Written for Quadrille Monday dVerse Poets Pub; De Jackson is asking us to create a 44-word poem using the word βFriday”. My poem is a Dectina Refrain: 1st line is 1 syllable, 2nd line is 2 syllables 3rd line is 3 syllables, and so on for 9 lines; the 10th line is comprised of the first four lines as one stand-alone sentence.
Our Friday night dinner we wait all week to sit on the couch and eat sexy pizza with cheese like hot melted love, gooey and deliciously good, and we drink tall glasses of red wine. Our Friday night dinner we wait all week
Written for The Unicorn Challenge, where we are asked to write something creative in 250 words or less byusing the photo below for inspiration. This is my story.
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 β¦. second pew directly off the center aisle. I clutched my husbandβs 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 husbandβs 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 brotherβs coffin, our widowed sister-in-law on his arm, and there were tears.
After the wake, a few of us went back to our sister-in-lawβs house. A question tap-danced in my brain: now that my husbandβs brother was dead, was his widow still our sister-in-law or will she eventually be erased from the familial slate, ties severed, connections lost?
The room which they call βthe officeβ was a confusion of books, photo albums and memorabilia piled high like Babel.
Flipping through yellowed snapshots, we spotted her, the widow, in every image β¦. halcyon days when we all spoke the language of youth and happiness β¦. and my question was answered.
Battery Park. The glittering lights of tall ships parading up the Hudson River. New York at its brightest. The Big Apple β excitement and energy down to its core.
So how the hell did I end up in Pennsylvania Dutch Country, hopelessly in love with my Amish husband Abel, married for four years with three kids and twins on the way?
Good old revenge. I wouldnβt play ball with my boss so instead of being assigned to photograph the tall ships in New York Harbor, I was banished for a month to cover the βPlain Peopleβsβ Summer County Fair.
What I thought was going to be a nightmare was a delicious surprise. When the handsome, lusty Abel Jansen and I locked eyes, it was βGoed gevoel”β a βgood feelingβ from head to toe and all parts in between.
Being accepted into the Amish community, let alone marrying, is difficult but we had a few things going for us. I was a city girl, not afraid of getting my hands dirty. We were mature. Most Amish were married before age 20; Abel and I were both 26.
But the clincher was the serendipity attached to my name …. Menno Jakob.
The most revered men among the Amish were Menno Simons and Jakob Ammann. The elders were convinced I was descended from them when I was actually an Italian Jew from Canarsie! Who was I to argue?
Abel was my tall ship and I was his splash of Manhattan sparkle. Nothing else mattered.
Ruth looked up from her book and stared at her husband Fred as he fiddled with his iPod; at one time, he knew every little detail about that thing but now the device totally confused him and in frustration Fred cursed as he threw the iPod across the room yelling βDamn thingβs busted!β
Ruth sighed and retrieved the iPod, placing it on the table between their recliners and glanced sadly at Fred who sat in his chair looking straight ahead; Ruth asked herself “Where is my husband of 55 years?” because for her it was like he was gone, replaced by this βnowhere manβ.
In an attempt to help Fred settle down, Ruth calmly suggested they look at the iPod together after dinner to figure out what was wrong but that only seemed to anger Fred even more and he shouted back at Ruth that he was not a child and she shouldnβt patronize him; when Ruth apologized and told Fred she was going into the kitchen to make dinner, he snapped at her saying it didnβt matter because he wasnβt hungry anyway.
In the kitchen Ruth wept silently; it was like this ever since Fredβs diagnosis of early onset dementia and now they squabbled over everything, especially things he used to do without so much as a second thought, like paying the bills, but these days he got lost walking to the bank on the corner.
Fred used to be very handy but now he couldnβt even set his alarm clock and when Ruth offered to sort out his meds for him, he lashed out saying he could do it himself but he mixed up the dosage and had a terrible reaction leaving him feeling hopeless and helpless.
Fred came into the kitchen and, without being told, went straight to the spot where Ruth stored her cutting boards and knives and started helping her prepare the salad, perfectly chopping vegetables and chatting amiably about a movie his friend Jack thought they might enjoy; the old Fred was back .β¦ at least for the moment.
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 driverβs 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 wasnβt where I always keep it β¦. tucked into the space between my seat and the driverβs door. Iβm sure you see where this is going. Yes, when I opened my car door to push the button which opens the security gate, I didnβt 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. Itβs not big but inside was my cell phone, my wallet with my ID, driverβs 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 βStreetcar Named Desireβ 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.
Our host BjΓΆrn at dVerse Poets has asked us to write no more than 144 words, incorporating the highlighted line from Tomas TranstrΓΆmerβs poem βAfter Someoneβs Death.β
The night of my husbandβs funeral was the loneliest point in my life. After everyone went home, I was totally alone in the house I shared with Ned for 12 years. I donβt ever remember the house being so cold and quiet. Moonlight engulfed our bedroom yet emptiness was all around. I sat on Nedβs side of the bed and ran my hands over his pillow. It was shockingly cold and my mind drifted back to this morning in Arlington. Row upon row of neat marble headstones, Nedβs fallen brothers in arms, all the names swallowed up by the cold. Hugging his pillow tightly, I cried for the first time in three days. There was a gaping hole in my heart, in my life, and I knew I would never be the same. I donβt ever remember the house being so cold and quiet.
I guessed that something was wrong as soon as I saw the look of shocked disbelief on my husband Davidβs face.
βBabe, whatβs wrong?β
With tears in his eyes David whispered βI lost my wedding ring!β
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; thatβs 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 couldnβt see anything. David was devastated.
βHon, I know your wedding ring means the world to you but we can always replace it.β
βI know, Jess, but it just wonβt be the same.β
Dejected, we returned to our room and went to bed. After hours of trying to get to sleep, I grabbed my laptop and Googled βWill a ring wash ashore after falling in the ocean?β
Almost immediately there was a *ding* on my laptop β¦ a response from βTheRingFinders.comβ. It read: βWe can help find any lost metallic object on the beach or in the water. Enter your zip code and weβll get back to you ASAP .β
I entered the zip code for Cape Cod and 10 minutes later I heard from Rick at βRingFindersβ. After explaining our situation, Rick said heβd 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.
βNo luck, folks. Youβre gonna get socked in traffic if you donβt leave now. Iβm sorry to disappoint you but Iβm not giving up. Iβll keep in touch with you either way.β
Disheartened, we checked out and loaded up the car. Taking one last look at Rick, we waved goodbye when we realized he wasnβt waving goodbye β¦ he was waving in excitement. He ran up the beach with his arm in the air, hand clenched in a fist.
βI found it, folks! I found your ringβ he shouted.
We ran to meet him and he grinned as he placed a wet, sandy ring in Davidβs hand.
Thering was under 11 inches of water and seaweed!
Overjoyed, David hugged Rick and we asked how much we owed him.
βThis is a free service we provide but we gladly accept donationsβ Rick explained. βIts very rewarding to see the joy on peopleβs faces when theyβre reunited with their precious lost items.β
I donβt remember how much we gave Rick β¦ thatβs 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!
Authors Note:Β 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!
Rochelle, our gracious host at Friday Fictioneers, has challenged us to write a story of 100 words or less, using the photo below as inspiration. This is my story.
Photo Copyright Alicia Jamtaas
Too many arguments, too many years of spiteful words. Sheβd had enough.
He walked into their bedroom where she was packing. βHow can you do this, like it was nothing?β
βLike it was nothing? Do you really think this is easy, like tossing out yesterdayβs leftovers?β
βTwenty-three years, Beth. You canβt throw that away.β
βWould you just let it be, Sam, and go to work.β
βIβll see you when I get home, Beth.β
βObliviousβ she murmured.
Of course she was gone when he returned. Nothing left but remains of the day.
βDonβt look at me, Helen. Last year’s lessons with Vanessa nearly put me over the edge.β
βWell, I canβt do it! Ever since Marcia Morelli snatched that promotion for Real Estate Agent of the Year away from me, Iβm spending all my time at work playing catch up.β
βThatβs not my problem, Helen. Anyway, I signed on to coach Brandonβs baseball team this season, remember?β
βOh, cry me a river, Bob! Youβre the one who took an early retirement; your schedule is much more flexible than mine.β
βThatβs right, I retired so I could do things I enjoy like playing golf and going fishing. Itβs important to stay mobile after retirement so we donβt become dust in the wind.β
βWell, if you canβt do it and I canβt do it, why donβt we get Vanessa to teach Danielle how to drive?β
βAre you out of your mind, woman! Vanessaβs been driving less than a year. She canβt take Danielle out driving! Can you imagine the mayhem when those two hit the streets?β
βAt least Iβm making suggestions, Bob. All youβre doing is justifying why you canβt do it.β
βOh, Helen, save your breath and donβt look at me with such contempt. Iβm right and you know it. I wonβt idly sit by and watch both our daughters driving without an adult in the car. Itβs out of the question.β
βYou wonβt? Oh, thatβs wonderful, Bob! I knew youβd come around!β
βNow hold on there, Helen. I didnβt agree to anything.β
βWhy, sure you did, Bob. You said you wouldnβt sit idly by while the girls are driving around without an adult in the car.β
βBut I didnβt meanβ¦..β
βLook at it this way, Bob. Danielle is used to being driven everywhere she goes. If you donβt teach her how to drive, youβll just have to drive here wherever she wants to go. Iβd say this is a win/win situation.β
βAnd how do you figure that, Helen?β
βSimple! By giving Danielle driving lessons, youβll be doing your part to keep our insurance rates down, youβll be able to coach Brandon’s baseball team and still have time to do the things you enjoy and you wonβt turn into dust in the wind. And all it takes is just one daily one-hour driving lesson! Youβre a genius, Bob!β
βI am? Yeah, I guess I am. Hey! Wait just a gosh darn minute, Helen!β
Hard to imagine life without her. When the hell did everything start to unravel?
He sat alone in the shell of their apartment nursing his second Dewars. Once upon a time this place was alive with people enjoying one of their famous dinner parties. He could hear the sound of her spirited laugh when someone told a dirty joke.
They were the perfect couple, the envy of all their friends. Theirs was an easy, comfortable marriage. They were in sync in their choices of restaurants, paint colors and the biggest decision of all .β¦ neither one wanted kids.
After receiving the diagnosis “ULCER”, Brian’s wife Ali had been lovingly, carefully packing his lunches. He checked the contents of his bento box: plain broiled cod, boiled cauliflower and coconut milk. βThis must be her White Periodβ,Β he thought, wistfully.Β
Sensitiveand embarrassed coworkers averted their eyes as they passed Brianβs cubicle on their way to lunch. Gone were the cheerful calls βCβmon, Brian! Weβre going to Smokinβ Joeβs Hot Wings for lunch!β or βSalsa and nachos in the hospitality room, guys!β Oh, the humanity!
Brianβs computer pinged. It was an email from Ali: βHi, hon. Hope youβre having a great day. Did you find the Maalox I put in your backpack? Weβre having something special for dinner tonight …. poached chicken, brown rice and garbanzo beans …. hope youβre hungry! Love ya, babe! xoβ
βAh, Aliβs Beige Period.β Brian stared blankly at the computer screen. βI wonder how many beige foods there are …. oatmeal, boiled potatoes, matzoh….β
Depressed, fatigued and hungry, Brian put his head in his hands; a solitary tear fell through his fingers onto his khakis. Slowly the wet spot morphed into the shape of a slice of pizza. βWhat the …. ?!β Incredulous, Brian blinked and wiped his eyes. βWhatβs happening to me?!β Images of devilish, cramp-inducing, bowel-seizing delicacies danced βround his head …. jalapeΓ±o poppers, tacos, barbecued ribs.
The dreaded hunger hallucinations!Sweating, Brian texted Ali. βBabe. Last minute meeting with the deputy mayor. Sorry, Iβm gonna miss dinner. Love ya!β
Brian lied.
Grabbing the bottle of Maalox and a Smokin‘ Joe’s menu from his desk drawer, Brian bolted from his cubicle, giddy as a school girl at her first dance.
βOutta my way, boys, outta my way!!β
Brian knew he was taking a big chance but he just didn’t care. He was starving, dammit! And out he ran, laughing and joyfully shouting, “JalapeΓ±o-effing-poppers, baby!!”
It’s a fiver today, including prompt words from FOWC with Fandango and Weekly Prompts Wednesday.
βDebonair, sophisticated and charmingβ sighed Alice Carter. βI just love that movie. Cary Grant is so good-looking and classy. They donβt make movies like that anymore, you know?β
βAnd that Ingrid Bergman is some beauty, tooβ replied Aliceβs husband Ralph. βThose smoldering eyes, high cheekbones, graceful neck β a real looker, that one.β
βAnd so chic, too, Ralph. You always knew a real lady when you saw one. Well, I better start dinner. Iβm making your favorite β sausage and potato casserole.β
βI hope you made a lemon meringue pie for dessert.β
βOf course! Have we ever celebrated your birthday without your favorite pie? I know what you like, Ralph.β
“No, we have not, Alice. The kitchen is your milieu and no one makes a lemon meringue pie like you, my little chickadee!” Alice blushed with delight; Ralph’s compliments were rare these days.
Returning to the den after starting dinner, Alice found Ralph was watching the weatherchannel. “My goodness! That weather girl’s pants are awfully tight! They’re a bit unseemly for TV, I think. Don’t you agree, Ralph?“
“Oh, I don’t think so at all, Alice. She’s got a lovely figure; she probably works out every day. I’m sure her parents instilled in her an excellent work ethic. You know, I remember reading in some countries the TV weather girls are topless.”
“Topless? Why, I never” Alice declared indignantly; Ralph switched the channel to the news.
Alice clucked her tongue. βWhy arenβt there more delightful men on the news, men like that handsome Peter Jennings?β
βBecause heβs deadβ replied Ralph.
βHow about Mike Wallace? He’s so dapper.β
βAlso deadβ Ralph reminded Alice.
βLook at that clown, Glenn Beck, wearing jeans and sneakers on a TV news show! Give him a beanie and heβd look just like one of those little rascal kids. What ever happened to that nice Matt Lauer?β
βFired for overt misconduct and sexual harassmentβ replied Ralph.
βGood Lord! I donβt believe it! Well, what about Bill OβReilly, Eric Bolling and Charlie Rose?β
βFired, fired and, oh yeah .β¦ fired. Alice, can I please have a moment of peace and quiet to watch the news?β
βWell, pardon me for living! No need to be rude, Ralphβ she sniffed. βIβm going to check on the sausage casserole.β
When she returned Alice stopped dead in her tracks. βOh my God, Ralph! What on earth are you watching now?β
βItβs still the news, Alice. In fact, itβs called βThe News Channelβ. News all day, every day.”
βThe βX Rated News Channelβ, you mean! No wonder those poor men got fired. What red-blooded guy could resist floozies like that showing off their goods on national TV? They look like hookers! And look at you sitting there in your underwear all bug-eyed. Disgusting!β Alice harrumphed.
βPut a lid on it, Alice! You donβt have the slightest idea what youβre talking about. These women are professionals. Theyβre lawyers, professors and judges, not some bimbos with sketchy qualifications who just walked in off the street.β
βYeah, theyβre highly qualified alright β¦. as adult entertainers!β Alice snapped. βTake that one on the end with the dyed blonde hair and skirt so short I can practically see Niagara Falls! What happened …. did they run out of fabric? And the other one with the dark hair. Who is she …. one of the Kardashians? With those spike heels and implants, I’m sure she can get a job as a pole dancer!β
βWoah, woah, woah! Thatβs enough, Alice! Look, this here is Megyn Kelly. She has a law degree, is a journalist, an author and a world-famous political commentator as well as a news anchor. The dark-haired one is Kimberly Guilfoyle. Sheβs a political analyst, an attorney and former First Lady of San Francisco. Now sheβs engaged to Donald Trump, Jr.β
βWell, big whoop!! If you think Iβm impressed, Ralph, youβve got another thing comin’. Youβre delusional!β
βI donβt care what you think, Alice. Iβm sure their families are very proud of them. Besides being absolutely stunning, they are brilliant. Now why donβt you just run back into the kitchen and let me enjoy my one indulgence.β
βIndulgence??β Alice countered. βSo you admit itβs all about cheap thrills and nothing to do with the news. Youβre such a pig, Ralph!β
“Alice, your ignorance is showing. Can we please stop talking about this? Howβs that sausage coming, anyway? Iβm starving!β
Alice saw red. βHereβs an idea for you, Ralph. Get Kimberly whatβs-her-name to see to your sausage. Iβm sure sheβs highly qualified! And one more thing …. Happy Effin’ Birthday!β
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 βOut of the Blueβ 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. Itβs 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 βtruly exhilaratingβ; the song would go on to be referred to as βthe happiest song everβ. 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:
βIt 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 skyβ! For me that was a sign, a re-awakening, a chance to start over. I was so encouraged and motivated, I wrote βMr. Blue Skyβ and 13 other songs in the next two weeks.β
Thatβs Jeff’s great story; now hereβs 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. Thatβs 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, heβs 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 didnβt have him and Bill, I donβt 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. Thereβs 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. Itβs a balm for your body, mind, heart and soul. It could also mean a new lease on life.
National Depression Hotline β 866-629-4564 for free help, treatment options and support. Call 24/7.
This is βMr. Blue Skyβ 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
βIt was a glorious day, greener than Killarney in spring. We were out for a stroll, the leaves sparkling with dew. You looked so beautiful, Maggie, you made my heart skip a beat. Bluer eyes than Iβd ever seen and hair the aroma of fresh peaches. We stopped and I picked a wildflower. I donβt know how you did it but you twisted the stem and made a ring. That was the day we became βengagedβ. You said we needed to walk under the branch that stretched out over the path to make it official. I held your hand and we walked to the middle of the little bridge. We stood there and I knew from that moment on we would always be together. Thatβs where I kissed you for the first time. We were very daring, you being an older woman and all. I was 11 and you were 13 but we knew then we were made for each other.β
βItβs exactly as I remember. Tell me more, Tom. Put your arm around me. Iβm so very cold.β
βDo you recollect the day we walked into the woods and discovered that cabin? I called it a βdilapidated shackβ; you said it was βour dreamβ. We fixed that place up good, filling it with dreams. We raised our family there and welcomed our grandkids. Now our grands are getting married. Three generations of dreams, Maggie. Maggie? Oh, my sweetest love. Sleep now and dream forever.β
In previous years at this time weβd be covered in a blanket of snow. With that in mind, hereβs a story from January 14, 2023 ~ my response to Linda G. Hillβs Just Jot it January 2024 prompt word: βtoastβ.
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 β¦ 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 Billβs 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 β 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 weβd 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 thatβs 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 boysβ 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 didnβt 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.
βWe cleared your path for you, Mr. Richy!β they proudly declared in unison, looking over their shoulders to admire their handiwork which was now covered by a fresh Β½β of new snow. They looked back at Bill, staring up at him for his approval, their faces sporting the goofiest, most irresistible smiles imaginable.
βI see that, boys, and a fine job it is, tooβ replied Bill. βSo tell me, whatβs your going rate?β
With furrowed brows and crinkled noses the twins eloquently asked βHuh??β
βHow much do I owe you for shoveling our path?β Bill asked in a way they could understand.
Very matter-of-factly with absolutely no sign of embarrassment or regret, the boys announced βOh, weβre not allowed to accept money. Our mom and dad said we have to do good deeds.β
βHold that thought, boys, and donβt go anywhere.β
Bill scurried back into the living room. βAre you hearing any of this conversation?β he asked me, clearly incredulous. βA concept like that in this day and age is mind-blowing!β
βWell, whatβs your game plan?β I asked, knowing Bill always had a plan brewing.
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 boyβs 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.
βYouβre such a soft touchβ I teased. βYouβre rather pleased with yourself, arenβt you?β
βAs a matter of fact, I am!β he replied. βListen, Iβm all for good deeds but when I was their age, I was out shoveling snow and I know itβs hard work. Those kids did a damn good job. If their dad objects to them getting paid, Iβll just tell him to think of it as a tip for his two fine sons. I canβt believe heβd have a problem with that.β
Well, it came as no big surprise when the twins soon returned and began shoveling the snow off our driveway β and this time they had reinforcements. Their momma didnβt raise no dummies! You havenβt lived until youβve seen five six-year-olds shoveling one driveway like their little lives depended on it.
βBetter get your wallet out, Rockefeller. Theyβre back and they brought companyβ 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! Iβm reasonably certain their parents did not give permission for their budding business venture because it ended as abruptly as it started. Too bad; Iβm 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 β thereβs no denying that β but they were still just rocks, not exactly a priceless commodity.
Rochelle at Friday Fictioneers has challenged us to write a 100-word story prompted by the photo below. Incorporating prompts from Weekly Prompts Wednesday and FOWC with Fandango, this is my response to Rochelle’s challenge.
How many years does someone need to spend in a loveless marriage before the word divorceis mentioned?
That was Barbaraβs regrettable life. When her husband finally approached her, she didnβt hesitate; she knew she couldnβt love him as heβd hoped.
Their split was swift and formal.
Now Barbara walked out of the Prada shop in Salamanca and, with thrilling expectation, waved when she saw Evelyn across the street.
Their pace quickened and they embraced passionately, unafraid and unashamed to show their love for each other.
Rochelle from Friday Fictioneers gave us the photo below while Denise from Six Sentence Stories provided the prompt word “jingle”. This is my response, a union of two prompts, in a 100-word, six-sentence story.*
When she became pregnant the following year, they were ecstatic; their son was born in 1941, the most beautiful baby anyone ever saw β 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 yearβs eve again.
*This story is true; the young mother and father were my parents, their baby boy was the brother I never knew. Six weeks after their baby died, my father was drafted and spent his entire tour of duty fighting in Europe during WWII while my mother was left alone without a husband, without a baby. It wasmany years before I understood the ineffable emotional toll this had on their lives and why we never celebrated New Year’s Eve.
Yesterday my MC had just emailed his estranged wife andwas hoping for a reply, a Christmas miracle. Here’s where we left off. Let’s continue:
β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β»
Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle…..
I woke up early again today; itβs Christmas morning. Iβm anxious and afraid to check my email. Can I bring myself to read beyond the first couple of words? Instead, I decide to wait just a bit and pour myself a cup of coffee. I sit looking out the window as the woodpeckers hop from branch to branch finding their way home.
Did Annie get my email? Will she answer me? I guess I can put off the inevitable for only so long. I decide to check my computer; nothing. My heart is shattered and I crumble onto the chair . What a fool I was to wait so long to reach out to her.
It’s early afternoon now and the luscious aroma of roasting turkey is wafting through every room in the house; I canβt bear the thought of eating Christmas dinner alone. When everything is done cooking, Iβll pack up all the food and bring it to the soup kitchen; at least someone will reap the benefits of my stupidity.
I clean up, get dressed and pour myself a glass of wine. Perhaps Iβll sit by the tree and listen to some Christmas music while the turkey finishes doing its thing. The happy tunes coming from the radio do not match my mood and then, as if by simply willing it to happen, a melancholy song starts up. I never thought I would be spending Christmas like this …. alone, broken-hearted and in tears.
I hastily wipe at my eyes with the back of my hands and turn off the radio. No more music today. Time to see how the dinner is coming along. On my way into the kitchen, I glance out the window at the woodpeckers. Standing by the once useless wheelbarrow, suitcase in hand, is my Annie. She gives me a slow, sweet smile and a little wave.
Without stopping to think “Is this real?”, I flew down the stairs and out the back door. Thank you, God, for second chances.
Taking a short break tocelebrate Christmas with my family. Rebooting an old favorite from 2021; some of you have seen it; many haven’t. π«
My Dear Annie,
It took about ten minutes of me staring at a blank computer screen before I started typing this email β and thatβs just today. Iβve been doing the same thing every day for the last eight months. I’ll type a paragraph, then delete it. The idea of reaching out to you began thirty seconds after you left our house and closed the door on our life together. I have about a thousand thoughts and questions swirling around in my brain, much like the snowflakes dancing in the wind in our backyard.
I got up early and made myself a cup of coffee, then sat by the kitchen window and watched the birds at the feeders. Youβll be happy to know the red-headed woodpeckers have returned, just as they always do. How I wish you would return to me, too.
I held my coffee cup up to my nose and inhaled the rich aroma of dark roast. Iβm drinking from that cup you gave me ages ago with COOL BEANS scrawled across the front. I use it every day and always think about you (not that I need a reminder) and Iβve decided that today will be the day I must summon the courage to write to you to say “I’m sorry”.
You see, tomorrow is Christmas Day and I canβt think of a better time to tell you whatβs on my mind. If I donβt do it today who knows if I ever will? I miss you, Annie. I miss you so damn much it literally hurts. My heart aches for you and my stomach churns when I realize what a first class jerk I was to let you slip through my fingers.
I donβt know what I was thinking. No, I take that back; I do know. I was thinking aboutmyself β me, myself and I. What a stupid, selfish idiot I was. Iβm sure youβd agree with that assessment. Iβm equally sure thereβs a spot for me in the Guinness Book of World Records as the biggest fool ever. How could I expect you to put your dreams and plans on hold while I pursued mine?
If Iβve come to realize anything over these last few months itβs the fact that what I want in life isnβt more important than what you want and all my achievements are not worth a damn without you.I am so sorry for not seeing that sooner.
When I finally realized how empty my life was without you and how much I yearned to be sharing and living our dreams together, you were long gone. I donβt blame you one bit; if I was you, I would have left me, too. Iβm useless without you and Iβm so ashamed that I put myself before you.
Do you remember that old wheelbarrow we found last year buried under weeds and ivy? It was missing its wheel and was of no use to anyone. You had the brilliant idea of transforming it into a planter instead of throwing it away. I have also lost my wheel, my direction in life and I find I canβt do anything without it, without you. I need you to help bring me back to life, to give me purpose. I need your forgiveness.I need you.
I was driven by my obsession for success and power more than anything else β more than putting you first, more than your deepest desire to start a family. How could I have deprived you of that? How could I have deprived us of that? How could I have been so blind not to see that was exactly what I wanted too? Well, I screwed up royally. All thesuccess and power I ever wanted are mine now but they are hollow victories. The price was too dear β losing you and everything that was and might have been, that should have been. I wake up alone in our bed and come home to an empty house. And all day, every day, I simply exist like a wheelbarrow without a wheel.
I have no idea where you are, how you are or what youβre doing. I pray that you havenβt lost all faith in me, even though that may be what I deserve. That would surely destroy me because my love for you is stronger than ever. I wouldnβt blame you for not believing what Iβm about to say but I would do anything, give up everything just to have you by my side once again. I am empty inside without you and Iβm begging for a second chance. My one hope that I cling to every day is the fact that I havenβt been served with divorce papers β¦. yet. Please tell me thereβs a chance for us, a chance that you can possibly forgive me.
Christmas Day. What a blessing it would be to have you back, to have you tellme weβre going to be okay! How grateful I would be for the opportunity to show you how much I love you and need you in my life!
Don’t laugh but I’m going to attempt to prepare my very first Christmas dinner by myself. I bought a small turkey, all the fixings and a lovely bottle of wine .β¦ just enough for two. It would give me the greatest joy to share the day with you and every day after that, to hold you in my arms and make all the sorrow go away.
Annie, if only you could sprout wings and fly home tome like the woodpeckers! Will you come home for Christmas? Please come back to me and never leave.
I love you so very much.
Charlie
β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β» β»
Push send and cross my fingers that Annie hasn’t changed her email address. Going to bed and will say a prayer for a Christmas miracle.
Out of the blue the call arrived. It was late and I was beyond tired after a day of Christmas shopping and decorating. We were tempted to let it go straight to voice mail, but Gary thought it might be important.Β
βGary? Hi, itβs Alice from the adoption agency. I hope you and Carol are sitting down! We have a baby for you! Can you come by in the morning to talk?β
Gary stood up; his face registered shock. βWhat? My God! Are you sure?” Completely convinced that something terrible had happened, I grabbed the phone from Gary. βThis is Carol Wheeler. Whoβs this, please?β
It was not bad news …. just the opposite. It was elating, magical, top-of-the-world, The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year news!
A baby in need of a home! A baby for us to love!!
βYes!! Weβll be there! Oh, Alice. Iβm so happy! Thank you so much!β I was rambling.
Dumbstruck, we stood there β¦. then pandemonium broke loose. Laughing, crying, hugging, kissing, dancing, tossing tinsel around the room like crazy people. Anytime would have been amazing but for this to be happening during the holiday season was wondrous!
We didnβt think β¦. or even care β¦. to ask βboy, girl, age, etc., etc.β? After eight years of trying to get pregnant and faced with disappointment each time, an incredibly strong and loving stranger was presenting us with the most precious gift imaginable.
βGary, do you realize in a few days we will be a family of three?β I asked breathlessly.
IN A FEW DAYS!!
All tiredness forgotten, we raced to the attic for the plastic bins of assorted baby items. There in the corner stood the bassinet; it seemed to glow in the darkness. I believe at that moment I heard angels singing. We reverently carried it down to our room. I leaned into Gary, overcome with elated exhaustion.
And then the phone rang a second time. We stared at it, afraid to answer, sure it was Alice calling to say the babyβs mom had changed her mind, there would be no happy family for us.
I reached for the phone and wearily, warily said βThis is Carol.β
βCarol, itβs Alice again. Sorry to bother you and Gary but thereβs been a development.β
I closed my eyes waiting for the words I didnβt want to hear. Not now, not at Christmastime. Alice continued talking and I felt my knees growing weak.
Stunned, crying, all I could manage was a hushed βOh, Alice! Are you absolutely sure? How could this be happening? Yes. Yes, I understand.β
I hung up the phone without even saying goodbye. I was already crying when I turned to face Gary. He held me close and whispered βShh. Itβs ok, honey. Everything will be ok. Another baby is out there waiting for us. Itβs just a matter of time.β
On tiptoes, I reached up to give my darling husband a little kiss. I murmured βI love youβ, my mouth just brushing his. I looked into his eyes and spoke, my voice breaking.
βOh, Gary. There was a mix up at the hospital and Alice was given the wrong information.β
Gary started to speak but I gently placed my fingers on his lips to quiet him. I continued.
βAlice called just now to ask how we feel about adopting twins.β
Iβm quite sure neither of us was breathing at that moment. Garyβs eyes grew wide as the realization sunk in and I let out a little laugh. Gary put up two fingers and mouthed the word βTwoβ. I nodded and replied βTwo. Twin girlsβ.
We fell to the couch, a huddle of tears and laughter and hugs. Then I heard my loveβs voice next to my ear: βI told you another baby was out there waiting for us!β
A four-line response to the photo-prompt challenge below from Greg @ Four Line Fiction
Image: Abandon Houses / Abandon, Decaying and Forgotten Group β Facebook
βIs there really such a thing as the perfect marriage?β Marcella wondered; at one time she believed the answer was “yes”.
Now, laying on her bed alone in her apartment, Marcella’s head was swimming; after 18 years of marriage, how could she have been so terribly mistaken?
She had discovered a loose thread, one which kept annoying her, and as she toyed with it, pulled on it, every neatly sewn stitch in the tapestry of her life began to unravel until there was nothing left but tatters.
βHow does a man who seemed unwaveringly devoted to her and their daughter have another wife and children on the other side of town and everyone knew except her?β Marcella asked herself, her mind now numb; the very idea was staggering and she nearly laughed at how totally preposterous and unimaginable it all was.
Today she would find out if her entire life was a lie.
βWhere to, Mrs. Carmichael? Shall I call for your car?β asked her ever-attentive doorman, Harold.
βNot today, thank you. Just walking up to Brooks Brothers to buy an anniversary present for my husband. Itβs our 15th.β She remembered she also needed to make astop at her psychologistβs office.
βCongratulations, Mrs. C! You have yourself a nice day.β
Claire Carmichael smiled at Harold and walked the short distance to her therapistβs office on Earl Street. Ringing Dr. Brinkβs doorbell, she waited for his ubiquitous snobbish greeting of βEnter!β
βWelcome, Claire. Last time you were here we discussed your suspicions that Jeremy was having an affair. Why donβt we pick up from there?β he suggested.
Clearing her throat and adjusting her skirt, she began. βIβm no longer convinced Jeremyβs cheating on me. Iβm not saying that heβs never had affairs but something is different. Things have changed between us. Theyβre better. Jeremyβs calmer, more attentive, grounded. Heβs home every night by 6:00 and we enjoy our weekends together. No more overnight, out-of-town business trips and Iβm actually happy for the first time in years.β
βInterestingβ Dr. Brink acknowledged. βAnd to what do you attribute this change in Jeremyβs character?β
βWe had a long talk the other night and it wasn’t easy for Jeremy. He confided in me that heβs been having panic attacks for quite some time. He finally started seeing a psychiatrist whoβs helping him tremendously. Heβs on medication and takes an early lunch twice a week to see his doctor.β
βAnd you believe him?β
βI doβ Claire replied, uncomfortable with her therapist’s skepticism. And she did believe Jeremy; his explanation was credible and heartfelt.
βDid Jeremy happen to mention his psychiatristβs name?β
Feeling rather nonplussed she replied βNo, he didnβt and I didnβt ask. That would be prying β information I didn’t need to know. Now I really must get going. Itβs our wedding anniversary and I have errands to run.β
βGood luck, Claire. Ever vigilant!β he called after her.
When Claire stepped outside there was a chill in the air; the sky was mottled and gray. That session unnerved her and she lingered for a while smoking a cigarette wondering what Dr. Brink meant when he said βEver vigilant.β Muttering βshrinks!β, she wrapped her coat tightly around herself and quickly walked to Brooks Brothers. She chose a pair of monogrammed cuff links; they were elegant and ridiculously expensive but Claire wanted Jeremy to know how proud she was of him.
Leaving the store Claire decided to go across the street to their favorite French restaurant and arrange for a special anniversary dinner to be delivered to their apartment. Looking up Claire’s heart skipped a beat and she felt dizzy.
Exiting the restaurant was Jeremy, his arm around a captivating young woman. They were laughing, embracing and kissing as they walked.
Stunned, Claire threw the box from Brooks Brothers into a trash can and hailed a taxi.
βWhere to, your highness?βΒ The driver was uncouth with a big mouth, both physically and metaphorically. He chomped noisily on a cigar and Claire could smell his disgusting breath from the back seat. But he probably never cheated on his wife, she thought, acrid bitterness stinging the back of her throat.Β
βJust driveβ was all she said; the cabbie smiled greedily as he flipped the meter.
Rochelle at “Friday Fictioneers” has challenged us to write a 100 word piece about how the image below inspired us. This is my response to her challenge.
βWeβre out of gas, Pepper.β
βLook, Brad! There’s a light! Letβs walk to it.β
βGood idea! Maybe someone can help.β
Arriving at a house, the couple was struck by its serene beauty. They dreamed of owning a home like this.
They knocked and a woman answered.
βMay I help you?β
Brad explained their situation; the woman said there were full gasoline cans in the garage and invited them in.
The interior was breathtaking.
βYour house is gorgeous!β exclaimed Pepper.
βOh, itβs not mine; Iβm the selling agent. You interested?β
Brad and Pepper exchanged surprised and delighted glances.
While reading the real estate section, my wife Jen called out to me. “Hey, Eric, check this out. You know that community we love? One of the houses is available, has everything we want plus a big yard and a pool. And get this β they’re asking only $275,000! Thatβs well within our budget!”
“Seriously? Those houses usually go for twice as much! Wonder why it’s so low.”
“The agent’s number is right here” replied Jen. “Let’s call.”
After a brief phone conversation, we agreed to meet at the house at noon. When we arrived, the real estate agent explained to us that the previous owners had moved back to England for work purposes and were anxious for a quick sale β even at a loss.
The community was lovely and families were outside enjoying the great weather. The house we had our eye on was even more beautiful than we imagined β not a thing wrong. We asked the agent to make arrangements for an inspector to check everything out and a few days later he reported the house to be in excellent condition. Any doubts were removed from our minds.
“Well, babe”, I said, giving Jen a hug, “looks like we just found our dream house!”
Two weeks later we moved in and everyone was extremely welcoming. In fact, the guy next door came over the first night we were in the house to invite us to a barbecue that weekend. We knew we were going to love this place.
The barbecue was fun and gave us a chance to meet all our new neighbors. Later that night at home we talked about how nice everyone was; in particular, Jen was surprised by how helpful the men were β “Except for that one awkward scene when Barb got annoyed with Gil because his potato salad had too much mayo!” she laughed.
As time went by, we couldnβt help noticing that all the men were house-husbands while all the women went to work. How odd!One night Gil called to invite me to the weekly Friday night poker game at his house and Jen to a ladies book club night at Susan’s.
The card game was going well and I was on a winning streak when out of the blue Gil asked “So, Eric, when are you gonna get your balls snipped?”
Totally thrown off base, I gagged on my drink. “Excuse me??” I sputtered.
“You know. Snipped! We’re all snipped” Gil answered, making little scissor cutting gestures with his fingers. “Dr. Susan does it, smooth and easy. Our wives convinced us life would be much calmer that way and it is. Here’s her number.”
Mumbling hasty excuses, I hurriedly left the game and dashed home, colliding withΒ Jen running home from the other direction.Β
“Do you know what they do here?!?” she asked, horrified.
I nodded frantically.Β “And the only things getting cut are our losses! C’mon! We’re outta here!”Β
βArabic For Dummiesβ? The Qurβan? What the hell are these disgusting books doing in our house? Youβre still associating with that … that … savage, arenβt you, Gloria? Answer me!β
βPapa, please, calm yourself. Itβs not good for your blood pressure. If youβre referring to Yusuf, he is not a savage. Heβs a sweet, gentle and loving man and youβd realize that if you got to know him. Heβs a student at the university studying religion andβ¦..β
βAnd the making of bombs and God knows what else! Gloria, heβs an Arab, a Muslim, for the love of God! Havenβt you seen enough on tv to know what these people are capable of? You saw with your own two eyes what happened yesterday! Here, on American soil. Crashing planes into buildings! Innocent people jumping to their deaths because it was preferable to being burned alive! We wept for people we don’t even know, Gloria. We witnessed the unimaginable. They are animals, mass-murderers, all of them!β
βYou’re right, Papa; what happened yesterday was unspeakable. We will never forget such horror. Yusuf and his family are appalled and overcome with sorrow over this tragedy. But Papa, tell me β when did you become an expert on Muslims or Arabs? Youβve never even tried to get to know them. All my Arab friends are good people, decent, peace loving people. Weβve spent hours talking, exchanging philosophies and sharing meals.β
βI cannot believe what Iβm hearing. You actually sit down and eat with these people, if you can even call them that? This is a nightmare! How can you do this to me?β
βWhat am I doing to you, Papa? You havenβt even given Yusuf a chance. You refuse to meet him, to sit down and have a conversation with him. Youβd see he is a man of peace, a good man incapable of hurting anyone.β
βAre you nuts? Have you lost your mind, Gloria? Do you actually think I would sit with him in my house? Please, God, donβt tell me he has you brainwashed already! Thatβs what they do, you know β¦ draw you in to their cult and before you know it youβre hooked and thereβs no way out. Why canβt you stick to our own kind, find a nice Jewish boy? An Arab and a Jew … whoever heard of such craziness?!?
“I can’t believe we’re fighting over this again! Why must you keep bringing it up, Papa? You didnβt give Evelyn a hard time when she said she was going to marry Gino. And what about Kenny when he and Makayla got engaged? You now have an Italian son-in-law and a black daughter-in-law who you welcomed with open arms and you don’t want me seeing Yusuf simply because heβs an Arab!β
βOh no, do not be fooled, Gloria. Thereβs no such thing as ‘simply an Arab‘. They all have a hidden agenda! Are you blind to whatβs going on around you?β
βPapa, look at me. Iβm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. Why canβt you trust my judgement like you did with Kenny and Evelyn?β
βGloria, youβre not thinking clearly. Gino is a doctor, making an excellent salary. Your sister and their kids will never want for anything. Makaylaβs parents are lawyers and sheβs in law school herself. Your brother and sister made smart choices. They didnβt bring some maniac suicide bomber into our family.β
βSTOP! Stop saying that! You know nothing about Yusuf and you have no idea what youβre talking about! Heβs a wonderful man with a big heart and we have developed deep feelings for each other.β
βDeep feelings. Deep feelings? What are you saying, Gloria? Are you sleeping with him?β
βOh my God! I canβt believe you just asked me that! Iβm not a child and, frankly, thatβs none of your business.β
βNone of my business? As long as youβre living under my roof, itβs my business.β
βHere we go again! Well maybe itβs high time I moved out of this prison and found a place of my own!β
βPRISON! After all your mother and I have done for you, you have the nerve to say that! And by βa place of your ownβ, you mean shacking up with that terrorist, donβt you? Why donβt you just stab me in the heart and put me out of my misery!β
βGenug!Enough!Sei still!! Whatβs going on here? I can hear the two of you all the way downstairs!β
βHilda, ΧΧΧΧΧͺΧ(“my love”) I didnβt hear you come in.β
βAs if you could hear anything over all the yelling in here! Whatβs gotten into the two of you?β
βItβs your daughter. Sheβs being absolutely unreasonable.I donβt even know who she is anymore.β
βOh, mein Gott! So now sheβs MY daughter? Sheldon, the last time I checkedshe was OUR daughter. Is this about that Arab boy again?β
βMama, please! I canβt talk to Papa about this any more. If anyone is being unreasonable, itβs him.β
βGloria, calm yourself, meine liebe Tochter. Why donβt you go out for a while, go to that nice coffee shop near the university? Spend some time with your friends. Sheldon, come sit with me.β
βHilda, are you crazy?Sheβs going to run right to him!Donβt you see what youβre doing?β
βJust like you ran to me, Sheldon, when your parents called me a filthy Nazi? Look at me, Shelly. Do you remember what it was like for us when we first met? You a Jew and me a German. Ach du lieber Gott! What were we thinking? My father was so furious, he wanted to kill both of us. But we knew weβd rather die than be separated. Sheldon, you should know better than anyone that you cannot judge one man simply bythe sickening actions of others, byhis looks, what country he’s from or what god he worships. Youβre a good man, liebchen. You were a good man when we were teenagers and youβre a good man now. Youβre scared, Shelly, just like we were scared back then. But we persevered and in time my parents saw the real you and your parents saw the real me. Do you remember what you told your parents all those years ago?β
βOf course I do.I said βI love herand I would die for herβ.β
βJa. And do you remember what I said to your parents?β
βLike it was yesterday. You saidβI love him and I would die without himβ.β
βThings havenβt changed that much, Sheldon, except now WEβRE the parents. Shelly, you have to let Gloria fly on her own wings. You have to trust her. If you don’t we will lose her. I hate to burst your bubble, meine schnitzel, but they love each other and itβs as simple as that. Trust them.β
The events of 911 are on all our minds today. I have chosen to repost a piece I wrote in 2020, not about what happened on that horrendous day, not about hate and violence but a reflection on a simpler time, a more peaceful time. I hope it relaxes your mind and soothes your heart and soul. β€οΈ
When I was younger I remember my grandparents dancing in the living room to some of their favorite ballads: “I’ll Be With You In Apple Blossom Time”, “As Time Goes By”, “I’ll Be Seeing You”, “You Belong To Me”. They would drink a glass or two of sherry and talk about “the good old days” and how quickly the years pass. There was one song in particular that always made them somewhat melancholy. They’d sit side by side near the fireplace just listening to the words and holding each other close:
“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame One hasn’t got time for the waiting game”
I was just a kid and I couldn’t understand why a song about weather and time made them sad. That’s the way it is with kids; time means nothing. If someone is 25-years-old, that’s practically ancient! We’d watch shows like “Father Knows Best” and “The Donna Reed Show”; the actors were probably 40-years-old, if that, but they looked decrepit to us. The concept of aging was nonexistent.
ββββ
You blink your eyes once and you’re suddenly in high school. Then before you know it you’re married with kids of your own. Wait a gosh darn minute! When did that happen? Funny how time has a way of creeping up on you. One day you’re sledding down a giant snow-covered hill and the next you’re taking your own kids sledding down that same hill.
Your little Katie with a head-full of golden curls is now a teenager and you hear yourself saying the exact same things your parents said to you. And now your parents are the ones sitting by the fireplace listening to “September Song”.
Then one morning you wake up and it’s Katie’s wedding day. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and your wife says how dashing you look, still so handsome in your tuxedo and you tell her she’s radiant in her gown, always the prettiest girl in the room. And in each other’s eyes it’s the truth; you haven’t changed a bit since your own wedding day.
You think about your grandparents, gone for a long time now, and you remember the call you got from your mother last week:
“Oh, dear, your dad and I are just heartbroken over this but we aren’t going to be able to make the trip up toVermont for Katie’s wedding. Lord knows, we hate to miss it but we’ll be there in spirit. Please give our sweet Katie-Girl all our love.“
You understand; they’re 80-something and don’t get around like they used to. It’s a long trip from Florida to Vermont and they can’t handle the cold weather. Still, you feel very sad knowing they’ll miss their first grandchild’s wedding day.
ββββ
What a beautiful bride Katie was! Doesn’t her wedding photo look lovely on the mantle next to yours and your parents and your grandparents? Now it’s just the two of you in that old, empty house. Once upon a time, when you and your brothers and sisters were kids, the house was filled with your laughter. But wait β it’s suddenly not so empty and quiet anymore. Where’s all that noise coming from? You take a peek around the corner; there are your grand kids in the living room near the Christmas tree. There’s some rock and roll song on the record player, the 12-year-old twins are playing “Yahtzee” and your 15-year-old granddaughter is furtively sharing a sweet kiss with her boyfriend under the mistletoe.
“C’mon, kids!” Katie calls out from the front hallway. “Your dad’s got the car all packed up and it’s time to go. Say goodbye to Grams and Gramps.” And she gives you both a kiss on the cheek promising to call soon.
ββββ
It seems like just yesterday but you realize eight years have gone by since you left Vermont and retired to Florida. You think about playing golf but your rotator cuff has been hurting a lot lately and your wife isn’t quite ready to hit the links so soon after her hip replacement. Well, let’s not think about that now. There will be plenty of days for golf. So you pour yourself another cup of coffee and work on a crossword puzzle while your wife knits a blanket for Katie’s grand-baby β your very first great-grandchild.
Now in the evenings you sip sherry in the living room. “There’s nothing good on tv these days. How about we listen to some music? Well, look what I found!” and you blow the dust off an old forgotten record laying on the shelf.
“What memories that song brings back!” And you sit holding hands, gazing at faded family wedding photos on the mantle, listening to Sinatra sing:
“Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to December But the days grow short when you reach September”
And you give your wife a hug and a gentle kiss on the forehead.
It was my great honor and thrill back in 2020 to be asked to narrate a few of my stories on the BBC radio show called Upload; this was one of those stories. I hope you enjoyed reading it today.
“Eavesdropper, eh? Terrific odds. He’s a mudder and on this muddy track today, I’m taking that as a good sign. Just look at his lineage! Yep, Millie, I predict Eavesdropper’s the winner of Race 9β Harry Goldman boasted to his wife.
She brushed him off with a wave of her hand. βWhatever, Harry Houdini. Not one of your so-called magical predictions has paid off yet.β
βAll right, Millie. I admit you got lucky today. Whatβs your secret? Been communicating with a horse whisperer?β Harry asked, annoyed at his wife’s winning streak.
βOh, zip it, Harry! If it wasnβt for me, weβd be in the poor house. You havenβt won all day! Now be quiet and let me concentrate on my choice for this race.β Millie buried her nose in the racing form.
Harry heaved his portly body out of his seat. βPardon moi, madame. Iβm gonna place my bet on Eavesdropper. Then weβll see whoβs got horse sense!β
βHaha!! Horse sense! That’s a good one, Harry! You’ve been sittin’ on yours so long you’re now a horseβs ass!β Millie cackled. βGo on up. Iβll be along in a minute. Iβm thinking here.β Snapping her Bazooka like a bubblegum queen, Millie studied the lineup for the next race, then clickety-clacked her way to the betting windows, her leopard print heels pinging off the metal steps like a kid’s cap gun.
Bets placed, Harry and Millie settled in for the race. βI got a good feeling about this one, Millie!β Harry said excitedly, rubbing his hands together.
The starting gun shot out and the announcer shouted βAnd theyβre off!β
Eavesdropper took the lead immediately and didn’t let go. Anxious, Harry sprang to his feet, urging his horse on. Suddenly, the horse in fourth place started picking up steam. Faster and faster he galloped, flying past the other horses, and at the last second crossed the finish line just before Eavesdropper.Β
The announcerβs voice boomed over the loudspeaker. βI can’t believe my eyes! What a shocker! The winner by a nose …. Muddy Waters!β
Harry slumped into his seat, defeated. βI donβt freaking believe it! Of all the rotten luck! Eavesdropper was a shoe-in.β
Millie, however, was happy as a clam. βWell, I won again, Harry! Good old Muddy Waters brought it home for mama. I just knew it!β
Harry stared at his wife, amazement mingled with contempt dripped from his creased brow. βNow wait just a damn minute! You won again?? Millie, Iβm begging you! Howβd you do it?β
βHarry, calm yourself before you have a coronary! It’s really a no-brainer. Remember how you said the track was muddy today? When I saw the name βMuddy Watersβ, I knew I had to go with him. I was inspired.β
βOk, I’ll give you that one, Millie. But how’d you pick all the other winners?β
Millie chewed her bottom lip, not sure if she wanted to reveal her secret. Finally she blurted out βItβs the colors! If I like what the jockeyβs wearing, Iβll pick that horse.β
Flabbergasted, Harry spewed out his beer and howled with laughter. βThatβs your strategy? COLORS?!? Ok, Mrs. Crayola. Who you picking for the last race?β
Millie looked around surreptitiously. Tapping the racing form with her fire engine red fingernail, she pointed to a name on the card.Β
Harry was nonplussed by Millie’s revelation.
βHIM?? Rabelais? His color is βEiffel Tower Brownβ β like a friggin’ turd! Are you sure that’s how you wanna go, Millie?β Harry was almost giddy, anticipating Millie’s long-awaited loss.
βShh! Not so loud, Harry! People are listening! He’s from France and you know how I love my Frenchies! You could sayI-FELL for them!βΒ Millie elbowed Harry and laughed gleefully at her pun.
βHardy-har-har!! Aren’t you the clever one?” Harry groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I give up, Millie. Go with your cockamamie hunch and bet it all on Rabelais!β
Millie was already at the window, her chubby fist clutching her money, before Harry was even finished talking.
The Elephant's Trunk 