No, sillies! Just something in my eye.”
NAR © 2023
100 words
Saunders Drive. On the right corner stood the library, looking exactly as it did the last time I saw it. Diagonally across the street was the church we attended every Sunday, the preacher bellowing about morals and principles. Directly across from the church was a quaint-looking inn with a sign over the doorway – “Welcome Home!” And on the fourth corner was the big Colonial house where the Casey Family lived.
Jeff Casey was my first boyfriend; feels like a hundred years ago. Now there was a prominent shingle on the front lawn which read JEFFREY CASEY, M.D. A doctor! I never should have broken up with him!
My childhood house was a stone’s throw from the Casey’s. Not quite ready to see the old place just yet, I kept walking. About halfway down Main Street, I came across a boho-chic coffee shop/poet’s corner called “Beggars, Cynics and Euripides”. A pretty young woman wearing a rainbow tie dyed hippie skirt was preparing lunch tables outside. The freshly-painted red chairs were staggering in their brilliance. She smiled pleasantly at me and asked if I’d like a table.
“Why not?” I answered as she handed me a menu. I was engrossed in reading the descriptions of the lunch fare when I became aware of someone standing nearby watching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I was pleasantly surprised to see the still-handsome face of Jeff Casey grinning at me.
“Rebecca Gardner! My God! What’s it been – 20 years? What brings you back to town?”
“Jeff! You look great!” and I instinctively hugged him. “Please join me.”
The waitress took our orders for iced coffee and as we waited, that warm, relaxed feeling between us resurfaced.
“Twenty years exactly. My folks sold the house after I graduated college. Honestly, I’m not sure why I’m here. Memories, you know?”
We caught up on life – marriages, divorces, etc. – and I mentioned going to see my old house but for whatever reason I was nervous.
Jeff tossed a twenty on the table and said “Come on. Let’s go together.” And before I could think of an excuse, he took my hand and we were on our way.
“The Matthews Family lives here now. Nice people.” Jeff bounded up the front steps and rang the doorbell. No answer.
The old oak tree was standing proud and tall in the front yard. My fingers lightly traced the weathered heart shape with our initials carved inside and we shared a smile and unspoken memories.
We strolled up Saunders Drive to Jeff’s place, neither of us in a rush for this bubble of serendipity to burst. Jess sighed. “Well, I’ve got patients to see.”
“And I’ve got a train to catch” I replied. “Jeff, it’s been too long. Let’s keep in touch.”
“I’d like that, Becca. By the way, I make housecalls.” He smiled over his shoulder as he disappeared inside.
NAR © 2023
It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Ben E. King
Born September 28, 1938 in Henderson, North Carolina
When I was a kid, I attended a private Lutheran school from First Grade all the way through my senior year in high school; being in an unusually close environment such as that with a bunch of other kids was like having a very large extended family and, just like siblings, there were days when we fought like cats and dogs and there were times when we’d do anything for one another.
Being a relatively small school, there were some features we didn’t have that you would normally find in a larger public school; for example, we had a gymnasium but not an auditorium so phys ed and basketball games were held in the same room as our concerts, plays, pep rallies and graduations. We also did not have a cafeteria where students could buy food for lunch; everyone brought their own lunch, which we ate in the lunchroom or student union, and were able to buy snacks, desserts, candy, ice cream and cartons of milk in the small school store just off the lunchroom.
The snacks in the little store were nothing special – mostly things like chips, pretzels, Hostess Twinkies and Snowballs, Sugar Daddys, Tootsie Rolls and novelty candy items like Pixie Stix, miniature wax bottles filled with a sticky sweet liquid, button candy and tiny ice cream cones that weren’t ice cream at all but some kind of rubbery sugar substance – but we also had real ice cream and individual cartons of both regular milk and chocolate milk; it’s funny but the feature I remember most about those milk cartons was the round perforation on the top side where a straw could be inserted for mess-free drinking.
One unforgettable day when I was in fifth grade, a representative from Drakes Cakes came to our school and our class learned it had been selected as the official ‘taste tester’ for a bunch of new products being considered for the school store; once every week for about four months we got to sample items that weren’t as yet available to the public for sale such as Funny Bones, Ring Dings, Devil Dogs, Yodels, Coffee Cakes and Fruit Pies.
Man oh man … as you can well imagine, that was one of the most amazing times in our young lives and by far the best year we ever had in school; my class was the envy of all the other kids and I still can’t resist those delicious devil’s food cake ‘hot dogs’ filled with whipped cream that we all know as Devil Dogs.
NAR © 2023
The minute she walked into my deli on Arthur Avenue, I was blown away. She knocked my socks off. Even through the crack in the storage room door I was dazzled by this profusion of red hair the color of a bright autumn day, creamy skin with a splash of freckles and captivating emerald eyes. I’ve got a weakness for gingers and I fell head over heels.
I’m Bruno Deluca – or Mr. Monotone compared to the stunning Monarch butterfly that just gaily flew into my market. I have the quintessential Italian look – walnut brown hair, coffee brown eyes and a perpetual deep tan. But I have a sparkling smile and dimples “to die for”, as my Aunt Carmella always says.
This amber goddess stood in front of the meat and cheese display, a bewildered look on her face. Here’s my big chance. I dashed from the back room and positioned myself directly in her line of vision. “Welcome to Deluca’s Salumeria. May I help you with something, miss?” [Smooth, right? Not to mention original!]
She looked up and I flashed her my trademark smile. And she smiled back, blushing winsomely. My knees grew weak when she spoke, her lilting Irish brogue a sweet surprise.
“Everything looks so exotic and delicious! I wouldn’t know what to order, even if could pronounce the names!” And when she laughed I swear I saw musical notes wafting through the air.
“No problem” I replied as I swiftly came around to her side, naming and describing all the meats and cheeses.
She smelled like honeysuckle. I smelled like provolone.
She still couldn’t make up her mind so I tried something radical. “How about I give you a few samples – on the house – if you promise to come back and buy something, even if it’s one slice of salami?”
She hesitated for a second, then laughingly said “You have a deal, Mr…..”
“Deluca. Bruno Deluca. And you are…..?”
She extended a delicate porcelain hand. “Rowan McCourt. Pleased to meet you, Bruno.”
“Rowan, eh? That’s a lovely name. What does it mean?”
Tentatively toying with her hair she said “Little Red-haired One. And what does Bruno mean?”
I shrugged and matter-of-factly stated “Brown” and we both burst out laughing!
I packed up a nice selection of sliced meat and cheese and some of my best Italian bread. “Here ya go, Rowan, and don’t forget…..”
“Oh, no Bruno! This is too much! I couldn’t possibly…..!”
“Go! Enjoy! It’s always good to have leftovers. See you soon!”
The next day I kept glancing at the door; I couldn’t get Rowan out of my head and I was disappointed when she didn’t return. True to her word, though, she was back the following morning.
“Bruno, everything was delicious!” she declared excitedly. “Now what shall I buy?”
She browsed for a minute. “That looks incredible! What is it?”
“That’s lasagna – sheets of wide pasta layered with ricotta, mozzarella, grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, sauteèd chopped beef and sausage in my homemade tomato sauce. It’s already cooked; just heat and enjoy. Would you like to try it?”
“I would indeed! You make it all sound so delicious, Bruno. My mouth is watering!”
“You won’t regret your decision, Rowan. Lasagna is one of our specialties. How much would you like?”
“Enough for a few portions, please” Rowan replied. Her smile was radiant.
“Ah, leftovers. You remembered!” I said, smiling back.
“Actually, Bruno, I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight.”
It took me a second to remember to breath. “I’d love to” I whispered while inside I was shouting “YES! I’d love to!”
“Wonderful! Here’s my address. See you at 7:00. And Bruno, can you bring a bottle of wine and some of your fabulous bread?” Rowan asked.
I stared into her eyes and nodded mutely.
“Bruno, I’m very happy you’ll be joining me tonight.” Taking her bag, Rowan floated out the door. The slightest trace of honeysuckle tickled my nose.
NAR ©2023
Happy Birthday to my guy, my special Mr. Bill 🧡
Please join me today
In The Groove
as we conclude
Motown Memories.
What could be next?
https://rhythmsection.blog/
“Motown was about music for all people – white and black, blue and green, cops and the robbers. I was reluctant to have our music alienate anyone.” – Berry Gordy, Motown Founder
🚗 🚙 🚗
Welcome back to In The Groove: Motown Melodies!
It’s the last Tuesday of September – time to conclude our musical journey in the Motor City. I’ve chosen to start today’s segment with a 1963 high octane hit by another incredible girl group that you’re all sure to know.
Is it my imagination or is it getting hot in here?
“Heat Wave” was written by the songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland and was first made popular by the group “Martha and the Vandellas”. Released as a single on the Motown subsidiary Gordy label, this song garnered a Grammy Award nomination, the first Motown group to ever do so.
Founded in 1957 by friends Annette Beard, Rosaline Ashford and Gloria Williams, the group eventually included Martha Reeves who moved up in ranks as lead vocalist after Williams’ departure in ’61. During their nine-year run from 1963-1972, “Martha and the Vandellas” charted over 26 hits recorded in the styles of doo-wop, R&B, pop, blues, rock and roll and soul. In 1995 the group was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
“Heat Wave” was one of the first songs to exemplify the style of music later termed as the “Motown Sound”. Here are Martha and the Vandellas performing their 1963 hit, “Heat Wave”.
What a great song by a terrific group – the epitome of that legendary “Motown Sound” that still sounds fresh and new today.
I have a few more dimes left for the jukebox; let’s punch up a couple more hits by “the girls”.
Wow! What a great bunch of songs! I’ve been loving listening to the Motown girl groups; how about you? Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts about these great Motown hits.
Another month is in the books, kids. Thanks for movin’ and groovin’ with me to the greatest sounds to come out of the Motor City! 🚗
Be sure to join me here next Tuesday as we dive into a brand new category for October. What will it be? All I can say is you don’t wanna miss it. We’re flying to England where we’ll be kicking it up and raising some hell!
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
Sadje has asked us in her Sunday Poser if we have any bad habits we want to give up.
Who, me?
Do not get me started on bad habits. That will only result in a monumental snowball effect which will totally ruin my day and likely bore the pants off everyone else.
Just the fact that I’m sitting here taking the time to write this when I could be cleaning out a closet is statement enough; I don’t need to produce a laundry list of my bad habits.
It’s been raining like gangbusters here since Saturday – the type of weather when all you want to do is watch old movies, read or write on your blog. I thought about keeping up with my daily walks but it was pouring so I said “Nah” and pulled my hoodie up over my head.
Look, here’s the bottom line:
Everyone has bad habits, big or small. If anyone can point a judgmental finger at another person while professing to not having one single bad habit themselves, they’d be lying … or at the very least, bragging. Those are bad habits right there.
No, don’t get me started on bad habits.
We are all flawed.
Perhaps we might want to hone our good habits and not dwell so much on the bad ones. Imagine all the money we’d save on antacids!
I rest my case.
PS: Yesterday we were granted a brief window of no rain. We dragged our sorry asses out of our recliners and went for that walk after all. I felt good about that. The jury is still out on what will happen today. And that is no lie.
NAR © 2023
Today Jim at Song Lyric Sunday is asking us to think about a musical group with a type of food in its name and write about one of their songs. I have chosen the Canadian hard rock group April Wine and their song Sign of the Gypsy Queen.
♛
“Sign of the Gypsy Queen” was written and originally recorded by Lorence Hud. The song became a hit in Canada when released as a single in 1973. Hud’s version appeared on his eponymous debut album. The song reached the top 5 on the West Coast, #3 on CJRW-FM in Summerside, Prince Edward Island, and peaked at #16 nationally on the RPM 100 chart.
April Wine had more success with its 1981 hard rock version of the song. It was the second single from their album, The Nature of the Beast. The song reached #40 on the Canadian Hot 100, and #57 in the United States on the Billboard Hot 100, and #19 on the Mainstream Rock Tracks.
This version has become popular on album-oriented rock radio stations, getting frequent airplay in the United States and Canada; a music video aired on MTV’s first day of broadcast. It remains one of the group’s signature songs and a live concert staple.
“Sign of the Gypsy Queen” gained a brief resurgence in popularity when it was featured in an episode of the American television series Breaking Bad in 2013. The episode, “Granite State”, received critical acclaim, and is one of the most popular episodes in the series history.
Sign of the Gypsy Queen – by April Wine
Lyrics
Lightning smokes on the hillrise
Brought the man with the warning light
Shouting loud you had better fly
While the darkness can help you hide
Trouble’s comin’ without control
No one’s stayin’ that’s got a hope
Hurricane at the very least
In the words of the gypsy queen
Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Take all your gold and you go
Get my saddle and tie it on
Western wind who is fast and strong
Jump on back, he’s good and long
We’ll resist till we reach the dawn
Running seems like the best offense
Staying just don’t make any sense
No one could ever stop it now
Show the cards of the gypsy town
Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Take all your gold and you go
Shadows movin’ without a sound
From the hold of the sleepless town
Evil seems to be everywhere
Heed the spirit that brought despair
Trouble’s comin’ without control
No one’s stayin’ that’s got a hope
Hurricane at the very least
In the words of the gypsy queen
Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Take all your gold and you go
Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Take all your gold and you go
Sign of the gypsy queen
Pack your things and leave
Word of a woman who knows
Take all your gold and you go
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Lorence Hud
Sign of the Gypsy Queen lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
| “Sign of the Gypsy Queen” | |
| Single by April Wine | |
| from the album The Nature of the Beast | |
| B-side | “Crash and Burn” |
| Released | 1981 |
| Studio | Le Manoir |
| Genre | Hard rock progressive rock |
| Length | 4:18 |
| Label | Aquarius Capitol |
| Songwriter(s) | Lorence Hud |
| Producer(s) | Myles Goodwyn Mike “Clay” Stone |
| April Wine singles chronology | |
| “Just Between You and Me“ (1980) “Sign of the Gypsy Queen“ (1981) “Enough Is Enough” (1981) | |
| Audio | |
| “Sign of the Gypsy Queen” on YouTube | |
NAR © 2023
When she saw him for the first time, he was walking alone at night in the pouring rain. She sat in her car, stopped at a red light, and watched as he slowly tramped forward, head lowered, collar raised and hands in his pockets. He seemed haunted, lost and oblivious to the weather and his surroundings.
He appeared to be in his late teens, tall and slim. Even though she couldn’t see his eyes she felt a great sadness must be behind them. She had the strong urge to reach out to him. She experienced that familiar combination of sympathy, nurturing, curiosity and desire.
The light changed and she had no choice but to move on. Instead of going straight she turned right once, twice, three times until she was now at the corner just as the teen approached. She pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, asking if he needed help, perhaps a ride to wherever he was headed. At first her questions got no response; neither she nor the young man moved. Then he slowly raised his head and looked up. His eyes were lifeless, his face devoid of emotion.
Again she called out to him, saying he must be cold, possibly hungry. No reaction. She leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door offering him shelter from the rain. Still he did not move and she quietly asked him to allow her to help. His face softened imperceptibly and he tentatively approached the car. She said to please get in and close the door. She smiled as he did what she asked.
She inquired if she could take him somewhere; no response. Shifting the car into drive she headed in the direction of her house. She told him he could trust her. She offered him the comfort of a hot meal and a place to rest. He sat looking straight ahead, saying nothing. She spoke softly, telling him she had groceries in the car – a freshly roasted chicken and warm bread – and she noticed he inhaled slightly, savoring the delectable aromas. She drove into her driveway, pulled straight into the garage and closed the door using the remote control. With a velvety laugh she told the young man she was famished and was going inside to eat. He was welcome to join her – his choice.
She became aware of his presence before she saw him. He stood in the hallway, his sopping wet coat dripping on the floor. She told him to remove it and she gingerly helped him take it off, hanging it on a hook to dry. She placed heaping platters of food on the table and only then did he look up, his face expressionless yet more handsome than she imagined. He allowed her to lead him to the table where his hunger overcame him and he devoured everything on his plate, never once looking at her.
When he finished eating she brought him to the den where he sat on a sofa by the fireplace. Quietly she placed pieces of kindling and wood in the fireplace and watched as the flames began to flicker, filling the room with a warm glow. When she turned around the teen was asleep, his face finally at rest. She removed his shoes, covered him with a blanket and went upstairs to bathe.
Slipping into a sheer robe, she went back downstairs and silently walked into the den. Her guest was awake, staring at the fire. She sat beside him and placed her hand over his. He didn’t move away. Emboldened, she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast. He shuddered and closed his eyes. Reaching across his body she placed her left hand on his right shoulder, turning him to face her and for the first time they looked into each other’s eyes. She shrugged off her robe and placed both his hands on her breasts, encouraging him to caress her. His breathing was ragged and she smiled seductively as she began to unbutton his shirt. Now his hands were roaming freely and he didn’t stop her when she unzipped his pants, feeling his erection growing harder beneath her deft fingers.
She told him it had been four empty years since her husband’s sudden death and she was very lonely. Slowly she eased him back and mounted him, delighting in the exquisite sensation. She gyrated smoothy, deeply; there was no need to rush. Afterwards they went upstairs to her room. There was much she could teach this boy and the possibilities excited her.
The next morning when she awoke she was alone. She went downstairs but he was gone. Unperturbed, she walked into the kitchen and brewed some coffee. She lit a cigarette and sat at her laptop. Clicking a key she studied the roadmap that appeared on the screen, contemplating her next objective. In which direction would she drive tonight?
NAR © 2023
Won’t you join me today
for another rousing game of
Name That Tune?
It’s gonna be fun!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome back to Name That Tune! I’m The Sicilian Storyteller and it’s my turn to toss out a few questions in the hope you’ll be able to guess the name of today’s featured song and the person who performed it.
Are you ready to rumble? Here are your five clues; let’s see how well you do. Put on your wizard caps and conjure up a little magic for this one. And, we’re off!
Do you think you know the answers? Well, let’s check by scrolling down beyond the spinning record for the big reveal.
If you said “I know! It’s ‘MacArthur Park’ sung by Richard Harris”, you’d be right. Congratulations! Let’s tune into that iconic song right now.
Ok, let’s be honest. How many of you thought composer Jimmy Webb was on some kind of acid trip when he wrote this song? I know I did! It isn’t every day someone is in the park and leaves a cake out in the rain but if Jimmy said he saw it then I guess he saw it (wink, wink).
MacArthur Park was meant to be a cantata which Jimmy Webb first pitched to the group, The Association; they turned it down. Along came Richard Harris who took the soggy cake and ran with it and the song became a success.
So, what about the two covers I mentioned in Clue #2? Here’s the first one done by country music star Waylon Jennings which won a Grammy. I gotta say, kids, I have a pretty good memory and I don’t remember this ditty at all. 🤷🏼♀️ What about you? Here, let’s have a listen:
I’m banking on all of you knowing this one. Here’s the one and only “Queen of Disco”, the amazing Donna Summer! Polish up your disco balls, boys and girls. Let’s spin it!
Incredible! What a great voice the Disco Queen had! You have to admit it; disco was a happening scene! 🕺🏻
I hope you enjoyed this Sunday in the park with me playing Name That Tune. Catch you next week for another go.
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
Ooh!
A complimentary gift certificate for a day at the spa!
Perfect for a little R&R.
Just some quality ‘me time‘ because I’m so worth it.
Caught up in the daily maelstrom of doing for everyone else.
This will be heavenly!
Ah, here we are.
Hmm, looks a bit spartan.
Anyone here?
Hello?
Anyone?
Well, shit!
NAR © 2023
56 Words
Behind the windows of this estate there once resided a reclusive couple. It’s said that everyone has a story; this couple was no exception.
As young newlyweds they longed for a child but were unable to conceive. They sought the advice of seers and gypsies, to no avail.
Now middle-aged, the wife found she was pregnant. She was told the babe would not survive but survive it did and grew inside its mother, causing her great discomfort. Finally the time arrived for the birth. The wife labored for hours and as the baby’s head began to emerge, the midwife screamed and ran from the house.
The husband took the midwife’s place and immediately recoiled in fear. The wife pleaded for her husband to pull the baby from her body but he refused. Reaching down between her legs, the wife grabbed hold and pulled until the babe was free. Asking her husband to bring the lantern closer so she could see the infant, the new mother gasped and cried out in horror and despair.
The poor babe was grotesque, his head enormous with eyes fused closed and his mouth a mere slit.
Without looking back, the husband left the house, heading to the tavern to drown his sorrows. He informed everyone that the baby had died. Filled with remorse, he returned home to find his wife and baby gone. He went searching but never found them. He died, a broken man.
No trace was ever found of the mother or baby.
NAR © 2023
250 Words
The other night I was sound asleep when I gradually became aware of a noise somewhere in the background of my mind. I could tell it wasn’t an intruder … nothing so threatening or invasive as that. It was more of an ambient sound; it came and went and I was only vaguely aware of it – just enough to ambush my slumber.
The recurring sound eventually roused me completely from my sleep. Asking myself “What is that?”, I elbowed my snoring husband and was rewarded with a prolonged, irritated grunt. Whispering his name and tapping him on the shoulder did nothing so I was forced to use the bicep shove.
“Honey! There’s a noise and it won’t stop. I think it may be coming from the bathroom.”
“GRLBRTH! Probly tlet. Jgl hndl” was my husband’s alien-sounding response. Being fluent in S.I. (Sleepus Interruptus), I had no trouble translating. I padded into the bathroom and jiggled the toilet handle, per my husband’s instructions. I listened to the water run for a bit, then stop. Quiet was restored.
All of a sudden, something felt like it darted by me and I was momentarily startled. Cautiously I found my way to the bedroom door, and peeked into the hall; without my glasses I could only make out blurred images but nothing seemed amiss. Satisfied all was as it should be, I turned back into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar to allow for the air to circulate on this cool September night.
I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up around my face. Just as I was about to slip back into the arms of Morpheus, the noise returned and I did an eye roll behind my closed lids. Reluctant to leave my cozy cocoon a second time, I chose the wait-and-see option. Eventually the sounds stopped and I fell back to sleep.
Like the soft beat of a tom-tom on a far-away island, the distant yet persistent swooshing sound once more made its presence known. My shoulders sagged and I sighed deeply; a grim realization set in – sleeplessness had won out. I felt cheated, gypped out of a decent night’s stay in The Land of Nod.
As I lay there becoming increasingly annoyed, another vexing fact occurred to me: today was the beginning of a long holiday weekend. The odds of contacting a plumber, let alone finding one willing to come to the house, would be slim at best.
I sat up in bed, my back resting against the cushy pillows, as my vision gradually became accustomed to the dimness of the pre-dawn hour. Squinting through sandy eyes, I barely made out an ethereal shadow in the bathroom; it was the Night Stalker – of that I was certain. I reached for my glasses and the creature’s image came into clear view. She looked directly into my eyes and intentionally, deliberately choosing to defy me, stretched out her arm.
What happened next was something I had never witnessed before; I stared in amazement. Part of me was amused, just slightly. Reaching for a paperback book on my nightstand, I heaved it in the general direction of the offender in the bathroom. The book missed its mark and succeeded only in knocking several items to the floor.
“You little bitch,” I hissed.
She jumped off the toilet and strolled away indifferently, typically ignoring my existence.
“Next time jiggle the handle, you beast!’
NAR © 2023
It’s all new
Birthday Thursdays
at The Rhythm Section.
No talk, no fuss, no muss.
Just wall-to-wall music!
Stop by and check it out!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There won’t be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures – just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Leonard Cohen
Born September 21, 1934 in Westmount, Quebec, Canada
You know how it is when you see a person or hear a name and it sort of rings a bell but it’s not in its usual context so you don’t make the connection?
Yeah, that’s what happened to me when I discovered Carlton’s Candy Coop – my favorite place for all my sweet-tooth cravings.
Chocolates, nougats, peanuts, caramels … all those mouth-watering, sugar-rushing, delectable tummy treats that stick to your teeth but you don’t care because they’re just too damn yummy!
Then it hit me. Carlton. Carlton? Carlton! But of course! Carl Carlton was my dentist!
Why, that cheeky bastard!
NAR © 2023
100 Words
“Jesus Christ, Marco! I’m a nervous wreck!” wailed Tina. “Meeting your mother for the first time is freaking me out! Do I look ok? What if she doesn’t like me?”
“Are you kidding me, babe? You look great! She’s gonna love you! Besides … my mother thinks we’re just friends; she won’t be judging you!” replied Marco with a huge grin and a bit too much enthusiasm as he selected his mother’s favorite Dean Martin record.
“But honey, you’ve told me how your mother scrutinizes everything with an eagle eye and doesn’t miss a trick. I’m scared of her and we haven’t even met yet! The pressure is killing me! What if she figures out we haven’t been honest with her?” Tina was getting frantic.
Marco reached out and pulled her close, giving her a comforting hug. His mother never liked any of his gitlfriends, saying no one was good enough for him. Just this once Marco wanted her to likr being with Tina for who she was, without any preconceived notions – even if it meant keeping the truth from her for a while.
“Babe, try to relax. Ma’s bark is worse than her bite. I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting yourself all worked up for no reason. When my mother finally hears the truth, it won’t matter that we didn’t tell her right away; she’ll already be crazy about you! I’m not a little boy and I don’t need my mother’s permission for anything. As long as Dean Martin is playing in the background, she’ll be fine.” It sounded to Tina like Marco was trying to convince himself as well as her.
The ring of the doorbell was expected but it still startled Marco and Tina. Carrying a box of Italian pastries, Marco’s mother Francesca arrived promptly at 6:00 – ready and quite curious to meet this woman sharing her son’s new house. Introductions were made, niceties exchanged and then Tina excused herself to check on dinner. “She certainly knows her way around the kitchen well enough; maybe her cooking won’t be so bad” Francesca thought hopefully while keeping a close eye on her son’s “house mate”.
While Tina put the finishing touches on dinner, Marco brought out some appetizers. “Ah, bruschetta!” exclaimed Francesca but when she bit into the small thin slice of toasted Italian bread, she discovered the topping was raw meat. “It’s steak tartare, Ma” explained Marco. Francesca made a horrified face and hastily deposited her half-chewed mouthful into a paper napkin. “O Dio mio! Raw meat will give you food poisoning!” Francesca exclaimed. “I hope the rest of the meal is cooked”, she thought.
In an attempt to calm his mother down and get her mind off the failed appetizers, Marco decided to give her a tour of the house he shared with Tina.
“Look, Ma. Isn’t this nice? A large airy kitchen with an island and plenty of room for a table and chairs. Here’s the dining room with a buffet and hutch filled with glasses and dishes that belonged to Tina’s great-grandmother. Isn’t the furniture beautiful? We got at a Roma’s in Brooklyn, imported from Italy. We even have a fenced-in backyard and patio with a barbecue grill. But the best part is two big bedrooms, each with a separate bathroom so there’s no fighting over who gets to shower first.”
Marco realized he was saying too much and talking way too fast; he laughed self-consciously, feeling like he was 10 years old again and his mother’s laser eyes were burning right through his skull after catching him in a lie. He squirmed uncomfortably and quickly closed the bathroom door when he noticed the towels that were on the rack were embroidered with the words “HIS” and “HERS”.
Francesca just nodded her head and mumbled “That’s nice” every so often; she may have seemed indifferent but that was far from true. If Francesca saw the bathroom towels, she gave no indication. Now Marco was nervous about that … a careless mistake on his part.
“Come in the kitchen, Ma. Let’s have a nice glass of wine to celebrate your first visit to our house” Marco suggested.
“Our house” thought Francesca.
Francesca sipped her wine and silently simmered on a low boil, her thoughts working overtime while Marco and Tina puttered around the kitchen. “Well, Tina certainly made herself right at home, bringing over all her great-grandmother’s dishes and glasses! I don’t get it. Unmarried men and women sharing a house?” Francesca asked herself. “Maybe in a big house with five or six other people and a lot of bedrooms, but an intimate space with two people of the opposite sex? I don’t like it! And how come the bedrooms have such big beds? Something fishy’s going on here!” Francesca tapped her foot impatiently, her eyes taking everything in.
Finally dinner was ready; throughout the meal, Francesca couldn’t help noticing how attentive Tina was to Marco. By now she was very suspicious about their relationship; she was sure there was more than just friendship between the two of them and their little interactions further convinced her there was something brewing between her son and his “house mate”.
Recognizing the look on his mother’s face, Marco said “I know what you’re thinking, Ma, but I told you before – Tina and I are just friends. House mates. Don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.” Francesca smiled thinly and replied “Whatever you say, Marco”. But in her head she was thinking “House mates, my ass!”
About a week later Tina said to Marco “I know this is gonna sound crazy but I can’t find the napkin rings I used the night your mother was here. I’ve looked everywhere for them. You don’t think your mother took them, do you?”
“Well, I can’t imagine why she’d do that”, Marco replied, “but there’s only one way to find out. I’ll send her an email.”
Dear Ma – Crazy question! Tina’s napkin rings are missing. Now, I’m not saying you TOOK the napkin rings and I’m not saying you DIDN’T take them but they have been missing since you were here the other night and you were the only other person to see them. Love, Marco
A reply came through one minute later:
Dear Marco – Funny you should ask! Now, I’m not saying that you DO sleep with Tina and I’m not saying that you DON’T sleep with her but if she was sleeping alone in her OWN bed she would have found the napkin rings by now – under her pillow. Love, Ma
Oh, by the way, I saw the towels, too.
NAR © 2023
Please join me today
In The Groove
as we continue our musical journey.
It’s really getting good!
https://rhythmsection.blog/
“Motown was about music for all people – white and black, blue and green, cops and the robbers. I was reluctant to have our music alienate anyone.” – Berry Gordy, Motown Founder
🚗 🚙 🚗
Welcome back to In The Groove: Motown Melodies!
Let’s continue our musical journey with Motown’s third R&B #1 hit.
In 1960, Berry Gordy signed a talented group of vocalists called The Contours as one of Motown’s first acts. “Do You Love Me?”, recorded in 1962, was The Contours third single, far and away their best-known record. This song blazed its way up the charts and became a smash hit before being goosed all the way up the charts again more than 25 years later thanks to a little movie called “Dirty Dancing”.
This record is not just a big hit; it’s an enduring classic that’s still going strong!
Let’s give a listen to The Contours asking an age-old question: “Do You Love Me?”
For straight up Rock & Roll, it doesn’t get much better than that! I was just a kid when that song came out. My sister was a high school sophomore; she and her friends would jump up and dance every time The Contours came on the radio. They wouldn’t let me join in their teenage fun but that didn’t stop me. I made my own good times … dancing in my bedroom in front of the mirror with the door closed so no one could see me!
Do you remember dancing to that great Motown hit?
Well, sixty years later, under the direction and leadership of the group’s founder, Joe Billingslea, The Contours continue to shake ’em down. During its distinguished career, the group has entertained tens of millions of fans and sold millions of records along the way. The Contours are ranked as one of the top 500 R&B artists of all time according to “Top R&B Singles 1952-1995″ compiled from Billboard Magazine’s charts.
Let’s see what other recordings I can come up with for The Contours.
And now here’s a rare clip; if you haven’t been dancing yet, this is one that’ll get you moving!
I hope you’ve been enjoying these great early Motown tunes; they sure have brought back a lot of memories for me. Your comments are always welcome so let me know what you’re thinking.
Thanks for stopping by today; please join me next Tuesday as we conclude this segment of In The Groove with more great sounds out of the Motor City. 🚗
Keep on movin’ and groovin’, kids.
See you on the flip side.
I’m The Sicilian Storyteller
NAR © 2023
What great luck!
I caught the train in the nick of time and snagged the last seat.
I sighed, closed my eyes and dozed off.
Not one minute passed and the woman next to me started yakking.
She gabbed, blabbed and jabbered on.
I would have gladly strangled her but people were all around.
My head started pounding and I felt a migraine coming on.
This blatherskite wouldn’t shut up and I was trapped.
What rotten luck!
NAR © 2023
77 Words
An ekphrastic vignette written for the last issue of Visual Verse.
Happy to say I made the final cut. Thanks, sis.
ON BROKEN WINGS
There’s a feeling you get when a relationship is about to end. It sort of sneaks up on you like ivy climbing up a tree trunk. You see it starting but it’s nothing terribly worrisome; then it slowly starts working its way up the trunk until it overtakes the tree. It’s got a strangle-hold on that poor tree, suffocating it. It doesn’t matter if it’s a mighty oak or a frail mimosa; the ivy will win out every time.
That’s the feeling I now had for Jeremy and I don’t know why. I just knew it was time to break things off. That was clear; what wasn’t clear was how I was going to tell him.
It’s not as though we started off like a couple of teenagers on a hormone rush. Ours was a gradual connection much like our disconnection. We had chemistry. We could make each other laugh. We liked the same music, the same food, the same movies. We could talk at length or enjoy a quiet, lazy Sunday afternoon. And we had great sex.
Jeremy gave me a rose-colored braided love knot ring; I accepted it because it was pretty and didn’t feel as permanent as a real ring.
We talked about moving in together but it never happened. Now I’m glad we didn’t; that would have made things so much harder. It was good to come and go as we pleased; now I found we were doing that less and less. I don’t believe it was deliberate; we just started drifting apart. Everything gradually slowed down and cooled off. I realized at some point I had finally exhaled and I was no longer suffocating.
We spent a cool Spring afternoon sitting on a bench at the beach. Watching the waves rolling in and falling back, I knew the time had come. Quietly I told Jeremy what I was feeling and he slowly nodded in agreement. I think he was glad the pressure was off him. I started to remove my ring but Jeremy refused to take it back.
I slowly walked away and took the long route home through the park. It had begun to drizzle. I stared down at the pavement as I walked. Just then I came upon a dead bird at my feet. I stood there staring at the poor little finch; he must have fallen out of his nest. I took a few tissues from my pocket, wrapped them around the bird and carefully picked him up; he was still warm, his tiny body limp.
I carried the lifeless bird home and retrieved a small spade from my gardening tools on the back porch. It began raining a little heavier as I dug a deep hole beneath the tidy row of boxwoods; there I buried the bird. Before filling his grave with dirt, I took off Jeremy’s rose-colored ring and placed it across the broken wings.
My face was wet; I didn’t know if it was the rain or my tears.
NAR © 2023
Just who in the hell do you think you are
Sitting out there in your flashed up car?
Everybody knows that you’re just a fool
Strutting ‘round town like you’re oh so cool!
You chased me and wooed me and swept me off my feet
With dime store trinkets and whispered lies so sweet.
I felt so very special when we were out together.
Ignoring all my friends when they said I could do better.
It didn’t take long for your true colors to show.
And you turned into someone I didn’t even know.
That was just the start of a whirlwind of deceit.
Thinking you could use me and then kick me to the street.
My father always told me you were nothing but scum
But I just wouldn’t listen, I acted deaf and dumb.
You think you’re perfect like Jesus walking on water
But tell me, what kind of man leaves his wife and daughter?
What happened to your soul, your spirit, your heart?
Did you ever once wonder why it all just fell apart?
Of course you didn’t; your conscience is clean
Of every misdeed you claim to have never seen.
So do us all a favor and get the hell out of here.
Don’t come close to me or the ones I hold so dear.
Take your heart of rotten wood and don’t bother to return.
You’re going straight to hell and I’ll be laughing while you burn!
NAR © 2023
242 Words
We sat in the Gabrielle Dining Room of the Hotel Bennett, the same table by the window where we dined while on our honeymoon five years earlier.
Paul looked so handsome; I couldn’t look away as he smiled at me, the corners of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.
My dress was his favorite – the black velvet with the daring neckline. After five years of marriage he was still captivated by me.
And I loved him, I truly did.
But business came first.
I whispered “Goodbye, darling”.
Too late, he became aware of the sniper’s laser aimed at his heart.
NAR © 2023
100 Words
