Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo but Mama – Mama is a Different Story – Mama is a Big Bands Kinda Gal

Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo

What sort of music was played in your house when you were growing up? What effect, (if any) did it have on your musical tastes?

***

Mama raised her head from her potter’s wheel and hollered into the house, “Turn that shit off, will ya?”  Lee Ann quickly lowered the volume on the record player.  John and Paul were belting out I Want to Hold Your Hand.  I say “belting out” but honestly, looking back, it was more like crooning.  Rock and Roll was pretty tame in those days but Mama still thought it was “noise”.

I went over and stopped the record player, turned my attention to the stack of albums leaning next to it, and started thumbing through them.  The record player was an auto-changer.  This was pretty high-tech in the day, and meant you could stack up to six albums on the spindle and the machine would drop them one at a time, playing whichever side you had selected.  You selected a side by placing it up.  “You wanna listen to The Beatles?” I asked Lee Ann.

Her pageboy hair cut barely moved when she nodded her head, it was so heavily sprayed.

“You gotta mix it in with some of her music then.” I said.  “What else do you want?”

She held out her new Herman’s Hermits LP along with a Bobby Sherman.  I shook my head but I took them from her.  From Mama’s stack I pulled out a Tommy Dorsey album, a Glenn Miller, and an Artie Shaw.  Mama was a “Big Bands” fan.

I stacked the albums up.  Glenn Miller was on the bottom, so it would play first, then Herman, followed by Tommy Dorsey, The Beatles, Artie Shaw, and Bobby Sherman.  I placed them on the spindle and lowered the arm that would hold them there until they dropped.  I moved the lever to automatic, watched the first album drop and saw the needle move into position.  Kheww, Kheww, Kheww scratched from the speakers as the needle moved towards the beginning of the first song.  Moonlight Serenade began to play and you could hear the rhythm of Mama’s feet on her kick wheel change. In time with the music.

“Go get started on your homework,” I said to Lee Ann. “You got about 20 minutes till Herman’s Hermits kick in.”  She grabbed her blue notebook filled with loose leaf paper and some text books wrapped with used brown paper grocery bags and spread out to work on the dining table.  She and Mama alternated music until dinner time.  Mama got her greenware made and Lee Ann got her homework done.

Layer the music.  It broadens your horizons and enhances your appreciation of it all.

***

  1. Moon-rock | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  2. Rhythm | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  3. Music, Food and a Dash of Wild | Rose-tinted Rambles
  4. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo- How a Song Could Brings Back Beautiful Memories | Journeyman
  5. Hey, Hey Good Lookin’ & Divine Providence | The Jittery Goat
  6. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  7. A Whole Other Selection | Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo | likereadingontrains
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  10. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves… | seikaiha’s blah-blah-blah
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  28. The Greatest Generation Had The Best Music | Just Visiting This Planet
  29. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo | A Mixed Bag
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  46. DP Daily Prompt : PAPA LOVES MAMBO | Sabethville
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  50. Ain’t nothing but a Hound | Secrets from the Hound Cave!
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  52. Daily Prompt: Music became my coping mechanism. | Willow Blackbird
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  60. Daily Prompt: Papa Love Mambo | Incidents of a Dysfunctional Spraffer
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  67. Music Moves Me | Step Into My Head
  68. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo « LIVING WITH MY ANCESTORS
  69. Papa loves Mambo | fromdublintoparis
  70. Manly music | Trucker Turning Write
  71. The Fabric of Music | In So Many Words
  72. Music! | My Author-itis
  73. B.Kaotic
  74. Days Of Music Passed | Edward Hotspur
  75. Daily Prompt challenge: What music played in your home growing up and what effect did it have on your music taste? | A cup of noodle soup
  76. Daily Prompt: Papa Loves Mambo | That Montreal Girl
  77. Music In My Life | 365 Days of Thank You
  78. Is your playlist up-to-date? | Random & Real
  79. My Fab Four. | Simple Heart Girl
  80. Playing Second Fiddle | Wiley’s Wisdom

Looks Can be Deceiving

Looks can be deceiving.” She whispered in my ear.  She was a vision, beautiful. Then she spun and moved quickly away, melting into the crowd, out of sight.  She was ephemeral, a specter.  I looked for her, up and down the streets, but she was gone.  I convinced myself that I had imagined her and kept walking.  We were almost 200,000 strong and we had a purpose, a destination.  It was August 28th, 1963 and we had a task of great import.  We were marching on Washington to hear Dr. King.

Two young men came out of the crowd and linked arms with me.  We moved together along the mall towards the Lincoln Memorial. “Good morning, brother,” said the young man on my left.  “Where have you traveled from?”

The man on my right, slightly older, picked up the thread and asked, “How far have you come to be here on this most auspicious day?”  The lovely young lady who had been foremost in my thoughts was now replaced in my head by my two new companions.

“I came on the bus from Chicago,” I replied, “and I’m not sure what auspicious even means.”  We all laughed at that and kept walking.  I kept talking, “I’m not sure what today will bring gentlemen but, I’m excited.  Can you feel me shivering?  I am literally tingling with anticipation.”

Another man joined us and linked arms. He was an old man with a cane, accompanied by a young girl who was probably no more than fourteen, I would guess.  We slowed to match his pace.  He was a talkative old man and he introduced himself. “My name is Walter Teasdale” he said, “and this is my granddaughter, Elizabeth.” I looked over and there “she” was again standing next to the reflecting pond.  The voices around me receded. “My Angel,” I thought.  She held a sign over her head; hand lettering on cardboard.  It read “Looks can be deceiving.”

She noticed me notice her, tucked her sign under her arm, turned, lowered her eyes and moved away from us.  I tried to give chase.  I wanted to speak to her.  I wanted to hear her voice again.  She clearly had a message for me.  A message that told me, “looks could be deceiving.”  Mr. Teasdale, put his hand out and stilled my flight.

“Please sir, won’t you help me get my granddaughter to the front?  She is supposed to sing the national anthem today.”

I looked at the old man.  I looked at his granddaughter, I saw her wide, dark eyes and I nodded my head, “Of course.  Let’s go.”  It took almost an hour to pick our way to the front of the crowd but I wound up with a front row seat to history.  It was  spectacular, marred only by the fact that I never saw my angel again that day.

In fact, I did not see her again for five years. The next time I spotted her was August 1968 at the Democratic National Convention in Chicago.  Dr. King had been killed a few months earlier and an undercurrent of violence and civil unrest was prevalent throughout the country, but it felt especially intense in my hometown of Chicago.  She was standing at the back of the Amphitheater.  She was standing, waiting, beneath a banner that read, “Looks can be deceiving.”  I caught her eye, she waved.  A small wave, really no more than a slight movement of her fingers.  She turned and ducked through a door beneath a green exit sign.

“Wait,” I called.  “Wait, please,” and I ran after her.  But, again, I was too slow.  She was gone, not a trace.

I saw her only one time more after that, 1972.  Nixon had just been re-elected.  It was late November, twilight. That time of day when the sky is still blue but a darker, richer blue, turning quickly to black.  I was in New York, driving by Central Park. Most of the leaves had fallen from the trees.  She stood beneath one, a web of bare branches above her head.  My taxi never slowed.  She and I locked eyes and she smiled; a beautiful smile.  Her lips moved and I am sure I know what she was saying but, I never figured out why she was trying to communicate with me.  I have come to the conclusion that perhaps, it was a joke – a joke of cosmic proportions.

Some People Will Read Anything – Trifecta

***

Waiting at the market I crave distraction, look around, and scan the headlines on display
“Nude Suicide Plot!” reads one, “How to Satisfy Your Man!” another screams, “Ohio Woman’s Martian Lover!”

Oh my.

***

Written in response to the Trifecta Challenge

Rules are:
• Your response must be exactly 33 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
• The word itself needs to be included in your response.
• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.

The given word is:  SATISFY  (transitive verb)

The third definition is:
3a : to make happy : please
b : to gratify to the full : appease

Daily Prompt: That’s Amore

Daily Prompt: That’s Amore

 Think of your longest relationship: describe how your love has changed over time, did you go from the giddiness of infatuation, to mad passion, to deep respect, esteem, and friendship? Tell us about your love story.

***

long ago i met a girl – unlike any other – i

Never knew
A girl like her before – i tried to be tough and co-
Nvince her that she should not try to steal my lun-
Ch –
Yet i was over the moon when she took my heart

***

  1. Swirling in the Time of Internet | Kosher Adobo
  2. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore- The Psychology of Changes in Love | Journeyman
  3. Princess | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  4. Missing that tune | Perspectives on life, universe and everything
  5. Eddie And Flipper, Reverse Revolution | The Jittery Goat
  6. Too Good To Be True | Ventures | WANGSGARD
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  8. Love And Linger – A Vibrational Experience | Shrine of Hecate – Ramblings of a New Age Witch
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  11. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | seikaiha’s blah-blah-blah
  12. Daily prompt: Amore | The Wandering Poet
  13. This one is easy. | What?????
  14. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore « Mama Bear Musings
  15. Michael [Poem] [reblog] | She Writes
  16. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | cockatooscreeching
  17. Start Cueing Up the 1812 Overture, Here Come the Fireworks… | Eyes Through The Glass – A Blog About Asperger’s
  18. how we met, fell in love, broke up, got back together, had a baby & got married | the hilarious pessimist
  19. That’s Amore Haiku | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  20. Love Story? What Love Story? | jigokucho
  21. She Loved Me First ::E.N.Howie’s Motivational Moments
  22. okay. | a study in coincidences.
  23. My non-relationship relationship related entry! | thoughtsofrkh
  24. If One Day Love Comes Along… | B.Kaotic
  25. HOW IT BEGAN, HOW IT CONTINUES | SERENDIPITY
  26. ‘I’ve got a safety-pin stuck in my heart…’ My Amour since 1977… | ALIEN AURA’S BlOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!
  27. A LIFE BORN FROM MUD | Hastywords
  28. A moon’s memory | shame
  29. My Love Story. | Asta’s Space
  30. Daily Prompt: Love Story | A Day In The Life
  31. Love and (Chicken) Wings | A Blog of One’s Own
  32. My Great Love | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
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  35. a haiku ..a cinquain about albert’s thwarted love for clara | eastelmhurst.a.go.go
  36. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss
  37. Weaker Past But Getting Stronger For The Future | Navigate
  38. Anne Boy | I solemnly swear i am upto no good!
  39. Shore-break | Charron’s Chatter
  40. Your love was a seed | Altared Egos
  41. Bitten | Views Splash!
  42. aah my blank love story…. | from dusk to dawn….
  43. It Ends | Flowers and Breezes
  44. “Relationship” Now Arriving at Imaginination Station | Lead us from the Unreal to the Real
  45. “Relationship” Now Arriving at Imagination Station | Lead us from the Unreal to the Real
  46. That’s Amore – MissShy and Separate Beds (Daily Prompt Challenge) | Ana Linden
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  50. A Different Kind of Love Story | Ramblings from a Frazzled Mind
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  54. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | Basically Beyond Basic
  55. 412 | mesardonicmesarcastic
  56. LOVE SUCKS | Hastywords
  57. Haiku: That’s Amore | Mirth and Motivation
  58. That’s Amore: Daily Post | Destino
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  60. That’s Amore | donikabajrami
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  62. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | Here I am !!
  63. My Different Love / Oven-Baked Chorizo and Cherry Tomato Risotto {gluten free} | The Imperfect Kitchen
  64. First Love | vic briggs
  65. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | snippets and words
  66. Anchor | Shades of Teal
  67. If you like, then you gotta put a ring on it! | 365 Days of Thank You
  68. The Blog Farm | Haiku: That’s Amore
  69. Daily Prompt: That’s Amore | That Montreal Girl
  70. That’s Amore | At the Drop of a Mat
  71. My [quite uncommon] Love Story. | …Properly Ridiculous…
  72. The one | Trucker Turning Write
  73. allow me to explore | y
  74. Some of Us Still Take Marriage Vows Seriously | My Author-itis
  75. every other | y
  76. Brotherly Love | When the Door Closes

Daily Prompt: Linger

Daily Prompt: Linger

 Tell us about times in which you linger — when you don’t want an event, or a day to end. What is it you love about these times? Why do you wish you could linger forever?

***

“I could stay here forever,” she thought and leaned her head back to rinse the shampoo.
Then the hot water ran out.

“Stay with me.  I’ll make you breakfast.”

He pulled the blanket up higher against the chill, “I could stay here forever,” he thought.
Then he threw the covers back and ran to pee.

“Take your shoes off, prop your feet up, stay awhile.”

“I could stay here forever,” he said as the barred door slid shut behind him.
“Don’t worry, you will.”

“You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.”

“I’m exhausted,” thought VanWinkle to himself as he lay down beneath the tree.
“Feel like I could sleep forever.”

“There are still men on the Arizona.  There always will be.”

Felix smiled, looked at the camera, “It felt like I was falling forever.
Then I opened the chute.”

“I think I’ll stick around and try to get to know her better.  Maybe I can get a job at the gas station.”

“Forever and ever, Amen”

***

  1. A Night At Billy Bronco’s | The Jittery Goat
  2. Daily Prompt: Linger- What Makes a Life Worth Living For | Journeyman
  3. The Last | Kate Murray
  4. A Monday free of an alarm call is wonderful, isn’t it? | thoughtsofrkh
  5. DP Daily Prompt: Linger | Sabethville
  6. Daily Prompt: Linger | The WordPress C(h)ronicle
  7. S. Thomas Summers: Writing with Some Ink and a Hammer | There Be Leprechauns
  8. Shared Lullabies: An Adult Who Wants to Stay Just a Little Bit Longer in Her Parents’ Bed | Kosher Adobo
  9. linger | yi-ching lin photography
  10. after that first bite, | y
  11. When Do I Stay Awhile? | Cass’s Useless Opinions
  12. Daily Prompt: Linger | seikaiha’s blah-blah-blah

Daily Prompt: I Believe

Daily Prompt: I Believe

 For today’s prompt, tell us three things that you believe in your heart to be true. Tell us three things you believe in your heart to be false.

***

The driver pulled the bus neatly to the curb.  He smiled when he saw her sitting at the stop, it was Marley.  Hell, his kids watched her on TV.  She was like family.

Marley the Clown Girl stepped up on the bus. To the delight of the other passengers, she went through a whole routine of finding the fare in her purse, removing several oversize objects in the process.  Finally she found her coin and dropped it into the collection box.  She leaned down and said quietly to the driver, “Do what you’re told or everyone’s dead.” She opened her jacket just a bit and showed him a peek of the explosive vest she had strapped to her torso.

He laughed, “That’s rich Marley” he said, “Are you working on a new routine?  I can’t wait to tell my kids that you were on my bus today.”  He fumbled for his phone and held it aloft “Can I get a photo? They’ll never believe me otherwise.”

Marley was reaching into her purse, “Sure” she said, “Take a picture of this.”  She pulled a long barreled pistol from her handbag, the kind referred to as a hog leg in the old westerns, and pointed it at an octogenarian seated on the aisle two rows back.  “Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am,” said the driver.

“Me too” said the smiling old man who was about to die.  He was having a great time.  He loved clowns.

“ACTION,” screamed the clown girl as she squeezed the trigger.

The noise was deafening.  The result was sudden and violent.  A small hole appeared in the middle of the old man’s forehead.  His expression remained the same, and he went down smiling.  A much larger hole appeared in the back of his head.  Bits of brain, scalp, hair and blood erupted and sprayed all the way to the back of the bus.  The high school student who had been sitting behind the dead man absorbed the bullet that had passed through the initial victim.  It lodged in his neck.  More blood.

Marley the clown girl turned back towards the driver, “Do I have your attention now? Do you believe I’m serious now? Get back in your seat and drive.  Don’t stop driving until I tell you to.”

“Yes ma’am,” he sat down and pulled back out into traffic.

Marley the Clown Girl turned towards the passengers, “OK, boys and girls, everyone remain calm and do what you’re told.  No one else has to die but you all can, if you so choose.”  She opened her jacket and let them see the dynamite.

 –

The news reader somberly looked at the camera and said, “I have just been handed a bulletin.  It seems that a Metro Bus has been hijacked on the north side of town somewhere in the vicinity of Elm and Sugarland.  This channel will follow the situation live.”  The screen changed from the talking head to an aerial shot of a city bus moving slowly through traffic.  It changed again to a shot of a middle aged man with a channel 3 microphone held up in front of his face.  He was talking but there was no audio.

Suddenly the sound came up, “…yeah,” he was saying, “It’s a clown, a girl clown. She might be famous, I’m not sure.  She’s got dynamite and a gun.  She killed a couple o’ people already.”

The camera panned back and the frame expanded to include the ‘on scene reporter’ Amy Caul.  “How did you get off the bus?” Amy asked the man.

“Marley asked me to get off,” he replied, “She wanted me to convey her manifesto.”  He pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and shook it open.

“Marley? Did you say Marley?  Marley the Clown Girl?  Her show is right here on channel three every weekday afternoon.  She plays cartoons and makes balloon animals.” Amy said.

The man looked at the paper he held in his hand, nodded and looked back at the camera.

“Live, exclusive from Channel three,” interjected the journalist, always the professional.

The man continued, “These are her words, not mine;” he cleared his throat, “I hold three truths which must be shared,” he read, “Number 1. Used automobiles should not be offered for sale to the general public.  They should be systematically destroyed and recycled. Never resold.” He looked at the camera and swallowed, “Number 2. Every household in the city should adopt a puppy from the animal shelter within the next five days.” He looked at the reporter then back at the paper, “Number 3. Amy Caul is a bimbo and should not be allowed on TV.”

“Nawwww, come on” the reporter said, “let me see that paper” she snatched the paper from the man and read to herself, eyes flicking back and forth across the page, lips moving silently.  Finally she too, looked at the camera, “Holy shit, it really does say that.”

The screen abruptly changed back to the studio shot.  The news reader was seated at his desk.  A publicity shot of Marley the Clown Girl displayed behind his head.  “Channel 3 will continue to follow this story live and bring you developments as they occur.”

***

  1. Material Love: I Believe in Chicken | Kosher Adobo
  2. I Believe | Kate Murray
  3. Death begs to differ | Daily Prompt: I Believe | likereadingontrains
  4. Daily Prompt: I Believe- Psychological advantage of having beleifs | Journeyman
  5. Not So Open Mind | The Jittery Goat
  6. DP Daily Prompt: I Believe! | Sabethville
  7. One Crazy Mom » What I believe to be true
  8. THE UNREQUITED LOVE | DANDELION’S DEN
  9. S. Thomas Summers: Writing with Some Ink and a Hammer | When Neverland Dies
  10. Thoughtful Combinations | Rima Hassan
  11. I Believe? | Writing and Works

15 March 2014

15 March 2014

victoriansansalpha 760x100This one is dedicated to my fellow “Book Bandit”, James, who is preparing to depart on a solo trek up the California coast in a couple of weeks time.  He will be hiking from Orange County to the Golden Gate Bridge and anticipates it will take about 40 days.  He made the mistake of inferring he was going  to lash a a Barbie doll to his backpack.  Today, several of us had a little fun at his expense.  This was my skewer!  All in fun.

The prompts are:
1. She moved like a breeze
2. Now that’s funny
3. I’m not your problem

Begin Writing
After a week on the road I discovered Malibu Barbie had stowed away.
She wouldn’t go home and I couldn’t just leave her.
I decided to let her come along for the trip.

After ten days on the road I found, to my surprise, that
I like having her around.
I just wish she’d talk more.
It’s lonely out here.

When the wind comes up she moves with the breeze. So graceful.
After two weeks on the road I told her that I loved her.
I told her how much I enjoy dancing with her as we work our way up the coast.
“Now that’s funny,” she said, “keep walking.”

After three weeks on the road I begin to suspect that she is stealing food and putting something in my water, but I have no proof.
I resolve to watch her more carefully.

It’s been four weeks and that bitch is really getting on my nerves.
Constantly humming and singing that song. Over and over again.

She has a way about her. Power that I could never have imagined.
I believe she even controls the geography and the very road that we traverse.
She has made it all uphill. There is no respite from the climb.
I hate her. She has to go.

There is a high bridge in Big Sur.
I made good use of it
Her final plea was, “Wait James, I’m not your problem.”

It was peaceful in Monterey.
It was quiet in Moss Landing and I treated myself to lunch at Phil’s.
I waved to the hippies in Santa Cruz.

Sausalito, at last. There are doctors to meet me here and a friendly policeman.
The doctors tell me that they are going to take me somewhere to rest. They say I look like I could use a good, long rest.
The policeman asks only, “What did you do with Barbie?”

Time is up. Put down your writing implements and step away from the paper.