Art Imitates Life

“I’ve always really liked those flowers,” Blaise told Ansgar.  “They remind me of my favorite Robert Frost poem, ‘Asking For Roses’. 

“Of course,” his friend reminded him, “He has another one too, ‘The Rose Family’, that’s quite relevant here.”

“Ha, Amateur!” the former went on. “I can top that. What about Robert Burns’ ‘My Love Is Like A Red Red Rose’?

Just then their wives showed up.  “Don’t go so crazy.  You know perfectly well those flowers aren’t even real,” Clarabelle reminded them.

“Hey, so who cares?” Edna explained.  These guys are always reciting works of fiction anway.”

Once again it’s time for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers.   This week she has supplied the photo prompt, so I don’t have to put another link here.  We all so hope you enjoy our works of fiction.



Truth In Advertising


Mildred and Arthur were overly conscious of their looks.   They were always shopping for new and improved ways to keep up their appearance.



They finally found something they both could really like, a French cream, that promised to take an entire decade off their looks.  When it came in the mail they were ecstatic.



They made sure to set it aside, on their favorite counter, where nothing could possibly happen to it.



There was a bit of a problem though.



Their ever~curious son, nine~year~old Ralph, got his hands on it.  It lived up to its promise.



Welcome back as Rochelle and we all take another chance at Friday Fictioneers.   Regular Adam Ickes has given us this week’s photo.

the milk man cometh

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Going Obsolete.”  Of all the technologies that have gone extinct within my lifetime, I’m not sure of which one I miss the most. I can remember, though, that when I was a  kid in Jackson Heights, milk men, and other kinds of salesmen, used always to drive through people’s neighborhoods in trucks. Since I’ve never liked traffic or crowds it would be nice if we could go back to those days. Now we have mail order sales and internet sites that do sort of the same thing, so in a certain sense the convenience is available. I used always to enjoy, though, seeing those big silver colored milk boxes on each neighbor’s front stoop each day in anticipation of his regular delivery from the milk man.  Perhaps it would do more harm than good, though, to bring back that specific thing. I’ve never liked traffic and having it unnecessarily obstructed by some character stopping every few feet as he drives down the street would drive me to distraction. We already have that anyway with U.P.S. trucks, school buses and other kinds of vehicles constantly defiantly bringing traffic to a frustrating halt.  In my imagination, of course, it’s quite a fond memory and a nice idea.

those were the days my friend. we thought they’d never end

At my age I can remember all sorts of anachronistic things, that are now mere memories from the distant past.   When I was a kid in Jackson Heights there was a milkman who drove through each neighborhood on a regular basis delivering glass bottles of milk to customers.   Each customer would leave a big square metal box on his stoop in which the milkman would put the order of milk.    At St. Gabriel’s, my grammar school, each student always had an ink blotter on the top of his desk.   The real old timers of that era even referred to ice boxes and victrolas.    A top contender for the thing I miss the most from my younger days may be the vinyl record.    It was round, practically always black, and span in thirty three and forty five revolutions per minuteBeatles_65_Album_Cover.     Although it was nowhere near as technologically advanced as today’s compact discs, and the sound wasn’t as good, there was something really impressive and interesting about records.    Each album was either ten or twelve inches-the single was significantly smaller- and played with a stylus.    One of the most interesting things about the record was the artwork on the cover.   In those days each singer or band would go to great lengths to make sure the album cover was sufficiently distinctive.    Now that we have compact discs it just doesn’t seem like such a good idea to bother to devote that much attention to such a small space.     In 1967  the Beatles released “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band”.   On the cover were a few dozen famous people from the past, with the Fab Four, in a psychedelic garden.   Four years later the cover of the Rolling Stones’ “Sticky Fingers” was in the form of a pair of pants with a real zipper down the middle.   A record cover, in those days, could be seen as kind of a variation of a poster or t-shirt.     Musicians were as notorious for their visual imagery as for their music.    One of the major disadvantages of vinyl records was a major problem with storage space.    Over the years I have seen many compilations of pictures of the best most significant album covers of yore.   It’s nice to see that people still appreciate the covers.    Because of their significant size it was difficult to find a place for a sigificant number of them.   Another problem was that they often scratched, skipped and got warped if they weren’t treated with meticulous care.    Visiting a record store was always quite an enjoyable experience, and was significantly different with each succeeding era, depending upon what was then in style.   Unfortunately the days of vinyl albums ended in the late 1980’s.    I still have very many in my collection and I even have a record player too so I can play them.    Not many people these days can say that.    It’s  quite in keeping, though, with my offbeat anachronistic image.     People who know me fully expect me to have things like that.