Shweta is our host for the
Saturday Six Word Challenge (6WSP) #122.
This week’s prompt word is “struggle”.
Here is my 6 word flash.
Tag: Non-fiction
My Dad’s Lesson: Dectina Refrain
When my father emigrated to the US
from Sicily, he was given advice that
changed his life. With that in mind,
this is my response to dVerse Poetics:
For the Love of the Broadsheet.
I have chosen a Dectina Refrain.
The Raffle
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #398,
incorporating the word “winner” and for Sue & Gerry’s
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge using the prompt
word “blanket”. In exactly 95 words, this is my story.
Getting To Know Me
Written for Kymber Hawke’s Get To Know You #46
Here are her three question and my three answers.
This Or That
Written for Kymber Hawke’s Get To Know You #45.
Here are her three questions and my three answers.
WordPress Daily Prompt
Just Our Luck!
Shweta is our host for the Saturday Six Word Challenge – #115.
This week’s prompt word is “fortune”. Here is my 6 word story.
The Eighth Of December
A tribute to John Lennon who was taken from us on this date in 1980. Many of you have read this; many of you who are new to my site have not. Please indulge me one more time. Roughly four years ago I had the great pleasure and honor of narrating a few of my stories on the BBC Radio program called “Upload”. I also submitted my story, “The Eighth of December”, never expecting to receive an email from the program manager of the radio station asking me if I’d like to read my story and do a live interview. To us here in The States, The BBC is a pretty big deal so I was rather blown away and, despite my nerves, I agreed to the interview. The format of the radio station has since changed and “Upload” was replaced by another show; it’s now impossible to find my interview. All I have is my story; every word is true. This is “The Eighth of December”.
Continue reading “The Eighth Of December”Who Could Ask For More
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word ‘gifts’. Meanwhile, Gerry and Sue
at Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge have
offered up the word ‘decorations’. This is my story.
So This Is Christmas
This week at Writing Prompts, Esther has teased us
with the word ‘Christmas’. Here are some happy
childhood memories from a piece I wrote in 2018.
This is my 2024 version of “So This Is Christmas”.
On The Other Side
Written for The New, Unofficial, On-Line Writer’s Guild.
The three prompts this week from TN at OLWG #393 are
1) night will end; 2) look, over there, did you see that?; and
3) sittin’ on a rainbow. This is my story, based on true events
experienced by my son and his wife. Believe or not; it’s all true.
Becoming Strangers: A Dectina Refrain
Written for Sue & Gerry’s Weekly Prompts Weekend
Challenge – ‘damaged’. This is my Dectina Refrain.
Paternal Pardon
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #391
incorporating the word “vicinity” in exactly 50 words.
Also for FOWC – ‘traditional’, FOWC – ‘doubt’ and
Gerry C & Sue W’s Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
– ‘nurturing’. In exactly 50 words, this is my flash.
Seeing Red
Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #390
incorporating the word “diamond” in exactly 19 words
and based on a true event I’ll never forget. Here’s my flash.
In Prescious Moments Of Lucidity: A Haibun
Written for d’Verse Poets where our inspiration
today is “reflection”. Here is my haibun.
Getting To Know Me – 11.9.24
Written for Kymber Hawke’s Get To Know You, This or That #40.
Here are her three question and my three answers.
Let It Out
Written for Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge
and Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge incorporating
the words ‘leaves’ and ‘judge’. This is my story.
It’s been 16 years but I can remember everything about that night.
We were out to dinner with our friends Lily & Mac and Karen & Rob. I had been feeling a little anxious the whole day but figured I’d be fine at dinner – after all, these were people I knew and loved and who knew and loved me. Sitting at the table I was uneasy but hoped the feeling would subside.
It didn’t. It continued to build as I sat surrounded by a room full of seemingly stress-free people laughing and enjoying themselves while I was ready to bolt. I was with friends I’ve known for years and I was freaking out, convinced everyone knew something was wrong.
There I was, not only stressing over life in general but stressing over the fact that I was stressing and everyone knew it and they were just waiting for me to explode. I figured I had four choices: I could fake it and try to pretend everything was ok; have a meltdown, which would make us all uncomfortable and solve nothing; I could say I had a headache and go home – after all, everyone leaves their table for one reason or another; or I could face the truth and tell my friends how I was feeling. I chose the last approach. Apprehensively, not knowing how anyone would react, I told my friends I was having a panic attack.
No one had a clue.
What happened next was incredible. By admitting the truth, revealing my fear and vulnerability, everyone embraced me (not physically, of course – that would have been weird) but they all let me know it was ok. Whatever I wanted to do was ok. And more important than anything else, they did not judge me.
I chose to stay. Immediately, Karen reached into her purse, handed me the business card of her psychologist and said “Call her”. Lily then told me she also went to the same psychologist and quietly poured out her heart to me, unburdening herself while simultaneously letting me know I wasn’t alone. I was so engrossed in what Lily was telling me, I didn’t even realize my anxiety had passed. I had eaten my dinner and people were ordering dessert. The evening actually wasn’t a disaster.
The next day Lily called to check on me. I’ll never forget what she said: “You know, I was sitting next to you and I didn’t notice anything wrong. You looked perfectly fine and if you hadn’t said anything we never would have known.”
That was amazing to me! No one noticed the ticking time bomb at the table.
What a huge eye-opener that was. It made me realize that how I perceive myself is not necessarily how others perceive me. Being stoic and trying to hide my anxiety isn’t helpful; in fact, it could make things worse. Opening myself up and exposing my vulnerability showed me it’s ok to let others know “Hey, I’m freaking out right now and I need help.”
I learned a valuable life lesson that night: Let it out and let someone in.
NAR©2024
This is “Under Pressure” featuring Queen, Annie Lennox and David Bowie
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
On The Road Again
Six weeks after my spinal fusion surgery I have been given the all clear to start driving again! Woot woot! 🥳
This is very exciting news for me; however, some people may feel differently knowing I’m back on the road. Well, you’ve been warned! Just saying. 😆
NAR©2024
Author’s Note: Kidding aside, I am so grateful to be doing this well after major surgery. Both Bill and I are delighted with our new-found freedom; he’s been my chauffeur for the past six weeks. I’m really an excellent driver and in the 53 years I’ve been driving, I have never gotten a moving violation (and it’s not because the police have been unable to catch me!). 😎
This is “I Can’t Drive 55″ by Sammy Hagar
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
1968: A Dectina Refrain
Written for dVerse Poetics: Fall (in) Love,
this is my Dectina Refrain.
I
met him
in the fall,
tanned from summer.
He was a bronzed god,
hair as gold as the sun,
eyes like burnished copper glowed.
He warmed the chill from out my bones,
thawed the late Autumn frost in my heart.
I met him in the fall tanned from summer.
NAR©2024
Happy Birthday to my husband Bill. We met in the fall of 1968. 🤎
This is “Bill” from Showboat performed by the Rebecca Trehearn
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
As Days Grow Short
Written for dVerse Poets Haibun Monday where
the theme today is “equinox”. This is my haibun.
It’s now one month post op. I have spent a lot of time looking out my bedroom window contemplating the healing transformation of my body and the seasonal metamorphosis as we gently slip from summer into autumn. I had been facing physical limitations as I aged; they have now been compounded by my back surgery. On bad days I curse myself for agreeing to this procedure but I know it was the right choice. Getting back on my feet is taking longer than I anticipated. Like the brittle tree branches that come with autumn, my bones are not what they once were. But now I have a chance to walk among the fallen crimson and golden leaves instead of simply watching them drop from the trees and for that I’m grateful. I am better today than I was two weeks ago and in two more weeks I’ll be better than I am today. It’s a process.
warm burnished tones of autumn
as days grow short
the earth prepares for new life
NAR©2024
This is “Autumn In New York” by Billie Holiday
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
And The Music Goes Round And Round
Written for Keith Allen’s Various Ramblings of a Nostalgic Italian
and his new blog “The Toy In Your Life”. Here’s what I had to say.
For as long as I can remember, music has been in my life in one form or another. There was never a time when I was not singing in a choir or choral group, either in church or school. My family was musical and the house was always alive with radio music, records playing, someone practicing the piano, someone else playing the mandolin, someone tinkering with the guitar, recorder, squeezebox, drums, and everyone singing, singing, singing.
I will always remember my Christmas present when I was 12 years old … a portable record player which my parents repeatedly made very clear was not ‘a toy’. I knew that! The toy phonographs came with Howdy Doody decals or Mickey Mouse ears and were made out of cardboard painted to look like leather or plastic. I had those toy record players which didn’t last very long; this was the real deal. To me, my teal blue General Electric Solid State record player was ‘the Holy Grail’! My parents spent “good money on that thing” and expected me to treat it with respect. What they didn’t predict was how I would worship that suitcase phonograph every day of my life.
This baby had built-in speakers that really blew! And a real diamond tip needle. My older cousin Joseph taught me the proper way to raise and lower the arm and how to safely get the dust off my records. My parents gave me and my sister a weekly allowance and I used most of my money to buy records.
The first 45 to grace my record player was “Da Doo Ron Ron” by the Crystals (which was prophetic because “his name was Bill”!). The early girl groups were my idols; I loved their sound and their lyrics were perfect for young girls with hormones working overtime. Then the Beatles invaded the US and my life was changed forever.
That GE teal blue record player became my best friend and I took very good care of it. After I was married, we had a hi-tech stereo system in the living room but I still kept my phonograph upstairs in the bedroom where we’d listen to romantic tunes like “A Million To One”, “Daddy’s Home”, “I Only Have Eyes For You” and “Ooh Baby Baby”. When our sons were old enough, I handed down my record player to them and now our 15 year old granddaughter has it in her bedroom. Her latest purchase was the soundtrack to Guardians of the Galaxy which is pretty damn cool.
Thanks to Keith Allen for the invitation to write a little something on his new blog. I hope you enjoyed what I had to share today.
I’m Nancy, The Sicilian Storyteller.
See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
This is “Da Doo Ron Ron” by the Crystals
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Crop Invaders: A Haibun
Written for Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge and
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge where the
required words are “wrong” and “hoarding”. This is my haibun.
The exact year escapes me but it was a long time ago, to be sure. It was the summer we returned from vacation to find our tomatoes had ripened into gorgeous red orbs ready for eating. I could practically smell that grassy-green, spicy-sweet summery aroma. But something seemed wrong, off somehow. I felt like I was not alone in my garden, like I was being watched. Taking a closer look, I discovered disturbingly large caterpillars feasting on our lovely harvest. The bloated green creatures blended in so well with the underside of the leaves, it took a few seconds to register why our crop was full of gaping holes. Probing, boring, ravaging, gorging, hoarding. No tomato was salvaged that summer. Not one. That was the year I stopped planting tomatoes.
garden interlopers
devastation
signaling summer’s end
NAR©2024
This is “End of Summer” featuring Katie Melua and L.U.C. from The Peasants soundtrack
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Remembering Roberta
Written for Song Lyric Sunday. This week Jim Adams has asked his
readers to choose a song that makes them think about life. Here’s mine.
To talk about my featured song, I first need to tell you about my friend, Roberta. She and I had been friends since our sons attended nursery school together, some 44 years ago. Even back then in her early 30s, Roberta had a shock of gorgeous silver-white hair that was always perfectly yet casually coiffed. Just like my grandmother, Roberta’s hair color changed when she was in her 20s and I never saw her with a different color or style.
Roberta’s laugh was one of a kind …. some might call it a cackle …. and you heard her long before you saw her! She rarely took life too seriously and was very forthcoming with her opinions, whether you wanted to hear them or not. I guess you could call her a ‘free spirit’; she lived very much in the moment, often arriving late for appointments because she ran into someone who needed a friend to talk to.
There was never any doubt where you stood with Roberta. If she was pissed off about something, you knew it. She’d speak her mind, clear the air and never mention the issue again. Done and forgotten. But not just forgotten …. forgiven as well. She didn’t hold a grudge; I always thought that was an admirable trait. And she didn’t lie. If anything, she was too honest and her ‘bluntness’ could turn people off. She really didn’t care what people thought about her; life was not a popularity contest. As I said, people always knew exactly how Roberta felt.
She was a devout Catholic, attending Mass every weekend, but she was never showy about it. Roberta and her husband Martin were in charge of the church’s food pantry …. collecting food for families in need …. and not just during the holidays or when a crisis hit but every day of the year …. however, the holidays were very important to Roberta, especially Christmas. That was when she amped up the drive for food, clothes and gifts for needy families in the area, especially the children. In all the years I knew Roberta, I don’t remember anyone else heading up the food pantry except her. She and Martin were special people, far from saints but doing God’s work in an unassuming way.
It came as a terrible blow to everyone when Roberta became dangerously ill almost overnight in August 2014 and was diagnosed with West Nile Virus (for which there is no vaccine or cure although most people recover with proper care). Roberta had an extremely virulent case and within days she lapsed into a coma and never regained consciousness. At one point, she was the only documented case of “death by West Nile Virus” in Westchester County, NY.
The day I visited Roberta at the nursing home was one I will never forget. Had it not been for her name on the door and her glorious mane of white hair, I would not have recognized my longtime friend; the virus left her body terribly swollen, facial features almost fused together. I sat by her bedside, held her hand and sang a song I had sung many times before. And as I sang to my friend, I saw her eyelid barely flutter and her finger quiver ever so slightly and no one will ever convince me that she was unaware of my presence. Four months later, during Christmas week, Roberta died. It was the perfect time for her to take her leave.
The song I sang to my friend that day in the nursing home was “What A Wonderful World”.
According to Wikipedia, “What A Wonderful World” was written by Bob Thiele and George David Weiss. It was first recorded by Louis Armstrong and released as a single in 1967. In April 1968, it topped the pop chart in the UK but performed poorly in the United States because the president of ABC Records disliked the song’s arrangement and refused to promote it. (There’s more on Wiki about that and it’s pretty interesting.) After the song was heard in the 1987 film Good Morning, Vietnam, it was reissued as a single in 1988 and rose to #32 on the Billboard Hot 100. Louis Armstrong’s recording was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999.
Every time I hear this song, I remember Roberta and our last visit together. This is “What A Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong.
LYRICS
I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, “How do you do?”
They’re really saying
I love you
I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more
Than I’ll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: George David Weiss/Robert Thiele
What a Wonderful World lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Concord Music Publishing LLC, Kanjian Music, Tratore
Big thanks to Jim Adams for hosting another great Song Lyric Sunday this week. Be sure to follow the link and check out Jim’s site.
Thanks for stopping by. See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Day 10 or It’s A Process
Ten days out from spinal fusion surgery and my lower back still hurts like a bitch on wheels. This is a much more difficult surgery/recovery than I expected; bearing in mind what’s involved …. what has been cut through, ground down, fused together with various types of hardware, and stapled, sutured and bandaged closed …. I should have realized it would not be easy. And my doctor sent me home with Tylenol …. not even extra strength but regular Tylenol. Really?
Getting around the house with a walker, dressing myself and doing basic toilette is not problematic; beyond basic, it’s damn near impossible. What’s not allowed: stomach sleeping, bending or twisting at the waist, lifting anything heavier than 5 pounds. And, apparently, pain medication.
These days, I just about live in my electric recliner, getting up every hour or so to walk around, followed by icing my back. I tried eating my meals in the kitchen with Bill; it’s good to have a change of scenery and some normal time with him. The chairs, however, are not comfortable just yet so we eat together in the living room where there’s an over-large electric recliner with my name on it.
Making myself comfortable in a recliner is easier than in bed but still more difficult than I would have thought; the vertical 6″ incision is centrally located on the small of my back so I’m aware of every movement. There’s always something that hurts, that’s too big or too small, too hard or too soft, flattened out or all scrunched up, or just out of reach. Finding the perfect cushion has been a crusade; thankfully, Bill holds on to everything! Fortunately, once I fall asleep, I’m out for most of the night. Getting out of the recliner in the morning is slow-going as I’m stiffened-up from sleeping all night. It’s a process.
As far as my blogging goes, I’ll write when the mood strikes. I miss you and our camaraderie but my energy and strength are down. It took me two days just to write this! I apologize for not reading or commenting on your posts and I’m sure I’m not going to …. at least not for a while. I’m just not up to it.
Well, that’s the story, kids; taking life one day at a time.
Be good to yourselves. See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
PS – As much as I’d love to hear from you, please try not to compare your own situation to mine or tell me about your dear Aunt Betty who was never the same after her surgery. I know you mean well but we’re all different and heal differently; downer stories don’t help. It’s human nature but a “get well soon!” would be far better and greatly appreciated. Thanks!
Here’s “It Don’t Come Easy” by Ringo Starr.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Hanging In There!
Hi, kids! I’m still here … a little worse for wear but hanging on.
It’s been just over one week since my spinal fusion surgery and I’ve asked myself the same question a few dozen times:
“WHY DID I DO THIS??”
I was talking to a friend today about back surgeries and, since my incision is centrally located on my lower back, I feel the pain everywhere regardless of my position or what I’m doing … and it hurts a lot.
Having gone through this herself a few times times, my friend reminded me that back surgery is a major deal and to cut myself some slack. I did what was necessary and recoup is going to be hard but I also need to remember it’s only been one week. I feel pretty dreadful right now but I realize that’s the norm.
“You’re strong … you got this” she said, and she’s right.
Well, on the bright side, I walk around the house with my walker every 90 minutes, then apply ice. I was walking every hour but by the time I finished walking and icing, there was little time to do anything else!
There’s no point in trying to play catch-up with your posts; once I start blogging regularly, I’ll begin reading your posts as well. But I’m not back yet; this is just a note to say “Hi” and to let you know I’m still here! And big hugs to those of you who scoped out my email address. It was really nice to hear from you.
I didn’t want to end this message with a downer of a song so here’s one of my favorites … a classic R&B tune by Booker T. & The M.G.s to help us chill out. It’s called “Green Onions”.
Thanks, again. See you on the flip side. 😎
NAR©2024
~ Nancy
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
It’s Time
Well, kids, the possibility has become a reality. First thing this morning I will be having back surgery. It’s time; I can’t put it off any longer. Hopefully it won’t be too much of an ordeal but one never knows with these things. I’ll be off WordPress while I recuperate. Comments on this post have been disabled simply because I won’t be able to respond to them as quickly as I’d like and I apologize for that. I’m sure you understand.
That’s the story, my friends. See you on the flip side. 😎
Best always
~ Nancy
This is the R.E.M. song “Everybody Hurts” performed by Joe Cocker.
LYRICS
When your day is long
And the night, the night is yours alone
When you’re sure you’ve had enough
Of this life, well hang on
Don’t let yourself go
‘Cause everybody cries
Everybody hurts sometimes
Sometimes everything is wrong
Now it’s time to sing along
When your day is night alone (hold on, hold on)
If you feel like letting go (hold on)
If you think you’ve had too much
Of this life, well hang on
‘Cause everybody hurts
Take comfort in your friends
Everybody hurts
Don’t throw your hand, oh no
Don’t throw your hand
If you feel like you’re alone
No, no, no, you are not alone
If you’re on your own in this life
The days and nights are long
When you think you’ve had too much
Of this life to hang on
Well, everybody hurts sometimes
Everybody cries
Everybody hurts, sometimes
And everybody hurts sometimes
So hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Hold on, hold on, hold on
Everybody hurts
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Peter Lawrence Buck/Michael E. Mills/William Thomas Berry/John Michael Stipe
Everybody Hurts lyrics © Night Garden Music
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
I Gemelli
Resemblance can be a freaky thing. Supposedly everyone has a doppelgänger; someone out there is a duplicate of you with your mother’s eyes, your father’s nose and that annoying mole you’ve always wanted to have removed. We might even have several pairs of clones walking around, each totally unaware of the other’s existence.
It’s been said the longer people have a pet, the more they begin to resemble that pet. Dogs have been matched by strangers to their owners time and time again. The same is true for people; have you ever seen a long-married couple who now look like a set of bookends?
I have many relatives in Italy and Sicily; my family has always said one particular cousin and I have looked like each other since birth. We were born days apart and are called “I Gemelli” … “The Twins”. The first time my cousin Franco and I met, we just stared at each other in fascination. I think Franco and I do bear a strong resemblance however his eyes are blue while mine are green and he’s got a lot more facial hair than I do! LOL! And we have the same Sicilian nose!
The other day I wrote about my best friend Debby and how alike we are, not just our personalities but our physical appearance as well. One of my WP friends was quite interested in my story and left several comments and questions. I promised I’d write a little bit more about me and Debby … two unrelated women who could pass for sisters, perhaps twins at times.
I can’t explain how these things happen but events at my son’s wedding a few years ago proved the old saying true: fact is stranger than fiction.
There were a lot people at the wedding … family, friends, coworkers. My sister, Rosemarie, was there as was my friend Debby. The time arrived during the wedding reception for a family photo session. The music was playing, people were dancing and milling about. Janet, the wedding photographer, was scrambling around trying to wrangle immediate family members for photos. Craning her neck for a better look into the crowded room, Janet turned to me in surprise and said, “You’ve been holding out on me!”
I had no idea what Janet was talking about and asked her what she meant. She replied, “I know your husband has a twin brother but I had no idea you have a twin sister!”
This conversation went back and forth for a little while … me trying to convince Janet that I didn’t have a twin sister and Janet insisting I did! Of course, Janet was talking about Debby! I laughed and said to her “I really hate to burst your twin bubble but she’s not my sister; she’s my best friend.” When I spotted Rosemarie on the dance floor, I said to Janet, “See the woman in the cream-colored dress? She’s my sister.” I guess I really couldn’t blame Janet; even my new daughter-in-law’s relatives thought the same thing. To make matters more confusing, Debby and I were wearing the same dress (totally unplanned)! Mine was deep purple while hers was dark blue.
It took a lot of convincing for Janet to finally accept the fact that Debby wasn’t my sister and that Rosemarie was. I guess the idea of two sets of twins in the same room was just too exciting for Janet … a missed photo op! I wonder if the same people who matched the pet owners with their dogs would match me and Debby as sisters?
You be the judge.
Twins? Maybe, maybe not, but the resemblance is strong….
….except for my actual sister! Go figure!
NAR©2024
Remember this? Here’s the theme song from The Patty Duke Show called “Identical Cousins”
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Paradise Found
Written for The Unicorn Challenge where we ar1
asked to get creative in 250 words or less using
the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
Eastern-most Long Island, New York. A little village called Montauk. “The End”, according to locals. Drive to the tip of the peninsula, walk a few steps and you’re in the Atlantic Ocean … literally.
1984 was our first visit. “Let’s go out for a weekend. If we don’t like it, we won’t go back.” Famous last words. We stayed at a no frills family motel on the beach; it was paradise.
Step outside the motel and watch your toes disappear into the sand. Big pool filled with sunburned families having the time of their lives. Huge towels and colorful umbrellas cover the beach.
An old salt regales us with tales about the first German U-boats arriving off Montauk in June, 1942. Psyched, we ride our bikes to the lighthouse where we discover WWII bunkers buried deep in the woods.
Montauk’s pizza place and ice cream joint are constantly busy. Drive five minutes west on ‘the stretch’ to a place known simply as “LUNCH” for a mouth-watering lobster roll or puffers and chips.
At night little fires dot the beach, glowing and crackling. Kids stab marshmallows with long sticks and plunge them into the flames for a gooey sweet treat that won’t be eaten again till next summer. Our boys’ hair is sun-streaked, skin bronzed, feet perpetually coated in sand. They’re happy as clams.
In time we started renting a house with a pool; vacations lasted six weeks; 35+ years of unforgettable family memories made, Montauk style.
Man, it was paradise!
NAR©2024
250 Words
The Memory Motel has been a fixture in Montauk since the mid-1920s. When the Rolling Stones were out at the east end, they would visit the bar at the motel for some heavy drinking, dancing, shooting pool, tussling, scuffling, and playing the only piano in town until sunrise.
This is “Memory Motel” by the Rolling Stones.
https://youtu.be/FJ4be-0Nt0s?si=mP0lpYtWe2zg_AFA
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Don’t Cry For Me Agrigento
Written for Friday Fictioneers where we are asked
to get creative in 100 words or less using the
photo below for inspiration. Here is my story.
It was 1965, a big year – my sister’s graduation, the Beatles concert and our trip to Sicily.
We spent a day at Mom’s cousin Concetta’s farmhouse outside Agrigento. Goats, sheep and a donkey grazed in the field among the olive trees. Chickens scurried around the barnyard like drunken spinning tops. They were extremely entertaining – our favorite.
We hung out with the animals all morning. In the afternoon we drove to Agrigento to explore the shops.
Upon returning to Concetta’s, we sat down for dinner. Pasta to start, of course. When she brought out the roast chickens, we burst into tears.
NAR©2024
100 Words
Here are three ridiculously talented Sicilian guys from Palermo playing a tune called “The Chicken”. They are Matteo Mancuso (guitar), Riccardo Oliva (bass) and Salvatore Lima (drums). Enjoy this one.
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
Calm and Choppy Waters
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday
where the theme is ‘ship’. This is my stream.
Sometimes in life you make a connection with another person and you know right away it’s special. That happened to me 40 years ago on the day we moved into our new house.
We weren’t moving very far – just about a quarter mile from where we were living. That’s the wonderful thing about this little town; no one wants to leave! It’s quaint, friendly, clean and quiet with it’s beautiful harbor full of ships bobbing peacefully on small waves.
Moving day arrived and the crew was busy getting our boxes loaded for shipping to the new house. My husband stayed behind making sure all went smoothly while I headed over to the new house with our two small sons to wait for the moving vans.
We were sitting on the floor of our empty house playing a game when someone knocked on the door. It was our new neighbor, Debby, who came over to introduce herself. When she saw us sitting on the floor, she insisted we go over to her place which was right next door. When I explained that I was waiting for the moving vans to arrive, Debby said I’d have a clear view of my house from her comfortable sofa. I didn’t need any more convincing and agreed to go over.
When we walked into Debby’s house, the first thing I noticed were the numerous framed photos of large fishing ships, most of them with her husband grinning and displaying a huge fish. I thought how nice it would be for my husband to have a fellow fisherman living next door.
Debby and I started talking and it was as easy and natural as rain. We had so much in common, it felt like we’d known each other all our lives. She also had two young sons and my boys had instant friends. We talked non-stop while I waited for the movers to show up; by the time the vans arrived, a great friendship had been formed and is still going strong. We’ve been through bad hair days, secrets, laughs, tears, vacations, runs to the emergency room, weddings, flooded basements, missing cats, birthdays, Covid, lots of wine, illness, school fairs, Christmases and devastating deaths.
It’s so nice when you have neighbors you get along with; it’s priceless when you have a great relationship like mine and Debby’s. We’re very close and so much alike, people think we’re sisters. If I need to cry or share a laugh, Deb’s the first one I call. The same is true for her. We are each others best friend, two women lucky to have this amazing “soulship” to carry us through the calm and choppy waters of life.
NAR©2024
This is “Wooden Ships” by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young
All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not to be used without permission. NAR©2017-present.
The Elephant's Trunk 