Tag: Non-fiction

Longer Stories

Boys Will Be Boys

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Stream of Consciousness – “What’s that smell?”,
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – “humility” and
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – “departure”.

Growing up, it was just me and my sister – two girls doing girl things. And while we weren’t always best of friends, it was just the two of us. It wasn’t my fault that my mother went into labor smack in the middle of my sister’s 4th birthday party; after making a hasty departure for the hospital, my mother arrived just in time for me to be born …. on my sister’s birthday …. and she’s never really forgiven me. I mean, she says she has but deep down there’s resentment. But I digress.

Bitterness for being born on her birthday aside, we managed to get along ok. And we both had a bunch of little girlfriends who’d come over the house to play and swim in our pool. There’s a definite advantage to having the only pool on the block – even if it was inflatable and barely three feet deep. We always had lots of friends over but there were never any boys around and, if an interloper did show up, he was quickly shown the way out before he had a chance to dip his you-know-what in our pool!

For the first six years of my life, I had very little contact with boys .… except for my cousins and they didn’t count. In elementary school boys were just tolerated; they were looked upon as excess baggage. Of course, that all changed when I hit my teen years and realized boys had potential. I had a couple of crushes early on but nothing earth-shattering. Then, at the ripe old age of 17, I went on a blind date with a guy named Bill and together we learned all about boys and girls, how they were so wondrously different and incredibly well-made for each other. I was stunned by how much I didn’t know about boys.

So, wouldn’t you just know it! God, in his infinite humorous nature, decided to bless me with only boy babies. All those years of playing with my baby girl dolls, changing their diapers fashioned from paper napkins, powdering their petite girlie bottoms, all that didn’t come close to what these boys were packing! It didn’t matter how well I knew Bill’s anatomy; he didn’t wear a diaper and I had never changed one …. at least not a boy’s. Talk about a rude awakening!

Let me just explain something very quickly here. When infant girls are getting their diapers changed, sometimes they pee but it’s a dainty little trickle that gently disappears into the absorbent pad under them. When infant boys are getting their diapers changed, parents put on a hazmat suit because that nozzle has a mind of its own and it is gonna spray wherever it wants.

Oh sure, parents can buy little wee-wee teepees to hold over the wee-wee while their baby boy giggles at them, but most times that thing is flying around like an errant garden hose and the pee goes everywhere. And, of course, that’s where men first learn to pee with no hands – yawning and stretching and placing their hands behind their heads in a very satisfied “look-what-I-can-do” sort of way. Usually in those situations, there will be spillage. I have found, for the most part, the male species is not very discriminating and is quite happy to just “hit something“.

Which brings me to the heart of this story.

I love my boys and, in all humility, Bill and I did a good job raising them. BUT, nature will take its course no matter what we do. And let me tell you, there is nothing …. and I mean NOTHING …. like the overwhelming musky, barn-like odor that punches you in the face when you open the door to a boy’s bedroom. For the love of all things holy, what is going on in there? How is it possible for boys …. little or big …. to ravage so many briefs, boxers or tighty-whities in one day, not to mention the now-fossilized face cloths (and sometimes my good hand towels)?

We’re all adults here and you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Well, I finally reached the end of my rope. It became unbearable for me to do my teen sons’ laundry, let alone keep up with it, so I threw down the gauntlet. I led the boys to the laundry room where I proceeded to write on my washing machine with a Sharpie. In all the corresponding receptacles were the words â€œDETERGENT GOES HERE.” “BLEACH GOES HERE.” “SOFTENER GOES HERE.” I’m sure they didn’t believe me when I said I was done doing their wash. After two weeks of their laundry piling up and them running out of clean clothes and their sheets desperate enough to literally walk off the bed and leap into the washing machine, they finally got the message!

As the old saying goes, boys will be boys, and I never had a problem with what was going on in my sons’ bedrooms …. within reason; if I thought something dangerous was happening, I’d be in there in a flash. I’d just had enough of cleaning up their messes. Now they’re grown men, good men, married with children, and they get to deal with their own kids’ smells, sprays, spills and secretions.

And when I see them lugging a basketful of laundry to their washing machines, I chuckle and know I did them a huge favor.

NARŠ2024

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 18, 2024
Weekly Prompts Wednesday Challenge – Humility
Weekly Prompts Weekend Challenge – Departure

One of my readers once commented that I have a song for every story. Well, who am I to argue?

From the Broadway show/movie Hair, this is “Sodomy”.

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Short Prose

Blessed

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for dVerse Poetics – May 7, 2024 –
Pilgrimage, Wandering and Walkabout

Chapel, St. Joseph’s Seminary Š NAR

Did you ever find yourself in a situation that was so intense, everything around you ceased to exist? It’s an extraordinary feeling, one that’s difficult to explain without using every adverb and adjective and superlative in the English language.

The date was October 5, 1995 – a most inauspicious day – and yet I remember every detail of the events of that evening almost 30 years ago. At the time I was quite active in my church as a choir member, leader of song, and director of the children’s choir. Our adult choir was one of the best in the county and we were selected by Cardinal O’Connor of New York to sing for His Holiness Pope John Paul II during his visit to St. Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers, New York. When the Cardinal requests someone’s services, it is an honor and should be treated as such.

For those of you old enough to remember Pope John Paul II, he was universally beloved and is now Saint John Paul II after his beatification on May 1, 2011. He possessed a spirituality that is rare among men, a divine nature of love, peace, kindness and forgiveness.

On that October day in ‘95, in the evening after vespers, it was arranged for John Paul II to have a walkabout around the grounds of the seminary. It was then that I had the greatest honor of my life .… to meet His Holiness and to receive his blessing. The moment I placed my hand in his and looked into his most serene and forgiving blue eyes, I knew I was in the presence of a divine being. There is no other way to describe how I felt other than to say it was rapturous; I had never felt that way before or since.

I have led a charmed life when it comes to meeting famous people …. just a matter of being in the right place at the right time …. but there is nothing that will ever surpass this encounter.

Time and events have a way of changing our perspective and I am no longer a member of the Catholic Church; however, my break from Catholicism has not and never will change the events of October 5, 1995 nor how I felt that day. It is something that will remain with me until my final days on earth.

NARŠ2024

dVerse Poetics — Pilgrimage, Wandering, and Walkabout

This is Kenny Chesney with “Song For The Saints”

His Holiness Pope John Paul II

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Flash

Picture Perfect

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt #361;
we are asked to get creative in exactly 57 words and
include the word “classic”. This is my response.

“Oh, baby, you gotta see her! She’s a real beauty!
What curves, what style!
And the color is perfect …. it’s called Marina Blue and the paint job is amazing!
Brand new dash, broad grille, quad headlights and a tail sporting a fan-shaped alcove on both side panels.
I’m telling you, honey …. this one’s a classic!”

NARŠ2024
57 Words

Author’s Note: That’s what my husband sounded like when he called to tell me about his ‘new’ vintage car …. a 1958 Chevy Bel Air. That was back in 1969 and he was still my boyfriend at the time. He was crazy about that car and took such good care of it. After about 8 months, someone stole it right off his driveway; that was one of a handful of times I’ve seen my husband cry.

Weekend Writing Prompt #362 – Classic

This is “Movin’ Out (Anthony’s Song)” by Billy Joel

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Miscellaneous

Child’s Play

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written in response to Di’s Share Your World 6th May 2024

Playland Park Š NAR

Here are the questions Di has prepared for us:

  1. Have you ever roller skated? As a child I had the type of roller skates that attached to my shoes and tightened with a key. I would skate in my neighborhood with my friends; since the number of cars on the road back then was much less than now, it was safe for us to take over the whole street and skate for hours. I never had a pair of professional-type skates with the beautiful wood wheels, the ones that laced up like ice skates, nor did I ever go to a roller skating rink. My experience was limited to street skating in strap-on skates with my friends … and lots of skinned knees!


2.  Have you ever ridden a horse (or donkey) Yes, I’ve actually ridden both. When I was a young girl in The Bronx, I remember there was a truck that would travel around the area making stops along the way. It was not a very large truck, similar to the vehicles belonging to private landscapers you see today. The truck traveled around and played music like an ice cream truck but instead of ice cream, it carried two ponies and offered rides to children whose parents were lucky enough to have an extra 5¢ to spend. The rides didn’t last long, just up and down our street with the truck driver/pony handler holding the rein and leading us around. For city kids such as myself, this was an exciting and memorable event!
One summer my sister-in-law and I took our young children horseback riding while on vacation in Montauk. It started out nice but as the day progressed, the weather became increasingly hot and humid and we were all extremely uncomfortable. Since it was a half day tour for beginners, we weren’t exactly galloping bareback down the beach on wild horses which would have provided a cooling breeze. At the end of the day, we were all sweaty, sunburned and covered with mosquito bites … not to mention that we walked like John Wayne for the next two days! There are quite a few horse stables where I currently live and it’s not unusual to see people on horseback crossing the local streets going from one trail to another. It’s a lovely way to spend a few hours but horseback riding isn’t anything I see myself doing again.
While in Sicily I rode donkeys fairly often. Many of the streets in my father’s home town are so narrow, the only way to go from one place to another is by foot or on a donkey. Riding a donkey is nothing like riding a horse. Donkeys are much slower than horses; they are approachable and lovable, overall non-reactive and less likely to go into a flight response. Even though I rode horses several times, I did not grow up around them so it was natural for me to feel safer being around a donkey than a horse. You’re also much closer to the ground should you take a tumble! Our donkeys were always saddled, a much more comfortable and safer way to ride.


3.  What was your favourite ride at a fun fair? The rollercoaster, without a doubt. I love rollercoasters – the good old-fashioned ones with lots of steep climbs and drops – none of this crazy upside down nonsense you see these days. Just give me an old rollercoaster and I’m a happy camper. All the rides that spin and twist and twirl and go upside down make me terribly nauseous and I steer clear of them. Also I will never go on any ride that involves a free fall; to me that is just insanity. I also used to love water parks and riding the huge twisty-turny slides into the giant pools. They were great fun and an instant way to cool off but these days I can’t walk around theme parks for hours on end because of my arthritis. As my husband always says, “I’m too old for this crap!”

4.  Choice of fun fair prizes: coconut, cuddly toy, ÂŁ10/$10 cash prize. Well, money is always nice but I’d say a cuddly toy to give my granddaughter (unless it’s an elephant which I’d keep for myself! 🐘). We don’t have coconut as a prize here which is too bad because I love coconut. But we do have cotton candy and what’s a day at the fair without the sweet fluffy clouds of pink cotton candy?
The legendary Coney Island is an hour’s drive from my house and Palisades Park (made famous by the video below) is only 30 minutes away in New Jersey across the Hudson River. We went to both places often when we were younger. For my UK friends, our Coney Island in Brooklyn was inspired by your seaside resort of New Brighton. We now live about 10 minutes away from Playland Park in Rye, NY, an old and very well-known amusement park/beach. I’m a fan of the Dragon Coaster and the arcade but we spend most of our time (at least for now) in Kiddie-Land where our little 4 year old granddaughter can have fun on the kid rides and play mini-golf, which is the only type of golfing I’m into!
And let’s not forget the Tunnel of Love for me and my mister!

Thanks for offering up a fun prompt, Di! 🎢 🎟️ 🎠

NARŠ2024

Share Your World 6th May 2024

This is “Palisades Park” by Freddie “Boom Boom” Cannon

Me playing mini golf at Playland Park.
Look at that form, that concentration. What a pro!
Š NAR
What the Dragon Coaster can do to your hair! Š NAR

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Flash

Demons And Wizards

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #361;
93 words exactly using the prompt word ‘pilgrimage’

A rare alternate album cover of Heep’s “Demons and Wizards”

It was the early 1970s and the four of us scored tickets to see Uriah Heep in Allentown, PA. It was the dog days of August … the kind of sun that blisters your skin in minutes … and the concert was outdoors. The drive was 3 hours each way in scorching temperatures but we were going to that concert come hell or high water. Allentown became our Mecca and the road trip our personal hard rock pilgrimage. The details of that day are a little sketchy but the concert was freakin’ awesome.

NARŠ2024
93 Words

Weekend Writing Prompt #361 – Pilgrimage

This is “Easy Living” by Uriah Heep

Š NAR – Uriah Heep, Allentown Fair Grounds, Aug. 26, 1973

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Short Story

It’s All Going To Be OK

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story ~ “tonic” and
Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie, Sunday Confessionals ~ “sweet”

Š dreamtime

It doesn’t happen very often but last Sunday was a rare babysitting day for us; our usual days to watch our 4-year-old granddaughter Colette are Tuesday and Thursday but both our son and daughter-in-law (Colette’s mom & dad) had to work over the weekend. That was a rarity for them as well, but one is a librarian and the other a doctor and with both the library and the hospital open every day of the week, they sometimes pull a weekend shift but seldom do their rotations coincide as they did last Sunday.  

My husband Bill has been having good and bad days this month, thinking about and missing his twin brother who died suddenly on April 2, so our son has been extra considerate, asking if watching Colette at this time is too much of an imposition; we answer without hesitation “Not at all …. in fact, just the opposite!” 

Colette is always fun to be with but recently she has been a true blessing and a much-needed distraction …. a tonic, a balm for our sad and broken hearts, a healing magical concoction of love, joy, sunshine and humor blended with a combination of innocent wisdom and an intuitive nature that defies her tender age. 

We were looking through some old photo albums with Colette …. snapshots of Bill and his brother as babies, as kids growing up on City Island, our wedding photos …. and even though Colette knew Bill’s brother and saw them together many times, seeing those photos left an impression on her, especially the ones of Bill and Jim when they were babies; it’s true, you know, that when our kids and grandkids are little and they look at us, they only see us as we are and have no idea we were ever any younger than we are right now. 

One particularly sweet photo of Bill and Jim brought tears to my husband’s eyes and though he tried to hide his tears, they spilled through his fingers causing Colette to ask why he was so sad and we explained that Uncle Jim was gone, that he had left us to be with God in heaven; she thought for a second, put her little hand on Bill’s and said “Well, that’s ok, Grampy; don’t worry because God will take good care of him and it’s all going to be ok.”

NARŠ2024

Sunday Confessionals : Sweet
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is Stevie Wonder with “You Are The Sunshine Of My Life”

Bill and Jim, suntanned towheads in Montauk, 1950

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Flash

Traditions

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Fictioneers, using the photo below for inspiration;
the challenge is to write something creative in 100 words or less.

Š Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

There’s something very comforting about Montauk; it’s steeped in tradition, averse to change.

Case in point: the Montauk Shirt Shop which never changed its inventory …. and that was just fine. People popped in to get their mandatory summer vacation t-shirt …. not the latest fashion craze.

Things just weren’t the same after the familiar shop was renovated featuring a new step-up, almost exclusive section with high-end merchandise and souvenirs no one wanted. We looked around the new area once; it was overpriced and a bit too chi-chi for the sleepy fishing village.

Sometimes all you want is a damn t-shirt.

NARŠ2024
100 Words

19 April 2024

This is the Stones with “Memory Motel”,  located on 27 East in Montauk, NY right across the street from the old diner and the t-shirt store. In my younger days I’d go to the bar at the Memory Motel and may or may not have caught a glimpse of Mick and Keith mingling very comfortably with the locals. It was a simpler time, no big deal, ya know?

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. NARŠ2017-present.

Short Story

The Floor Lamp

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Six Sentence Story
where the prompt word is “present”

When little Summer was just a few days old, her mother Laura started the tradition of sitting with her in the nursery to read stories before bed; in the corner of the nursery was an old floor lamp that used to belong to Laura’s grandparents, Momma and Poppy, and it filled the nursery with a soft, soothing glow.

As a little girl, Laura spent a lot of time with Momma and Poppy and the three of them developed a deep and loving bond so when Momma and Poppy passed away, the one thing Laura asked for was the floor lamp which was in the bedroom of their house where little Laura napped; now, each night Laura would tell baby Summer all about her beloved Momma and Poppy.

This one particular night as Laura and Summer were sitting in the nursery, the glow from the floor lamp caught the baby’s attention and she was captivated by it, something Laura thought was a sweet connection, especially since the lamp originally belonged to Momma and Poppy, Summer’s great-grandparents, but then Laura noticed a pattern developing, a pattern that would repeat two or three times most nights at Summer’s bedtime where the baby would gaze calmly and quietly at the lamp, then slowly begin to coo, gurgle and giggle for a few minutes before becoming animated – smiling, eyes glowing, arms waving, laughing and babbling loudly – then back again to quietness but still very much attracted to and aware of the lamp …. even when the floor lamp was off, Summer was attracted to it.

One afternoon when Summer was around 3 years old, Laura heard her talking and laughing, just like she did when playing with her stuffed animals, and when Laura peeked into Summer’s room expecting to find her little girl on the bed, she was surprised to see her in the big over-stuffed chair where Laura read bedtime stories; the floor lamp was lit and Summer appeared to be having a happy and lively conversation – not with her stuffed animals but with the lamp.

When Laura asked Summer who she was so happily talking to, the little girl was quick to reply “Momma and Poppy, of course; can’t you see them, Mommy?”

Laura caught her breath for a moment but she was not completely shocked for she knew Momma and Poppy’s lamp was special – the very reason Laura wanted it in her own home, but she didn’t realize how special it was; Laura never tried to stop Summer from talking to the lamp for she truly believed the spirits of Momma and Poppy were present and Summer’s conversations with them were real …. and who are we to say they weren’t. 🪽

NARŠ2024

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is “Guardian Angels” performed by John McLaughlin, Larry Coryell and Paco De Lucia

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. NARŠ2017-present.

Uncategorized

Fall From Grace: Kevin Spacey

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Faithfuls at Mindlovemiserysmenagerie
where the prompt is “celebrities that fell from grace”.

In the fall of 2017, Kevin Spacey’s life and his astronomical career in acting, writing, directing and production (and more) came crashing down with devastating swiftness and near Shakespearean consequences. The reason: sexual assault allegations from 30 years ago.

On October 29, 2017, actor Anthony Rapp alleged that Spacey, while appearing intoxicated, made a sexual advance toward him at a party in 1986, when Rapp was 14 and Spacey was 26. Spacey stated on Twitter that he did not remember the encounter, but that he owed Rapp “the sincerest apology for what would have been deeply inappropriate drunken behavior” if he had behaved as asserted.

Almost three years later, on September 9, 2020, Rapp sued Spacey for sexual assault, sexual battery and intentional infliction of emotional distress under the Child Victims Act. In the subsequent federal civil court proceeding, a jury found that Spacey did not molest Rapp and was found not liable on all counts, with Rapp subsequently ordered by the court to pay Spacey $39,089 in damages.

Fifteen other accusers emerged from the woodwork and jumped on the bandwagon alleging similar abuse. The Guardian was contacted by “a number of people” who alleged that Spacey “groped and behaved in an inappropriate way with young men” while he was artistic director of The Old Vic theatre. 

On the same day as Rapp’s allegations against him, Kevin Spacey came out as gay when apologizing to Rapp. His decision to come out via his statement was criticized by gay celebrities as an attempt to change the subject and shift focus from Rapp’s accusation, for using his own drunkenness as an excuse for making a sexual advance on a minor and for implying a connection between homosexuality and child sexual abuse. Spacey expressed regret over the way he came out and said that it was “never his intention” to deflect from the allegations against him or conflate them with his sexual orientation.

Amid the allegations, filming was suspended on the sixth and final season of House of Cards starring Kevin Spacey. His livelihood, public acceptance, reputation, peace of mind and very existence was hanging by an excruciatingly slender thread.

As Rapp’s trial lawsuit against Spacey commenced in October 2022, it was revealed Rapp had given an inaccurate description of the apartment where he alleged the abuse took place. The judge dismissed the emotional-distress charges as a “duplicate” of the battery charges and a jury found Spacey not liable of all charges.

On May 26, 2022, Spacey was charged by the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) in the UK with four counts of sexual assault against three complainants which were said to have taken place between 2005 and 2013 in Gloucestershire and London. According to the CPS, it would be possible to formally charge Spacey only if he entered England or Wales either voluntarily or through an extradition request. In a statement to Good Morning America on May 31, 2022, Spacey said he would “voluntarily appear in the UK”.

In his first British court appearance, on June 16, Spacey denied the allegations against him. On July 14, he pleaded not guilty to the charges in London. During the hearings, the complainant gave conflicting reports, false information regarding deleted text messages on his phone and eventually refused to answer any other questions, invoking the Fifth Amendment. On November 16, the CPS authorized an additional seven charges against Spacey, all related to a single complainant arising from incidents alleged to have occurred between 2001 and 2004. Three charges were dismissed before or during the trial, which began on June 28, 2023, and, on July 26, 2023, a jury found Kevin Spacey not guilty of the remaining nine charges.

Kevin Spacey has received countless accolades, including two Academy Awards, a BAFTA Award, a Golden Globe Award, a Tony Award and two Laurence Olivier Awards. He was named an honorary Commander and Knight Commander of the Order of the British Empire in 2010 and 2015, respectively. 

Kevin Spacey’s brother, Randy Fowler, has stated that their father was sexually, physically and emotionally abusive and that young Kevin shut down emotionally and became “very sly and smart” to avoid beatings. Spacey addressed the matter in October 2022, saying that his father was a white supremacist and a neo-Nazi who beat him regularly and called him derogatory names, including ‘faggot‘. Spacey stated that the abuse at the hands of his father caused him to become extremely private about his personal life which, in turn, resulted in him choosing not to come out as gay earlier in his life.

The following video aired prior to Kevin Spacey’s hearings in the UK where he was found not guilty of all charges. There are other videos available for viewing on YouTube if you so desire. I went with this one, choosing to avoid the sleazy and salacious nature of “entertainment news”.

This next video is a clip from the movie “Beyond The Sea” with Kevin Spacey portraying Bobby Darin. Spacey did all his own singing which is rather impressive. I could have gone with songs like “Mack The Knife” or “Beyond The Sea” but the name of this video tickled my funny bone.

Here is Kevin Spacey as Bobby Darin singing “Dream Lover”.

NARŠ2024

Celebrities That Fell from Grace

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Short Story

The Cruelest Joke

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for The Unicorn Challenge, where we are asked
to write something creative in 250 words or less
by using the photo below for inspiration.
This is my story.

Š Ayr/Gray

The moment we stepped out of our car, the temperature felt like it dropped twenty degrees and a cold wind whipped my black-stockinged legs. We cringed at the frigid slap in the face and huddled deeper into our jackets as we climbed the steps to the church.

We found the seats reserved for us …. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husband’s hand and felt his body quiver as he raggedly exhaled, desperately trying not to cry. The tears would come, but on his terms.

The pews on both sides of the church were filled with people celebrating a life and mourning a loss. Everything leading to this moment had been a maelstrom of emotions; there are very few things that shake us to our core like a sudden death.

A man appeared at our pew; I recognized him as the manager of the funeral home. He spoke softly to my husband and together they started to walk to the back of the church. I looked up at my husband’s face and he gave me a sad smile.

There was a heavy silence in the church, mourners sitting side-by-side lost in a fog of grief. Had someone played us the cruelest joke?

As one, the pallbearers heaved the casket onto their shoulders and the organ began to play. That’s when I saw my husband walking behind his brother’s coffin, our widowed sister-in-law on his arm, and there were tears.

Now we will try to move forward.

NARŠ2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-12/04/24

This is Al Green with “How Can You Mend A Broken Heart”

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Flash

The Cruel Mother

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #358 ~ Superscript

Just like something out of the evening news.

Did the attractive young woman, a former nurse and mother of one toddler, actually feed her little boy bleach or was it just a dreadful accident?

How could any jury not believe the clean-faced white woman in the proper skirt and blouse as she tearfully recounted the events of that horrific morning?

But they did believe her and only the most perceptible viewer in the courtroom or the living room caught the slightest cold-blooded superscript curl of her top left lip.

NARŠ2024
89 Words

Weekend Writing Prompt #358 – Superscript

This is Emily Smith with “The Cruel Mother”

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Flash

The Suit

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge ~ Black

Bill & Jim Š NAR

Bill stood at his open closet mumbling and cursing under his breath as he pulled out one pair of pants after the other. He was in a mood that has no definition or perhaps many definitions, none of them good. He was searching for something to wear for the funeral of his twin brother, Jim, who died suddenly on April 2. Had it been anyone else’s funeral, Bill would have just pulled out a suitable pair of pants and a dress shirt, but this was his brother and he said he needed his black suit. He couldn’t find it in the closet and he was getting angry but, of course, the errant suit was not the cause for his consternation. I walked to the closet and spotted the suit immediately. Handing it to Bill, I hugged him and kissed his cheek. As I ironed his shirt I could hear him crying softly. “Why’d you have to go and die, Jim?”

NARŠ2024

Weekly Prompts Colour Challenge – Black

This is Brooks and Dunn with “Believe”

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Flash

Ponte dei Sospiri

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Written for Friday Fictioneers. Greetings, friends. Some of you know, others do not. We had a death in the family last week … my husband’s twin brother passed away on Tuesday. I’ve taken some time off from writing but now I’m ready to return. You may read about our loss here if you are so inclined. Thank you for your thoughts. This is my story today.

Š Sandra Crook

It wasn’t in the evening when a calm tide rolls out, nor in the early morning as the glorious sun rises but rather in the middle of the day, just after noon when he crossed the bridge and left us stunned and lost. One minute he was with us …. happy, strong and alive. The next he was gone, in an instant, in the blink of an eye, he crossed the bridge and slipped away. We had no time to prepare, no time to say “Goodbye and fare thee well, brother”. He was just gone, peacefully and silently across the bridge.

NARŠ2024

5 April 2024

This is “Bridge of Sighs” by Robin Trower

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Uncategorized

When Death Comes

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬
Bill & Jim at their childhood home, City Island, The Bronx, NY circa 1950

My husband encouraged me to write today; I didn’t want to …. I felt like I should sit by his side, hold his hand, cry with him but his tears and his grief have not hit home yet.

One minute he’s walking around the house in a daze, the next he’s playing LEGOs with our 4 year old granddaughter. It’s good for her to be here; she’s keeping him distracted.

You see, my darling husband Bill’s twin brother Jim died today around 12:30pm. His wife Lynne went upstairs to their bedroom and found him on the floor. She tried desperately to breathe life into him but he was gone. Just like that, alive one minute and dead the next.

Losing a sibling is so hard; losing an identical twin is unfathomable. I am Bill’s wife but his twin brother was his other half and I say that with nothing but love in my heart. They shared their mother’s womb, their crib, their playpen, their bedroom, their car. They went to school together, worked in the same marina together for many summers. Bill graduated Iona College first in his class; Jim was second. They even failed the army physical together!

They were on polar opposites of the political page and their taste in women couldn’t have been more different but in every other way, they were as one. Of course they looked the same and talked the same, they had the same laugh, the same sense of humor. They loved watching hockey and going fishing together. Now that will never happen again.

If you look at the last photo on the bottom of the page you’ll see them, two little suntanned towheads sitting side by side fishing with their older brother, dad and grandfather. Now everyone in that boat is gone except for my husband, Bill.

All I’m thinking about right now is what a great time Jim and Lynne had last week. They spent the whole week in North Carolina with their son, his wife and two teenage grandchildren. They texted photos of everyone on the boardwalk, arms around each other, looking incredibly happy.

Bill and Jim. The Twins. The Richy Twins. When people saw one, they saw the other. Now there’s only one and nothing from this moment on will ever be the same.

NARŠ2024

Bill & Jim at their brother’s wedding
Bill & Jim in Hampton Bays, NY
Bill & Jim celebrating a birthday
Bill & Jim working on a puzzle
The Richy Men

Until we all meet again, rest easy, Jim. Our hearts are broken.

This is Joe Brown, “I’ll See You In My Dreams”.

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Short Story

Matinee Idol

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

This is The Unicorn Challenge
where we are asked to be creative
in 250 words or less using this photo
as inspiration. Here is my story.

Š Ayr/Gray

There was never a time when my father didn’t sport a mustache. A thin, elegant line when he was a young man, a bit more pronounced as he grew older but always neat, always refined.

Dressed in his army uniform, he was every bit the matinee idol and it was obvious why Mom fell for him.

When we visited him in Albany Medical Center the morning of his surgery for multiple aneurisms – both abdominal and aortic – his grey hair was neatly combed, mustache trimmed.  He was 82 years old and the doctors gave him a bleak 6% chance of surviving the operation. Yet, survive he did.

My sister’s daughter – my father’s eldest grandchild – gave serious thought to postponing her wedding until my father was stronger. He insisted she “do nothing of the kind”. He told us all, in no uncertain terms, that he would never miss his first grandchild’s wedding …. and he didn’t. Dressed to the nines in his tux and bow tie, perfectly groomed silver mustache, we all held our breath as they walked hand in hand onto the dance floor for what would be their last spin together.

When my dad died, we provided the undertaker with a photo for reference. The inexperienced mortician did a lovely job tending Dad but, looking back and forth from the photo to my father at peace his coffin, the undertaker knew something was amiss.

It was the first time any of us had ever seen Dad without his dashing mustache.

NARŠ2024
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-29/03/24

This is “Celluloid Heroes” by the Kinks

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Flash

Rite Of Passage

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Our gracious host Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers
is encouraging us to get creative in 100 words or less
using this photo as our inspiration. This is my story.

Š Dale Rogerson

In the 7th grade, ballroom dance class was a rite of passage – a Friday night event that lasted six months, culminating in a semiformal dinner-dance. The boys wore ties and jackets, the girls in party dresses and white gloves. It was not mandatory but if you didn’t sign up, you were snubbed. It was the highlight of the year …. not for the 12-year-old students but rather for their moms.

My son balked but signed up.

“You’ll never regret knowing how to dance”, I told him.

Since then, I’ve seen him dance on two occasions – his wedding and his brother’s.

NARŠ2024
100 Words

29 March 2024

This is “Ballroom Dancing”  by Paul McCartney

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Miscellaneous

Freedomland, USA

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬
The layout of Freedomland; I’d forgotten it was in the shape of the US!

Back in 1960, before the first Six Flags opened in Texas, there was Freedomland USA …. a fantastic, 85-acre amusement park with rides, restaurants, attractions, shopping, etc. And one of the things that made this wonderland so amazing was the fact that it was about 20 minutes from my house in The Bronx, NY. We would sit on our front porch at night and watch the fireworks coming from Freedomland.

“What else was so special about the place?”, you ask; well, it was the music hall known as the Moon Bowl!

In an attempt to attract visitors of varying ages, the Moon Bowl featured swing bands from the 1940s and contemporary pop stars. There was a stage and a 15,000 square foot outdoor dance floor. Among the performers who entertained us (and who I saw) were the Count Basie Orchestra, Paul Anka, Bobby Darin, Connie Francis, Bobby Rydell, Chubby Checker and more.

A ticket to Freedomland; check out the price of admission!
Bobby Darin performing at the Moon Bowl

Somewhere in my attic I have many tickets and autographs tucked away with all my Beatles scrapbooks and R&R memorabilia. I was a very lucky girl who got to meet a lot of famous people! Unfortunately, Freedomland USA went belly up after just five seasons but I have memories that will last forever.

Today I am featuring one of the performers I saw at Freedomland, the place where I fell in love with him when I was 10 years old …. the one-and-only Bobby Darin, definitely tops on my list. He can bring me out of a lousy mood or help me chill when I’m feeling stressed out.

There aren’t enough adjectives to describe the incredible talents of Bobby Darin. He was the consummate performer, a one-man show who composed songs, conducted the orchestra, sang different genres of music, danced, played the drums, piano, harmonica and guitar, did impressions, acted in movies and dazzled us with his Sinatra-like charm, mannerisms and sense of humor. My fellow-New Yorker was born Walden Robert Cassotto on May 14, 1936. It was a time when ethnic-sounding names such as his were frowned-upon by music producers; they felt something more white bread Americana would help these performers with strange names go further in the biz so Walden Robert Cassotto became Bobby Darin.

Bobby was only 37 years old when he died .… recurring bouts of rheumatic fever as a child left him with a seriously weakened heart. Believing his time on earth was limited, he lived his life to the fullest, pushing himself to all he could. In 1973, after failing to take antibiotics to protect his heart before a dental visit, Bobby developed sepsis. On December 19, 1973, a four-person surgical team worked for over six hours to repair his damaged heart. In the early morning hours of December 20, Bobby Darin died in the recovery room without regaining consciousness. That day the entertainment world lost one of its brightest stars and my own heart broke a little.

 “Mack The Knife” is undoubtedly Bobby Darin’s most famous hit …. a cool, finger-snapping song about the notorious killer, thief and arsonist, Macheath (AKA Mac the Knife). The song was originally written in 1928 for the German dramatic play Die Dreigroschenoper (Threepenny Opera) and sounds totally different than Bobby Darin’s version.

Another one of Bobby’s hits is “Beyond The Sea”, a jazzed-up version of a romantic love song based on the classical piece called “Le Mer” by French composer, lyricist, singer and showman Charles Trenet. The 2004 movie Beyond The Sea was released starring Kevin Spacey in the role of Bobby Darin. In case you only Spacey for his dramatic roles and have never seen him in a musical role, you’re in for a treat. Spacey is a master of impersonations and sang all Bobby Darin’s songs himself. He became Bobby Darin and if you like dramatic biographies with a splash of nightclub routines, you’ll love this movie.

Anything else you want to know about Freedomland, USA or Bobby Darin you can Google or read in Wiki. I’m just so grateful I had a chance to spend my pre-teen years in a place like Freedomland where I got to see Bobby Darin up close and personal and got his autograph. People have asked me “Why don’t you sell some of this stuff? You’ve got a treasure trove packed away.” Yeah, it’s a treasure trove and that’s exactly why I’ll be keeping it for as long as I live.

This is Bobby Darin performing his greatest hit, “Mack The Knife” on the Ed Sullivan Show, May 31, 1959.

Now “Beyond The Sea”,  also from the same airing of the Ed Sullivan show.

In this video, several of the many talents of the fabulous Bobby Darin are put on display. Bobby sings, plays bluesy harmonica, boogies on piano and performs a blistering Gene Krupa style drum solo. Live on the David Frost Show, 1972 …. 18 months before his death.

I hope you enjoyed taking a walk with me down Memory Lane …. not just sharing my fond, girlhood memories of Freedomland but remembering the remarkable Bobby Darin.

See you on the flip side. 😎

NARŠ2024

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Flash

Frosted Flakes

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Our lovely host, Rochelle, at Friday Fictioneers
has offered up this photo prompt to inspire us
to write creatively using 100 words or less.
This is my 100-word story from days in Montauk.

Š Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

“Surf rods are the heaviest and longest rods you can get. They’re designed to cast very far distances and pull in heavier fish from breaking waves. Depending on which bait you’re using – worms, squid, bunker – you’ll need to choose the right rig.”

Bill quietly explained to our pre-school boys, blissfully ignoring the fact that the rods were four times taller than them.

“This is a science, boys. You have to be patient and psyche out the fish.” The kiddos were gleefully lost in their mini boxes of Frosted Flakes.

Bill was content; this was cherished father/son time. Pivotal first steps.

NARŠ2024
100 Words

15 March 2024

This is “Just Fishing” by Trace Adkins

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Short Story

The Panic Button

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Yesterday, as I was driving up into the gated parking lot of a medical facility, I was faced with a dilemma: from my position in the driver’s seat, I was unable to reach the OPEN BUTTON.  I stretched as far as I could, with no luck. Finally, I opened my door just a bit, reached out and successfully pushed the button. I closed my door, drove through the now open gate and went in search of a parking spot.

I found a spot quickly and, since we were early, my husband and I stayed in the car for a few minutes chatting. When I reached for my purse, my heart sank and I felt sick to my stomach. My purse wasn’t where I always keep it …. tucked into the space between my seat and the driver’s door. I’m sure you see where this is going. Yes, when I opened my car door to push the button which opens the security gate, I didn’t realize my purse had fallen out of the car!

Thank goodness I immediately figured out what happened and Bill took the short walk to the parking lot entrance to make sure my purse was still there. It was gone and when he returned empty handed, I almost pushed the panic button. Just like most women, my life is in my purse. It’s not big but inside was my cell phone, my wallet with my ID, driver’s license, insurance cards, credit cards and cash. My car key, a pen, lip gloss and Advil are also inside the purse. Not a lot of things but very important things. In fact, some are vital.

I tried to stay calm as Bill went into the lobby of the building to check with the security guard at the front desk. Against all odds, he had my purse in a box beneath his desk; nothing was missing. Bill had to sign for it and when he brought my purse back to me in the parking lot, I thought I would cry with relief.

All this transpired in the course of 10 minutes. Incredible good fortune which could have gone south just as easily and I was reminded of the classic line by Blanche DuBois from “Streetcar Named Desire” about the kindness of strangers. Whoever the person was who found my purse and turned it in to the front desk, I thank them with my whole being. They saved my life today and if that sounds like a ridiculous exaggeration, just think about what it would be like piecing everything together and then try not to push the panic button.

NARŠ2024

This is the Kinks with “Strangers”

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Short Story

Ooh, Baby!

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

In response to a prompt from Carrot Ranch,
write a 99 word story (no more, no less)
about an awkward situation.

When I was newly married, my husband and I lived in an apartment building. It was a nice place, quiet, and we only saw the people who lived on our floor.

I’d run into Meg by the elevator every so often; she was extremely pregnant.

This one particular day I saw Meg and realized it had been a while since our last elevator meeting. Noticing her protruding belly, I said “You must be getting close now, eh?”

She stared at me and bluntly responded “I had the baby three weeks ago.”

Eyes darting, mumbling “Congratulations”, I fled the scene!

NARŠ2024
99 Words

https://carrotranch.com/2024/03/05/march-5-story-challenge-in-99-words/

This is Brenda Lee with “Baby Face”

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Story

Walk This Way

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

When I die, I’m going to donate my body to science. Don’t mistake me, I’m not being altruistic. I’m being realistic. Maybe one of those brilliant doctors or scientists can finally figure out what the fuck was wrong with me; I sure as hell haven’t had any luck so far. This long sought-after info won’t be worth a pile of beans to me cos I’ll be dead …. just saying.

There are 168 hours in one week. Just for fun, let’s divide that in half to represent day and night – awake hours vs asleep hours (not very accurate, I know, but you get the picture). Half of 168 is 84. Of those 84 hours, I experience a tingling sensation for about 70 hours per week, maybe more. And it’s not the good kind of tingling. You know what I mean, wink wink.

When the tingling first started, perhaps two years ago, it was fleeting – much like the feeling you get when your foot is about to fall asleep. It was located in the left side of my lower back and traveled down the back of my left thigh to my knee. It was annoying but not horrible. Over time, the tingling spread down to my toes; now it has also begun to travel up into my back, shoulder and neck …. all on the left side. And it is insatiable …. kinda like that feeling I get when I see Colin Farrell. There are few and far between times when I’ll notice the tingling is gone; it’s sheer bliss and feels absolutely magnificent to be at rest. Then it comes back just a couple of hours later. It’s back right now but this time in both legs! Ain’t that a kick in the head!?

I really enjoy walking but haven’t been getting out as much as I’d like. Walking saved me the last time I had a major flare up. Everything just sort of healed itself. I got my strength and stamina back and I was feeling the best I’d felt in quite a while. I need to get back into walking. I know it sounds like a lame excuse but I really don’t enjoy walking when it’s freezing outside and there are no malls nearby to walk in.

Today was like Spring so I went for a short walk; I took it easy and was out for only about 15 minutes. I do not subscribe to the ”no pain, no gain’‘ school of thought; 15 minutes today was quite enough, thank you. After walking, I relaxed in my recliner for a while with an ice pack, just to be on the safe side. I love my recliner. It’s where I make pit stops during the day, when I need a break from housecleaning, cooking, babysitting. I’ll put my feet up and ice my back and neck and it helps.

Lately my head has developed a tendency to tilt to the left; it happens when I’m watching TV or sleeping or checking out the new house being built across the way or sitting at my Mac, as I am right now. When I get really tired or I’ve pushed myself too far, my lower back will start screaming while my left side becomes an angry buzz of tingles. My head will tilt dramatically to the left and I imagine I must look like Marty Feldman, the actor who played Igor in Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein”. (If you’ve seen the movie, you’ll know that’s Eyegor and Fränkenstēēn). I adore Mel Brooks, the last of the real comedic geniuses. At least I have managed to keep my sense of humor through all this physical bullshit.

Now I’m noticing a lovely new development: it’s all but impossible for me to tilt my head to the right! Ain’t that a kick in the head!? It’s either sitting perfectly straight on my shoulders (which is good!) or tilting to the left. There’s a tendon, I think, that is stretched to the max like a big fat fully extended rubber band and it’s tight as a drum. I’m pretty damn sure that’s what’s keeping me from tilting my head to the right. I saw my orthopedist the other day; she felt around my shoulders and said “Jeez, you’re really tight!” Ya think!?!

I’ve had multiple trigger point injections, nerve blocks, epidurals and cortisone shots, all resulting in extremely short term relief. X-Rays, scans and MRIs show a lot of arthritis, spinal stenosis and some funkiness going on with my discs but nothing “remarkable”. How can that be? Ain’t that a freakin’ kick in the head!? Hey! Maybe that’ll set everything straight …. a good kick in the head!

So, here’s the plan: next week I’m going to have another bilateral shot in my lower back in the hope it will “alleviate my discomfort”. If it doesn’t, I’ll have another series of MRIs to see if anything has changed over the 12 months since my last set of MRIs. It will be fantastic if the shot helps but I’m not betting the house on it. One thing is certain: after this upcoming shot, I’m done with injections. I’ve had it so wish me luck! Well, you might be interested in knowing that besides the arthritis/stenosis, there’s not another single thing wrong with me. I’m in perfect health, totally aware of what’s happening to this “vessel” in which I exist. Ain’t that a kick in the head!?

My mister is one of the funniest people I know and we make each other laugh. It’s not always easy keeping a good sense of humor but it helps me get through everything. And to be perfectly honest …. I’m getting really tired of walking around like Igor!

From Mel Brooks’ “Young Frankenstein”, the first meeting of Igor and Dr. Frankenstein:

This is Dean Martin with “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head”

NARŠ2024

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Short Story

The Beachcomber

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

I guessed that something was wrong as soon as I saw the look of shocked disbelief on my husband David’s face. 

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

With tears in his eyes David whispered â€œI lost my wedding ring!”  

It was our last night in Cape Cod. After dinner we went for a walk on the beach. There was a lot of seaweed in the ocean from a storm a few days before. We walked along the shore, teasing each other with clumps of seaweed; that’s when the ring must have slipped off his finger. But exactly where we had no idea. We crawled around searching but it was dark and we couldn’t see anything. David was devastated. 

“Hon, I know your wedding ring means the world to you but we can always replace it.”   

“I know, Jess, but it just won’t be the same.” 

Dejected, we returned to our room and went to bed. After hours of trying to get to sleep, I grabbed my laptop and Googled â€œWill a ring wash ashore after falling in the ocean?” 

Almost immediately there was a *ding* on my laptop … a response from “TheRingFinders.com”. It read: â€œWe can help find any lost metallic object on the beach or in the water. Enter your zip code and we’ll get back to you ASAP .” 

I entered the zip code for Cape Cod and 10 minutes later I heard from Rick at “RingFinders”. After explaining our situation, Rick said he’d be at our B&B at 7:00 AM to start his search. Thank God for the Internet! 

True to his word, Rick was already on the beach at 7:00. We ate breakfast on the veranda, never taking our eyes off Rick as he searched everywhere with no luck. It was almost checkout time when he trudged up to the B&B.   

“No luck, folks. You’re gonna get socked in traffic if you don’t leave now. I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’m not giving up. I’ll keep in touch with you either way.” 

Disheartened, we checked out and loaded up the car. Taking one last look at Rick, we waved goodbye when we realized he wasn’t waving goodbye â€Ś he was waving in excitement. He ran up the beach with his arm in the air, hand clenched in a fist.    

“I found it, folks! I found your ring” he shouted. 

We ran to meet him and he grinned as he placed a wet, sandy ring in David’s hand.

The ring was under 11 inches of water and seaweed!

Overjoyed, David hugged Rick and we asked how much we owed him. 

“This is a free service we provide but we gladly accept donations” Rick explained. “Its very rewarding to see the joy on people’s faces when they’re reunited with their precious lost items.” 

I don’t remember how much we gave Rick … that’s not important. What I do remember is David glancing at his ring all the way home and smiling. 

What an experience and certainly an incredible act of kindness. Thanks, Rick!

NARŠ2024

Authors Note: Every word of this story is true. David is my son and Jess is my daughter-in-law. Theringfinders.com is a real organization and Rick, a stranger to David and Jess, did them a service they will remember for the rest of their lives. Sometimes fact is stranger than fiction!

This is Acker Bilk with “Stranger On The Shore”

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 Š 2017-present.

Short Story

Chastised

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

My quadrille for dVerse
using the word ‘imagine’

As a former children’s choir director,
I often rewrote the lyrics
to favorite songs.

My days as a lyricist ended
after being chastised by a pastor
who accused me of
‘lacking imagination’
by using the same melody
and ‘simply changing the words‘.

Imagine that!

NARŠ2024
44 Words

Come play with me!

A lovely dream …. Just imagine!

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Music Blog

Out Of The Blue

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Today Jim at Song Lyric Sunday is challenging us to choose a song dealing with mental health. This is a double edged sword; it’s wonderful that there are so many songs about this subject to choose from but it’s a shame that there are so many troublesome issues (and troubled souls) to write songs about.

I chose this one because it’s a tremendously uplifting song, I love the group and I feel a personal connection as well. When you’re talking about a song, it’s great to have something that ties you to it. It may not always be something positive but that’s just the way life is. The beautiful thing about music is there’s something for whatever is going on in your life. I hope you enjoy my selection today.

“Mr. Blue Sky” is a song by the Electric Light Orchestra (ELO), featured on the band’s seventh studio album “Out of the Blue” written and produced in 1977 by front man Jeff Lynne. Promotional copies were released on blue vinyl, like the album from which the single was issued. Due to its popularity and frequent use in multiple television shows and movies, it has sometimes been described as ELO’s signature song.

I have loved this song since the first time I heard it. It’s a happy and fun tune about a make-believe superhero, inspired by a silly TV show Jeff Lynne loved as a child. It was recorded with percussion played on a fire extinguisher, for crying out loud, and was so powerful and singable, astronauts would use it as an alarm clock in space! Reaction by critics and the public was a definite thumbs up, calling the tune “truly exhilarating”; the song would go on to be referred to as “the happiest song ever”. Sorry, Pharrell!

In 1977, Jeff Lynne and the other members of ELO rented a place in the Alps to work on music for their new album. Jeff was trying to write songs but the weather was so dark and dreary around him, he went into a funk. So how was it possible for Jeff to have written this fun, happy song?

During a BBC Radio interview, Jeff Lynne gave this account of how it all went down:

“It had been dark, wet and dreary for more than two weeks, and I didn’t come up with a single thing for the new record. I started going to the local pub, getting drunk, and spending more time there than back at the studio with my mates. Here we were in a house in the Alps and I was totally spiritless. I had writer’s block and fell into an ugly depression. Those two weeks felt more like two years! Finally one morning the sun suddenly came out and shone brilliantly. It shook me from my gloom and I felt inspired for the first time in weeks. It was like, ‘Wow, look at those gorgeous mountains, that beautiful sky’! For me that was a sign, a re-awakening, a chance to start over. I was so encouraged and motivated, I wrote “Mr. Blue Sky” and 13 other songs in the next two weeks.”

That’s Jeff’s great story; now here’s my story.

Over a span of 8 years, 2011 to 2019, I had two major surgeries on the same knee. It was not fun but what surgery is?

After operation #1, a total knee revision, I was in a lot of pain and my recuperation did not go well. I fell into a major depression. I lost my appetite, suffered panic attacks and shut myself off from everyone and everything. All I wanted was be left alone and sleep. I was convinced I was going to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life, unable to play with my young grandchildren. I began seeing a psychologist. And I was taking anti-anxiety meds and pain killers.

My husband Bill was my biggest supporter, a shoulder to lean on, my rock. He took me to physical therapy 3 times each week and stayed with me. He drove me to see the psychologist and sat in the waiting room. He took me out for drives just to get me out of the house. He set up FaceTime with our sons. He arranged for someone from the nail salon to come to the house to give me a mani/pedi. He helped me shower and wash my hair. Family and friends brought over prepared meals which Bill warmed up for me, even though I had little interest in eating. He was worried about me, scared for me but never let it show; he was a saint.

One day Bill came into the bedroom and said he had something to show me. He switched on the TV and inserted a DVD; it was the “Concert for George” and it was the first thing in months that held my attention. That’s the day I started listening to music again. Bill and music were the major factors in getting my mental and emotional recovery into motion. I put on my headphones and listened to all my favorite tunes. I started feeling better and eventually got myself to the point where I felt before the urgent need for surgery …. but I still had nagging pain in my knee. X-rays revealed something wrong with my replacement and I needed to have a total revision …. a complete do-over of the first operation. All that suffering between 2011 and 2019 because of something that could and should have been avoided.

The 2nd surgery was in early December 2019, just before Covid. I had great hope this time around but my recovery turned into the perfect storm. A visiting nurse came to see me five times and Bill brought me to have my staples removed. I started physical therapy but that lasted only about two weeks before everything came to a halt. I was left to my own devices as far as physical therapy was concerned and I had a wave of anxiety wash over me thinking “here we go again” …. but this time I sort of knew what to expect. I had an exercise routine from my first round of PT 8 years earlier which I did on my own as best I could. Being your own physical therapist after major surgery is far from ideal. By the grace of God, I did not hurt myself or fall into another depression. Once again music and Bill were my constant companions. I’d also begun to write again.

Long story even longer, when lockdown was lifted, I went back to therapy. That’s how I met the therapist who literally saved my life and I still see him when I have a flare up. Besides being a great therapist, he’s an incredibly good person who loves what he does …. helping people recover and feel better. And he always has music playing during his sessions! If I didn’t have him and Bill, I don’t know where I would be right now. And I’m also no longer taking meds.

Depression is serious business. As hard as it may be, we need to try to let people into our life. We need to talk to someone, anyone who will listen and be a good friend. There’s no shame in being depressed; it’s an illness and needs to be treated as one …. not covered up like a dirty secret.

I’m one of the lucky ones and I have music, my therapist and Bill to thank for helping me on the road to recovery.

Take good care of yourselves, my friends, and try to listen to music every day. Don’t underestimate it’s powers. It’s a balm for your body, mind, heart and soul. It could also mean a new lease on life.

National Depression Hotline – 866-629-4564 for free help, treatment options and support. Call 24/7.

This is “Mr. Blue Sky” by ELO

LYRICS

Sun is shinin’ in the sky
There ain’t a cloud in sight
It’s stopped rainin’, everybody’s in the play
And don’t you know
It’s a beautiful new day? Hey

Runnin’ down the avenue
See how the sun shines brightly in the city
On the streets where once was pity
Mr. Blue Sky is living here today, hey

Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long (so long)
Where did we go wrong?

Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long (so long)
Where did we go wrong?

Hey you with the pretty face
Welcome to the human race
A celebration, Mr. Blue Sky’s up there waitin’
And today is the day we’ve waited for

Oh, Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long (so long)
Where did we go wrong?

Hey there, Mr. Blue
We’re so pleased to be with you
Look around, see what you do
Everybody smiles at you

Hey there, Mr. Blue
We’re so pleased to be with you
Look around, see what you do
Everybody smiles at you

Mr. Blue, you did it right
But soon comes Mr. Night creepin’ over
Now his hand is on your shoulder
Never mind, I’ll remember you this
I’ll remember you this way

Mr. Blue Sky, please tell us why
You had to hide away for so long (so long)
Where did we go wrong?

Hey there Mr. Blue (sky)
We’re so pleased to be with you (sky)
Look around see what you do (blue)
Everybody smiles at you

Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Jeff Lynne
Mr. Blue Sky lyrics Š Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

  • Jeff Lynne–lead and backing vocals, lead and rhythm guitars, orchestral and choral arrangements 
  • Bev Bevan– drums, various percussion instruments, cymbals, backing vocals, fire extingjuisher
  • Richard Tandy– piano, electric piano, synthesizer, vocoder, orchestral and choral arrangements
  • Kelly Groucutt– bass guitar, backing vocals
  • Mik Kaminski– violin
  • Hugh McDowell – cello
  • Melvyn Gale – cello
  • Lewis Clark â€“ orchestral and choral arrangements, orchestra conductor
Mental Stability

NARŠ2024

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Story

Soft Touch

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

In previous years at this time we’d be covered in a blanket of snow.
With that in mind, here’s a story from January 14, 2023 ~ my response
to Linda G. Hill’s Just Jot it January 2024 prompt word: “toast”.

A couple of years ago, New York was hit by a major snowstorm. Wearing thick-padded booties, the snow silently tiptoed in while we slept and when we awoke there was a three-foot-deep crystalline blanket everywhere we looked. It was coming down pretty heavy and we could barely see anything in the backyard as we looked out our bedroom window … almost as if someone was standing on our roof shaking out a king size comforter full of feathers. Bill and I stood there for a while taking in the silent beauty of it all, then shuffled into the kitchen to prepare a pot of coffee and a few slices of my homemade banana bread. 

The instant we were done making breakfast, the lights went out. There was no point in trekking down to the basement to check the circuit breakers; we knew the area had experienced a power outage. We sat in the kitchen by the still-hot radiator enjoying our coffee and warm toasty bread, a pale white glow from the snow enveloping every room in the house. Before retreating to the living room, I poured our pot of coffee into a thermos to stay hot for a few hours.

I went to the closet and brought down Bill’s emergency hand-crank radio with LED flashlight, AM/FM stations including the NOAH weather channel, a power bank of phone chargers and USB ports. This baby would serve us just fine until the power was restored. In the meantime Bill ventured out to the frozen tundra of the screened-in porch to retrieve some logs for the fireplace.

Bill got a nice fire going while I set up the radio on the table between our recliners. The phone chargers and USB ports were lifesavers; we were able to keep our cell batteries from dying and my laptop going so I could work on my stories. I was even able to plug in my new electric blanket which used a handy dandy USB port. Bill marveled at the technology of the little red radio and only bemoaned one design flaw – there was no TV.

We were happily ensconced in our recliners enjoying our little haven. All was silent outside except for an occasional gust of wind and every so often we’d spot a blue jay out our front window picking berries off the holly bush. I think we must have dozed off for a bit when we were roused by the harsh sound of steady scraping. We listened for a few seconds, then realized someone was outside shoveling the snow. We peered out the window to see our two little neighbors, six-year-old twins Jackson and Connor, shoveling our front path. At least that’s who we figured they were; it was impossible to tell by the way they were bundled up. 

We sat back in our chairs, sipping our coffee and listening to the steady scrape-scraping of the boys’ shovels. Closer and closer the sound came; now they were clearing the steps leading to our front door. The adagio of their shovels was replaced by a sharp staccato knocking on our front door. I sank deeper into my blanket while Bill went to get some money to pay the enterprising kids, delighted that he didn’t have to shovel our front path himself. He opened the heavy wooden door and stood just inside the glass storm door to settle up accounts. Jackson and Connor stood on the front porch leaning on their shovels; toothless grins, cherry-red faces and sparkling blue eyes glistened in the still-rapidly falling snow which clung to their long blonde eyelashes.

“We cleared your path for you, Mr. Richy!” they proudly declared in unison, looking over their shoulders to admire their handiwork which was now covered by a fresh ½” of new snow. They looked back at Bill, staring up at him for his approval, their faces sporting the goofiest, most irresistible smiles imaginable. 

“I see that, boys, and a fine job it is, too” replied Bill. â€œSo tell me, what’s your going rate?“

With furrowed brows and crinkled noses the twins eloquently asked â€œHuh??”

“How much do I owe you for shoveling our path?” Bill asked in a way they could understand.

Very matter-of-factly with absolutely no sign of embarrassment or regret, the boys announced â€œOh, we’re not allowed to accept money. Our mom and dad said we have to do good deeds.”

“Hold that thought, boys, and don’t go anywhere.”

Bill scurried back into the living room. â€œAre you hearing any of this conversation?” he asked me, clearly incredulous. â€œA concept like that in this day and age is mind-blowing!”

“Well, what’s your game plan?” I asked, knowing Bill always had a plan brewing.

“My game plan? Why, I’m going to pay those boys for a job well done and toss in a few packs of Pokémon cards just for good measure!” He was downright gleeful.

Bill scurried back to the boys and, opening the door just a crack to keep the cold out, shoved $20 and two packs of cards into their pockets.

The boys immediately started to put up a fuss about taking the money but Bill told them to stash it in their piggy banks for a rainy day and if their dad had a problem with it, he was more than welcome to come over and talk about it. With new-found treasures in their pockets, the toothless twosome raced home to show their friends their unexpected booty. Their little friends cheered loudly at the sight of the boy’s riches. Even their dad came out to see what the hubbub was all about.

The big financial deal now settled, Bill sat back in his recliner and sighed contentedly.

“You’re such a soft touch” I teased. “You’re rather pleased with yourself, aren’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am!” he replied. â€œListen, I’m all for good deeds but when I was their age, I was out shoveling snow and I know it’s hard work. Those kids did a damn good job. If their dad objects to them getting paid, I’ll just tell him to think of it as a tip for his two fine sons. I can’t believe he’d have a problem with that.”

Well, it came as no big surprise when the twins soon returned and began shoveling the snow off our driveway – and this time they had reinforcements. Their momma didn’t raise no dummies! You haven’t lived until you’ve seen five six-year-olds shoveling one driveway like their little lives depended on it. 

“Better get your wallet out, Rockefeller. They’re back and they brought company” I laughed.

Bill may have unwittingly created a couple of monsters; during the spring the twins started going door-to-door pulling a wagon behind them. They were selling rocks! I’m reasonably certain their parents did not give permission for their budding business venture because it ended as abruptly as it started. Too bad; I’m sure they had the rock-selling market cornered. Very entrepreneurial kids; even Warren Buffett had to start somewhere!

Well, kind of a pity when you think about it. The boys scrubbed those rocks until they glistened in the sparkling sunlight. They really were impressive-looking rocks – there’s no denying that – but they were still just rocks, not exactly a priceless commodity.

Bill bought two. He’s such a soft touch.

NARŠ2024
First published 2023

Daily Prompt – JusJoJan the 12th, 2024

This is George Harrison with “Soft Touch”

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Poem

Bill: A Dectina

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Yesterday’s prompt from Sadje
for Just Jot it January 2024.
Here’s my tardy but heartfelt reply.
☕️  🥯

With
Humble
Gratitude
For my husband
Who, every morning,
Without hesitation,
Brings me my coffee in bed.
Sometimes he’ll bring a warm bagel.
I couldn’t ask for anything more!
With humble gratitude for my husband.

NARŠ2024

Daily Prompt – JusJoJan the 8th, 2024

This is the Manhattan Transfer with “I Love Coffee, I Love Tea”. And I love Bill!

Dectina Refrain:
This refrain is written as follows:
1st line – 1 syllable, 2nd line – 2 syllables
3rd line – 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines;
the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines
as one stand-alone line.

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Short Story

The Piano Lesson

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge
has challenged us to write a
Six Sentence Story and
include the word “task”.
This is my response.

Not having practiced the piano at all that one week, I called my instructor who was waiting for me at the church and declared into the phone “Mrs. Ridgeway, it’s Nancy and I can’t make it to my lesson today because it’s raining”; I was quite proud of myself for coming up with such a creative and foolproof excuse.

In her clipped New England-accented voice, Mrs. Ridgeway replied “You’re not a sugar cube and won’t melt in the rain”, then went on to say “Surely you have an umbrella you can use”; I was quick to inform her that I had left my umbrella on the school bus, adding that no one was at home with me to lend me an umbrella and my mother didn’t approve of me walking unprotected in the rain to which my piano teacher replied “Well then, I’ll just come to your house for your lesson”.

You could have knocked me over with a feather because I certainly was not expecting that response and, true to her word, ten minutes later Mrs. Ridgeway appeared at my front door, ready for the task at hand; I dilly-dallied as long as I could looking for my book of Schirmer’s Library of Musical Classics – Selected Piano Masterpieces, setting up my metronome, cracking my knuckles and swinging my arms a la Ed Norton and shifting butt cheeks searching for the most comfortable position until Mrs. Ridgeway’s patience reached the breaking point and she barked “Enough!” which nearly made me jump off the piano bench in a panic.

Shaking like the last leaf on a branch in a windstorm, I opened my lesson book to the appropriate page and began playing Beethoven’s Für Elise while Mrs. Ridgeway sat next to me, staring over my shoulder and glaring; I played as though I was wearing boxing gloves and, being the master sleuth that she was, Mrs. Ridgeway saw right through my brilliant plot.

Angrier than my sister the day she discovered I had ripped off all the heads on her Barbie dolls, Mrs. Ridgeway exclaimed I had wasted her valuable time and she doubled my lessons for the next week which would have been tolerable if she hadn’t reported to my mother who got so mad because of my lack of responsibility, she withheld my allowance for the next two weeks and took away my TV privileges …. even Dr. Kildare.

Hoisted by my own petard!

NAR Š 2024

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is what Für Elise is supposed to sound like; you’ll notice Lang Lang is not wearing boxing gloves (but I bet he’d sound just as good even if he was).

The incomparable Jackie Gleason and Art Carney in a clip from the Honeymooners – Suwanee River. How could I possibly resist?

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Uncategorized

APPLE BLOSSOM TIME

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Rochelle from Friday Fictioneers
gave us the photo below while
Denise from Six Sentence Stories
provided the prompt word “jingle”.
This is my response, a union of two prompts,
in a 100-word, six-sentence story.*

PHOTO PROMPT Š Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The year was 1939; they were a happy couple.

When she became pregnant the following year, they were ecstatic; their son was born in 1941, the most beautiful baby anyone ever saw – golden curls, plump cheeks as rosy as apple blossoms.

He was a delightful child who brought incredible joy into their lives.

In 1942 the baby was diagnosed with nephritis; incurable, the doctor said and they were left heartbroken.

In the blink of an eye between Jingle Bells and Auld Lang Syne, their baby silently passed away.

The young couple was devastated; they never celebrated new year’s eve again.

NAR Š 2023
100 Words
6 Sentences

*This story is true; the young mother and father were my parents, their baby boy was the brother I never knew. Six weeks after their baby died, my father was drafted and spent his entire tour of duty fighting in Europe during WWII while my mother was left alone without a husband, without a baby. It was many years before I understood the ineffable emotional toll this had on their lives and why we never celebrated New Year’s Eve.

29 December 2023
Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!

This is The Andrews Sisters singing “Apple Blossom Time”

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone without permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Short Story

MONSTROID

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

It’s time once again for
The Unicorn Challenge.
Our mission: to write
a story in 250 words or less
in response to the photo prompt.
This is my story and I’m sticking to it.
🦖 🎄 🦕

Š Ayr/Gray

When our son was still in elementary school, he demonstrated a great ability and clever imagination for art. He had a penchant for cartoon characters of his own creation which he drew on his book covers and all over his school notebooks.

My husband and I encouraged his artwork and we kept him well-stocked in supplies, including a drafting table, paints and copious amounts of drawing pads. His main character was a T-rex called “Monstroid” …. a Jurassic lawman who was not above getting down and dirty.

When our son was about twelve years old, he asked permission to paint Monstroid on his bedroom wall. I had no problem with that; I’d rather he paint his own wall than someone else’s. Thirty-something years ago, graffiti was considered vandalism, not the street art it has become today.

The story of Monstroid grew in my son’s head, along with other dinosaurs, friend and foe alike. It got to the point where every wall in his room was covered with his creations; dinosaurs grazed on one wall while epic prehistoric battle scenes appeared on another wall. I didn’t mind; the boy was hurting no one and I would never suppress his natural ability for art …. just as I would never squash our other son’s talent for music.

Our son is now a television cameraman – another form of art. However, he never lost his love of painting and Monstroid is alive and well on the bedroom walls of each of his three kids.

NAR Š 2023
250 Words

The Unicorn Challenge-22/12/23

This is Bob Brown with “Santa, Bring Me A Dinosaur”

This portfolio (including text, graphics and videos) is copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and not for use by anyone, unless with permission. NAR Š 2017-present.

Short Story

DOTTIE PESSIN

Nancy's Notes 🖊️♬

Fandango gave us a Story Starter prompt and
Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge challenged us to write a
Six Sentence Story, being as creative with punctuation as we dare.
This is my answer to Fan’s prompt and Girlie’s challenge. Enjoy!
🎶🎶🎶

One day when I was about nine years old, I was home with my mother when there was a knock on our door and when I answered it, I was very surprised to see Dottie Pessin – our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance – standing there in her perpetually stained housecoat, carrying a thin, flat brown paper bag, hair in curlers, and declaring “Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad you’re home from school because I have something for you and I’d like to come in to show you.”

Well, it wasn’t every day that someone came to our door unannounced bearing gifts for me for no reason under the sun, so I was not about to turn Dottie away (I was no fool, even back then), but my mother had now joined us and was somewhat suspicious about this strange, unexpected visit and asked Dottie to explain herself, to which Dottie replied “I was out shopping when I came across this album of kid’s songs and I immediately thought of Nancy, so I bought it hoping she would like it” and clapping her pudgy hands added “I’m very anxious for her reaction so let’s give it a listen.”

Now, I don’t mind telling you this surprised the hell out of me and pleased me no end because I was already madly in love with everything about music and could barely contain my excitement as I reached for my little record player with the image of Brenda Lee on the lid; Dottie apparently shared my enthusiasm and as the music played she kept asking me “Do you like it? Do you like it?” to which I had to admit I did indeed like it very much (seeing as how I was a kid listening to an album of kid’s songs – what’s not to like?).

We listened to one side of the album and, as I was flipping it over to listen to the other side, Dottie exclaimed “Oh, I’m so pleased you like the album but I just noticed the time and the “Edge Of Night” is coming on in 15 minutes so I’m going to take the record back now and be on my way”; my mother, ever in She-Wolf mode, saw the confused and let-down look on my face and was damn well taken aback herself by that strange and sudden announcement by Dottie …. after all, the album was supposed to be a gift …. and my mother questioned Dottie in no uncertain terms “Just what the hell do you mean you’ll take Nancy’s gift back, Dottie?”

Without an apparent thought for others nor the slightest bit of remorse or worry …. not about my mother’s sizzling Sicilian volcano temper nor the sadness building in my eyes …. Dottie replied “Oh, this isn’t a gift for Nancy; I bought this for my friend’s daughter who’s the same age as Nancy, but since I don’t know anything about little girls (never having had any myself) and the things they like, I wanted to run it by Nancy first to get her opinion, just to make sure it was a good gift and my friend’s daughter wouldn’t be disappointed”, and with that, Dottie Pessin …. our pudgy-handed neighbor from around the corner who rarely made an appearance …. patted the curlers in her hair, took her thin, flat brown paper bag with the album of kid’s songs inside, held it tightly against her perpetually stained housecoat and bounced out our house like the giant green Grinch helium balloon in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade without so much as a pudgy-handed wave or a glance over her shoulder to spy a regret-filled teardrop fall onto my purple Daisy Duck sweater (because all the other girls wore Minnie Mouse sweaters and I was never like all the other girls).

Now, you may be asking yourself “Could something this bizarre really be true and how could that woman screw with a little girl’s feelings like that?” and I will tell you that it most certainly is true – every pitiful word; I have no idea how someone could be so unaware and insensitive (unless they have their head so far up their ass they can smell Brylcreem) but, after 60-plus years, I still remember that surreal afternoon with Dottie Pessin like it was yesterday and, being a smart cookie for a 9 year old, I had the same thought about Dottie back then as I have this very moment: “What a stupid bitch!” 🌋

NAR Š 2023

Sunday’s Six Sentence Story Word Prompt!
Fandango’s Story Starter #121

This is the Rolling Stones performing “Bitch” …. as if anything else would do!

It’s time to celebrate
Birthday Thursdays
over at The Rhythm Section.
No fuss, no muss –
just wall-to-wall music.
Stop by for some cake and sympathy!
🎂
https://rhythmsection.blog/