Music Blog

Peaceful Waters

This week at Glyn Wiltonโ€™s Mixed Music Bag,
heโ€™s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month. 
Hereโ€™s my October artist and his song.

Continue reading “Peaceful Waters”
Very Short Story

When It Ends

Written for OLWG #411.
The prompts are shown below.
This is my take.

Continue reading “When It Ends”
Music Blog

Shine On Harvest Moon

This week at Glyn Wiltonโ€™s Mixed Music Bag,
heโ€™s asking us to write about a song in which
the title or a line mentions the current month. 
Hereโ€™s my featured January artist and his song.

Continue reading “Shine On Harvest Moon”
Movie

Want To Watch A Movie?

Here’s a flick we hadn’t seen in a while. We watched it again last night and remembered why we enjoy it so much. If you’re looking for something that’s very funny with just a touch of sentimentality, then this one is a good choice for you. It’s a no-brainer; sit back and be entertained by Sandra Bullock, Ryan Reynolds and Betty White in “The Proposal”.
This is the premise: When up tight New York editor Margaret faces deportation, she convinces her assistant Andrew to marry her in return for a promotion. However, when she visits his hometown, it changes her in many ways. Here’s a clip:

Iโ€™ll save you a seat. Enjoy the movie! ๐ŸŽฅ ๐Ÿฟ ๐Ÿฅค

NARยฉ2024

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for Nancy (The Sicilian Storyteller), The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโ€™s Trunk, and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.

Short Story

A Get-Away

Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge (‘madness’)
and Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge (‘magic’).

This is my response to those challenges.

It had been quite a long while since Rob and I had a chance to take a vacation, to escape the madness of the city to someplace remote and peaceful. Skiing sounded like a good idea, a break after the unbearably hot summer. All we wanted was a little get-away to relax and unwind.

Our Google search brought us to a place called Marmot Basin located in Jasper, an alpine town in Canadaโ€™s Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes weโ€™d ever seen. The site said Jasper was โ€œan authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and โ€˜realโ€™ atmosphere with a laid-back vibeโ€. It was also one of North Americaโ€™s largest protected nature preserves. It would be great to get lost for a few days, forget about our hectic lives.

The flight to Jasper was interminable; eight hours with a connection in Denver. The time change did a number on us physically but our welcoming and romantic chateau more than made up for the tedious travel. It was rustic yet charming with beamed ceilings, comfy furniture and a huge fireplace. We spent our first night snuggled up in bed.

Right after breakfast the next morning we set out for a day of skiing. Hoping to find a secluded trail, we consulted one of the guides who gave us a couple of suggestions. We headed out, delighted to see a pristine layer of powdery snow. Looking around we realized we were the only people in the area and there was nothing in sight except evergreens on the hillside.

We started off slowly then gradually picked up speed; the conditions were perfect. About twenty minutes into our run we came upon a split in the trail. Taking a break, Rob leaned against a tree and consulted a map, deciding which way we should go. Suddenly we felt movement beneath our feet and the ground gave way in what sounded like a whispering waterfall. In an instant we were tumbling down, enveloped by cascades of snow.

It seemed like an eternity before I came to a stop. I was unable to move but realized I was still clutching my pole. Somehow I managed to wrangle my arm free from under my body and began whacking the snow above me. I didnโ€™t know if I was under three feet of snow or thirty; I had to try to free myself. Snow kept falling on me as I hacked away. Slowly my grave became brighter and I realized a magic sliver of sunlight was peeking through. I heaved myself into an upright position and broke through the snow.

It was a struggle but I managed to climb out and started yelling for Rob. All I heard was my echo; everything was deathly silent. I found my phone in the inside pocket of my ski suit and dialed Robโ€™s number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I saw there was no cell service in the area; I couldnโ€™t even call for help. Gingerly I walked around a bit, all too aware the ground could give way at any moment. My only hope was to try to find help.

I must have walked for miles; the sun had set and I found myself surrounded by trees. I had no idea where I was. Exhausted, I fell to my knees, sobbing. If Rob was still buried in the snow there was no chance of finding him alive.

Through my tears I thought I saw a glimmer of light. I squinted and could barely make out the shape of a cabin in the woods. Was it real or magic? Was I hallucinating? I had to keep moving or I would surely die during the frigid night. Slowly I got to my feet and walked toward the light, praying it was not an illusion. I was so very tired; if only I could close my eyes just take a little rest before I continued. It was so bitterly cold.

NAR ยฉ 2024

This is “Snowblind” by Styx

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโ€™s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.

Music Blog

A Perfect Storm

Today at Song Lyric Sunday, Jim is asking us to write about a song based on true events. My husband Bill and I have lived near the water all our lives; he grew up on City Island in New York and spent all his teen years working in marinas repairing boats. Years ago we bought a boat which was supposed to be a fun family get-away adventure until we realized I get heinously seasick; Bill uses it for fishing. Before Covid, we spent 35 summers in Montauk, NY with the Atlantic Ocean as our view. Itโ€™s only natural that I would be drawn to a song about a nautical event.

The SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior 49 years ago. Gordon Lightfoot’s song “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” (1976, Moose Music, Ltd.) is a tribute to this shipwreck and the men who lost their lives.

On November 9, 1975, the Edmund Fitzgerald departed from Superior, Wisconsin with approximately 26,000 tons of ore bound for Detroit, Michigan. Just think about that for a second …. 26,000 tons; the cargo weighed more than the ship itself. Around 7 p.m. the National Weather Service issued a gale warning for Lake Superior. Overnight the winds increased tremendously and waves grew to incredible heights; no longer protected by land, the Fitzgerald was in terrible danger. At some point, another ship โ€“ the Anderson โ€“ made radio contact with the Fitzgerald and had her on their radar. When asked how the Fitzgerald was making out, they replied “We’re holding our own”. Shortly afterwards, the Fitzgerald disappeared from the Anderson’s radar screen.

There are phrases in the song that have been embellished, romanticized, making it sound as if the crew knew they were doomed. In reality, the sinking of the Fitzgeraldย was very rapid and it’s likely they didn’t know the seriousness of their condition. Thank the gods for that! In fact, after the wreck, a severely damaged lifeboat was found and only part of the second, suggesting that no attempts were made to leave the ship. No distress signals were ever issued. They didn’t know what hit them.

On November 10, 1975 the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank in Lake Superior; all 29 crew members died. At the time, it was the worst shipping disaster on the Great Lakes in more than 10 years. No bodies were ever recovered from the wreckage. When the wreck was found, the ship had broken in half by the storm. It still sits on the bottom of Lake Superior at 530 feet deep.

โ€œThe Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” was written, composed and performed by Canadian singer-songwriter Gordon Lightfoot. The song was recorded in December 1975 at Eastern Sound, a recording studio in a then-hippie district of downtown Toronto. The famous studio was later torn down and replaced by a parking lot โ€ฆ. cue Joni Mitchell! Lightfoot cleared the studio and killed all the lights except for the one illuminating the paper with his scribbled words when he recorded his vocals; he considered this song to be his finest work.

The single version hit #1 in Lightfootโ€™s native Canada on November 20, 1976, barely a year after the disaster. In the US it reached #1 in Cashbox and #2 for two weeks in the Billboard Hot 100. Overseas it was at best a minor hit, peaking at #40 in the UK Singles Chart. 

This is โ€œThe Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgeraldโ€ by Gordon Lightfoot

Lyrics

The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitchegumee
The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
When the skies of November turn gloomy
With a load of iron ore twenty-six thousand tons more
Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty
That good ship and true was a bone to be chewed
When the gales of November came early

The ship was the pride of the American side
Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin
As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most
With a crew and good captain well-seasoned
Concluding some terms with a couple of steel firms
When they left fully loaded for Cleveland
And later that night when the ship’s bell rang
Could it be the north wind they’d been feelin’?

The wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound
And a wave broke over the railing
And every man knew, as the captain did too
T’was the witch of November come stealin’
The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait
When the gales of November came slashin’
When afternoon came it was freezin’ rain
In the face of a hurricane west wind

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck sayin’
“Fellas, it’s too rough to feed ya”
At 7 PM, a main hatchway caved in, he said
“Fellas, it’s been good to know ya”
The captain wired in he had water comin’ in
And the good ship and crew was in peril
And later that night when his lights went outta sight
Came the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald

Does anyone know where the love of God goes
When the waves turn the minutes to hours?
The searchers all say they’d have made Whitefish Bay
If they’d put fifteen more miles behind her
They might have split up or they might have capsized
They may have broke deep and took water
And all that remains is the faces and the names
Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings
In the rooms of her ice-water mansion
Old Michigan steams like a young man’s dreams
The islands and bays are for sportsmen
And farther below Lake Ontario
Takes in what Lake Erie can send her
And the iron boats go as the mariners all know
With the gales of November remembered

In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the maritime sailors’ cathedral
The church bell chimed ’til it rang twenty-nine times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitchegumee
Superior, they said, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Gordon Lightfoot
The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald lyrics ยฉ Warner Chappell Music, Inc

NARยฉ2024

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephantโ€™s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NARยฉ2017-present.

Uncategorized

THE GET-AWAY

It had been quite a long while since Rob and I had a chance to take a vacation, to escape the noise of the city to someplace remote and peaceful. Skiing sounded like a nice idea, a break after the uncomfortably hot summer. All we wanted was a little get-away to relax and unwind.

Our Google search brought us to a place called Marmot Basin located in Jasper, an alpine town in Canada’s Alberta province. The photos were breathtaking; the area was one of the most natural and unsoiled landscapes we’d ever seen. The site said Jasper was “an authentic mountain community that managed to retain a cozy, warm and ‘real’ atmosphere with a laid-back vibe”. It was also one of North America’s largest protected nature preserves. It would be great to get lost for a few days, forget about our hectic lives.

The flight to Jasper was interminable; eight hours with a connection in Denver. The time change did a number on us physically but our welcoming and romantic chateau more than made up for the tedious travel. It was rustic yet charming with beamed ceilings, comfy furniture and a huge fireplace. We spent our first night snuggled up in bed.

Right after breakfast the next morning we set out for a day of skiing. Hoping to find a secluded trail, we consulted one of the guides who gave us a couple of suggestions. We headed out, delighted to see a pristine layer of powdery snow. Looking around we realized we were the only people in the area and there was nothing in sight except evergreens on the hillside.

We started off slowly then gradually picked up speed; the conditions were perfect. About ten minutes into our run we came upon a split in the trail. Taking a break, Rob leaned against a tree and consulted a map, deciding which way we should go. Suddenly we felt movement beneath our feet and the ground gave way in what sounded like a whispering waterfall. In an instant we were tumbling down, enveloped by cascades of snow.

It seemed like an eternity before I came to a stop. I was unable to move but realized I was still clutching my pole. Somehow I managed to wrangle my arm free from under my body and began whacking the snow above me. I didn’t know if I was under three feet of snow or thirty; I had to try to free myself. Snow kept falling on me as I hacked away. Slowly my grave became brighter and I realized a sliver of sunlight was peeking through. I heaved myself into an upright position and broke through the snow.

It was a struggle but I managed to climb out and started yelling for Rob. All I heard was my echo; everything was deathly silent. I found my phone in the inside pocket of my ski suit and dialed Rob’s number hoping to hear his phone ring; I heard nothing. Checking my phone I noticed there was no cell service in the area; I couldn’t even call for help. Gingerly I walked around a bit, all too aware the ground could give way at any moment. My only hope was to try to find help.

I must have walked for miles; the sun had set and I found myself surrounded by trees. I had no idea where I was. Exhausted, I fell to my knees, sobbing. If Rob was still buried in the snow there was no chance of finding him alive.

Through my tears I thought I saw a glimmer of light. I squinted and could barely make out the shape of a cabin in the woods. Was it real or was I hallucinating? I had to keep moving or I would surely die during the frigid night. Slowly I got to my feet and walked toward the light, praying it was not an illusion. I was so very tired; maybe just a little rest before I continued.

NAR ยฉ 2021

Reposted for FFFC #197 hosted by Fandango