music

Major Adjustment

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Clarence, recently widowed after sixty years of marriage, liked to reminisce about his wife Mabel.  A resident at Wilkes~Barre’s Little Flower Manor, he always played Kate Smith’s “When the Moon Comes Over the Mountain” when he felt nostalgic.

 

 

“That was our wedding song,” he cheerfully told visitors and friends.  Everyone noticed that he wasn’t handling things well but he never admitted it until he was alone in his room.

 

 

That was where he felt free to stare into space, in dead silence.  Until he admitted his problem, no one was able to help him.

 

 

Welcome back to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. Read all about it on her page.  This week’s photo was supplied by Gah Learner .

 

Annunci

Musical Milestone

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“Although my staunchly Irish Catholic family considered it a mortal sin, that day I wasn’t paying attention to the rioting in Northern Ireland’s Derry.

 

Seated at the living room table, which was cluttered with artifacts of all the vices of our day, I was consumed with my Gretsch guitar, practicing with friends.

 

 

“Just think!” Bernie reminded us. “Everybody from Hendrix and Jefferson Airplane to Joan Baez and Janis Joplin will be there this weekend!”

 

 

“Feh!” Helen bragged. “We can be just as good. After all, we have been practicing constantly for the past three full months together!

 

 

It’s time yet again for Rochelle’s weekly Friday Fictioneers.  This week, Yvette Prior supplies our photo prompt.  Please read Rochelle’s blog for all the details.

MUSIC IS EVERYWHERE

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When there’s nothing important to do I always practice my guitar.  Last night was no different.  Having noticed my old Beatle song book I wondered if my cousins Gary and Lanfranco were available for accordion accompaniment.

 

 

Lately I always daydream about St. Gabriel’s Glee Club where we sang all of Rodgers and Hammerstein and other show tunes.  Brother Edmond’s “Edelweiss”, and Brother James’ guitar follow me everywhere.  “Lawrence, ENUNCIATE!!” Brother James always demanded.

 

“Oh well,” I pondered, “It’s too bad there’s no good new music but if it were still here there’d be no there to go to.

 

This week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt was supplied by our fearless leader, Rochelle .

Symbolism

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 “That’s funny,” Robert Frost told Emily Dickinson. “I was twelve years old when you died. How can we be together now?”

 

That’s true,” she conceded, “but this happens every time our author hears Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Dangling Conversation.’ “

 

O now I remember,” the former conceded.  “The line: ‘..and you read your Emily Dickinson/and I my Robert Frost’ always has freaked him out.

 

“Language, symbolism in general,” the Belle of Amherst proceeded to explain, “always inspire people. Anyway we only have a short time here. Chuck McCann has recently died so our author will be reminiscing constantly about his childhood.”

 

 

Welcome back yet again to Rochelle’s  weekly Friday Fictioneers, a hundred~word story based upon a photo prompt. This week’s prompt has been supplied by Yardspinnerr

 

 

 

The King of Squaresville

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Yet again Harriet nagged Chester into doing something avant~garde.

 

“Honey,” he complained, ” I know you enjoy keeping track of the latest developments in jazz, but this place is simply too modernist and new age for an old square like me.”

 

“I’ll admit it’s a little off~putting,” she conceded.

 

“I really miss the beatnik days,” he swooned.

 

“The beatnik era was all about forging ahead anyway,” she reminded him.

 

“And after their having forged enough,” he intoned wistfully, “I was quite satisfied.”

 

 

“The King of Squaresville has spoken,” she admitted. “We’ll do it your way next time.”

 

 

Dale Rogerson has supplied this week’s photo prompt for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. 

Love Italian Style

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Sadie and Albert, after having been subjected to a lot of  stress for a prolonged period of time, finally decided to take a long vacation.

 

“Of all the places even to think of, though,” she pondered, “why Wyoming?”

 

“I told you,” he explained. “Vittorio couldn’t stop raving about it. While we’re here I intend to do nothing but practice my guitar and Italian. You can do whatever you like. The view is perfect. We can take long walks together and enjoy the scenery, and the peace and quiet.”

 

Throughout the week, Albert, true to his word, constantly practiced Italian:
“Sto, stai, sta, stiamo, state, stanno,” day and night. Even his entire guitar repertoire was mostly “La Spagnola”.

 

At the end of their trip, Sadie asked Albert: “I have one request, honey, for next year’s vacation. If you have to ask for advice, please ask someone whose name is in English?”

 

Here’s me latest contribution to What Pegman Saw

 

This week’s picture is of Yellowstone National Park

 

It was posted by K Rawson

 

 

 

hi de hi de hi de ho

It’s the Saturday after Thanksgiving, 1983, At twenty four years old, I’m on a plane home from Western New York, after having visited some relatives.

I can’t shake the feeling that I recognize that old black guy in front of me as a famous musician. “Duke Ellington?” I wonder. “Count Basie?”

At least one of them’s dead.

There’s a middle-aged couple next to him. The wife asks him, “Are you Cab Calloway?”

My anxiety attack is no more. I heave a sigh of relief.

I overhear Calloway say softly, “That handsome young gentleman back there won’t have to go crazy now.”

Each week Rochelle Wisoff~Fields leads us in Friday Fictioneers, as we write a story based upon a photo prompt.

This week’s photo was supplied by Lucy Fridkin.