The sun was just beginning to rise over the Sangala Valley and the day was already warm. Ekon, a middle-aged widower and his son Mosi sat outside as they did each morning eating their breakfast before beginning their long day. It had been just the two of them since Ekon’s wife Bisa died from a mysterious illness several years earlier.
The Sangala Valley is very small but a good home for Ekon and Mosi. There is an abundance of sunlight for growing crops and copious amounts of fruit trees to provide food and much needed shade during the hottest times of the day. Mosi fishes daily in nearby Lake Caballo; he has become quite proficient but Ekon is the hunter, always keeping them well-fed with rabbits, pigs, deer or fowl. They also keep roosters, chickens and have a mare mule for milk.
Three other families live in the valley and share the area peacefully, frequently trading with each other. Ekon and Mosi are fortunate to have a variety of foods to eat; however, they have had little luck growing wheat or other grains – something Bisa excelled at. Sometimes the women bring them flatbread and loaves of Green Mealies, a fluffy corn bread, in exchange for fish or rabbits.
Forests of wild pine trees grow in the distance and the view from the valley is magnificent. One evening as father and son relaxed by their campfire, Mosi expressed his greatest desire: “Father, one day I shall visit the Cloud Mountain Pines.”
“One day?” exclaimed Ekon and laughed heartily. “My son, the pines are hundreds of miles away, a rigorous and dangerous journey of many months. It is a quest, not a day’s adventure.”
“But how can that be, Father?” Mosi questioned. “I can see them as clearly as I can see Lake Caballo.”
“Mosi, the wild pines are enormous and tower over everything” Ekon explained. “Their closeness is a mere illusion.”
“But Father” Mosi argued. “Look across the lake. The pines are plainly visible and the land is flat. We can get there in two days!”
“That is true, my son, but reaching the pine trees on Cloud Mountain is another story. You must give up this fantasy. Now, off to bed for both of us.”
Mosi did not mention the Cloud Mountain Pines again for a long time but he never abandoned his dream. One morning during breakfast Mosi told his father that he had decided he would not be able to rest until he traveled to the woods – or at least tried. Ekon’s first reaction was to once again talk Mosi out of his idea but as he looked at his son he realized he was no longer a child and his mind was made up. Ekon told Mosi he understood the need that drove him and they would make the trek together.
Mosi was overjoyed and immediately began to prepare. Ekon said they must bring only the barest of necessities, their fishing and hunting tools and their mule Shiga. There was also one priceless object which Ekon would never leave behind, a treasure handed down from generation to generation: a tiny vial containing the Tincture of Jal’mboor. One small drop on the tip of the tongue would enable the user to speak in any language chosen and the spell would remain until no longer needed.
They set out the following morning, reaching the woods at dusk on the second day. Mosi was shocked to find how much bigger everything was. Even the smallest trees were taller than him. Ekon and Mosi camped under the moon at the foot of the lake; after an early breakfast of fruit and nuts, they set off. The terrain was flat and easily passable until the fifth day when they came upon a vast, swiftly moving river blocking their path. Having no craft, the duo consulted an old map and chose to travel east. This would take them out of their way but it was the safest route. After many days of walking, they reached a shallow section of the river which they crossed safely.
The new terrain was steeper and difficult. The forests were dense and hardly any light shone through. They were keenly aware of the ominous stillness and Ekon kept his spear at the ready. Without warning the trees began to quake; suddenly hundreds of birds flew out and disappeared. A second later a massive Basambi Kurumandi Tiger appeared. He stared at Ekon and Mosi, deadly pale green eyes observing their every move. He snarled, exposing razor sharp fangs. Ekon whispered for Mosi to stand perfectly still but Shiga was spooked and whinnied loudly. In an instant the tiger leapt but Ekon was ready and felled the giant cat with his trusty spear through its heart. Father and son refilled their water skins from the river and, exhausted, went to sleep far from the felled tiger. They would start fresh in the morning.
For today’s challenge, Jim at Song Lyric Sundayhas asked us to write about a Scandinavian song and/or performer. This was a no-brainer for me; I couldn’t write about anyone other than the incredible Yngwie Malmsteen. Honestly, for many years I didn’t think there was any better guitarist than Ritchie Blackmore; then I heard Yngwie.
Born in 1963 in Stockholm, Sweden, Yngwie first became known in the 80s for his neoclassical playing style in heavy metal. In his career of more than 40 years (and still going), Yngwie has released 22 studio albums. In 2009 he was listed in Time magazine as #9 on its list of the 10 best electric guitar players of all time.
Really? There are 8 better guitarists than Yngwie? I wonder who they could be. Well, let’s take a look: in descending order starting with #8 they are – Les Paul, Chuck Berry, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Keith Richards, B.B. King, Slash, and Jimi Hendrix. I’ve got issues with this list. And where are Ritchie Blackmore, Eddie Van Halen, Matteo Mancuso, Henrik Freishlader, Tommy Emmanuel, Joe Bonamassa and Guthrie Govan, FFS?
Anyway ….
As a teenager, Yngwie was heavily influenced by classical music, particularly Paganini and Bach. During this time he also discovered his most important guitar influence, Ritchie Blackmore. Yngwie has sad that Hendrix had no musical impact on him and did not contribute to his style but seeing him on TV smashing and burning his guitar at the Monterey Pop Festival of 1967 was “really cool”.
Yngwie Malmsteen has been a member of Steeler, Alcatrazz, Hear ‘n Aid, G3 and is currently with Generation Axe. Addtionally, he has had side projects and made special appearances with many other groups and performers.
In a 2005 issue of Guitar Player magazine, Yngwie Malmsteen discussed his often-ridiculed behavior, saying that, “I’ve probably made more mistakes than anybody. But I don’t dwell on them. I don’t expect people to understand me, because I’m pretty complex, and I think outside the box with everything I do. I’ve always taken the untraveled path. Obviously, people have their opinions, but I can’t get too wrapped up in that, because I know what I can do, and I know what kind of person I am. And I have no control over what anybody says about me. Back in Sweden, I’m ‘Mr Personality’ in the tabloids, but obviously I can’t take that seriously. I know in my heart that if I do the absolute best I can do, maybe ten years from now people may turn around and say, ‘he wasn’t that bad’.”
Let’s get down to business and listen to some Yngwie tracks.
This is Yngwie Malmsteen playing “Allegro and Adagio” by Paganini with the Japanese Philharmonic Orchestra
While with Alcatrazz, here is “Lost In Hollywood” by Yngwie Malmsteen and Graham Bonnet
This is a real treat: Yngwie Malmsteen and Dio performing Aerosmith’s “Dream On”
The following is an interview with Yngwie Malmsteen and Rick Beato (the human music encyclopedia).
“It was a glorious day, greener than Killarney in spring. We were out for a stroll, the leaves sparkling with dew. You looked so beautiful, Maggie, you made my heart skip a beat. Bluer eyes than I’d ever seen and hair the aroma of fresh peaches. We stopped and I picked a wildflower. I don’t know how you did it but you twisted the stem and made a ring. That was the day we became ‘engaged’. You said we needed to walk under the branch that stretched out over the path to make it official. I held your hand and we walked to the middle of the little bridge. We stood there and I knew from that moment on we would always be together. That’s where I kissed you for the first time. We were very daring, you being an older woman and all. I was 11 and you were 13 but we knew then we were made for each other.”
“It’s exactly as I remember. Tell me more, Tom. Put your arm around me. I’m so very cold.”
“Do you recollect the day we walked into the woods and discovered that cabin? I called it a ‘dilapidated shack’; you said it was “our dream’. We fixed that place up good, filling it with dreams. We raised our family there and welcomed our grandkids. Now our grands are getting married. Three generations of dreams, Maggie. Maggie? Oh, my sweetest love. Sleep now and dream forever.”
In previous years at this time we’d be covered in a blanket of snow. With that in mind, here’s a story from January 14, 2023 ~ my response to Linda G. Hill’s Just Jot it January 2024 prompt word: “toast”.
A couple of years ago, New York was hit by a major snowstorm. Wearing thick-padded booties, the snow silently tiptoed in while we slept and when we awoke there was a three-foot-deep crystalline blanket everywhere we looked. It was coming down pretty heavy and we could barely see anything in the backyard as we looked out our bedroom window … almost as if someone was standing on our roof shaking out a king size comforter full of feathers. Bill and I stood there for a while taking in the silent beauty of it all, then shuffled into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee and a few slices of my homemade banana bread.
The instant we were done making breakfast, the lights went out. There was no point in trekking down to the basement to check the circuit breakers; we knew the area had experienced a power outage. We sat in the kitchen by the still-hot radiator enjoying our coffee and warm toasty bread, a pale white glow from the snow enveloping every room in the house. Before retreating to the living room, I poured our pot of coffee into a thermos to stay hot for a few hours.
I went to the closet and brought down Bill’s emergency hand-crank radio with LED flashlight, AM/FM stations including the NOAH weather channel, a power bank of phone chargers and USB ports. This baby would serve us just fine until the power was restored. In the meantime Bill ventured out to the frozen tundra of the screened-in porch to retrieve some logs for the fireplace.
Bill got a nice fire going while I set up the radio on the table between our recliners. The phone chargers and USB ports were lifesavers; we were able to keep our cell batteries from dying and my laptop going so I could work on my stories. I was even able to plug in my new electric blanket which used a handy dandy USB port. Bill marveled at the technology of the little red radio and only bemoaned one design flaw – there was no TV.
We were happily ensconced in our recliners enjoying our little haven. All was silent outside except for an occasional gust of wind and every so often we’d spot a blue jay out our front window picking berries off the holly bush. I think we must have dozed off for a bit when we were roused by the harsh sound of steady scraping. We listened for a few seconds, then realized someone was outside shoveling the snow. We peered out the window to see our two little neighbors, six-year-old twins Jackson and Connor, shoveling our front path. At least that’s who we figured they were; it was impossible to tell by the way they were bundled up.
We sat back in our chairs, sipping our coffee and listening to the steady scrape-scraping of the boys’ shovels. Closer and closer the sound came; now they were clearing the steps leading to our front door. The adagio of their shovels was replaced by a sharp staccato knocking on our front door. I sank deeper into my blanket while Bill went to get some money to pay the enterprising kids, delighted that he didn’t have to shovel our front path himself. He opened the heavy wooden door and stood just inside the glass storm door to settle up accounts. Jackson and Connor stood on the front porch leaning on their shovels; toothless grins, cherry-red faces and sparkling blue eyes glistened in the still-rapidly falling snow which clung to their long blonde eyelashes.
“We cleared your path for you, Mr. Richy!” they proudly declared in unison, looking over their shoulders to admire their handiwork which was now covered by a fresh ½” of new snow. They looked back at Bill, staring up at him for his approval, their faces sporting the goofiest, most irresistible smiles imaginable.
“I see that, boys, and a fine job it is, too” replied Bill. “So tell me, what’s your going rate?“
With furrowed brows and crinkled noses the twins eloquently asked “Huh??”
“How much do I owe you for shoveling our path?” Bill asked in a way they could understand.
Very matter-of-factly with absolutely no sign of embarrassment or regret, the boys announced “Oh, we’re not allowed to accept money. Our mom and dad said we have to do good deeds.”
“Hold that thought, boys, and don’t go anywhere.”
Bill scurried back into the living room. “Are you hearing any of this conversation?” he asked me, clearly incredulous. “A concept like that in this day and age is mind-blowing!”
“Well, what’s your game plan?” I asked, knowing Bill always had a plan brewing.
“My game plan? Why, I’m going to pay those boys for a job well done and toss in a few packs of Pokémon cards just for good measure!” He was downright gleeful.
Bill scurried back to the boys and, opening the door just a crack to keep the cold out, shoved $20 and two packs of cards into their pockets.
The boys immediately started to put up a fuss about taking the money but Bill told them to stash it in their piggy banks for a rainy day and if their dad had a problem with it, he was more than welcome to come over and talk about it. With new-found treasures in their pockets, the toothless twosome raced home to show their friends their unexpected booty. Their little friends cheered loudly at the sight of the boy’s riches. Even their dad came out to see what the hubbub was all about.
The big financial deal now settled, Bill sat back in his recliner and sighed contentedly.
“You’re such a soft touch” I teased. “You’re rather pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”
“As a matter of fact, I am!” he replied. “Listen, I’m all for good deeds but when I was their age, I was out shoveling snow and I know it’s hard work. Those kids did a damn good job. If their dad objects to them getting paid, I’ll just tell him to think of it as a tip for his two fine sons. I can’t believe he’d have a problem with that.”
Well, it came as no big surprise when the twins soon returned and began shoveling the snow off our driveway – and this time they had reinforcements. Their momma didn’t raise no dummies! You haven’t lived until you’ve seen five six-year-olds shoveling one driveway like their little lives depended on it.
“Better get your wallet out, Rockefeller. They’re back and they brought company” I laughed.
Bill may have unwittingly created a couple of monsters; during the spring the twins started going door-to-door pulling a wagon behind them. They were selling rocks! I’m reasonably certain their parents did not give permission for their budding business venture because it ended as abruptly as it started. Too bad; I’m sure they had the rock-selling market cornered. Very entrepreneurial kids; even Warren Buffett had to start somewhere!
Well, kind of a pity when you think about it. The boys scrubbed those rocks until they glistened in the sparkling sunlight. They really were impressive-looking rocks – there’s no denying that – but they were still just rocks, not exactly a priceless commodity.
Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has challenged us to write a 100-word story prompted by the photo below. Incorporating prompts from Weekly Prompts Wednesday and FOWC with Fandango, this is my response to Rochelle’s challenge.
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays! 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, Clarence Clemons Born January 11, 1942 Norfolk, Virginia
“You’re a Friend of Mine”~ Clarence Clemons & Friends
“Jungleland”
“Unchain My Heart” ~ Joe Cocker & Clarence Clemons
Our host Glyn says “In the month of January, the Mixed Music Bag theme is to find a group or solo singer beginning with the letter A or B.” I missed last week so I’ll just jump in today.
When I was 14, somebody incredibly cool entered my life; he came and went for a couple of years, never really sticking around very long. He was a 17-year-old beanpole named Steven Tallarico – Google him; I’ll wait.
There were one or two times when I felt like kicking myself for not running off with him but my whole life would have turned out differently and I’m sure not for the better. On my short list of “No Regrets”, that 3-year-period during my teen years would be very near the top.
If you’ve finished Googling, you are now aware that the guy I knew all those years ago as Steven Tallarico is the legendary Steven Tyler, lead singer of Aerosmith ….that Boston band with a front man born in The Bronx, NY (my hometown).
I’ve written a story or two about Steven but I’m not here to talk about him. And there’s certainly no need to talk about Aerosmith. To paraphrase Hyman Roth in The Godfather: “They’re bigger than U.S. Steel”.
One of my favorite Aerosmithtunes is “Walk This Way”, written by Steven Tyler and Joe Perry, which was originally released as the second single from their album Toys in the Attic (1975). It peaked at number 10 on the Billboard Hot 100 in early 1977, part of a string of successful hit singles for the band in the 1970s.
This song is one of the reasons Toys in the Attic was a must-have for everyone growing up in the 70s. “Walk This Way” has a trademark Joe Perry riff and quite a few of Steven Tyler’s slyest lyrics; it’s a wonder some of his double entendres ever made it onto AM radio. It also became a groundbreaker ten years later when the group re-cut the song with Run-DMC.
Check out Steven’s clever and colorful lyrics as we listen to “Walk This Way” by one of the greatest bands in the US …. Aerosmith!
Lyrics
Backstroke lover always hidin’ ‘neath the cover ‘Till I talked to my daddy, he say He said, “You ain’t seen nothing ‘Till you’re down on a muffin Then you’re sure to be a-changin’ your ways”
I met a cheerleader, was a real young bleeder All the times I can reminisce ‘Cause the best thing lovin’ with her sister and her cousin Only started with a little kiss, like this
See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school With your feet flyin’ up in the air Singin’ “Hey diddle-diddle with the kitty in the middle Of the swing” like I didn’t care
So I took a big chance at the high school dance With a missy who was ready to play Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘Cause she knew what she was doin’ And I know love is here to stay When she told me to
Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Ah, just give me a kiss
Like this
School girl sweetie with the classy kinda sassy Little skirt’s climbin’ way up her knees There was three young ladies in the school gym locker When I noticed they was lookin’ at me
I was a high school loser, never made it with a lady ‘Til the boys told me something I missed Then my next door neighbor with a daughter had a favor So I gave her just a little kiss, like this
See-saw swingin’ with the boys in the school With your feet flyin’ up in the air Singin’ “Hey diddle-diddle with the kitty in the middle Of the swing” like I didn’t care
So I took a big chance at the high school dance With a missy who was ready to play Wasn’t me she was foolin’ ‘Cause she knew what she was doin’ When she told me how to walk this way She told me to
Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, walk this way Walk this way, talk this way Just give me a kiss
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has challenged us once again to write a Six Sentence Story and to include the word “stock”. This is my response.
Monday after school, me and my friends were in our usual hang out …. Caroni Brothers Grocery Store …. where we go for snacks, gum, you know – typical things 10 year old boys like – and, as usual, my mouth was watering for my favorite candy in the whole wide world, Tootsie Rolls, BUT I forgot my allowance and my friends didn’t have any extra money to loan me so I just walked around the store feeling glum when all the while those chocolatey Tootsie Rolls kept calling my name; before I could even think about what I was doing, I reached into the display box on the shelf, snatched a handful of Tootsies and bolted out the side door, but instead of running as fast and as far away from the store as I could, I tossed my candy into my backpack and sat on the ground leaning against the wall, relieved that I got away with it, when suddenly Mr. Caroni appeared outta nowhere, looming over me like a gorilla, and he reached into my backpack for my stash of Tootsie Rolls, shook his beefy fist and snarled something about cleaning him out lock, stock and barrel and to “get outta here, you mangy little thief, and never come back!”
That night I prayed Caroni’s would burn down – no such luck, by the way – and every day that week I gazed at the store with longing as my school bus passed by with one sickening thought haunting me: this coming Sunday morning, when me and my Dad are gonna take our weekly walk to Caroni’s for a loaf of Italian bread, a box of macaroni, a half-dozen cannoli and the newspaper; there’s no way I’m gonna be able to walk into that store and I’m thinking maybe I should just run away from home right now and never look back, but that would break my Mom’s heart.
Sunday arrived and Dad called out for me to “get a move on!”, all the while I’m making up excuses why I can’t go but he ain’t buying any of them; that’s it – dead man walking – and I dilly-dallied the whole way to the store, watching caterpillars, kicking pebbles, stopping to tie my shoelaces .… again …. until my Dad couldn’t take it anymore and shouted “C’mon, kiddo; what is this .… a funeral?” and I’m thinking “yeah, mine!” and before I knew it, I started crying and blubbering like my baby sister.
Squatting down and taking hold of my shoulders, Dad looked me square in the eye and asked “Ok, what’s going on?” and sobbing pathetically like a little sissy, I told Dad the whole sordid tale about me, Mr. Caroni and a handful of Tootsie Rolls; he took out his handkerchief, wiped my face, held it to my nose and said “Blow; listen, kiddo …. what you did was wrong and it’s obviously eating you up inside, but I’m afraid it’s not over because you still have to apologize to Mr. Caroni, which won’t be easy, but you have to do it …. and not a word about any of this to your Mom because this is a “guy thing” and it stays between us guys.”
We walked into the store, picked out our usual items and brought them up to the counter where my day wasted no time mincing words and said “Mr. Caroni, my son has something to say”; shaking in my shoes, I managed to look up at Mr. Caroni’s face and squeaked out “I’m sorry for taking those Tootsie Rolls, sir, and I’ll never steal anything from you ever again”and I extended my hand; an eternity seemed to go by but, to my shock and relief, Mr. Caroni took my little hand in his large meaty one, gave me one solid shake and nodded in agreement.
“Anything else?” Mr. Caroni asked, to which my dad replied “Just these” as he tossed a handful of my beloved Tootsie Rolls onto the counter; I’m sure glad my secret’s safe with Dad ’cause the last thing I wanna do is break my Mom’s heart.
Our prompt for today’s Just Jot it January 2024 is to write a story, poem, etc. and include the word “pastime”. This is my response.
Just like most people, I have some favorite pastimes such as gardening, cooking, listening to music, watching sports, doing crossword puzzles, walking and writing for my site. Nothing terribly exciting but I enjoy them.
I’m reminded of Frank Morelli from a story I wrote in 2022. He had a favorite pastime, one that brought him more trouble than he bargained for. Here’s that story about Frank; some of you may remember him, others may not. I hope you enjoy it and please bear in mind something very important: This is a humorous work of fictionwith no intention of disparaging any people, nationalities, ethnicities or professions.
This is “Thai One On”
If you are seeking a woman with beautiful, exotic looks and a lovely disposition, a single Thai lady is the way to go. Thai women love to laugh and tend to be quite happy. They are demure and sweet in public, perhaps a bit shy, but when alone with their partner they are open and sexually accommodating.
Reading that online advert made Frank Morelli’s eyes widen. One of these Thai girls could be just what he was looking for. Intrigued, Frank decided to read a bit more. He scrolled down to see a bevy of available women – 922 to be exact. Beneath each pic was a name, age, contact address and the city in which the woman resided. There were also three options: 1) 💬 Say Hello; 2) 📧 Send a Message; 3) ❤️ Add to Hotlist.
There were some like Primmie who looked like she was just 17 and you know what I mean – a captivating schoolgirl-type with huge brown eyes, pouty lips and dewy skin. Primmie gave the impression of being a sweet, shy young thing with her glossy hair in pigtails wearing a short school uniform when in reality she could have invented sex. She was capable of teaching most men a thing or ten, taking them to erotic levels they’d never experienced before.
Then there were others like Opia who looked like she’d gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson – and won. She had an angry scowl and a leathery face that could stop a clock. She wouldn’t even be able to arouse a blindfolded Wilt Chamberlain – and he is reputed to have had sex with 20,000 women!
More than a few of the girls could easily be adult movie actresses while others looked like the ubiquitous hunchbacked dishwashers in greasy Chinese takeout joints that smelled like burning rancid oil. And by some miracle they were all available and willing to be dutiful wives and make anyone’s wildest dreams come true. At what cost? That part of the equation had not entered Frank’s mind. Even if it had, Frank was the type who acted first and thought later, if at all – a habit that got him into trouble more times than he was willing to admit.
The truth was most of these girls were looking for a ticket to The States, for some poor unsuspecting sap exactly like Frank to get them to fall madly in love and secure a green card and a one way ride out of Bangkok.
Frank made himself comfortable in his battered and patched pseudo-leather Barcalounger, his iPad nestled comfortably on his lap. A 25oz can of Bud Lite to his left and a bag of Utz pork rinds to his right set the stage for what could be the luckiest night of his vapid life. Frank loosened the drawstring of his sweatpants and wriggled his feet out of his Air Jordan knockoffs; this online mating game could take a while.
For lack of a better word, Frank was a “loser” – a thirty-something, short, stocky, balding, bespectacled, single, white, Italian Walmart shelf stocker living in his parent’s basement in Queens, New York. In other words – he was George Costanza.
This wasn’t exactly the ideal living arrangement as far as Frank or his parents were concerned but it didn’t cost him a dime and his mother did everything for him. Besides being as lazy as a slug, he just didn’t have that many friends and most of the ones he did have were married with children. He went on a couple of dates but he wasn’t what you’d call “a catch” and couldn’t hold a woman’s attention for very long. Frank wasn’t attracted to any of the women at work and the feeling was mutual.
There were a few things he enjoyed doing but most of them were solo activities like playing video games, listening to heavy metal music and watching porn. His father called him a no good, lazy bum and dreamed of the day he would move out of the house and stop being a drain on his wallet. His mother called him Frankie Boy and waited on him hand and foot, cooking his meals and washing his laundry all the while lamenting the fact that she was not and probably never would be a grandma. She tried matching him up with a couple of her friend’s daughters but Frank left them cold.
So there sat Frank, comfortably reclining in his “man cave”, taking his time perusing the ladies on the Thai bride website, adding his favorites to his hotlist when suddenly a photo of a girl named ‘Niki ‘ appeared. Frank nearly choked on his pork rinds when he saw her and he believed with all his heart she was the one for him. His iPad began to levitate as he felt himself getting hard. She was a hot number, that Niki, and Frank was only looking at a still photograph!
Frank made himself presentable and clicked the FaceTime icon, his finger hovering over option #1: 💬 Say Hello. It was now or never so, mustering all the courage he possessed, he pushed the button which could determine the outcome of the rest of his life – a life with the enchanting Niki.
A few strange electronic sounds were followed by a shrill ring, then a child-like yet sultry voice was heard coming from behind what appeared to be a satin curtain:
“Ooh, swasdi. Hellooo, this Niki. You want Niki?”
Frank was flustered, intrigued and aroused all at the same time. “Oh, yes. Hi. Yes, I want nookie … I mean Niki. Hi, I’m Frank; is this Niki?’
Giggles from behind the curtain on the iPad gave Frank an erection. “Tee hee hee! Ooh, Frang want Niki nookie? Tee hee hee! Yes?”
“Yes” replied Frank. “No. Yes and no. Is this Niki?”
More giggles. “Yes, Frang. This Niki. You want Niki?”
“It’s Frank and, yes, I definitely want Niki.”
“What you want, Frang? You want tawk Niki, see Niki? You want marry Niki? Niki be good wifey.”
While Frank imagined Niki as his life partner from the moment he saw her photo, this was all moving very fast. On one hand he was thrilled to be speaking to a woman, especially a beautiful willing woman, and he hoped to have a relationship someday but on the other hand, was he ready to fly off and get married to a total stranger?
“Frang? Hellooo? You want Niki?”
Frank said the first thing that popped into his head: “How much will it cost me?”
Giggles. “Tawk free, see free on FaceyTime. Airplane tickie to marry.”
“I want to see Niki” replied Frank with an uncharacteristic smidgen of common sense.
“Okay, Frang. Here Niki” and the satin curtain was pulled back. There she was; Frank recognized her immediately from her photo. She was even more bewitching in person – long silky black hair, porcelain skin with tiny, doll-like features, a small mouth painted red and a diminutive body which Frank found delightfully appealing. Niki looked like Frank could snap her in two, like a delicate glass swizzle stick. She wore a lacy camisole which was surprisingly modest and revealed nothing. Niki was the opposite of all the blonde, busty, Botoxed porn stars he was used to where everything was supersized.
Frank was mesmerized.
“Ooh, hellooo. You Frang?”
“Yes. Hi. I’m Frang” was Frank’s dimwitted response.
Giggles. “Ooh, Frang hansom Merican man from USA. You big strong. Niki like you. You like Niki?”
“Yes, I like Niki very much.”
“Niki make good wifey. You come Bangkok. Marry Niki.”
Frank’s head was spinning. “Wow! Yeah, that sounds great Niki! But first can we just talk like this for a few days and get to know each other?”
“Ooh, Frang. Niki no do nookie on FaceyTime. Betta you come Bangkok. You like Niki, marry Niki.”
It was now or never time for Frank and he was squirming in his pants. He had to ask himself what was holding him back. There wasn’t a thing going on in his life; he had nothing to lose by jumping in. This could be his one shot at happiness.
As usual, before Frank knew what he was doing, he blurted out “You know what, Niki? You’re right, dammit! I’m gonna fly over there and make you my bride!”
“Ooh, yay!” Giggles and little hand claps. “Frang let Niki know when you come Bangkok.”
“I definitely will, sweetie. Talk to you soon, Niki. Bye bye” and Frank wiggled his pudgy fingers at Niki like a ten-year-old boy.
Frank jumped up excitedly. He was a man on a mission. He went into the laundry room to retrieve his luggage and there stood his mother. Her face was as red as her hair and her expression said it all.
Mrs. Morelli clutched Frank’s suitcase and screamed at him: “You ingrate! You are a complete moron! Look at you, all hot to trot! Why can’t you go out and find yourself a nice Italian girl like your cousin Gerald instead of traipsing half-way around the world to some Godforsaken placecalled ‘Bangkok’? What kind of sick, perverted name is ‘Bangkok’ anyway?Oh my God, I think I’m going to be sick!”
Befuddled and feeling like a little boy, Frank snatched the suitcase from his mother’s arms, yelling back at her “You don’t know anything about it. I’m a grown man! Just mind your own business!”
Frank’s father heard the arguing and was now in the basement. “What the hell is going on down here?” he demanded. “You idiot! Look how upset your mother is!”
Mrs. Morelli wailed “He’s running off to someplace called ‘Bangkok’ where he thinks he’s gonna find a wife!“
Mr. Morelli slammed his hand on the washing machine. “You ungrateful bum! Can’t you see what you’re doing to your mother? What kind of a sicko are you? I had a war buddy from my time in Korea who took off for Bangkoklooking for a little filly. Nobody ever saw him again!”
“If you leave here for that sex den, you better not step one foot back in this house!” Mrs. Morelli shrieked. “I work my fingers to the bone for you and your father. If you think I’m going to start waiting on you and some mail order sex kitten living in my basement, you got another thing coming!”
“You’re a disgrace to this family, Frank! A disgrace!” bellowed Frank’s father.
Frank sputtered ineffectually, pulled at what little hair he had and scurried back into his room. He could hear his parents shouting upstairs. Not live here? Where would he and Niki stay? Frank hadn’t thought about that. Well, he’d figure something out. Besides, once his parents saw Niki they’d welcome her with open arms.
“I’ll think about that later. It’ll all work out” Frank muttered to himself. “Right now I’ve got a bag to pack.”
Yesterday’s prompt from Sadje for Just Jot it January 2024. Here’s my tardy but heartfelt reply. ☕️ 🥯
With Humble Gratitude For my husband Who, every morning, Without hesitation, Brings me my coffee in bed. Sometimes he’ll bring a warm bagel. I couldn’t ask for anything more! With humble gratitude for my husband.
This is the Manhattan Transfer with “I Love Coffee, I Love Tea”. And I love Bill!
Dectina Refrain: This refrain is written as follows: 1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables 3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone line.
Prompts today from Jim at Song Lyric Sunday and Linda at Daily Prompt – JusJoJan
Today’s challenge from Jim’s Song Lyric Sundayis to write about a song that mentions clothing accessories suggested by Christine of Stine Writingand Miniatures. Now that’s an interesting topic!
I started working on this post a couple of days ago, thinking about “accessories”; at the time I didn’t have Christine’s list of suggestions and some of the items I came up with were shoelaces, hats, ties, scarves, belts, hairpins, assorted jewelry, purses and socks. And that’s where I stopped – at socks. I was curious about that because I thought socks were not considered “accessories” but rather actual articles of clothing. It’s definitely debatable and when I saw them on the list I was thrilled because I had a great song in my head.
And that song is “’I’ve Got a Feeling” by the Beatles. There’s absolutely no need to discuss the group so let’s just get into the song.
“I’ve Got a Feeling” is from the Beatles 1970 album “Let It Be” and was recorded almost 55 years ago on January 30, 1969 during the Beatles’ rooftop concert. It is a combination of two unfinished songs – Paul McCartney’s “I’ve Got a Feeling” and John Lennon’s “Everybody Had a Hard Year”.
McCartney’s unfinished song was written for his girlfriend Linda Eastman and is quite upbeat, telling her that she was the girl he had always wanted. In Lennon’s song, each line begins with the word “everybody” and isn’t as light as Paul’s. John had a bad year: he divorced Cynthia, he and his son Julian became estranged, his girlfriend Yoko Ono had a miscarriage, he was arrested for drug possession, and he was increasingly discontent in the group. Critics called it a “litany” and they were right.
So, “What’s socks got to do with this song?” you ask. Very simple: one line that goes “Everybody pulled their socks up”. Sound familiar? Let’s have a listen:
From that legendary rooftop concert, here are the Beatles with “I’ve Got a Feeling”. I honestly think this is one of the greatest things they ever did. To capture this performance on a roof with no monitors in the freezing cold with the police breathing down their necks is just incredible.
This is “I’ve Got A Feeling” from the Beatles rooftop concert
Lyrics
I’ve got a feeling A feeling deep inside Oh yeah Oh yeah, that’s right I’ve got a feeling A feeling I can’t hide Oh no, no Oh no Oh no
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah
Oh please believe me I’d hate to miss the train Oh yeah, yeah Oh yeah And if you leave me I won’t be late again Oh no Oh no Oh no
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah I’ve got a feeling
All these years, I’ve been wanderin’ around Wonderin’ how come nobody told me All that I been lookin’ for was somebody who looked like you
Ooh, I’ve got a feeling That keeps me on my toes Oh yeah Oh yeah I’ve got a feeling I think that everybody knows Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh yeah
Yeah, yeah I’ve got a feeling, yeah Yeah
Everybody had a hard year Everybody had a good time Everybody had a wet dream Everybody saw the sunshine Oh yeah (oh yeah) Oh yeah, oh yeah (yeah) Everybody had a good year Everybody let their hair down Everybody pulled their socks up (yeah) Everybody put their foot down Oh yeah
Yeah Woo
I’ve got a feeling (everybody had a good year) A feeling deep inside (everybody had a hard time) Oh yeah (everybody had a wet dream) Oh yeah (everybody saw the sunshine) I’ve got a feeling (everybody had a good year) A feeling I can’t hide (everybody let their hair down) Oh no (everybody pulled their socks up) Oh no, no (everybody put their foot down, oh yeah) Yeah, yeah
I’ve got a feeling (oh yeah) I’ve got a feeling (oh yeah) I’ve got a feeling Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Oh my soul, so hard)
There I was, sitting in my car taking a smoke break. Damn shame! We can’t smoke anywhere these days and that’s a perfect example of discrimination.
Anyway, I’m looking out the car window, and that’s when I spotted it …. a rubber glove on the ground. Disgusting!
Since I was parked just across from a nursing home, I figured that glove belonged to one of the employees there and that made me even angrier than I was. Imagine, a health facility employee tossing a glove away like that! I bet they throw their masks on the ground, too. Pigs!
What’s wrong with people? You’d think after 3+ years of Covid, they’d finally get it right and stop ditching their used gloves or masks on public property. I could never understand how someone, especially a health-care worker, could show such disrespect for other people. If I had seen whoever tossed that glove so indiscriminately, I would have said something.
Well, there’s only one thing to do …. I donned a glove, picked up the offensive litter and deposited it in the trash. Puffing on my smoke, I walked back to my car feeling very proud of myself.
Just then a pigeon landed on the trash can, picked out the glove and flew off only to drop the glove on the road. Well, I’ll be damned! It wasn’t a deliberate act of human negligence after all! I chuckled, my faith in mankind restored.
Flicking my cigarette butt out the window, I drove off.
Leyland spoke softly as he comforted his weeping wife, Willow.
“Hush, darling. Another season has come and gone and I’m still here to protect you and the children. I realize I had a couple of close calls but so far, so good. I never thought I’d say this but I’m thankful for my disfigurement; it’s kept me from being selected and close to you.”
Willow sighed. “I feel terribly guilty. There’s no chance I will ever be chosen and I fear for our friends and family.”
“I know, darling. I’ll check on Douglas today. Pray the family is all safe.”
Author’s Note: Leyland and Douglas are very popular evergreens sold as Christmas trees. One of the saddest things is seeing all the dead and forgotten Christmas trees discarded by the curb after the season. Next time you go looking for a Christmas tree, consider buying one with its root ball intact instead of one that’s been chopped down; you can replant it in your yard or place it in a pot. Your tree gave you so much joy during the holidays; why not give it a chance to keep living?And BTW, artificial doesn’t need to have a negative connotation!
No one’s been messing with your devices! Each week Birthday Thursdays will now be seen here on The Elephant’s Trunk where I will feature someone from the world of music who is celebrating a birthday that day. There 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 Michael Stipe Born January 4, 1960 in Decatur, Georgia
Linda G. Hill has challenged us with another prompt for JusJoJan using the word “captivating”. Here is my submission – a Dectina Refrain. This refrain is written as follows: 1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables 3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone line.
Eyes of green like the sea captivating and pulling me in with every crashing wave. Those eyes frighten and thrill me. Should I run to them or from them? The heady allure outweighs the fear. Eyes of green like the sea captivating.
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge has challenged us to write a Six Sentence Story and include the word “task”. This is my response.
Not having practiced the piano at all that one week, I called my instructor who was waiting for me at the church and declared into the phone “Mrs. Ridgeway, it’s Nancy and I can’t make it to my lesson today because it’s raining”; I was quite proud of myself for coming up with such a creative and foolproof excuse.
In her clipped New England-accented voice, Mrs. Ridgeway replied “You’re not a sugar cube and won’t melt in the rain”, then went on to say “Surely you have an umbrella you can use”; I was quick to inform her that I had left my umbrella on the school bus, adding that no one was at home with me to lend me an umbrella and my mother didn’t approve of me walking unprotected in the rain to which my piano teacher replied “Well then, I’ll just come to your house for your lesson”.
You could have knocked me over with a feather because I certainly was not expecting that response and, true to her word, ten minutes later Mrs. Ridgeway appeared at my front door, ready for the task at hand; I dilly-dallied as long as I could looking for my book of Schirmer’s Library of Musical Classics – Selected Piano Masterpieces, setting up my metronome, cracking my knuckles and swinging my arms a la Ed Norton and shifting butt cheeks searching for the most comfortable position until Mrs. Ridgeway’s patience reached the breaking point and she barked “Enough!” which nearly made me jump off the piano bench in a panic.
Shaking like the last leaf on a branch in a windstorm, I opened my lesson book to the appropriate page and began playing Beethoven’s Für Elise while Mrs. Ridgeway sat next to me, staring over my shoulder and glaring; I played as though I was wearing boxing gloves and, being the master sleuth that she was, Mrs. Ridgeway saw right through my brilliant plot.
Angrier than my sister the day she discovered I had ripped off all the heads on her Barbie dolls, Mrs. Ridgeway exclaimed I had wasted her valuable time and she doubled my lessons for the next week which would have been tolerable if she hadn’t reported to my mother who got so mad because of my lack of responsibility, she withheld my allowance for the next two weeks and took away my TV privileges …. even Dr. Kildare.
This is what Für Elise is supposed to sound like; you’ll notice Lang Lang is not wearing boxing gloves (but I bet he’d sound just as good even if he was).
The incomparable Jackie Gleason and Art Carney in a clip from the Honeymooners – Suwanee River. How could I possibly resist?
The prompt for JusJoJan January 2, 2024 is brought to us by my friend Willow; the prompt word is “Gregorian”. Here is my submission.
The Abbot rushed toward the chapel, his robes kicking up dust all around him. He had never heard sounds like that before; he had to get to the bottom of this mystery.
The chanting continued, increasing in volume. Finally the Abbot reached the room and threw open the doors to the chapel. Immediately the startled monks stopped singing, all eyes on the Abbot. One look and everyone could tell he was furious.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, his eyes sweeping the faces of all the monks in the chapel. “Someone answer me! I demand to know why you are not chanting in the traditional manner. Who gave you permission to do this!”
With great trepidation, one brave monk stepped forward. With eyes lowered he spoke softly. “Abbot, forgive me, but while you were attending the funeral of your beloved mother, word was received from His Holiness, Pope Gregory, that all chants are to be sung in this manner. In his honor, the chants are called Gregorian.”
His Holiness! The Abbot was momentarily stunned by this information. He cleared his throat and replied “Of course! His Holiness. It must have slipped my mind while I was preoccupied with the funeral.”
The monks remained silent, all staring at the Abbot. At last he put everyone out of their discomfort by declaring “The new chants are indeed quite lovely. His Holiness is most wise. Carry on, my sons.” The Abbot quickly turned and left the monks to their chanting. A slight smile came to his face as he heard their beautiful voices singing the praises of God.
Linda G. Hill has challenged us with the first prompt for JusJoJan January 1st 2024: and the #1 prompt of the year is “train.” Here is my submission.
Every morning I take the train to work in lower Manhattan from Far Rockaway, New York and back home again in the evening. Along with a multitude of fellow commuters, I ride the underground transit system (affectionately known as ‘the subway”) for a total of three hours round trip. That’s a long time to observe the parade of weirdos entering and exiting the train.
Riding the subway for as long as I do, it’s easy to become familiar with my fellow passenger’s quirks and foibles – even assigning them made up names to go with their peccadilloes. And let me tell you – people are strange!
Far Rockaway is where the commute originates so I’m always guaranteed a seat. A couple I call Marge and Homer gets on the same train as me. I have determined from their heated conversations that they have been engaged for about six years. Marge is ready to get married; Homer’s not. She talks about her biological clock; he talks about nothing but his upcoming promotion at work. Then Marge reminds Homer he’s been saying the same thing for five years now and their discussion becomes more heated with every chug of the subway.
First stop: enter Malodorous Man. This guy is always guaranteed a seat in the corner all by himself. The fact that he desperately needs a shower would be enough to keep people away but he also brings his breakfast on the train – a raw onion which he peels and eats with gusto as one would an apple.
At our next stop Mr. Obsessive gets on. He immediately takes out a can of disinfectant and sprays it in the direction of Malodorous Man who indignantly shouts“Hey, I’m eatin’ here!”
Mr. Obsessive goes to HIS seat (where no one else dares sit because everyone knows it’s HIS seat), cleans it and begins his routine. First he unties his shoe laces making sure they are of equal length. Satisfied that they are, he reties his laces, then adjusts his socks so they reach the exact same height on both legs. He smooths his trousers, unbuttons and re-buttons his jacket, aligns the amount of shirt cuff visible from his jacket sleeves, straightens his tie and adjusts his hat repeatedly. Finally all is well in OCD Land.
At stop number three Malodorous Man departs and the Tattoo Twins get on, a teenage boy and girl covered from the neck down with multicolored tattoos. They lean against the door and start making out while Mr. Obsessive huffs in disapproval.
Totally out of character Marge suddenly declares to Homer that she’s “had enough” and moves to another seat next to Bob the Builder, a good-looking construction worker. Homer’s not happy about this; perhaps he’s noticed the same thing I have: whenever Bob the Builder enters the train he winks at Marge and pats his impressive tool belt. Bob and Marge begin a quiet conversation while Homer fumes.
Next stop and Mr. Obsessive fearfully sidles, past the Tattoo Twins who reach out and knock his perfect hat right off his head. Shocked by this unnecessary assault, Mr. Obsessive stares at the now unwearable hat, sniffs in disdain and scurries off the train.
Impulsively, a jilted Homer jumps up and punches Tattoo Boy in the nose who retaliates by shoving Homer backwards on his ass. A few passengers give Homer a thumbs up. Somewhat embarrassed yet proud of himself, Homer glances over at Marge for her approval. She, however, is too involved with Bob the Builder to notice. Homer tells Marge “it’s our stop” but she shakes her head and snuggles closer to Bob. Homer huffs off and looks back just as Marge fondles the tip of Bob’s hammer.
Welcome to the daily subway sideshow where everyone is strange except me – or am I?
To everyone reading this right now, all my friends on WordPress, I’d like to thank you for sticking with me, reading my posts, liking them and sharing your thoughts. Your comments mean a great deal to me; when I read them I know I have touched you in some way …. with laughter, fear, sorrow, hope, even anger. And you have touched me as well. I am very fortunate to have you in my life; thank you for being here day after day.
Thanks for appreciating the videos I attach to every post. That was just a lark I tried one day and I decided to stick with it. I think they really add something special to my stories. It’s fun looking for just the right ones and from reading your comments, I know you enjoy them.
And speaking of music, try to listen every day to whatever moves you at the moment. Music provides a total brain workout. Listening to music can reduce anxiety, blood pressure and pain as well as improve sleep quality, mood, mental alertness and memory – just what the doctor ordered!
My wish for you is that your new year be filled with peace and love. May you be safe, may you be compassionate, may you choose wisely, may you be happy while bringing happiness to others and may you be blessed with good health and good friends.
Now it’s time for something really cool. While the visual quality isn’t the greatest, the audio is out of sight! From 1998, this is “Happy New Year” with guitar legends BB King and David Gilmour and on piano, the incredible Jools Holland.
Today in Song Lyric Sunday, Jim has challenged us to write about a song by an artist or songwriter who passed away in 2023. This is my response.
Tony Bennett, 1926-2023
There aren’t too many people who haven’t heard of Tony Bennett and if you haven’t, there’s plenty of info you can find on Wiki. But perhaps you didn’t know he was born Anthony Dominick Benedetto in the Astoria district of Queens, New York. He was the son of immigrants …. John, a grocer from southern Italy, and Anna, a seamstress. Tony was the baby of the family, with older siblings, Mary and John Jr. With a father who was ailing and unable to work, the children grew up in poverty.
John Sr. instilled in his son a love of art and literature and compassion for human suffering. His father died when Tony was 10 and Anna worked all hours to support her three children. Watching her struggle, Tony made up his mind to be successful enough for his mother’s trials to end. His Uncle Dick, a tap dancer, provided an early glimpse of show business, and Tony was passionate about both singing and painting by the time he attended the School of Industrial Art (now the High School of Art and Design) in Manhattan.
Tony took bellboy jobs before becoming a singing waiter in a restaurant. He sang with army bands during World War II, but he was demoted and assigned to grave digging for fraternizing on Thanksgiving night with a black soldier who had been a schoolfriend. Twenty years after that episode, Tony was marching in Alabama with Martin Luther King. He was moved to become a pacifist following combat in Europe in 1945, an experience he described as “a front-row seat in hell”.
After demobilization, Tony took vocal classes at the American Theatre Wing School; a teacher there suggested he try imitating the phrasing of jazz instrumentalists and he began singing in nightclubs from 1946 under the stage name of Joe Bari. Comedian Bob Hope hired him in 1949 but, disliking the stage name, told him: “We’ll call you Tony Bennett.”
And so it began, the slow climb from “rags to riches”.
However, there’s something you won’t read about Tony Bennett anywhere but here. Read on.
❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖
“Why don’t you invite Tony Bennett to the wedding?”
That’s something you might expect to hear Nancy Sinatra 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, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and other gigs.
You see, Bill’s been a camera man/teleprompter for a lot of years; he’s had the great opportunity of working with celebrities ranging from Paul McCartney to Big Bird to Bill Clinton. 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 – certainly hours, sometimes days. Some performers prefer to remain aloof; others, like Tony Bennett, are the type who pull up a chair in the break room and eat lunch with the crew.
Now I hope it doesn’t sound like I’m bragging but I raised a good son. Bill is a hard worker, agreeable, unassuming, pleasant, good-looking and funny. Tony and Bill enjoyed working with each other very much – so much so that when Tony was asked to perform at the Rockefeller Center tree lighting again in 2005, he requested my son by name.
During down time at a rehearsal two years later (2007), Bill mentioned 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 wedding day”, shook his hand and that was that – until I found out about it 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 …. where it stayed. 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, and in hindsight it was probably the right decision.
Still …. can you just imagine what a gas it would have been if Tony Bennett had shown up at my son’s wedding?
❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖❖
Frank Sinatra was a good friend of Tony Bennett and he had a couple of great things to say about him, things like he was “the best singer in the business” and – my personal favorite – “that kid’s got four sets of balls”!
I saw Tony Bennett perform several times. I’ll never forget a concert we went to at Carnegie Hall about 25 years ago. A highlight of the show was when Tony sang “Rags To Riches”, one of his very early hits, without accompaniment or a mic, and we could hear him clear as a bell all the way up in the “nosebleed’ seats! What an amazing set of pipes! I was blown away by that performance.
To celebrate Tony Bennett’s life, his incredible talents and gifts to the world, I have chosen that memorable 70-year-old song. “Rags To Riches” is based on a famous Russian tune called “Volga Melody” (aka “Samara My Lovely”) by Yuri Shchetkov. Tony Bennett did the best-known version in 1953 with Percy Faith and his orchestra. It was #1 for eight weeks on the Billboard chart and became a gold record. It was also featured in the opening sequence of the 1990 film “Goodfellas”.
From 1953, this is “Rags To Riches” by the incomparable Tony Bennett.
Lyrics
I know I’d go from rages to riches If you would only say you care And though, my pocket may be empty I’d be a millionaire
My clothes may still be torn and tattered But in my heart I’d be a king Your love is all that ever mattered It’s everything
So, open your arms and you’ll open the door To every treasure that I’m hoping for Hold me and kiss me, and tell me you’re mine evermore
Must I forever be a beggar Whose golden dreams will not come true? Or will I go from rags to riches? My fate is up to you
Must I forever be a beggar Whose golden dreams will not come true? Or will I go from rags to riches? My fate is up to you
(1953)”Someone Turned The Moon Upside Down” (1953)”Rags To Riches“ (1953)”Stranger In Paradise”
Tony Bennett died at his home in New York City on July 21, 2023, – just two weeks shy of his 97th birthday – following a seven-year battle with Alzheimer’s disease. His family said he kept singing right up to the end. Tony will never be forgotten and has been hailed as the “champion” and “legendary interpreter” of the Great American Songbook.
Thank you for sharing in my tribute to Tony Bennett and “Rags To Riches”. Rest easy, Tony. As Bob Hope used to say, “Thanks for the memories”.
Today at The Rhythm Section I have posted my final edition of Name That Tune. Why not stop by for one last spin of the disc? https://rhythmsection.blog//
Happy New Year’s Eve, everyone! It’s time to ring out the old and ring in the new. 🎊
Welcome to Name That Tune: The New Year’s Eve Edition! 🎉 🥳
I hope you’re ready for one final spin of the disc for 2023.
So, without further ado, let’s get the show on the road; I’ve already given you a HUGE clue. Did you see it?
And we’re off! Here are your five clues:
Today’s 1974 video opens with our singer/songwriter/guitarist walking through the gardens of his estate. Our performer once claimed he was never in the music business to become rich or famous; he would have been just as happy being a gardener.
Today’s artist discovered two short verses carved into wood and stone in the “gardening building” on his property. The carvings were made by Sir Frank Crisp, the original owner of our singer’s estate in England, and the verses are said to have been written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson.
The only lyrics in today’s song are the song’s title (repeated four times to serve as the chorus) and the verses mentioned in clue #2.
Our very famous singer was once the lead guitarist for a quartet from the UK. After the group split, he had great success as a solo performer/composer/songwriter/recording executive/music and movie producer and author until his death in 2001.
Upon release, today’s song met with an unfavorable response from music critics while others considered its musical and lyrical simplicity to be a positive factor for a contemporary pop hit. Throughout the video our singer is seen wearing a variety of costumes made famous by his former group and is joined by a number of friends you may recognize. There’s also a scene with him wearing nothing but fur boots and his guitar!
Now that you have the clues (including the HUGE hint in my first line), do you think you know the name of our New Year’s Eve song and the person who wrote and sang it? Well, let’s see if you’re right. You know what to do.
Aha! If you said “Ding Dong, Ding Dong” by George Harrison, you are not only correct …. you are brilliant! Let’s hear that happy holiday song right now.
Well, that certainly was fun and a great way to ring out the old, ring in the new. 🥳 🎊
And now for a bit of personal news: this is my final post for The Rhythm Section; we’re closing up shop. It’s time for a break, a change of pace and a chance to do some much-needed reorganization. I’ll be back with some great new music ideas so stick around!
In the meantime, I’ll still be writing stories and doing prompts on my site The Elephant’s Trunk @ https://theelephantstrunk.org where you can read about all new music developments.
Thanks to all of you for being a terrific audience these past nine months and for making all my posts, whether “At The Movies”, “In The Groove”, Birthday Thursdays” or “Name That Tune”, here in The Rhythm Section so much fun. You are what it’s all about and you inspired me to bring you only the best with each and every post. I hope I was successful. This was a labor of love (with a little blood, sweat and tears mixed in) and I’m looking forward to the chance to do it all again!
Thanks to my fellow contributors Pete and Deb and, of course, Nick.
See you at The Elephant’s Trunk, my friends; take good care of yourselves!
Wishing you all a Healthy, Happy and Peaceful New Year! 🥳 🎊
As far back as Rob could remember, he’d had a love affair with water. All his life, whatever the circumstances, he was drawn to water.
Whether it was to seek comfort or solace, an escape from a busy day, a place to be one with nature watching the sun rise or set – being by the water’s edge was a mainstay in Rob’s life.
Today, as he sat on the docks with his faithful sheepdog Petra, Rob was seeking an answer.
He lived in a nice house and a had a great job, a group of good friends and lots of social activities. Rob and Petra were quite content. The only thing missing was a life companion. He had his share of relationships but two years ago someone special had entered his life. Rob now knew he was ready to make a commitment. She was the girl of his dreams – beautiful physically and in spirit, intelligent, outgoing and vivacious. She had a loyal and trusting heart and a lovely disposition. Rob had never felt such a connection before and he knew this was true love.
He spoke quietly to Petra:
“You know, girl. I feel like the time is right to finally settle down with my true love. It took me a while to realize how I felt but now I know there can’t be anyone more perfect for me. I’m truly happy and ready to pop the question.
What do you say, Petra, my sweet girl? Will you marry me?“
Dectina Refrain: This refrain is written as follows: 1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables 3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone line.
Torn wrapping paper is scattered about. Let’s ring out the old and ring in the new year. Resolution-making time. Hit the gym and start that diet. I’ve never kept a resolution. Torn wrapping paper is scattered about.
Rochelle from Friday Fictioneers gave us the photo below while Denise from Six Sentence Stories provided the prompt word “jingle”. This is my response, a union of two prompts, in a 100-word, six-sentence story.*
When she became pregnant the following year, they were ecstatic; their son was born in 1941, the most beautiful baby anyone ever saw – golden curls, plump cheeks as rosy as apple blossoms.
He was a delightful child who brought incredible joy into their lives.
In 1942 the baby was diagnosed with nephritis; incurable, the doctor said and they were left heartbroken.
In the blink of an eye between Jingle Bells and Auld Lang Syne, their baby silently passed away.
The young couple was devastated; they never celebrated new year’s eve again.
*This story is true; the young mother and father were my parents, their baby boy was the brother I never knew. Six weeks after their baby died, my father was drafted and spent his entire tour of duty fighting in Europe during WWII while my mother was left alone without a husband, without a baby. It wasmany years before I understood the ineffable emotional toll this had on their lives and why we never celebrated New Year’s Eve.
Another oldie while I’m being lazy this week! Some of you have read this; others have not. Here’s a freshened-up, rewritten story. Hope you enjoy this one! 🎁
“What the hell am I doing out on a night like this?” Finn grumbled to himself, his mood worsening with each soggy step he took. “Freezing rain, my feet are soaked and I don’t even want to go to this damn office holiday party!”
Finn had been keeping something secret for a while: no one at the place where he worked knew he was going to quit. He waited for his boss, Mr. Hardy, to leave with his secretary, then Finn placed a sealed envelope on the secretary’s desk. It was addressed to his boss and marked “Personal & Confidential”; inside the envelope was Finn’s letter of resignation.
He was sick of his dead-end job, always being passed over and stuck in a little cubicle all day. There had to be more to life than this and he was ready to find out!
Running into the little gift shop located in the lobby of his company’s building, Finn spotted a small lapis lazuli paperweight near the cash register and decided it would make a fine item for the secret gift swap. As he reached for it, his hand collided with a delicate feminine hand with sparkling mistletoe-green fingernails.
“Hold on, buster! That’s mine! I just left it on the counter while I went to get a gift bag.”
Turning his head, Finn encountered a familiar face; it was the receptionist at his office. He always thought she was pretty but tonight she looked particularly fetching.
“Hayden, isn’t it? Well, I’m sorry but the rule is if you put something down before paying for it, it’s fair game. Besides, I’m in a hurry and I don’t have time to look around for anything else.”
Hayden recognized Finn immediately. He reminded her of a dreamy Hugh Grant in his younger days – handsome and charming – just not at this particular moment.
“Finn, right? Well, I’m in a hurry, too. The office holiday party is starting and this is my selection for the gift swap. You’re probably here for the same reason.”
“Guilty as charged” Finn quipped. “Come on, Hayden. It’s been a crappy day. I just want to buy this thing, make an appearance at the party and get the hell out of there.”
“I feel the same way. These office celebrations are the worst! The last place I want to be is at that party but it’s mandatory. Nothing like ‘forced fun’!”
Finn had to chuckle at that.
“Look, Finn. There’s a bunch of other stuff right over there. Just go select something else. After all, I did see this first.”
“Oh, alright! It’s all yours!” Finn conceded and dashed off to find another gift.
He quickly spotted a rosewood ballpoint pen, grabbed a gift bag and returned to the register just as Hayden was finishing up her purchase. She gave Finn a little smile and headed out into the lobby. He couldn’t help noticing her shapely legs as she walked away, heels click-clacking on the marble floor. He watched till she was out of sight, then made his purchase.
Still waiting for the elevator, Hayden heard a familiar voice behind her declare, “So, we meet again”. She felt a slight rush knowing it was Finn.
“Or maybe you’re following me” Hayden replied coyly, hoping she wasn’t blushing.
She and Finn never really spoke at work but they always caught each other’s eye. Glancing at him Hayden was struck with how intensely blue his eyes were. At the same moment Finn was thinking how very kissable Hayden’s lips looked in the shimmering light of the lobby’s chandelier.
They stepped into the elevator, the only two occupants as it made its slow ascent.
“Mind if I ask why you’re dreading this party so much?” Finn inquired.
“That’s easy.” Hayden replied. “I hate my job! The people are unfriendly, all I do is answer the phone all day andgive directions to rude visitors. This was not my dream when I first came to New York. I’m bored to death and capable of so much more.” She glanced over her shoulder even though they were alone in the elevator, then asked conspiratorially “If I tell you something will you promise to keep it a secret?”
Finn nodded and gave her the ‘zipped lips’ sign.
“I’m quitting tomorrow” Hayden whispered.
“No kidding! So am I! I left a note on Mr. Hardy’s secretary’s desk just before I left today. I hate my job, too. Making a career out of working in a glass box 8 hours a day was never my plan. But mum’s the word, OK?” Finn whispered back covertly and they stared into each other’s eyes like kids making a pinky pledge.
“Any idea what you’re gonna do?” Finn asked.
“Not really” Hayden sighed “but I’ve always dreamed of running a bed and breakfast in Maine.”
“It’s gorgeous there” Finn replied wistfully. “We used to vacation at my grandparent’s lake house when I was a kid.”
The elevator door opened to the office party in full swing. Finn and Hayden rolled their eyes and deposited their little bags on the gift table. He went one way, she went the other but every now and then they found themselves looking for each other across the crowded, noisy room.
After a short time Hayden casually made her way to the elevator. She was just about to make her escape when she heard that familiar voice cry out “Hold the elevator!” and Finn rushed in breathlessly.
They stood side-by-side, both unsure of what to say. Then the inevitable happened.
“I was wondering…..” they said at the same time and laughed self-consciously.
“You first” prompted Hayden.
“I was thinking perhaps we could get a drink somewhere and talk” Finn suggested.
“My thoughts exactly” Hayden replied. And when they stepped outside they discovered the freezing rain had changed to snow. Finn thought the light dusting of snowflakes on Hayden’s hair looked enchanting.
Hayden smiled at Finn. “Maybe we can have that drink at my place” she suggested, her eyes twinkling. “We could light the fireplace, listen to some music …..”
“Sounds perfect” Finn replied softly and slipped his fingers between hers.
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 Edgar Winter Born December 28, 1946 in Beaumont, Texas
As I sit here in my recliner looking out my bedroom window, wondering where Christmas has gone, I ask myself if I should venture out for my walk.
“It’s a bleak-looking day and awfully chilly. Stay inside where it’s warm and comfy.”
But then I remember that my wonky knee could use the exercise and time is fleeting. In just 83 days the beautiful blushing bride of nature will arrive and winter will be nothing but a distant memory.
The Elephant's Trunk 