βPapa, you said we were going fly fishing today. Iβve been waiting hours! Whatβs taking you so long?β
Lorian stood at the entrance to her grandfatherβs study, an adorable 8 year old tomboy in hip waders, boots, a plaid shirt and golden-brown hair in pigtails, tied with a bow the exact shade of red as in her shirt. Arms folded significantly across her chest, she stared at her grandfatherβs typewriter as if wiling it to spontaneously combust.
Ernest turned to face his granddaughter. He spoke to her as though she was one of his cigar-smoking buddies, not like a child, and she loved him for that.
βIβve got to keep one step ahead of that damn Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words? He says I donβt know the $10 words. I know them, alright. But there are older and simpler and better words and those are the ones I use.β
He paused but Lorian knew not to answer. She also knew not to tell Papa that her mother was reading Faulknerβs newest book.
βBesides, heβs an alcoholic. Good thing he’s Republican!β
βPapa, can we go fishing now? The fish ainβt gonna wait all day!β and Ernest laughed at that remark. Then he spotted his gun leaning against the wall.
He was covered with dirt, leaves, broken branches and assorted detritus of a dozen or more yearsβ worth of storms and the forces of nature β¦ dismissed, ignored, abandoned and forgotten β¦ never given a scant thought until I came upon him, and even in his forlorn and dejected state, cast off and tossed aside, he was still majestic and I knew I had to give him breath, new life, a home, a place of honor.
After pulling him from the webs of thorny bushes and strangling ivy, I wrapped him in a blanket, secured him inside my car and drove home where I positioned him on a table in my potting shed and gave him a thorough wipe-down; he was in remarkably good condition for having spent all that time in the elements β¦ after all, he is not made of stone or plaster or concrete but of wood and still there was no rot, no boring holes from worms or bugs, no tiny gnawing marks from rodents as if he had commanded them all to stand back, to keep their distance.
A gentle sanding was all that was needed to remove any loose and chipping paint; there was hardly any, a sign that this proud fellow refused to allow years of snow, rain, wind and unrelenting sun to wear him down.
I primed my pump sprayer and, with a slight nod of deference to this royal figure, I began applying a fresh coat of paint as black as pitch β¦ new garments meant for a prince; in constant, sweeping motions I covered him from head to toe until he was gleaming in a slick veneer of ebony, a raven cloak.
When the paint was dry, I raised him up in my arms and carried him out to a spot specifically chosen for him, a place where he will be seen by all, where he will proudly reign.
He is my Moai Man, carved by the Rapa Nui; his name is Jude and his bearing is regal. πΏ
βItβs a nice house, donβt you think, Virginia? The property is a decent size. And the fresh air! Just what the doctor ordered.β
Finding the perfect house for his ailing wife was first and foremost on Edgarβs mind.
Encouragingly, he continued: βItβs quite affordable at $5 a month! Downstairs there’s one bedroom, the parlor and a nice kitchen which your mother will put to good use. And upstairs is another bedroom for us with my very own writing niche.β
From their carriage Virginia smiled at her husband, covering her mouth with a handkerchief as the deep cough began again. Edgar hurried to her side and she stared lovingly into his eyes. βYes, my dear. I think we will be very happy here.β
βThen itβs settled! Iβll finalize the rental while you rest here.β Before returning to the cottage Edgar covered Virginia with a blanket to protect her from the cool April breeze.
Sitting in the carriage with her mother, Virginia gazed at the cottage. βA lovely little home for the three of us, Mother.β Closing her eyes, Virginia pictured their caged songbirds on the porch, a rocking chair nearby where she could rest in the sun and work on her needlepoint.
“Virginia, Iβve been waiting for you“
Opening her eyes, Virginia asked her mother to repeat what she just said, but Maria assured her she had said nothing. Again Virginia closed her eyes and again she heard the gentle voice in her ear.
“Virginia, welcome home”
An unusual peace came over Virginia as she realized it was the cottage whispering to her. βMy lovely forever homeβ, she thought.
They moved in on a beautiful day in May of 1846 and they were happy there. In the evenings after eating a modest meal prepared by Maria, Edgar worked on his poem “Eulalie” while the family cat sprawled across his shoulders and Virginia dozed by the fireplace.
How Virginia glowed with happiness that gloriously sunny day as Edgar proudly displayed the etched wooden signpost which read “POE COTTAGE”.
But even with constant care, sunshine and fresh air, Virginiaβs consumption became worse, her waif-like body wracked with fits of coughing.
In January Virginiaβs health began to fail rapidly. Edgar stayed by her side day and night, reading to her, until at last on January 30, Virginia heard the whispering cottage beckoning her.
She died peacefully that night in Edgarβs warm embrace as he softly recited β
βThis maiden she lived with no other thought than to love and be loved by me.β
Author’s Note: TheΒ Poe Cottage is the former home of American writer Edgar Allan Poe. It is located on Kingsbridge Road and the Grand ConcourseΒ in the Fordham neighborhood of The Bronx, New York, a short distance from its original location and about 20 minutes from the house where I grew up. I was privileged to visit Poe’s house many times. The cottage is now located in the northern part of Poe Park and is part of the Historic House Trust, listed on the National Register Of Historic Places, administered by The Bronx County Historical SocietyΒ since 1975. It is believed to have been built in 1797.
Itβs all new Birthday Thursdays at The Rhythm Section. No talk, no fuss, no muss. Just wall-to-wall music! Stop by and check it out! π https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome toΒ Birthday ThursdaysΒ here inΒ The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There wonβt be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures β just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Brian Johnson Born October 5, 1947 in Dunston, County Durham, UK
While reading the real estate section, my wife Jen called out to me. “Hey, Eric, check this out. You know that community we love? One of the houses is available, has everything we want plus a big yard and a pool. And get this β they’re asking only $275,000! Thatβs well within our budget!”
“Seriously? Those houses usually go for twice as much! Wonder why it’s so low.”
“The agent’s number is right here” replied Jen. “Let’s call.”
After a brief phone conversation, we agreed to meet at the house at noon. When we arrived, the real estate agent explained to us that the previous owners had moved back to England for work purposes and were anxious for a quick sale β even at a loss.
The community was lovely and families were outside enjoying the great weather. The house we had our eye on was even more beautiful than we imagined β not a thing wrong. We asked the agent to make arrangements for an inspector to check everything out and a few days later he reported the house to be in excellent condition. Any doubts were removed from our minds.
“Well, babe”, I said, giving Jen a hug, “looks like we just found our dream house!”
Two weeks later we moved in and everyone was extremely welcoming. In fact, the guy next door came over the first night we were in the house to invite us to a barbecue that weekend. We knew we were going to love this place.
The barbecue was fun and gave us a chance to meet all our new neighbors. Later that night at home we talked about how nice everyone was; in particular, Jen was surprised by how helpful the men were β “Except for that one awkward scene when Barb got annoyed with Gil because his potato salad had too much mayo!” she laughed.
As time went by, we couldnβt help noticing that all the men were house-husbands while all the women went to work. How odd!One night Gil called to invite me to the weekly Friday night poker game at his house and Jen to a ladies book club night at Susan’s.
The card game was going well and I was on a winning streak when out of the blue Gil asked “So, Eric, when are you gonna get your balls snipped?”
Totally thrown off base, I gagged on my drink. “Excuse me??” I sputtered.
“You know. Snipped! We’re all snipped” Gil answered, making little scissor cutting gestures with his fingers. “Dr. Susan does it, smooth and easy. Our wives convinced us life would be much calmer that way and it is. Here’s her number.”
Mumbling hasty excuses, I hurriedly left the game and dashed home, colliding withΒ Jen running home from the other direction.Β
“Do you know what they do here?!?” she asked, horrified.
I nodded frantically.Β “And the only things getting cut are our losses! C’mon! We’re outta here!”Β
During the late 1960s and early 1970s, a new musical genre was developed. It kicked in the door of the music world and turned into a phenomenon that is still going strong some 55 years later. And there are no obvious signs of it slowing down any time soon. In case you didnβt get the hint from my subtle new header image, Iβm talking about heavy metal! π€πΌ
We all know what it is: a genre of rock music that developed largely in the United Kingdom and United States with roots in blues rock, acid rock and psychedelic rock. Metal bands created a thick, monumental sound characterized by distorted guitars, extended guitar solos, emphatic beats and loudness.
WHAT?? Oh, I think I know what you’re trying to say, Mr. Wikipedia β
In other words, heavy metal crashes through the safety of your walls, grabs you by the throat, flips you around like a rag doll, tosses you upside down onto the Helter Skelter for a few spins at Mach 3.3, drags you off by your hair, straddles you and screams in your face βHEAR ME!β, then slams you down Centerstage Row A without any sissy earplugs where you stand dripping in blood, sweat and tears, wonky legs barely supporting you, arms extended, fingers shaped like π€πΌ as your heart races frantically inside your chest like John Bonham on speed, your head starting to erupt into a trillion bits and, like Ozzy, you howl at the moon βAll aboard! This is bloody freakinβ awesome!!β
Get the picture? Good. Now let’s get this show on the road!
In 1968 three of the genreβs most famous pioneers were founded. Often referred to as the βunholy trinityβ, their hope was to attract wide audiences with their musical message; they were often misunderstood and ridiculed by critics. That didnβt stop them.
That same year, March of 1968, Bill and I met on a blind date. The following week for our second date, we went to the concert mecca of the Lower East Side of Manhattan β the Fillmore East. It was our first time there and the start of a long run of concerts. Ten months later we saw a relatively unknown group at the Fillmore who would go on to become one of the greatest bands of all time. That band is the group I’m featuring today in Metal Madness.
Between 1968 and 1977 β the period known as B.K. (Before Kids) β Bill and I saw the βunholy trinityβ as well as many other groups, multiple times. Back then, even the good seats were cheap and we were always in one of the first three rows. I laughingly remember the night Robert Plant tossed back his magnificent mane of blonde curls and rained droplets of sweat on us. It was fabulous!
Allow me now to delve a little deeper into our first group in Metal Madness: Led Zeppelin.
Formed in London in 1968, Led Zeppelin developed their style by drawing from a variety of influences, including blues and folk music. The band was comprised of vocalist Robert Plant, guitarist Jimmy Page, bassist and keyboardist John Paul Jones and drummer John Bonham. With a heavy guitar-driven sound, they are cited as one of the forerunners of hard rock and heavy metal music. Zeppelin has been credited as significantly impacting the nature of the music industry, particularly in the development of album-oriented rock and stadium rock.
Led Zeppelin is one of the best-selling musical groups of all time, with total sales estimated at over 300 million records sold worldwide. The group achieved eight consecutive UK #1 albums and six #1 Albums on the US Billboard 200, with five albums certified diamond in the United States. Rolling Stone magazine once describedZeppelin as βthe heaviest band of all timeβ, βthe biggest band of the 70sβ, and βunquestionably one of the most enduring bands in rock historyβ. Led Zeppelin was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 1995; the museumβs biography of the band states that they were βas influential during the 1970s as the Beatles were during the 1960sβ. Thatβs quite a statement.
For me listening to these great songs is like eating potato chips; I can’t eat just one! I have several video selections for you today. Listen to any, listen to all; the choice is yours and each one is great!
Ok, no more talking; itβs time for some music. And if you look hard enough, you just might spot me in the audience!
I’d like to close with what I consider to be an indelible moment in time β Ann and Nancy Wilson of Heart performing at the Kennedy Center in a concert honoring Led Zeppelin. This is no hype; you’ll know what I mean when you see the reaction from the honorees watching from the best seats in the house. The song is one you all know; it has been called “the single-most important and celebrated song Led Zeppelin ever recorded”.
This is “Stairway To Heaven”.
That’s the way it is with heavy metal and groups like Led Zeppelin; you can’t stop at just one!
I hope you enjoyed your first ride on the Metal Madness Express. Thanks for being here! I’d love to know your thoughts so kindly leave a comment.
Please join me right here next week for an introduction to the second group in the “unholy trinity”. Can you guess who it is? You don’t want to miss it; I’m just warming up! π₯ π€πΌ
Since publishing my story Honeysuckle and Provolone, I have received a few requests for my lasagna recipe. Iβm happy to share a great Italian dish which Iβm sure will become a favorite of yours. Iβve been making lasagna for more than 50 years and I have a few tricks that will prevent major headaches for anyone who is making lasagna for the first time.
The most difficult part about preparing lasagna is handling the boiled pasta sheets; they can be delicate and I always suggest cooking them al dente as they will continue to cook while in the oven. I know some people who prefer to skip the boiling step altogether since the sheets will cook and soften up in the tomato sauce while baking.
Another option is to place the lasagna sheets in a pan, cover with boiling water and let them sit for 30 minutes before rinsing in cold water. The people at Barilla make traditional lasagna sheets as well as ones that are oven-ready and do not require boiling; I have never tried making lasagna without first boiling the pasta sheets so I’m not an authority on the oven-ready method. However, I do know enough about cooking to know that the pasta will soften up sufficiently while baking as long as you use enough tomato sauce to cover it entirely.
I prefer to use Barilla pasta; I believe it is a superior product β lighter and tastier than other brands. That’s just my preference; please use whichever brand you like.
This is the tradition Barilla lasagna I use. One box (1 lb) is sufficient for one 9×13″ lasagna.
This is what the “no bake” or “oven-ready” lasagna sheets look like. They are much smaller, the package is smaller and you will need to buy several boxes to make one 9×13″ lasagna.
If youβre making a traditional lasagna and boiling the pasta first, it’s very important to use a BIG pot. The lasagna sheets are long and wide and need plenty of room to move around in the water; I prefer to cook six sheets at a time for less crowding in the pot. Also, itβs extremely helpful to add a splash of oil to the pasta water; this will keep the lasagna sheets from sticking together. Once lasagna sheets get stuck together, it’s extremely difficult to separate them without tearing. A little oil in the cooking water will prevent a big sticky problem. Boil the lasagna sheets for the amount of time indicated in the cooking directions on the box. And don’t forget to salt the cooking water.
Boiled lasagna sheets should be rinsed and separated in a colander under cold water immediately after cooking and kept in a pot or plastic tub of cold water while the meat is cooking and the cheese filling is being prepared. Just as you would use an ice bath to stop vegetables from overcooking and to retain their color, use a cold water bath for the cooked lasagna sheets.
Hereβs another trick a lot of cooks ignore. When assembling lasagna in a baking pan, the direction of the lasagna sheets should be alternated every other layer. The first layer of pasta should be placed lengthwise in the baking pan with the edges slightly overlapping; the next layer should be placed widthwise in the pan. Since the width of a standard lasagna pan is shorter than the length, the lasagna sheets will need to be trimmed to fit the pan. This is easy to do with standard kitchen scissors. Alternating the layers will make for a firmer lasagna that will not fall apart when cut into; this is the best assembly method to use regardless of the size of the pan and you will always have neatly cut squares of lasagna.
Here is an image of layering lasagna sheets; there’s no sauce or other ingredients in this image so you can clearly see what I mean by alternating the layers:
First layer is lengthwise; 2nd layer is widthwise and trimmed to fit the size of the pan. Easy!
This may seem like a lot of information but don’t let it scare you; itβs basic reference info only. If you refer to it as you cook, you shouldnβt have any problems.
Now, letβs take a look at the ingredients:
1 lb sweet Italian sausage 1 lb ground chuck 80/20 Β½ cup diced onion 1 teaspoon minced garlic 28oz can crushed tomatoes (+see below) 12oz can tomato paste (+see below) 15oz can tomato sauce (+see below) ΒΌ cup water 2 tablespoons granulated sugar Β½ cup freshly chopped basil 1 teaspoon Italian seasoning (*see below) 1 teaspoon salt ΒΌ teaspoon black pepper 4 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley 12 lasagna pasta sheets 15oz whole milk ricotta cheese 1 lb whole milk mozzarella, shredded (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna) Β½ cup grated Romano cheese (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna) Β½ cup grated parmigiano cheese (reserve a handful to sprinkle on top layer of lasagna) 1 large egg dash nutmeg
+ I am not a fan of tomato sauce in a jar. My mother taught me to make her tomato sauce and that is the only one I use. On a day when I have nothing to do, I’ll whip up a few batches, portion it out into Tupperware and freeze it. It’s nice to know it’s there whenever I need it; however, canned tomatoes for this recipe are fine.
* Using a store-bought mixed jar of Italian seasoning is perfectly fine but you might want to try making your own. Combine 2 tablespoons each of dried basil, cilantro, marjoram, oregano, parsley, red pepper flakes, rosemary and thyme. Store in a tightly sealed spice jar. Using store-bought Italian seasoning for this recipe is fine.
COOKING INSTRUCTIONS
This recipe makes a large pan of lasagna. I use a deep dish Pyrex lasagna pan or a deep 9×13β baking pan.
In a large saucepan, cook the sausage, ground beef, onion and garlic until cooked through. Drain the fat..
To the cooked meat add the tomatoes, paste, sauce, water, sugar, basil, Italian seasoning, salt, pepper and parsley. Stir well.
Simmer, covered, over low heat for 1 Β½ hours, stirring occasionally.
While meat is cooking, boil the lasagna sheets; drain and keep cool in cold water.
In a medium bowl mix together all the cheeses, egg and nutmeg
LETβS PUT OUR LASAGNA TOGETHER! (I suggest reading through before starting)
Heat oven to 350ΒΊF.
Lightly cover the bottom of a 9×13″ lasagna pan with a small amount of meat sauce.
Spoon approximately ΒΌ of cheese mixture over lasagna sheets and spread to cover.
Spread 1/2 cup of meat sauce β or enough to cover the cheese mixture.
Cover meat sauce with 4 lasagna sheets widthwise, cutting to fit pan.
Continue layering cheese mixture, meat sauce and lasagna sheets, alternating the direction of the sheets, until all ingredients are used. Reserve some meat sauce for the top layer. Top lasagna with meat sauce and sprinkle with grated cheese and mozzarella.
Cover pan with with aluminum foil and bake for 25 minutes; remove foil and bake an additional 30 minutes uncovered.
Allow the lasagna to cool for 15 minute before slicing.
More important that anything β enjoy your cooking experience. Cooking should be a joy β not a chore. To that end, I’ve added a full concert video by Il Volo to accompany you while you cook.
This week Jim at Song Lyric Sunday is asking us to write about a song that mentions a food suggested by Christine of Stine Writing and Miniatures. Here is a unique little ditty just about as old as bread itself.
“Bread and Butter” is a 1964 song by the American pop vocal trio Newbeats; it was the group’s first and most popular hit. The song served as the Newbeats’ demo in an effort to obtain a recording contract with Hickory Recording.
The opening two-chord piano riff and the lead falsetto of Larry Henley are the most notable features of the song.
“Bread and Butter” was the inspiration for the advertising jingle of Schmidt Baking Company used in the 1970s and 1980s; it went like this:
“I like bread and butter, I like toast and jam, I like Schmidt’s Blue Ribbon Bread, It’s my favorite brand”.
Catchy, isn’t it?
The song has been featured in numerous movies and TV shows as well as a variety of television commercials. It is part of music compilations found on Billboard Top Rock’n’Roll Hits: 1964 as well as Classic Rock (Time-Life Music).
Let’s have a listen to this quirky hit from 1964:
Lyrics
β¦ Ah, he likes bread and butter Ah, he likes toast and jam Ah, that’s what his baby feeds him Ah, he’s her loving man
β¦ Well, I like bread and butter I like toast and jam That’s what baby feeds me I’m her loving man
β¦ Ah, he likes bread and butter Ah, he likes toast and jam That’s what his baby feeds him Ah, he’s her loving man
β¦ Well, she don’t cook mashed potatoes She don’t cook T-bone steak She don’t feed me peanut butter She knows that I can’t take
β¦ Ah, he likes bread and butter Ah, he likes toast and jam Ah, that’s what his baby feeds him Ah, he’s her loving man
β¦ Well, I got home early one Monday Much to my surprise She was eating chicken and dumplings With some other guy
β¦ No more bread and butter Ah, no more toast and jam He found his baby eating Ah, with some other man
β¦ No, no, no No more bread and butter Ah, no more toast and jam I found my baby eating Ah, with some other man
β¦ No, no, no, no No more bread and butter No, no, no, no Ah, no more toast and jam
β¦ No, no, no, no Ah, no more bread and butter No, no, no, no Ah, no more toast and jam No, no, no, no Ah, no more bread and butter
As Jim pointed out to me, the big surprise in this song is when the guy comes home early and finds his lover eating chicken and dumplings with some other guy! What a great ending!
Well, I gotta run; I think I smell toast burning! π π§ π₯«
Today we are featuring a famous American group and what I believe is their best known song. I had forgotten this group was together only three years, from 1965 to 1968 and when I read that, it was shocking to me. They’re one of those groups you just assume were together much longer than they were.
Nuff said! It’s time for some fun! Letβs play Name That Tune. Good luck!
Todayβs song was written by the two founding members of our featured group during a particularly cold winter in New York. The lyrics tell us about the coupleβs desire to leave the harsh winter weather and return to their warm, sunny hometown.
Our featured group, a very popular West Coast folk/rock quartet, was founded in 1965 and was comprised of two men and two women. They were together only three years and after the break up, each member pursued solo careers.
Todayβs song was originally written for and recorded by the American singer Barry McGuire (“Eve of Destruction”); however, the version by our featured group is by far the best known and immediately recognized.
The two founding members of our group were a married couple when the group formed. After their divorce, the husband was accused of some very disturbing and sordid drug-related activity which you can read about on Wiki.
Today’s song became a signpost of the ‘California sound‘, heralding the arrival of the budding counterculture era.
Did my clues help you figure out the answers to today’s mystery? Well, weβll find out in few seconds. Just scroll on down for the big reveal.
If you answered “California Dreaming”by The Mamas and The Papas, you rock!
Let’s listen to that very cool song right now:
Michelle Phillips wrote the lyrics, “Well, I got down on my knees, and I pretend to pray,” but Cass Elliot had sung “began to pray” on the original recording and had continued doing so on tour until corrected by Phillips.
They really had a terrific sound, didn’t they? Of all their many hits, do you have a favorite Mamas and Papas song? Let’s hear from you; drop a line in the comments section or add your favorite video. We love videos!
My time is up for today. Be sure to check in with The Rhythm Section all week for some really great music. Thanks for hanging with me today playing Name That Tune!
The early morning air was thick with the smell of rain, the stillness almost suffocating. I was determined to finish my walk and get back home before the storm hit. Still on the historic Leatherstocking Trail which snakes its way through the woods near the old train station, I had about a mile to go.
There was an alien look about the sky, otherworldly and menacing. Tenebrous clouds, clumsy and swollen like an over-full bladder, partially obscured a series of long, jagged slashes of coppery-red. I was reminded of the familiar adage:
βRed sky at night, sailorβs delight. Red sky at morning, sailorβs warning.β
Nothing about this day bode well.
I stopped to tie back my hair and pull the hood of my jacket over my head, securing it snugly with the drawstring. A few rumbles of thunder warned me not to dawdle; there would be no stopping this rain.
The threat of the approaching norβeaster brought with it the unwelcome promise of flooding β a frequent visitor in these low-lying areas of the Hudson Valley.
I quickened my pace, the only sound the muffled slap of my sneakers hitting the leaf-strewn path.
An impressive bolt of lightning split the sky, followed by a barrage of thunder. By now my indignant left knee was barking ferociously and I cursed for having walked so far.
My house finally came into view. The rain started as I climbed the steps to my front door; a forlorn train whistle howled in the distance.
NB β As I am writing this, New York, the place I call home, is in a State of Emergency due to unrelenting rainstorms and severe flooding. This rain is the worst weβve had in years. Four continuous days of rain last week and now this. The saturated ground cannot hold any more water and it has nowhere to go but up. Exhausted from bailing out our basement, we finally gave up, defeated. No matter what we do, the water will always win.
βGrammy, come see our new homework room. Daddy painted the walls for us. Come look!β
My grandchildren tug at my arms, leading me into their newly decorated room. There were three workstations for them to do their schoolwork, shelves lined with books and a big old wooden chest filled with treasures.
The underwater scenes my son painted were wondrous; honestly, the theme didnβt matter.
It was the memories that came flooding back to me from thirty years ago when he painted the walls of his own room with cartoon characters he created.
βCrying? No, sillies! Just something in my eye.β
Saunders Drive. On the right corner stood the library, looking exactly as it did the last time I saw it. Diagonally across the street was the church we attended every Sunday, the preacher bellowing about morals and principles. Directly across from the church was a quaint-looking inn with a sign over the doorway β βWelcome Home!β And on the fourth corner was the big Colonial house where the Casey Family lived.
Jeff Casey was my first boyfriend; feels like a hundred years ago. Now there was a prominent shingle on the front lawn which read JEFFREY CASEY, M.D. A doctor! I never should have broken up with him!
My childhood house was a stoneβs throw from the Caseyβs. Not quite ready to see the old place just yet, I kept walking. About halfway down Main Street, I came across a boho-chic coffee shop/poetβs corner calledΒ βBeggars, Cynics and Euripidesβ. A pretty young woman wearing a rainbow tie dyed hippie skirt was preparing lunch tables outside. The freshly-painted red chairs were staggering in their brilliance. She smiled pleasantly at me and asked if Iβd like a table.Β
βWhy not?β I answered as she handed me a menu. I was engrossed in reading the descriptions of the lunch fare when I became aware of someone standing nearby watching me. Glancing over my shoulder, I was pleasantly surprised to see the still-handsome face of Jeff Casey grinning at me.
βRebecca Gardner! My God! Whatβs it been β 20 years? What brings you back to town?β
βJeff!You look great!β and I instinctively hugged him. βPlease join me.β
The waitress took our orders for iced coffee and as we waited, that warm, relaxed feeling between us resurfaced.
βTwenty years exactly. My folks sold the house after I graduated college. Honestly, Iβm not sure why Iβm here. Memories, you know?β
We caught up on life β marriages, divorces, etc. β and I mentioned going to see my old house but for whatever reason I was nervous.
Jeff tossed a twenty on the table and said βCome on. Letβs go together.β And before I could think of an excuse, he took my hand and we were on our way.
βThe Matthews Family lives here now. Nice people.β Jeff bounded up the front steps and rang the doorbell. No answer.
The old oak tree was standing proud and tall in the front yard. My fingers lightly traced the weathered heart shape with our initials carved inside and we shared a smile and unspoken memories.
We strolled up Saunders Drive to Jeffβs place, neither of us in a rush for this bubble of serendipity to burst. Jess sighed. βWell, Iβve got patients to see.”
βAnd Iβve got a train to catchβ I replied. βJeff, it’s been too long. Let’s keep in touch.β
βI’d like that, Becca. By the way, I make housecalls.β He smiled over his shoulder as he disappeared inside.
Itβs all new Birthday Thursdays at The Rhythm Section. No talk, no fuss, no muss. Just wall-to-wall music! Stop by and check it out! π https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There wonβt be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures β just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Ben E. King Born September 28, 1938 in Henderson, North Carolina
When I was a kid, I attended a private Lutheran school from First Grade all the way through my senior year in high school; being in an unusually close environment such as that with a bunch of other kids was like having a very large extended family and, just like siblings, there were days when we fought like cats and dogs and there were times when weβd do anything for one another.
Being a relatively small school, there were some features we didnβt have that you would normally find in a larger public school; for example, we had a gymnasium but not an auditorium so phys ed and basketball games were held in the same room as our concerts, plays, pep rallies and graduations. We also did not have a cafeteria where students could buy food for lunch; everyone brought their own lunch, which we ate in the lunchroom or student union, and were able to buy snacks, desserts, candy, ice cream and cartons of milk in the small school store just off the lunchroom.
The snacks in the little store were nothing special β mostly things like chips, pretzels, Hostess Twinkies and Snowballs, Sugar Daddys, Tootsie Rolls and novelty candy items like Pixie Stix, miniature wax bottles filled with a sticky sweet liquid, button candy and tiny ice cream cones that werenβt ice cream at all but some kind of rubbery sugar substance β but we also had real ice cream and individual cartons of both regular milk and chocolate milk; itβs funny but the feature I remember most about those milk cartons was the round perforation on the top side where a straw could be inserted for mess-free drinking.
One unforgettable day when I was in fifth grade, a representative from Drakes Cakes came to our school and our class learned it had been selected as the official βtaste testerβ for a bunch of new products being considered for the school store; once every week for about four months we got to sample items that werenβt as yet available to the public for sale such as Funny Bones, Ring Dings, Devil Dogs, Yodels, Coffee Cakes and Fruit Pies.
Man oh man β¦ as you can well imagine, that was one of the most amazing times in our young lives and by far the best year we ever had in school; my class was the envy of all the other kids and I still canβt resist those delicious devilβs food cake βhot dogsβ filled with whipped cream that we all know as Devil Dogs.
The minute she walked into my deli on Arthur Avenue, I was blown away. She knocked my socks off. Even through the crack in the storage room door I was dazzled by this profusion of red hair the color of a bright autumn day, creamy skin with a splash of freckles and captivating emerald eyes. I’ve got a weakness for gingers and I fell head over heels.
Iβm Bruno Deluca β or Mr. Monotone compared to the stunning Monarch butterfly that just gaily flew into my market. I have the quintessential Italian look β walnut brown hair, coffee brown eyes and a perpetual deep tan. But I have a sparkling smile and dimples βto die forβ, as my Aunt Carmella always says.Β
This amber goddess stood in front of the meat and cheese display, a bewildered look on her face. Hereβs my big chance. I dashed from the back room and positioned myself directly in her line of vision.Β βWelcome to Delucaβs Salumeria. May I help you with something, miss?βΒ [Smooth, right? Not to mention original!]Β
She looked up and I flashed her my trademark smile. And she smiled back, blushing winsomely. My knees grew weak when she spoke, her lilting Irish brogue a sweet surprise.
βEverything looks so exotic and delicious! I wouldn’t know what to order, even if could pronounce the names!β And when she laughed I swear I saw musical notes wafting through the air.
βNo problemβ I replied as I swiftly came around to her side, naming and describing all the meats and cheeses.
She smelled like honeysuckle. I smelled like provolone.
She still couldnβt make up her mind so I tried something radical. βHow about I give you a few samples β on the house β if you promise to come back and buy something, even if itβs one slice of salami?β
She hesitated for a second, then laughingly said βYou have a deal, Mrβ¦..β
βDeluca. Bruno Deluca. And you areβ¦..?β
She extended a delicate porcelain hand. βRowan McCourt. Pleased to meet you, Bruno.β
βRowan, eh? Thatβs a lovely name. What does it mean?β
Tentatively toying with her hair she said βLittle Red-haired One. And what does Bruno mean?βΒ
I shrugged and matter-of-factly stated βBrownβ and we both burst out laughing!
I packed up a nice selection of sliced meat and cheese and some of my best Italian bread. βHere ya go, Rowan, and donβt forgetβ¦..β
βOh, no Bruno! This is too much! I couldn’t possibly…..!βΒ
βGo! Enjoy! It’s always good to have leftovers. See you soon!β
The next day I kept glancing at the door; I couldn’t get Rowan out of my head and I was disappointed when she didn’t return. True to her word, though, she was back the following morning.
βBruno, everything was delicious!” she declared excitedly. “Now what shall I buy?β
She browsed for a minute. βThat looks incredible! What is it?βΒ
βThatβs lasagna β sheets of wide pasta layered with ricotta, mozzarella, grated Parmigiano Reggiano cheese, sauteΓ¨d chopped beef and sausage in my homemade tomato sauce. It’s already cooked; just heat and enjoy. Would you like to try it?”
“I would indeed! You make it all sound so delicious, Bruno. My mouth is watering!”
“You won’t regret your decision, Rowan. Lasagna is one of our specialties.How much would you like?βΒ
βEnough for a few portions, pleaseβ Rowan replied. Her smile was radiant.
βAh, leftovers. You remembered!β I said, smiling back.
βActually, Bruno, I was hoping you would join me for dinner tonight.”
It took me a second to remember to breath. βIβd love toβ I whispered while inside I was shouting βYES! Iβd love to!β
βWonderful! Hereβs my address. See you at 7:00. And Bruno, can you bring a bottle of wine and some of your fabulous bread?β Rowan asked.
I stared into her eyes and nodded mutely.
βBruno, Iβm very happy youβll be joining me tonight.βΒ Taking her bag, Rowan floated out the door.Β The slightest trace of honeysuckle tickled my nose.
βMotown was about music for all people β white and black, blue and green, cops and the robbers. I was reluctant to have our music alienate anyone.β β Berry Gordy, Motown Founder
π π π
Welcome back to In The Groove: Motown Melodies!
It’s the last Tuesday of September β time to conclude our musical journey in the Motor City. I’ve chosen to start today’s segment with a 1963 high octane hit by another incredible girl group that you’re all sure to know.
Is it my imagination or is it getting hot in here?
βHeat Waveβ was written by the songwriting team of Holland-Dozier-Holland and was first made popular by the group βMartha and the Vandellasβ. Released as a single on the Motown subsidiary Gordy label, this song garnered a Grammy Award nomination, the first Motown group to ever do so.
Founded in 1957 by friends Annette Beard, Rosaline Ashford and Gloria Williams, the group eventually included Martha Reeves who moved up in ranks as lead vocalist after Williamsβ departure in β61. During their nine-year run from 1963-1972, βMartha and the Vandellasβ charted over 26 hits recorded in the styles of doo-wop, R&B, pop, blues, rock and roll and soul. In 1995 the group was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.
βHeat Waveβ was one of the first songs to exemplify the style of music later termed as the βMotown Soundβ. Here are Martha and the Vandellas performing their 1963 hit, βHeat Waveβ.
What a great song by a terrific group β the epitome of that legendary βMotown Soundβ that still sounds fresh and new today.
I have a few more dimes left for the jukebox; let’s punch up a couple more hits by “the girls”.
Wow! What a great bunch of songs! Iβve been loving listening to the Motown girl groups; how about you? Please leave a comment and let me know your thoughts about these great Motown hits.
Another month is in the books, kids. Thanks for movinβ and groovinβ with me to the greatest sounds to come out of the Motor City! π
Be sure to join me here next Tuesday as we dive into a brand new category for October. What will it be? All I can say is you don’t wanna miss it. We’re flying to England where we’ll be kicking it up and raising some hell!
Sadje has asked us in her Sunday Poser if we have any bad habits we want to give up.
Who, me?
Do not get me started on bad habits. That will only result in a monumental snowball effect which will totally ruin my day and likely bore the pants off everyone else.
Just the fact that I’m sitting here taking the time to write this when I could be cleaning out a closet is statement enough; I don’t need to produce a laundry list of my bad habits.
It’s been raining like gangbusters here since Saturday β the type of weather when all you want to do is watch old movies, read or write on your blog. I thought about keeping up with my daily walks but it was pouring so I said “Nah” and pulled my hoodie up over my head.
Look, here’s the bottom line:
Everyone has bad habits, big or small. If anyone can point a judgmental finger at another person while professing to not having one single bad habit themselves, they’d be lying … or at the very least, bragging. Those are bad habits right there.
No, don’t get me started on bad habits.
We are all flawed.
Perhaps we might want to hone our good habits and not dwell so much on the bad ones. Imagine all the money we’d save on antacids!
I rest my case.
PS: Yesterday we were granted a brief window of no rain. We dragged our sorry asses out of our recliners and went for that walk after all. I felt good about that. The jury is still out on what will happen today. And that is no lie.
Today Jim at Song Lyric Sunday is asking us to think about a musical group with a type of food in its name and write about one of their songs. I have chosen the Canadian hard rock group April Wine and their song Sign of the Gypsy Queen.
β
“Sign of the Gypsy Queen” was written and originally recorded by Lorence Hud. The song became a hit in Canada when released as a single in 1973. Hud’s version appeared on his eponymous debut album. The song reached the top 5 on the West Coast, #3 on CJRW-FM in Summerside, Prince Edward Island, and peaked at #16 nationally on the RPM 100 chart.
April Wine had more success with its 1981 hard rock version of the song. It was the second single from their album, The Nature of the Beast. The song reached #40 on the Canadian Hot 100, and #57 in the United States on the Billboard Hot 100, and #19 on the Mainstream Rock Tracks.
This version has become popular on album-oriented rock radio stations, getting frequent airplay in the United States and Canada; a music video aired on MTV’s first day of broadcast. It remains one of the group’s signature songs and a live concert staple.
“Sign of the Gypsy Queen” gained a brief resurgence in popularity when it was featured in an episode of the American television series Breaking Bad in 2013. The episode, βGranite Stateβ, received critical acclaim, and is one of the most popular episodes in the series history.
Sign of the Gypsy Queen β by April Wine
Lyrics
Lightning smokes on the hillrise Brought the man with the warning light Shouting loud you had better fly While the darkness can help you hide Trouble’s comin’ without control No one’s stayin’ that’s got a hope Hurricane at the very least In the words of the gypsy queen
Sign of the gypsy queen Pack your things and leave Word of a woman who knows Take all your gold and you go
Get my saddle and tie it on Western wind who is fast and strong Jump on back, he’s good and long We’ll resist till we reach the dawn Running seems like the best offense Staying just don’t make any sense No one could ever stop it now Show the cards of the gypsy town
Sign of the gypsy queen Pack your things and leave Word of a woman who knows Take all your gold and you go
Shadows movin’ without a sound From the hold of the sleepless town Evil seems to be everywhere Heed the spirit that brought despair Trouble’s comin’ without control No one’s stayin’ that’s got a hope Hurricane at the very least In the words of the gypsy queen
Sign of the gypsy queen Pack your things and leave Word of a woman who knows Take all your gold and you go Sign of the gypsy queen Pack your things and leave Word of a woman who knows Take all your gold and you go Sign of the gypsy queen Pack your things and leave Word of a woman who knows Take all your gold and you go
When she saw him for the first time, he was walking alone at night in the pouring rain. She sat in her car, stopped at a red light, and watched as he slowly tramped forward, head lowered, collar raised and hands in his pockets. He seemed haunted, lost and oblivious to the weather and his surroundings.
He appeared to be in his late teens, tall and slim. Even though she couldnβt see his eyes she felt a great sadness must be behind them. She had the strong urge to reach out to him. She experienced that familiar combination of sympathy, nurturing, curiosity and desire.
The light changed and she had no choice but to move on. Instead of going straight she turned right once, twice, three times until she was now at the corner just as the teen approached. She pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window, asking if he needed help, perhaps a ride to wherever he was headed. At first her questions got no response; neither she nor the young man moved. Then he slowly raised his head and looked up. His eyes were lifeless, his face devoid of emotion.
Again she called out to him, saying he must be cold, possibly hungry. No reaction. She leaned across the seat and opened the passenger door offering him shelter from the rain. Still he did not move and she quietly asked him to allow her to help. His face softened imperceptibly and he tentatively approached the car. She said to please get in and close the door. She smiled as he did what she asked.
She inquired if she could take him somewhere; no response. Shifting the car into drive she headed in the direction of her house. She told him he could trust her. She offered him the comfort of a hot meal and a place to rest. He sat looking straight ahead, saying nothing. She spoke softly, telling him she had groceries in the car β a freshly roasted chicken and warm bread β and she noticed he inhaled slightly, savoring the delectable aromas. She drove into her driveway, pulled straight into the garage and closed the door using the remote control. With a velvety laugh she told the young man she was famished and was going inside to eat. He was welcome to join her β his choice.
She became aware of his presence before she saw him. He stood in the hallway, his sopping wet coat dripping on the floor. She told him to remove it and she gingerly helped him take it off, hanging it on a hook to dry. She placed heaping platters of food on the table and only then did he look up, his face expressionless yet more handsome than she imagined. He allowed her to lead him to the table where his hunger overcame him and he devoured everything on his plate, never once looking at her.
When he finished eating she brought him to the den where he sat on a sofa by the fireplace. Quietly she placed pieces of kindling and wood in the fireplace and watched as the flames began to flicker, filling the room with a warm glow. When she turned around the teen was asleep, his face finally at rest. She removed his shoes, covered him with a blanket and went upstairs to bathe.
Slipping into a sheer robe, she went back downstairs and silently walked into the den. Her guest was awake, staring at the fire. She sat beside him and placed her hand over his. He didnβt move away. Emboldened, she lifted his hand and placed it on her breast. He shuddered and closed his eyes. Reaching across his body she placed her left hand on his right shoulder, turning him to face her and for the first time they looked into each otherβs eyes. She shrugged off her robe and placed both his hands on her breasts, encouraging him to caress her. His breathing was ragged and she smiled seductively as she began to unbutton his shirt. Now his hands were roaming freely and he didnβt stop her when she unzipped his pants, feeling his erection growing harder beneath her deft fingers.
She told him it had been four empty years since her husbandβs sudden death and she was very lonely. Slowly she eased him back and mounted him, delighting in the exquisite sensation. She gyrated smoothy, deeply; there was no need to rush. Afterwards they went upstairs to her room. There was much she could teach this boy and the possibilities excited her.
The next morning when she awoke she was alone. She went downstairs but he was gone. Unperturbed, she walked into the kitchen and brewed some coffee. She lit a cigarette and sat at her laptop. Clicking a key she studied the roadmap that appeared on the screen, contemplating her next objective. In which direction would she drive tonight?
Welcome back to Name That Tune! Iβm The Sicilian Storyteller and itβs my turn to toss out a few questions in the hope youβll be able to guess the name of todayβs featured song and the person who performed it.
Are you ready to rumble? Here are your five clues; letβs see how well you do. Put on your wizard caps and conjure up a little magic for this one. And, we’re off!
Todayβs featured song was written by an American singer-songwriter in 1968 and was first recorded by an Irish actor/singer. His version peaked at #2 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and at #4 on the UK Singles Chart.
Additional recordings of this song were released β one was a 1969 Grammy-winner by a country-western singer and another was a #1 Billboard Hot 100 disco arrangement from 1978, sung by βThe Queen of Discoβ.
Our very famous Irish singer/actor of todayβs song was offered a huge role in the Harry Potter movies which he almost turned down due to poor health; he ultimately accepted the role because his then 11-year-old granddaughter threatened never to speak to him again if he did not take it!
The songβs somewhat bizarre lyrics led to believe that it was totally made up; however, the composer said the song symbolized the end of a love affair and claimed that everything mentioned in the song was personally witnessed by him and nothing was fabricated. This same terminated love affair also sparked the famous song βBy the Time I Get to Phoenixβ. Boy! That must have been one hot love affair!
Todayβs featured performer had a very varied career spanning 46 years in which he portrayed many characters ranging from a Roman emperor to a coal miner to King Arthur and, of course, a wizard.
Do you think you know the answers? Well, let’s check by scrolling down beyond the spinning record for the big reveal.
If you said βI know! Itβs βMacArthur Parkβ sung by Richard Harrisβ, youβd be right. Congratulations! Letβs tune into that iconic song right now.
Ok, letβs be honest. How many of you thought composer Jimmy Webb was on some kind of acid trip when he wrote this song? I know I did! It isnβt every day someone is in the park and leaves a cake out in the rain but if Jimmy said he saw it then I guess he saw it (wink, wink).
MacArthur Park was meant to be a cantata which Jimmy Webb first pitched to the group, The Association; they turned it down. Along came Richard Harris who took the soggy cake and ran with it and the song became a success.
So, what about the two covers I mentioned in Clue #2? Here’s the first one done by country music star Waylon Jennings which won a Grammy. I gotta say, kids, I have a pretty good memory and I don’t remember this ditty at all. π€·πΌββοΈ What about you? Here, let’s have a listen:
I’m banking on all of you knowing this one. Here’s the one and only “Queen of Disco”, the amazing Donna Summer! Polish up your disco balls, boys and girls. Let’s spin it!
Incredible! What a great voice the Disco Queen had! You have to admit it; disco was a happening scene! πΊπ»
I hope you enjoyed this Sunday in the park with me playing Name That Tune. Catch you next week for another go.
Behind the windows of this estate there once resided a reclusive couple. Itβs said that everyone has a story; this couple was no exception.
As young newlyweds they longed for a child but were unable to conceive. They sought the advice of seers and gypsies, to no avail.
Now middle-aged, the wife found she was pregnant. She was told the babe would not survive but survive it did and grew inside its mother, causing her great discomfort. Finally the time arrived for the birth. The wife labored for hours and as the babyβs head began to emerge, the midwife screamed and ran from the house.
The husband took the midwifeβs place and immediately recoiled in fear. The wife pleaded for her husband to pull the baby from her body but he refused. Reaching down between her legs, the wife grabbed hold and pulled until the babe was free. Asking her husband to bring the lantern closer so she could see the infant, the new mother gasped and cried out in horror and despair.
The poor babe was grotesque, his head enormous with eyes fused closed and his mouth a mere slit.
Without looking back, the husband left the house, heading to the tavern to drown his sorrows. He informed everyone that the baby had died. Filled with remorse, he returned home to find his wife and baby gone. He went searching but never found them. He died, a broken man.
The other night I was sound asleep when I gradually became aware of a noise somewhere in the background of my mind. I could tell it wasnβt an intruder β¦ nothing so threatening or invasive as that. It was more of an ambient sound; it came and went and I was only vaguely aware of it β just enough to ambush my slumber.
The recurring sound eventually roused me completely from my sleep. Asking myself βWhat is that?β, I elbowed my snoring husband and was rewarded with a prolonged, irritated grunt. Whispering his name and tapping him on the shoulder did nothing so I was forced to use the bicep shove.
βHoney! Thereβs a noise and it wonβt stop. I think it may be coming from the bathroom.β
βGRLBRTH! Probly tlet. Jgl hndlβ was my husband’s alien-sounding response. Being fluent in S.I. (Sleepus Interruptus), I had no trouble translating. I padded into the bathroom and jiggled the toilet handle, per my husband’s instructions. I listened to the water run for a bit, then stop. Quiet was restored.
All of a sudden, something felt like it darted by me and I was momentarily startled. Cautiously I found my way to the bedroom door, and peeked into the hall; without my glasses I could only make out blurred images but nothing seemed amiss. Satisfied all was as it should be, I turned back into the bedroom, leaving the door ajar to allow for the air to circulate on this cool September night.
I climbed back into bed and pulled the covers up around my face. Just as I was about to slip back into the arms of Morpheus, the noise returned and I did an eye roll behind my closed lids. Reluctant to leave my cozy cocoon a second time, I chose the wait-and-see option. Eventually the sounds stopped and I fell back to sleep.
Like the soft beat of a tom-tom on a far-away island, the distant yet persistent swooshing sound once more made its presence known. My shoulders sagged and I sighed deeply; a grim realization set in β sleeplessness had won out. I felt cheated, gypped out of a decent night’s stay in The Land of Nod.
As I lay there becoming increasingly annoyed, another vexing fact occurred to me: today was the beginning of a long holiday weekend. The odds of contacting a plumber, let alone finding one willing to come to the house, would be slim at best.
I sat up in bed, my back resting against the cushy pillows, as my vision gradually became accustomed to the dimness of the pre-dawn hour. Squinting through sandy eyes, I barely made out an ethereal shadow in the bathroom; it was the Night Stalker β of that I was certain. I reached for my glasses and the creatureβs image came into clear view. She looked directly into my eyes and intentionally, deliberately choosing to defy me, stretched out her arm.
What happened next was something I had never witnessed before; I stared in amazement. Part of me was amused, just slightly. Reaching for a paperback book on my nightstand, I heaved it in the general direction of the offender in the bathroom. The book missed its mark and succeeded only in knocking several items to the floor.
βYou little bitch,β I hissed.
She jumped off the toilet and strolled away indifferently, typically ignoring my existence.
It’s all new Birthday Thursdays at The Rhythm Section. No talk, no fuss, no muss. Just wall-to-wall music! Stop by and check it out! π https://rhythmsection.blog/
Welcome to Birthday Thursdays here in The Rhythm Section. Each week I will feature someone from the world of music whose birthday falls on that day. There wonβt be any chit chat from me, no facts and figures β just some great tunes (and an occasional surprise). Check it out right here every Thursday and enjoy the music.
Happy Birthday to Leonard Cohen Born September 21, 1934 in Westmount, Quebec, Canada
You know how it is when you see a person or hear a name and it sort of rings a bell but itβs not in its usual context so you don’t make the connection?
Yeah, thatβs what happened to me when I discovered Carltonβs Candy Coop β my favorite place for all my sweet-tooth cravings.
Chocolates, nougats, peanuts, caramels β¦ all those mouth-watering, sugar-rushing, delectable tummy treats that stick to your teeth but you donβt care because theyβre just too damn yummy!
Then it hit me. Carlton. Carlton? Carlton! But of course! Carl Carlton was my dentist!
βJesus Christ, Marco! Iβm a nervous wreck!β wailed Tina. βMeeting your mother for the first time is freaking me out! Do I look ok? What if she doesn’t like me?β
βAre you kidding me, babe? You look great! Sheβs gonna love you! Besides … my mother thinks we’re just friends; she won’t be judging you!β replied Marco with a huge grin and a bit too much enthusiasm as he selected his motherβs favorite Dean Martin record.
“But honey, you’ve told me how your mother scrutinizes everything with an eagle eye and doesn’t miss a trick. I’m scared of her and we haven’t even met yet! The pressure is killing me! What if she figures out we haven’t been honest with her?” Tina was getting frantic.
Marco reached out and pulled her close, giving her a comforting hug. His mother never liked any of his gitlfriends, saying no one was good enough for him. Just this once Marco wanted her to likr being with Tina for who she was, without any preconceived notions β even if it meant keeping the truth from her for a while.
“Babe, try to relax. Ma’s bark is worse than her bite. I promise, there’s nothing to worry about. You’re getting yourself all worked up for no reason. When my mother finally hears the truth, it won’t matter that we didn’t tell her right away; she’ll already be crazy about you! I’m not a little boy and I don’t need my mother’s permission for anything. As long as Dean Martin is playing in the background, she’ll be fine.” It sounded to Tina like Marco was trying to convince himself as well as her.
The ring of the doorbell was expected but it still startled Marco and Tina. Carrying a box of Italian pastries, Marcoβs mother Francesca arrived promptly at 6:00 β ready and quite curious to meet this woman sharing her son’s new house. Introductions were made, niceties exchanged and then Tina excused herself to check on dinner. βShe certainly knows her way around the kitchen well enough; maybe her cooking won’t be so badβ Francesca thought hopefully while keeping a close eye on her son’s “house mate”.
While Tina put the finishing touches on dinner, Marco brought out some appetizers. βAh, bruschetta!β exclaimed Francesca but when she bit into the small thin slice of toasted Italian bread, she discovered the topping was raw meat. βItβs steak tartare, Maβ explained Marco. Francesca made a horrified face and hastily deposited her half-chewed mouthful into a paper napkin. βO Dio mio!Raw meat will give you food poisoning!β Francesca exclaimed. βI hope the rest of the meal is cookedβ, she thought.
In an attempt to calm his mother down and get her mind off the failed appetizers, Marco decided to give her a tour of the house he shared with Tina.
βLook, Ma. Isnβt this nice? A large airy kitchen with an island and plenty of room for a table and chairs. Here’s the dining room with a buffet and hutch filled with glasses and dishes that belonged to Tina’s great-grandmother. Isn’t the furniture beautiful? We got at a Roma’s in Brooklyn, imported from Italy. We even have a fenced-in backyard and patio with a barbecue grill. But the best part is two big bedrooms, each with a separate bathroom so thereβs no fighting over who gets to shower first.β
Marco realized he was saying too much and talking way too fast; he laughed self-consciously, feeling like he was 10 years old again and his mother’s laser eyes were burning right through his skull after catching him in a lie. He squirmed uncomfortably and quickly closed the bathroom door when he noticed the towels that were on the rack were embroidered with the words “HIS” and “HERS”.
Francesca just nodded her head and mumbled “That’s nice” every so often; she may have seemed indifferent but that was far from true. If Francesca saw the bathroom towels, she gave no indication. Now Marco was nervous about that … a careless mistake on his part.
“Come in the kitchen, Ma. Let’s have a nice glass of wine to celebrate your first visit to our house” Marco suggested.
“Our house” thought Francesca.
Francesca sipped her wine and silently simmered on a low boil, her thoughts working overtime while Marco and Tina puttered around the kitchen. βWell, Tina certainly made herself right at home, bringing over all her great-grandmother’s dishes and glasses! I don’t get it. Unmarried men and women sharing a house?” Francesca asked herself. “Maybe in a big house with five or six other people and a lot of bedrooms, but an intimate space with two people of the opposite sex? I don’t like it! And how come the bedrooms have such big beds? Something fishy’s going on here!β Francesca tapped her foot impatiently, her eyes taking everything in.
Finally dinner was ready; throughout the meal, Francesca couldnβt help noticing how attentive Tina was to Marco. By now she was very suspicious about their relationship; she was sure there was more than just friendship between the two of them and their little interactions further convinced her there was something brewing between her son and his “house mate”.
Recognizing the look on his mother’s face, Marco said βI know what youβre thinking, Ma, but I told you before β Tina and I are just friends. House mates. Don’t go making a big deal out of nothing.” Francesca smiled thinly and replied “Whatever you say, Marco”. But in her head she was thinking “House mates, my ass!”
About a week later Tina said to Marco βI know this is gonna sound crazy but I can’t find the napkin rings I used the night your mother was here. I’ve looked everywhere for them. You donβt think your mother took them, do you?β
βWell, I can’t imagine why she’d do thatβ, Marco replied, βbut there’s only one way to find out. Iβll send her an email.β
Dear Ma – Crazy question! Tina’s napkin rings are missing. Now, Iβm not saying you TOOK the napkin rings and Iβm not saying you DIDNβTtake them but they have been missing since you were here the other night and you were the only other person to see them. Love, Marco
A reply came through one minute later:
Dear Marco – Funny you should ask! Now, Iβm not saying that you DO sleep with Tina and Iβm not saying that you DONβT sleep with her but if she was sleeping alone in her OWN bed she would have found the napkin rings by now β under her pillow. Love, Ma
