The 1965 movie “The Sound of Music” is a tuneful, heartwarming story based on the lives of the Von Trapp Family singers, one of the world’s best-known concert groups in the era immediately preceding World War II.
Julie Andrews plays the role of Maria, a postulant at an Austrian abbey with an abundance of youthful enthusiasm and a lack of discipline. Maria becomes a governess in the home of a widowed naval captain (Christopher Plummer) with seven children, and brings a new passion for music, life and love into the home.
There are so many gorgeous songs from this film penned by the genius duo of Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein. Rather than throw a dart at the list of songs, I have chosen to go with the glorious theme song – “The Sound of Music” sung by the profoundly talented Julie Andrews.
Magnificent scenery, a terrific story and the talent of Julie Andrews combined for an Academy Award-winning combination!
Do you have a favorite song from this wonderful movie? Please share your thoughts or post a video.
Thanks for joining me today At The Movies; catch you next time!
Fandango asks us: DO YOU EVER USE A MEAL DELIVERY SERVICE SUCH AS DOORDASH (OR WHATEVER LOCAL EQUIVALENTS ARE AVAILABLE IN YOUR PART OF THE WORLD)? IF SO, HOW OFTEN WOULD YOU SAY YOU HAVE MEALS DELIVERED TO YOUR DOORSTEP?
“Mom! I’m starvin’! What’s for dinner!”
“Me too, Mom! I’m so hungry! I didn’t eat all day!”
“Well, I’m hugrier than both of you! I’m so hungry I could eat a horse!”
“So what! I could eat a hippo!”
“Big deal! I could eat an elephant!”
“Kids! Please! I’ve been busy cleaning the house and doing laundry all day. I forgot to take something out of the freezer for dinner. We’ll have to get something delivered.”
“Yeah! I want Smashburger. Let’s call DoorDash or GrubHub or Uber Eats!”
“No, Jimmy! We had Smashburger last night. I wanna get Panera Bread!”
“Well, too bad, Betty. Nobody wants Panera Bread except you, right Bobby?”
“Well, I don’t want Smashburger OR Panera Bread. I want Domino’s!”
“SMASHBURGER!”
“PANERA BREAD!”
“DOMINO’S!”
“SMASHBURGER! PANERA BREAD! DOMINO’S”
“SMASHBURGER! PANERA BREAD! DOMINO’S”
“Kids! Stop shouting! I’ve got an awful headache and I’m going upstairs to rest.”
“SMASHBURGER! PANERA BREAD! DOMINO’S!”
“SMASHBURGER! PANERA BREAD! DOMINO’S!”
“DADDY’S HOME! DADDY’S HOME!”
“Hey, guys! What’s all the shouting about? I can hear you all the way out in my car. What’s going on?”
“Mommy forgot to take something out of the freezer for dinner…”
“So we’re getting DoorDash or GrubHub or Uber Eats…”
“I want Smashburger, Betty wants Panera Bread and Bobby wants Domino’s.”
“All right! Calm down! Where’s your mom, anyway?”
“She’s got a headache.”
“Again!”
“And she’s upstairs resting.”
“OK, listen guys. I’m going upstairs to check on mom. Watch a movie and be quiet!“
“I wanna watch Spiderman!”
“You’re stupid! I wanna watch Mulan!”
“I hate you! I wanna watch Super Mario Bros!”
“MOM! DAD! MOM! DAD! MOM! DAD!”
“STOP SHOUTING THIS MINUTE!! MOM AND I HAVE DECIDED. WE’RE ORDERING FROM THE DINER SO EVERYONE CAN GET WHATEVER THEY WANT FROM ONE PLACE. SIT THERE WHILE I GET THE MENU.”
“Walnut hair and skin so fair Freckles like stars on her nose Green eyes glittering like precious jewels And lips as soft as a rose”
“Hey, Pops, what’s that you’re singing? I’ve never heard it before”.
“Brady, I didn’t see you there” replied Ben Williams as he leaned his guitar against the porch wall. “Just an old number I wrote for your Mom. Another lifetime.”
“Pops, can I ask you something? It makes me sad how little I remember about Mom. What was she like?”
“Oh, son. That’s not easy to answer. Your mom was a real beauty, a feast for the eyes. And we were happy. We had you and your sister our first two years together. Then I got that trucking job and your Mom was alone a lot. It’s hard on a woman when her man is away for weeks at a time, especially with babies to care for. She was special and she loved you kids – don’t you ever forget that – but she got lonely.”
Ben continued. “When Ron Carter’s wife died your Mom befriended him. They were both lonely and found comfort together. I don’t blame her for that. One day when I was home from the road she brought Ron a cherry pie. She took your sister with her and they never came back. How I wish she’d stayed but I couldn’t force her to be happy here. From that point on it was just you and me.”
Father and son sat in contemplative silence.
“You know, Pops, at first I thought Mom would come back soon. Then I gave up on that dream and convinced myself she had died. Strange thing is, thinking she was dead was easier than believing she abandoned us.”
Ben let out a ragged sigh. “Thank God I had you, Brady. You didn’t know it but you kept me from falling apart. Getting that steady job at the hardware store was a life saver and I was able to be here for you.”
“Then I started dating Rebecca and I was hardly ever home!” Brady laughed. “Marrying her and moving in here with you made my life complete.”
“That sweet gal of yours made my life complete, too, son. She filled a void in my heart and never once complained about having to live with her pain-in-the-ass father-in-law! Rebecca’s like a daughter to me” declared Ben.
“Pops, did you know Rebecca was the one who insisted we live here with you. Not too many women would do that. And our kids are crazy about you! You’ve taught them a lot.”
“I love those munchkins, Brady! You all made this house a home and a broken old man whole again.”
Rebecca poked her head out the screen door. “Dinner in ten minutes, you two. Please round up the kids and everybody get washed up.”
That night Rebecca asked Brady what he and his father had been talking about.
Take one singer, add one acoustic guitar, mix together and come up with the most talked-about Country video of 2006.
“Stay” was recorded by the country duo of Jennifer Nettles (lead vocals) and Kristian Bush (vocals, guitar, mandolin) who together made up the group “Sugarland”.
The heartbreak in Nettles’ distinct voice [sprinkled liberally with a heavy Georgia accent] coupled with tightly clenched fists and tears spilling from her eyes make this number more than a song; it’s a performance. She plays the role of a distraught woman asking her man to stay with her and not run off to his lover whenever she calls.
“Stay” reached a peak position of #2 on the Billboard Hot Country Songs charts where it stayed for four weeks. The song, written solely by Jennifer Nettles, was ranked #10 on CMT’s 100 Greatest Videos.
Listen, watch and see for yourself why this video is so talked-about. Here is “Sugarland” doing “Stay”.
“I’ve given you my best, why does she get the best of you?” What a great line that is!
When I first saw this video and heard the sorrow in Jennifer Nettles’ voice, I felt like I was intruding on something extremely painful and personal. I couldn’t look away; her grief is very real and very raw. The subject of betrayal is something everyone can relate to,
Here’s the question of the day; there are no right or wrong answers and every answer is a good one.
Music touches us in so many different ways; it can bring us great joy or terrible sadness. Can you think of a song or video that affects you profoundly.
My answer is the Italian song “Caruso” by Lucio Dalla. The music is heartbreakingly beautiful and Dalla’s voice is desperate with grief.
I’d love to see your comments so please share your thoughts or simply post a video.
Have a great week; I’ll catch you next time In The Groove.
One of our followers, Keith Allen, AKA “The Nostalgic Italian“, has written a guest post which we’re sure you’ll find entertaining, interesting and enlightening. It’s guaranteed to brighten up your Sunday. Enough talking from me; I’m going to hand the reigns over to Keith for the first edition of Be Our Guest in The Rhythm Section. Let’s give him a warm welcome! Take it away, Keith!
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I’m Keith, known to my blog followers as “The Nostalgic Italian.” I am honored to have been invited by Nancy to share some songs with you. I suppose it is only fitting that I start with an Italian song from my favorite Italian singer – Dean Martin.
If someone asked me to pick my favorite Dean Martin album, I would probably pick “Dino – Italian Love Songs.” I have this on vinyl and I have listened to it more than once on the record player my wife bought me for my birthday a few years back. The entire album is fantastic and includes some of his biggest hits.
One of my favorite cuts on the album is a song written by Johnny Cola called “Vieni Su“. The song was never released as a single, but it should have been.
As far as the lyrics to this song, there aren’t many. As a matter of fact, it’s one verse and a chorus. Perhaps that’s what makes it all the more powerful to me. In Italian, Vieni means “come” and Su means “on”. The song is about a man who has waited for his special woman. He adores her and loves her. Now, he wants her to come with him through the years ahead and spend the time ahead together. A simple love story.
The song was recorded while Dean was still with Capitol Records. The melody of this song is just beautiful. I love the entire arrangement of this song. Dean’s vocal is simple, and spot on. It is such a perfect love song.
For me personally, it takes on a whole new meaning. Ever since becoming a father I wished for a daughter. I have two sons from my first marriage and shortly afterward, I was told I only had about a 4% chance of ever having more children. When I remarried, we were surprised to find we were expecting our first child together. We decided to find out the gender and I was overjoyed to find out we were having a baby girl. Ever since she was born, it is a song that I sing to her. When you hear the song, or read the lyrics, you will see just how much they mean to me. It is a song that I can listen to over and over again.
Vieni Su
Vieni su, vieni su, vieni Come along through the years with me
Can’t you see how I adore you And how long I waited for you
Vieni su, vieni su
Won’t you say you love me too
Can’t you see how much I adore you And how long I waited for you Vieni su, vieni su Won’t you say you love me too
Well, I hope you enjoyed my first contribution to Be Our Guest here at The Rhythm Section! Please leave a comment or even your favorite Dean Martin video and maybe I’ll be asked back again to do another slot.
L is for the louse I almost married Glad I learned before I tied the knot With him my life was always harried I knew that I deserved another shot
O is for the opinionated SOB He never agreed with anything I said He wanted other lovers besides me So I kicked the bugger right out of my bed
V is for the many vices he enjoyed Out all night and sleeping all day long Now the slouch no longer is employed And he still can’t figure out what he did wrong
E is for the engagement ring he gave me It was nothing but a chintzy piece of glass I had no other choice, as you can see But to boot him out and kick his sorry ass
Not all people are the marrying kind Regardless of what everybody thinks When you’re sure you’ve got yourself a real find Turns out the ugly truth is that love stinks
You’ve heard the song that love is all you need And for the longest time I really felt that way But that man of mine was just a real bad seed And that’s the truth, no matter what folks say
So think twice before you walk down that church aisle Heed my advice and listen to my plea Take your time, no need to rush, just wait a while Because there’s plenty more fish swimming in the sea
I was thinking about that night back in March when Max and I went out walking. We were both feeling a little restless and unsettled; walks always took the edge off. It was really quiet on that road; even the usual noisy critters in the woods were not chattering. A brightness broke through the clouds and fog, lighting the way as we went moon walking. That’s when I started softly reminiscing about my life with Max.
“You know, Max, it’s hard to believe we’ve been together four years already – just you and me, constant companions. I still think about the first time we found each other. We both really needed someone in our lives at that time, somebody to fill a void. It didn’t take long before we were best friends.
Working from home during Covid took a little getting used to; being in each other’s space 24/7 could have been disastrous but it turned out to be a blessing. We kept each other from going crazy while holed up inside. I imagined a lot of staring out the window, whining. Thank goodness for that park across the street and our quick jogs for groceries.
Yeah, Max. You’re my main man and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ve been tossing some stuff around in my head and I have something very important I need to run by you, buddy: you see, I’ve found someone.
Now, don’t start getting weird on me, Max. This is new territory for me, bringing someone into my life – into your life, too. She’s become very important to me and I hope you’ll like her as much as I do. I’ve been giving this a lot of thought and I’d like her to move in with me … with us. I know this is all very sudden and it’s asking a lot, which is why I want you to meet her and get to know her.
She makes me happy, Max, and I can see all of us spending our lives together. She’s sweet, beautiful and loving. Well, you’ll see for yourself; she’s going to meet us here tonight. I call her Sasha.”
Max and I gave each other a look and I wondered if my eyes said “I know this is a lot to take in”. As we approached a large tree along the side of the road, there was Sasha, waiting for us, and I quickened my step to greet her. We nuzzled and sniffed each other, totally forgetting Max was standing a few feet away, patiently waiting. I looked back and forth between my two loves – one canine and one human – and I hoped Sasha and Max would become best friends, just like me and Max.
Finally Max came over to us and squatted down for a better look. I had no idea what he was going to say and I was a bit nervous. For the first time since we started our walk, Max spoke:
“Well, look at you, Miss Sasha! Aren’t you a pretty girl? You’ve got a lovely lady friend here, Jake, a petite chocolate lab. Let’s see; do you have a collar? Nope, nothing. Well, you’re either a stray, a run-away or someone let you go. I can’t imagine that, not a pretty girl like you.”
Just then Sasha darted over to the tree and emerged with a puppy dangling from her mouth; my heart did a flip. Our little guy couldn’t have been more than a couple of days old. Sasha walked right up to Max.
“Well, would you look at that!” Max laughed. “A little guy and he looks just like you, Jake! I guess congratulations are in order. Well, Jake, Sasha. What do you say we all head home? Sasha, may l carry your pup for you?”
Sasha looked up at Max with trusting eyes and gently placed our pup in his hands. We all headed home, walking in the moonlight; Max hummed a happy tune while Sasha and I trotted close beside.
“Sasha, we really need to find a nice woman for Max, don’t you think?” and my love gave a little woof of agreement.
What the hell are you looking at? Never seen a raccoon before? And what’s with the fence? A “NO TRESPASSING” sign would have sufficed. Whatever happened to “Mi casa es su casa”? You wanna play a little game of “Climb This Fence”? OK, you’re on! I can climb this fence before you can say: “Rocky Raccoon runs rings around reclining redheads”. Psst! Turn around, Carrot Top! I’m on the other side. Haha! Look, in my defense, I got a wife and six kids waiting for me back at the dumpster and we gotta eat. A baby’s full dirty diaper feeds a family of eight quite nicely. Hey, don’t look at me like that! One man’s poop is another’s Pâté de Poulet. Next time, leave some tabasco sauce; my wife likes it hot! Ha-cha-cha-cha!
“So, what brings you here today, Lou?” asked Dr. Patterson.
“I can’t sleep,Doc!” replied Lou in despair. “I’m so tired! I haven’t slept a wink!”
“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that!” laughed the doctor. “Look, Lou. Of all the ailments people discuss with me, the greatest number of complaints isn’t about body aches, irritable bowels, erectile dysfunction or psoriasis: the most talked-about topic is lack of sleep. Falling asleep at bedtime and getting a good night’s rest is a problem that plagues millions so you’re not alone in this. I’m going to ask you some questions; let’s see if we can come up with a solution.”
Lou yawned and nodded in agreement. His wife Marie chimed in. “Maybe you should start by telling the doctor how much coffee you drink every day.”
“Ok, that’s an excellent suggestion. How much coffee do you drink, Lou?” asked Dr. Patterson, his fingers hovering over the keys of his computer.
“Oh, I guess about eight cups a day and an espresso after dinner. We have one of those – whatchamacallits – Nespresso machines. Fantastic things! Just pop in a little plastic capsule and brew yourself fresh coffee in no time”
“Whoa! That’s a lot of caffeine!” The doctor was clearly surprised.” You need to cut back. If you drink that much coffee, at least half of it should be decaf. I’d like to eventually get you down to just one cup of regular coffee in the morning. How about alcohol?”
“Go ahead, Lou. Answer the doctor” Marie said, giving her husband a nudge with her elbow.
“I’ll have a couple of glasses of my cousin Carlo’s homemade vino while Marie’s preparing dinner. And another glass or two with dinner. Oh yeah, I like a nice sambucca while I’m watching “The Tonight Show” with that Jimmy Fallon. He’s a funny guy!”
The doctor stared at Lou allowing his words to sink in. “That’s five alcoholic drinks per day!” Dr. Patterson was flabbergasted.
“Give or take. Yeah, that sounds about right” was Lou’s reply as the doctor shook his head in amazement.
“What form of exercise do you engage in?” the doctor asked.
“Exercise!?” squawked Marie. “The strongest parts of his body are hisfingers … from pushing himself away from the dining room table, surfing the interweb and using the remote control.He gets his exercise by watching Stallone running up and down those steps in that Rocky movie … as if that’s gonna work, you stupid jackass!”
Lou’s eyes shot daggers at his wife. She shrugged. “What? It’s the truth, Lou, and you know it.”
“What about your diet, Lou?” asked Dr. Patterson while eyeing Lou’s sizable belly.
“Diet? I ain’t on no diet, doc! My Marie is a fabulous cook!” Lou exclaimed, making her blush. “She makeseverything from scratch, including her pizza, pasta, braciola, arancini – you name it, she can make it. And her ricotta cheesecake? Fuggedaboutit!”
“Well, it’s wonderful that Marie’s such a great cook but it sounds like you’re eating a lot of rich, fattening foods” the doctor replied with concern.
“What’s wrong with pizza?” Lou asked incredulously. “It’s the perfect food – something from all the food groups. You got your carbohydrates, your protein and your dairy, right?”
“Well, technically, yes but I wouldn’t call it ‘the perfect food’. Dr. Patterson entered all Lou’s information into his computer. “Let me get this straight, Lou. Your caffeine and alcohol intake is off the charts, you eat rich foods and desserts, you spend a lot of time in front of some type of device, you stay up late and you don’t exercise. Is that about right?”
“Yeah, I guess” Lou admitted begrudgingly.
“Do you realize that everything you’re doing is adversely affecting your quality of sleep? And what about you, Marie! How well do you sleep?”
“Who, me? Why, I sleep like a rock” Marie answered proudly.
“You’re not kidding! You should hear her snore, doc!” Lou guffawed. “What a racket! It sounds like bocce balls rolling around the court! Hey! That’s probably why I can’t sleep!”
Marie huffed indignantly.
“You snore, Marie? Sounds to me like you could have sleep apnea – a serious disorder. Considering everything we’ve discussed I’m referring you, Lou, to a life management specialist. And Marie, I’m scheduling a sleep disorder study for you.”
Lou and Marie stared at the doctor in shock.
“Can’t you just give me some sleeping pills?” pleaded Lou.
“And maybe all I need are some of those nose strips” Marie suggested hopefully.
“I’m afraid not. You need to make some serious life changes” replied the doctor showing Marie and Lou to the door. “Just stop by the desk on your way out and Victoria will have all the paperwork ready for you.”
“Thanks a lot, Marie, making me tell the doctor everything! Now I gotta see a specialist!” Lou griped. “This is all your fault!”
“Oh, shut up, Lou! Thanks to you, I gotta go for a sleep study! Well, you can get your own damn dinner tonight. I’m on strike!”
Rocky Balboa, a small-time boxer from working-class Philadelphia, is arbitrarily chosen to take on the reigning world heavyweight champion, Apollo Creed, when the undefeated fighter’s scheduled opponent is injured. Will this chance of a lifetime be the break Rocky’s been waiting for or is he fated to be a no-name boxer forever?
“Gonna Fly Now”, composed by Bill Conti, is the immediately recognizable theme song from the movie “Rocky”. Released in 1976, the song became entrenched in 1970s American pop culture as part of the daily training regimen of the film’s main character and namesake, Rocky Balboa.
Who doesn’t love the movies and music from the Rocky franchise? And no one could ever play Rocky Balboa like Sylvester Stallone.
Enjoy this clip from Rocky featuring Bill Conti and “Gonna Fly Now”; it really gets the juices flowing!
Stallone always manages to entertain, whether playing Rocky, Rambo or even a Rhinestone Cowboy! Do you have a favorite Stallone movie?
Just a reminder that our friend Keith, The Nostalgic Italian, will be featured in our first guest post slot this Sunday, August 6. I hope to see you there at Be Our Guest.
That’s a wrap, kids; now hit the showers. Catch you back here next time.
Fantasy Land, May 2, 1865 – The day started out as any ordinary sunny spring day in Fantasy Land but by noon the town was in a frenzy for the news was out that 9 year old Mary Andrews had lost her lamb, Snowflake. Mary had Snowflake for only a few months but they had become attached to each other immediately, so much so that he followed her to school every day, even though Mary knew it was against the rules. Teacher Sarah Johnson had this to say: “Mary’s such a lovely girl and Snowflake is so sweet with his fleece as white as snow. I didn’t mind the fact that the lamb followed Mary to school because she always tied him to a nearby tree but today for some reason he followed her right into the classroom. As you can imagine all the children wanted to do was laugh and play.” Pressed for more information, Miss Johnson went on to say that she took Snowflake outside herself and tied him to the tree but when the children went out to play, the lamb was nowhere in sight. The three blind mice who live across the road from the school became rather indignant when questioned about the incident. “Of course we didn’t see anything, you fool! We’re blind as bats! But we did hear some strange noises near the tree shortly before the children came outside.” When asked to described the noises one mouse said “It sounded like pulling or tugging” while another thought it was more like a snapping sound. The third mouse added “There was definitely a scuffle of some sort. Poor little Snowflake.” Mary’s parents, Abigail and Wyatt Andrews, rushed to the school to console their daughter. Mr. Andrews was visibly upset to learn that the teacher had taken Snowflake away from Mary. “She had no right touching that lamb. She’s a school teacher, not a farmer and has no idea how to tie a proper knot. She should have asked Mary to tie Snowflake to the tree like she always does.” Moments later Little Bo-Peep arrived on the scene and was asked her opinion on the incident. “Well, I’ve been a shepherdess for a long time now and if there’s one thing I know it’s this: If you leave them alone they’ll come home wagging their tails behind them.” By mid-afternoon all the town’s residents had gathered at the school and formed search parties to look for Snowflake. Even Humpty Dumpty was there, sad and terribly broken up. In all my years as a reporter I’ve never seen such an outpouring of support. A new development as Hansel and Gretel just arrived at the school. “Wait! We think we can help!” they cried and tearfully reminded those of us still at the school of their traumatic encounter with the evil witch who held them captive in her gingerbread house. “We all know how much Snowflake loves to eat wildflowers” Hansel said. Gretel added “The witch has flowers growing all around her house. If she get’s Snowflake to follow her there, the poor little guy won’t stand a chance.” With great trepidation we entered the forest and came upon the witch’s house. There she was, gnarled and bent over, dragging a bleating Snowflake behind her. “STOP!!” the witch shrieked, “I’ll kill him right before your eyes!” Suddenly, Humpty Dumpty appeared out of nowhere and ran up to Snowflake, freeing him from the witch’s clutches. Snatching Humpty, the witch cackled “Fine! Take your precious lamb! I don’t need him. I’ll feast on scrambled eggs all week!” and she disappeared into the dark forest with Humpty. What an act of bravery exhibited by Humpty Dumpty! He was indeed a good egg.
Today I am featuring works from the solo career of the extremely prolific Paul McCartney.
I’d like to share with you two McCartney songs which really impressed me. The first one is called “Don’t Let the Sun Catch You Crying” which is done very much in the style of a jazzy Billy Joel. This is NOT the Gerry and the Pacemakers’ hit we all know and love. Written in 1946 by Joe Greene, this number is included on the 1990 LP by McCartney called “Tripping the Live Fantastic.“
The second song is a piece entitled “Used To Be Bad” which harkens back to the sounds of The Steve Miller Band and ZZ Top (not surprising since it was co-written by McCartney and Miller). This one is a bluesy number which keeps going from start to finish and can be found on McCartney’s 1997 “Flaming Pie” LP. Upon its release, the time was ripe for McCartney to deliver an album steeped in Beatles lore and that’s exactly what he claimed “Flaming Pie” was all about.
For your listening enjoyment, here now is the one and only Macca with two very different-sounding pieces.
So, what’d you think of the ex-Beatle turned jazzy blues piano man?
The only question for today is which one of these songs you liked the best.
I hope you enjoyed hearing a little Macca today; in all honesty, I’m really not a fan of Paul’s solo work but I did like these two. I’m casting my vote for the funky blues sound of “Used to Be Bad”.
Please join me next week for another edition of In The Groove. Enjoy the rest of your week and all the upcoming music here on The Rhythm Section!
The first time I felt my baby move inside me, I was in the bathtub. I felt a tiny flutter in my belly and thought “maybe”. Then the water rippled and my heart soared. ❤︎
It’s Sunday so that means you have another shot at seeing if you can decipher my clues and Name That Tune.
Are you ready to play? Ok, let’s get this thing going! Here are your five clues:
According to the performer of today’s song, the title was derived from and inspired by a spiritual co-written by Sam Cooke.
The song for today was featured in the 1986 film of the same name about a group of boys trying to find a friend who had gone missing.
Our featured performer rose to prominence as one of the principal lead singers of the R&B vocal group The Drifters.
This song has been covered numerous times, most notably by Otis Redding and John Lennon, but the recording today is the most popular version and the biggest hit.
Today’s artist started his solo career in 1960; his first solo hit was “Spanish Harlem” and the following year he had a second hit with today’s song.
So, how’d you do? Do you think you know the name of the song and who performed it?
Let’s see if you’re right. Scroll down for the big reveal.
That’s right! The answer is “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King. Did you guess it? What was your “Aha!” moment?
Are you ready to hear the song and watch a little clip from the movie? Ok, let’s go!
What a great coming-of-age film! This movie, based on Stephen King’s novella “The Body”, was directed by Rob Reiner and starred Wil Wheaton, River Phoenix, Corey Feldman and Jerry O’Connell.
It’s great hearing these terrific songs, don’t you think? How many of you remember The Platters? I sure do and my favorite song by them is “Twilight Time”. Check it out next time you’re on YouTube.
Next week in this slot there will be a surprise post waiting for you. I have gladly forfeited my August 6 edition of Name That Tune for a special guest post …. our first here on The Rhythm Section. Please stay tuned for what I know will be a great addition to our site!
I hope you had fun with me today playing Name That Tune! Catch ya later, kids!
Everything was going fine until it wasn’t. Then Joe and Willie met – two guys down on their luck.
Willie grew up in the street, standing outside saloons dancing a jig just to earn a coin for something to eat. Some days he’d get tossed a fresh cigarette; he’d break it in half, smoke one piece first and save the other behind his ear for later. One odd job led to another but nothing steady and he’d move on, some bread and cheese in a sack over his shoulder.
Now Joe was a lucky SOB. Born in a brothel, all the ladies took him to their bosoms. By the time he was eight, he knew what was what. Life was good until the girls got sick and the house was shut down. Joe fell through the cracks. He found a bit of money, some jewelry and food left behind, placed it in a bag and took off.
Willie and Joe met while hopping freight trains and chasing their dreams. Willie was on the track to nowhere but Joe had his sights on California gold. By now Willie was sick … “consumption”, he said; Joe kept an eye on him. When you got only one friend in the world, that person means something.
They planned to hop the freight train heading west. Willie never made it, coughing to death one night in the train yard. Joe placed Willie’s hat over his face and ran for the biggest, fastest iron horse California bound.
“Now listen up, Pumpkin, and don’t turn around. As far as you’re concerned, I’m not here and we’re definitely not together.
We’ve been over and over this scenario two dozen times and I know you know it by heart, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over a lifetime of grifting is if something can go wrong, it will. Best to be prepared for anything so let’s go over it one more time. Just give Gramps a yawn if you’re with me.“
*Yawn*
“That’s my girl. If there’s anything you don’t understand, give me a little cough. Now there’s a couple of good marks coming our way. They’re completely oblivious. I’m telling you, Pumpkin; people like this make my job easy as pie!
Ok, here’s the plan. I’m gonna start acting like I’m not feeling too good – chest pains or trouble breathing. I’ll probably slump over onto the bench; that’s always very effective. Don’t turn around if I do that, ok Pumpkin? I’m alright and it’s all for show, got it?”
*Yawn*
“Good girl! So once people notice I’m in distress, they’re gonna come over to see if they can help. They’re gonna be concentrating on me – not their stuff and definitely not you. When everyone is distracted, that’s your cue to act. Just slip your little hand into their pockets, their purses, their shopping bags. Do it smooth, feather-light and quick. Whatever you snatch, drop it into your shopping bag. Don’t be greedy and don’t stay too long. And don’t look at me, you hear?”
*Yawn*
“When you’re done, turn around and walk away – not too fast and not too slow. Just amble into the department store and go to our designated spot. Once I’ve reassured everyone that I’m ok – just a little asthma attack – and I don’t need an ambulance, I’ll come meet you. If anything, anything at all doesn’t feel right or things go wrong, ditch the plan. Forget about me. Just take your bag and walk away, got it?”
*Yawn*
“And one last thing, Pumpkin. Remember our pinky swear.Not one word of this to your mom and dad.”
Reposting this from 2021. Initially I thought it would be a good companion piece for today’s “Moon River” post on At The Movies in The Rhythm Section. Then I saw Fandango’s comment when this was originally published (see bottom) and I got all verklempt. A giant ‘thank you’, Fan; it really is a fine little story, isn’t it? ❤︎
For as long as I can remember my Uncle Bobby was my idol – the self-proclaimed “Poster Boy for Home Depot”. In fact, I can’t recall a time when he wasn’t fixing this or repairing that. He was the neighborhood handyman, the guy everyone called to replace a broken window or unclog their toilet. He could paint a room like nobody’s business, his cutting-in seams done to perfection without the use of that “sissy painter’s tape”. Yep, he was like a magician, my Uncle Bobby was, and I loved following him around on his odd jobs, delighting at his request for me to hand him a Phillips head screwdriver or a roll of duct tape.
Uncle Bobby was a no-frills kind of guy; what you saw was what you got with him. He was my dad’s brother, living with us in the spare room of our old rambling Victorian house. He must have replaced just about every board of the huge porch that wrapped itself around the house. My mom would complain that the decking looked like a patchwork quilt with no two pieces of wood being exactly the same. Uncle Bobby would always say the same thing: “Don’t worry ‘bout nothing, Margie. They’ll all weather with age and you’ll never be able to tell ‘em apart.” But they never did and the porch truly looked like a jigsaw puzzle.
The biggest problem with Uncle Bobby was the fact that he couldn’t really fix anything that required true skill, like a washing machine or a radio or a power lawnmower. Whenever he attempted such jobs, he’d inevitably have a couple of pieces left over even after he finished putting the whole thing back together! He’d toss all the unused parts into a ten-gallon drum in our basement (which was also his workshop). Funny thing was everything he was asked to repair would work fine for a while, then breakdown after several days anyway. Uncle Bobby would explain that he “fixed the dang thing but it was just its time to go”. I think I was the only one who knew about his stash of leftover essential pieces which doubled in size on a weekly basis.
Truth was Uncle Bobby had more crap in our basement than Carter had liver pills and he was slowly but surely inching his way over to the cramped corner where my mom had her washing machine. She finally put her foot down one day and demanded he either clean up his crap or build a wall around her laundry area so she wouldn’t have to look at all his crap. Rather than clean up the place, Uncle Bobby built mom a wall. Even she had to admit it was the best looking wall she’d ever seen, with a door and everything!
Believe it or not, Uncle Bobby was a genuine ladies’ man and he “cleaned up real nice” as old Mrs. Jenkins liked to say. He’d wash up in the basement using Lava Soap, shave with menthol Barbasol and splash on the Aqua Velva then head out to Kelly’s Place for ribs and a few beers. All the girls liked Uncle Bobby but his favorites were the Andrews twins, Patty and Paula. They didn’t seem to mind the perpetual ring of dirt under Uncle Bobby’s fingernails; no matter how many times he washed his hands that grime stayed put. He said it was “the mark of a hard-working man”.
Uncle Bobby loved watching those old black and white tv shows like Flash Gordon, Superman and The Twilight Zone. He had a real fascination with outer space and anything that could fly. That’s probably why he loved “The Honeymooners” – that classic Jackie Gleason comedy show; he’d laugh his head off every time Ralph Kramden roared his trademark tagline “To the moon, Alice!”
I’ll never forget that one Christmas when I got a remote control airplane; I think Uncle Bobby spent more time playing with that damn thing than I did. He was happy as a pig in slop the day he found a used one at the church tag sale. He’d tinker with that thing every chance he could, making it fly higher and faster. He’d inevitably forget to include a piece or two which he’d just toss into that catch-all drum of his.
So one day out of nowhere right in the middle of dinner Uncle Bobby announced he had his mind set on building a rocket ship. Well, I think everyone thought it was an asinine idea except me and they all laughed it off as him just joking around as usual. But I knew Uncle Bobby better than anyone and he was dead serious. He told me he was gonna use all the bits and pieces and spare parts he’d collected over the years. And what he didn’t have, he’d scavenge for in dumpsters, rubbish piles outside people’s houses or the garbage bins behind Home Depot. Those places were like a magical treasure trove for Uncle Bobby and he always came home with something. “You never know when this might come in handy” he’d declare, proudly showing me a discarded catalytic converter or a manual typewriter.
Well, true to his word Uncle Bobby started construction on his rocket ship the morning of April 1st and the neighbors howled that it was the perfect April Fool’s Day joke ever. But it wasn’t no joke to Uncle Bobby and he worked on that craft every day. He pitched a tent in the backyard, rolled out that giant ten-gallon drum and went at it like a man possessed. And I was his helper; my special assignment was to find him a really good helmet and a cooler which I filled with Hawaiian Punch, bologna sandwiches and Twinkies.
By July 4th Uncle Bobby’s rocket ship was finished. To be honest it looked like a pile of junk but he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever made. He painted it red, white and blue and named it “Independence Day”. By now word had gotten out and the whole neighborhood was there to watch Uncle Bobby attempt to take off into the wild blue yonder. Sporting his best overalls and the cool viking helmet I found for him, he climbed in, waved goodbye and slammed the door shut.
Well, the damn thing sputtered and smoked and made all kinds of weird noises but it suddenly started shaking and actually took off. It was kinda wobbly at first but it just kept on going higher and higher until it disappeared into the clouds. We all stood there with our jaws hanging open, expecting to see the ship come crashing down any second – but it didn’t. We stayed out there for a long time, then gave up and went inside thinking Uncle Bobby would probably just waltz back in when he was good and ready with some great adventure tales to tell.
Damn thing was, we never did see the rocket ship or Uncle Bobby again. Boy, I sure do miss him!
Here’s to you, Rocket Man! Hope you had a great journey, wherever you are. 🚀
Johnny Mercer and Henry Mancini wrote the song “Moon River” for Audrey Hepburn to sing in the 1961 film, “Breakfast At Tiffany’s”, based on Truman Capote’s novella of the same. The lyrics, written by Mercer, are reminiscent of his childhood in Savannah, Georgia, including its waterways. Mercer said that as a child, he picked huckleberries in the summer and he connected them with his carefree childhood and Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn. You can imagine Johnny Mercer’s memories in this enchanting song.
In the movie “Breakfast At Tiffany’s”, Holly Golightly (Audrey Hepburn) is a deliciously eccentric New York City playgirl determined to marry a Brazilian millionaire. George Peppard plays her next-door neighbor, a writer who is “sponsored” by 2-E, a wealthy older woman who lives in the same building and is known only by her apartment number.
Guessing who’s the right man for Holly is easy. Seeing just how that romance blossoms is one of the enduring delights of this charming movie.
Singer Andy Williams splendidly crooned his way through the brilliant Oscar-winning Mancini/Mercer theme song. Let’s all relax and enjoy the smooth tones of Andy Williams singing “Moon River”.
There’s a new beautiful rendition of “Moon River” by Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck which Nick played for us a couple of weeks ago; I thought it would be fun to play it again today. Which one gets your vote – Andy or Eric & Jeff? Please share your comments with us.
I do love Andy Williams’ version but I can’t resist a good axe man … and here we have two in Clapton and Beck! What do you think?
Thanks for joining me today for a peek at this captivating film and a listen to this beautiful song. See you again next week.
Tomorrow is Friday so you know what that means: Nick is in the house and he’s breaking boundaries!
It’s time for another Sixer, courtesy of Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge.
“Melt away the fears and anxieties in your mind, feel them liquify and allow them to slowly trickle down your face and relax as tiny rivulets flow down your neck, shoulders, back, thighs, legs and finally your feet where they silently fall off the grid into the ‘Well of Anxiety and Panic’; keeping your eyes closed, cover the well, lock it in place trapping your anxieties inside, inhale, exhale, open your eyes and allow the calmness and peace to envelop you.”
After six long months of listening to my therapist repeat the same litany in her soft, sing-song voice, one would think I was well on my way to living a life free of worry, what-if scenarios, anxiety, panic attacks and Xanax.
Oh, I have my times of quiet lucidity … weeks of stress-free bliss when I can enjoy a lovely dinner with my husband or a carefree shopping trip in Manhattan, nights when I fall asleep quickly and easily and wake up refreshed and at peace.
Then just as I’m getting used to this ineffable comfort zone … WHAM BAM THANK YOU MA’AM!! … the panic machine is back with a vengeance, coming out of nowhere with all the subtlety of an 18 wheeler, taking over my life for hours upon days upon weeks only to suddenly, spontaneously run out of gas and coast away down the road leaving me in a safe haven until it reaches a rest stop where it can take a break and refill its gas tank for the next assault; it’s a cesspool of what-the-fuckedness, the grasping, squeezing dragging down quicksand of fuckedupedness!
Some Einstein once said “The intuitive mind is a sacred gift; the rational mind is a faithful servant.”
MIND – Noun: a beautiful servant; a dangerous master.
“’Settlers or Sellers’, that antiques show is coming on. Wanna watch, Doug?”
Just then the phone rang. It’s our daughter Chrissy talking about how tomorrow’s going to be a gorgeous day and our five grandkids really want us to go to the beach with them.
“Ok, honey. Sounds wonderful. We’ll see you in the morning. Yes, we’re looking forward to it.”
Doug, who had been happily watching “Seinfeld”, was now sitting imperially on the edge of the couch scowling at me.
“What was that remark ‘’we’ll see you in the morning’’? I don’t know about you, Helen, but the only people I’ll be seeing in the morning are my golf buddies. We’re going to rent a couple of carts, play 18 holes, drink martinis with lunch, talk sports and smoke cigars. I’m begging you, Helen. Don’t take my day away!”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic! You can play golf any day. When do we get to go to the beach with the kids.”
“As infrequently as possible!” Doug groused. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Oh, come on! Summer’s almost over and the kids are so looking forward to a day with us.”
“And I’m looking forward to seeing my buddies! We’ve had this outing planned for two weeks. Helen, must I remind you what hell it is going to the beach with the kids?”
“Doug, you’re making it sound horrible.”
“Helen, my love, it is horrible! We’ve been to the beach with the kids exactly three times. Do you know why? Because it’s HELL!”
“But Doug, I hate to disappoint them.”
“And that, my dear, is your Achilles Heel. We start off excited for a great beach day and within an hour it turns into hell. Chrissy brings so much stuff we’re like the Israelites crossing the desert. Who complains the sand is too hot? Who needs a diaper change? Who drops their lunch in the sand? Who fights over the sand toys? Before you know it, everyone’s crying, they want to go home and our wonderful day at the beach is kaput.”
“And you’re the one crying the loudest, Doug” I laughed.
“Damn right I am, woman. It’s a nightmare and you know it! Listen, why don’t I call the guys and suggest our lovely wives join us tomorrow? You haven’t played in months. How about it?”
The idea was very appealing. “Doug, do they still serve those delicious Celtic Guey Cocktails and Waldorf salads?”
“You bet they do! I know they’re you’re favorites. What do you say? Are we on?”
“Yes! We certainly are on! You call the guys and I’ll call Chrissy. I hope the kids aren’t too disappointed.”
Doug kissed the top of my head. “Honey, it may not seem like it now but you’re doing us all a favor. The kids will be just fine – and so will we. Now call Chrissy.”
Feeling just a wee bit guilty, I dialed Chrissy’s number.
“Chrissy, sweetheart. About tomorrow. So sorry to disappoint but your dad just reminded me ……”
Do you think Janis Joplin ever once contemplated the possibility that 53 years after her death people like me would be writing about her and millions more would be listening to her music? It seems highly unlikely to me yet here we are.
Janis was a loner, a misfit who marched to the beat of her own drum. As a teenager, she befriended a group of outcasts, one of whom had albums by blues artists Bessie Smith, Ma Rainey and Lead Belly which she later credited with influencing her decision to become a singer.
In 1966, Joplin’s bluesy vocal style attracted the attention of the San Francisco-based psychedelic rock band Big Brother and the Holding Company which had gained some renown among the hippie community of Haight Ashbury; she was recruited to join the group.
And the rest is history.
I was fortunate to see Janis Joplin perform in person several times; it’s difficult to compare her to any other performer I’ve ever seen; she was two different people when on stage. She had a powerful and commanding voice. She was focused and uninhibited. She was a dynamic force to be reckoned with. But when her song was over she was transformed into a little girl who was surprised and delighted that people liked her and her songs. For a few seconds “Pearl” was gone … the nickname Joplin gave herself for the hard-talking, ballsy barfly image she so often took on as her protective strategy against feeling vulnerable … and Janis was back.
As many of us are now going through the dog days of Summer, I thought it would be appropriate to play Janis Joplin’s well-known interpretation of George Gershwin’s “Summertime” from “Porgy and Bess”. Let’s listen.
Another lost soul searching for answers. As always, I’m happy to read your comments so please share your thoughts.
Thanks for spending this dog day afternoon of summer with me getting your groove on. I look forward to catching up with you next week. Until then, let’s just call it a wrap.
That was my mother talking … or perhaps I should say “yelling”. And she had every right to yell because I had once again done something stupid. Yes, it was an accident but if I had listened to my mother in the first place this never would have happened.
It all started when I asked my mother if I could borrow her red nail polish to paint my nails for the pool party at my friend Tina’s house. Mom was ok with me borrowing her polish but gave me strict orders to apply it in the bathroom or the kitchen. If I spilled the polish, cleanup would be easy. I was absolutely forbidden to do my nails in my bedroom or the living room; both rooms had wall-to-wall carpeting and any spills or even a drip could spell catastrophe.
So what did I do?
Well, I had to call Tina with a very important question about the pool party and the only phone in the house was in the living room so I sat on the floor and began to polish my toenails while talking on the phone. Have you ever tried to balance a phone receiver with a 3 foot cord attached between your shoulder and ear while trying to do something else with your hands? Take my word for it; it’s not easy.
Now, I’m not exactly sure how it happened but the cord yanked the phone receiver off my shoulder and, in my attempt to catch it, I knocked over the bottle of my mother’s red nail polish … right on the plush white living room carpet.
I watched in slow-motion horror as the bright red polish oozed out of the bottle and was immediately soaked up by the carpet like a sponge. When I came to my senses, I grabbed the bottle and ran into the bathroom, all the while crying “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” I seized the nail polish remover and a rag and ran back to the scene of the crime. I applied the polish remover to the rag and began dabbing at the spill. While I was able to remove some of the polish, it wasn’t enough and I sat there helplessly staring at a 2” diameter patch of drying redish-pink carpet.The topic of getting dried nail polish out of carpeting was never discussed and back then we didn’t have the web to look things up.
The one good thing about this incident was my parents were not home at the time. I ran into the laundry room and gathered an arsenal of cleaning supplies: a scrub brush, detergent, spray cleaner, bleach, scouring powder, rags and a bucket of water. The combination of products and the use of the scrub brush only made matters worse. The 2” spot was now much bigger and pieces of the thick pile had come out. That area of mother’s expensive wall-to-wall carpeting now resembled a man’s balding head. It was a mess and I was up the creek.
So I did the only logical thing. I moved the coffee table about 8” to “hide” the damage. There! From where I stood the problem was solved and no one would be the wiser.
Or so I thought.
I was about to exit via the back door for Tina’s pool party when my parents came home. I heard my mother before I saw her. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood heard her:
“Nancy Ann Schembre! Get in here this second! What part of ‘do not use nail polish in the living room’ did you not understand? You deliberately ignored what I said, just like you always do, and now my carpet is ruined! Do you think I talk just to hear the sound of my own voice? No pool party for you, young lady. You’re grounded for the rest of the summer!”
I stood there unable to move, staring at my mother in disbelief. Grounded again … and this time for the rest of the summer! My life was over!
With head hung low I sniffled an apology and skulked back to my room but I had a plan. Instead of going to my room, I tiptoed down the stairs to the basement and headed for the back door to make my escape. My hand was on the doorknob when I heard a voice from upstairs.
“Where do you think you’re going? I said you were grounded!”
“Oh, man! You’re upstairs! You can’t even see me! How’d you know?”
“Because I know YOU!”
Then came the linethat gave me the creeps every time I heard it:
It’s been so damn hot and humid, I’ve had it! It’s like a sauna and the moment I step outside I begin to wilt. My clothes stick to me and even wearing a sundress is uncomfortable. I need to take a cool shower when I wake up and again at the end of the day. The AC is cranked up to the max and I’ve lost my appetite except for ice cream and a tall cold drink. It’s even too hot to go to the beach or pool and sitting under an umbrella doesn’t help much. There’s no breeze and the air is too still to breath; I feel like I am sweltering and my lungs are searing. I swear if this keeps up I’m going to melt away like an ice cube! I can’t stand it any longer. All I do is complain about the heat! I can’t wait for the winter.
It would be heavenly to jump into a hole in a frozen lake and take a dip in the cold refreshing water!
But being cold can really be very uncomfortable! It’s awful to step outside every day and feel the chill slap me in the face. Sometimes the wind whips right through me and I can’t get warm no matter how many layers of clothes I have on. Break out the boots, scarves, hats, gloves and heavy jackets. And don’t forget the snow storms and the shoveling. It takes forever for my car to heat up and I have to keep the heat on at home all the time, too. All I want to do is take a hot bath, eat chicken noodle soup, drink hot tea and jump into a warm bed. Sometimes it’s so cold I have to sleep under an electric blanket and I still feel chilly! My fingers and toes turn blue and I can hardly feel them. And I always have the sniffles! I swear if this keeps up I’m going to turn into an ice cube! I can’t stand it any longer. All I do is complain about the cold! I can’t wait for the summer.
“Why don’t you invite Tony Bennett to the wedding?”
That’s something you might expect to hear Barbra Streisand or Billy Joel say – certainly not me! But I did make that suggestion and here’s how it all came about.
It was probably around 2004 when my son, Bill, first met Tony Bennett. I say “first” because Bill had the pleasure of working with Tony numerous times … at the tree lighting ceremony at Rockefeller Center, the Grammy Awards and other gigs.
You see, Bill’s been a teleprompter for a lot of years; he’s had the great opportunity of working with celebrities ranging from Paul McCartney to Big Bird. His jobs are as varied as crayons in a jumbo Crayola box and just as colorful. I’m not going to bore you with names but the list is impressive. That’s how Bill met Tony.
These gigs – many of which are live – don’t happen in just one take. The crew and the performers (or “talent”, as they’re known in the business) can wind up spending a great deal of time on the set. Some talent remain aloof; others, like Tony Bennett, are the type to pull up a chair in the lounge and eat lunch with the crew.
Now I don’t want to brag but I raised a good son. Bill is a hard worker, agreeable, unassuming, pleasant, attractive and funny. Tony and Bill enjoyed working with each other very much – so much so that when Tony was asked to perform at the tree lighting again the following year, he requesting my son by name.
During down time at a rehearsal in 2007, Bill was talking about his upcoming wedding and Tony happened to be within earshot. He came over to congratulate Bill and they talked about “things” for a while. Tony wished Bill “a happy life”, shook his hand and that was that – until I found out about it that night. And I said what any mom would say:
“Why don’t you invite Tony Bennett to the wedding? He just might say ‘yes’.”
I gave Bill an invitation for him to give Tony the next day. He took it and placed it in his backpack. Well, let’s just say my son is a bit more circumspect than me; he opted not to impose on Tony and did not extend the invitation. I was a bit bummed out but it was Bill’s decision to make, not mine.
Still … can you just imagine what a gas it would have been if Tony Bennett had come to my son’s wedding?
It had been quite a long while since Celia had taken a vacation. Now here she was, hiking the Appalachian Trail; it was the perfect get-away. The day was gorgeous and Celia was surprised to find she had the trail to herself. After about 90 minutes she came upon a split in the path. Placing her backpack on the ground, she pulled out a map and leaned against a tree. Suddenly there was a startling crack as the tree snapped in half. The ground beneath her gave out and she plummeted off the edge.
Celia had no idea how far she’d fallen or where she was. She called out but all she heard were her echoes. Celia was pretty badly bruised but she didn’t think anything was broken. It was a struggle but she made it to her feet; it was then she realized she didn’t have her backpack which meant no food, no water, no bandages and no phone. Her only choice was to keep going.
She must have walked for miles. Exhausted, lost, Celia fell to her knees, sobbing. She squinted through her tears and could barely make out the shape of a cabin. Was it real? Was she hallucinating? Slowly she pulled herself up and trudged toward the building, praying it was not an illusion.
There were no lights, no signs of life. Raising her arm to bang on the door, it suddenly flew open and Celia was pulled into blackness. That’s the last thing she remembered.
Kabir and Deepak sat under a bael tree taking a break from the heat of the afternoon sun. They shared an aloo toast sandwich while keeping watch over their rickshaws, Deepak smiling and contented, Kabir scowling and dejected.
“What is your problem, Kabir?” asked Deepak. “You never seem happy nor do you have anything cheerful to say. You do not talk about your children and how they are doing in school nor do you discuss how things are with your wife.”
“We are struggling day after day, Deepak. Nothing positive ever happens. There are bills and rent to pay. Now my wife just told me she is expecting another child!”
“Congratulations, my friend! Another child! How can you say nothing positive ever happens? This is a blessing for you and your wife!”
“You think so, Deepak, when we can barely feed the three children we already have? Now my wife will be unable to work and I will be the only wage earner in the family. My pockets are empty and I will have to work even more hours!”
The two men ate in silence for a while, then Deepak spoke. “Kabir, we have known each other all our lives. We are like brothers so I am going to speak plainly to you. How we greet each new day shows clearly on our faces. If you are negative and always feel you deserve more in life, that is the first thing people see. When your wife told you she was expecting a baby, did you embrace her and tell her how happy you were? Did you share this joy with your other children? I can see by the look on your face that you did not. Why, Kabir?”
Kabir hesitated for a moment. “Deepak, it’s true we are like brothers but you have never had to scrimp and save for the things in your life. Your children are happy and do well in school while mine are sullen. Your wife is content and radiates joy while mine is depressed. Do not try to tell me we are the same when we have been dealt a very different lot in life.”
At this Deepak became angry. “Kabir, you are a fool! Do you think I haven’t had to work for what I have? How our children grow and behave is a direct reflection of us and how we behave. How our wives feel is directly based on how we feel. If we are sullen, our home will be bleak and if we are optimistic, our home will be cheerful. Together my wife and I pledge to make the best of every day. Nothing good comes without effort.”
Having said that, Deepak stood to leave. “Kabir, it is never too late. You still have time to turn things around. May your life always be full and blessed and may your rickshaw … and your pockets … never be empty.”
Kabir sat alone under the bael tree thinking what a camel’s ass he had been. The passengers will still be here one hour from now; first he needed to go home and embrace his wife.
A repost of a little vignette written exactly two years ago today which many of my newer readers have never seen. This has always been a favorite of mine; I hope you enjoy it, too.
“Cloak and Dagger and a dozen oysters on ice” was the order placed by a hauntingly familiar voice in the corner.
Her interest piqued, Judy Lowe leaned in a bit to get a better look. Where had she heard that voice before? Finding it a little too dim to see, she decided to go over and check out the situation. Taking her Bloody Mary with her, Judy casually strolled to the end of the bar and wriggled her curvaceous bottom onto the stool.
“Pardonne-moi” Judy cooed. “The name of your drink is tres intriguing.” The man was older than Judy expected but extremely handsome with silver hair and a rich tan. “Has anyone ever mentioned you look like Cary Grant?” she asked smiling flirtatiously.
“Never” he replied in a clipped Bristol accent as he gazed appreciatively at Judy’s decolletage. “Ah, yes. The Cloak and Dagger: the perfect blend of Blackwoods Gin from the Shetland Islands, fresh lime juice, simple syrup, green chartreuse and Extra Brut sparkling wine. It’s the quintessential pairing with oysters.
“Oh my. That sounds luscious! I’m Judy Lowe, a model from Los Angeles. And you are?”
“Enchanté, Judy. My friends call me Archie” and he gently kissed the palm of her hand.
Judy gasped; no man had ever kissed the delicate flesh of her palm. It was so European and sensual.
“Archie, would you mind terribly if I had a little sip of your Cloak and Dagger?” Judy asked. ‘A friend of the male persuasion once told me the perfect drink with oysters is a Bloody Mary and I’d like to see who’s right.”
“Oh Judy, Judy, Judy! Whoever told you that was obviously terribly misinformed or an uneducated boor” Archie teased. “No, you may not have a sip of my drink; you shall have your very own. Barkeep! Please prepare a perfect Cloak and Dagger for the lovely Judy Lowe, a model from Los Angeles.”
When the bartender set the drink before Judy, she clapped her hands in glee like a little girl and reached for the glass but Archie stopped her.
“Oh, no, my dear. This must be done right! It’s a process. First slide the oyster into your mouth and savor the taste. Delight in the pleasure; it should never be rushed. Now, follow with a sip of the Cloak and Dagger and let the juices mingle. That’s a good girl. Now swallow.”
Judy was in ecstasy. Never had she experienced anything so erotic. “Oh my God, Archie! That was beyond heavenly.”
“Let’s raise our glasses, lovely Judy, to the noble oyster and the Cloak and Dagger. May they be forever immortalized as the true nectar of the gods!”
Archie stood and kissed Judy’s palm. “And now, my dear, I must bid you adieu.” He flipped his hat onto his head, tapped the brim and left.
When Judy came back down to earth she discovered a folded piece of paper in her hand. Gently she peeled back the corners to find it was a cocktail napkin on which was scribbled: “Dearest Judy: The world is your oyster. Always, Cary.”
