Posts Tagged ‘Scott Henderson’

THAT WAS THE MONTH THAT WAS…OR MORE

Wednesday, April 2nd, 2014

     Okay, it’s the last day of March and I’m starting to write this new blahg.How this month has aged me!  You would not believe what a month, or rather two months since the last blahg, I have had.  It’s been rough and busy as opposed to the old rough and ready cartoon.  You wouldn’t believe what has happened but I’m going to write this blahg with some faith that you will accept what I am telling you as fact.  It won’t be pretty…much like the photo to the right showing how much I have aged over this last month…or more. 

     This blahg was going to be singularly about my mother.  I’ve written here before about her health and the struggles I have had to make sure she has had proper care.  The biggest struggles have been first to get her to take some responsibility for her own care and medication and second to have all my siblings on board about her care and medication.  That last effort has not been easy because I’m the one who had been taking care of business the most and complaining about the lack of effort on my siblings’ part(s).  To be fair, two of my brothers live out of town; with one of them living in the USA.  If you had forgotten, I live in Canada.  To make a long story short, back in February we all met, except the brother living state-side, to talk about my mother.  It was a Tuesday evening, which is significant, and we managed to come up with a plan to take some more stress off of me and to make sure the others knew exactly what should be done regarding my mother and father.  I walked away from that meeting feeling hopeful that things would change.  Little did I know that three days later, the ceiling would fall in…or the ice would drop.  Read on for an explanation. 

     What should be clearly understood is that my parents live in a two story house that is heated by oil.  I have, or maybe have not, mentioned that my friend Bryan lives with my parents and really was my eyes and ears in that house.  The key word in that last sentence is “was“.  Three days after the Henderson children met to discuss our mother, something unimaginable happened.  There had been a slight warming in the weather and all of the snow and ice that was on the roof began to melt.  I wish I had taken pictures of the roof before all of this happened because you wouldn’t have believed the size and thickness of the ice and icicles.  So, there was a thaw and you can guess what happened next. 

     My mother called me later that day, around 6:30, to say that they had no heat in their house.  I called my brother Todd to go by the house because I’m thirty minutes away and he’s closer.  He called me later to say that the oil tank was empty.  I thought that was odd because the tank had been filled earlier that week.  I called the oil company who delivered the oil to see if the tank really had been filled.  Needless to say, I got into an argument with the manager of the company who tried to tell me someone must have stolen the oil from the tank.  It was not a pleasant conversation because we basically called each other liars.  Shortly after that conversation, Todd called me back to say that he had discovered that a large chunk of ice from the roof had fallen and landed on the oil filter and had severed the filter and line from the tank.  Over 800 liters of oil had spilled into the ground. I wish I had known that before I had called the oil company.

     The next few days were a flurry of phone calls and meetings.  I had to meet with two different insurance adjusters, engineers, a safety and standards agent, as well as numerous emails and texts to my siblings regarding what had happened.  My mother was immediately relocated to my brother Dan’s house while Dad and Bryan stayed in the house.  It was so cold that Dad eventually went to stay with my sister and Bryan came to stay with me.  In fact, Bryan stayed with me until this past Sunday (more than a month) until he eventually moved in with his niece.  There was a short period of 4 days while my mother also stayed with me while Dan was having surgery on his foot.  

     During that short time that my mother was here, I managed to track down a house rental in Belleville and worked with Dan and my sister Wanda to arrange to have furniture moved in to that house.  Eventually my parents were reunited in this house and everything has gone well there.  I was still dealing with an insurance adjuster who took almost the full month to get some compensation for my parents.  Their insurance policy will cover the cost of their current location but getting the cheque for the expenses took some doing.  Eventually the engineers came back and said my parents’ old house would have to be torn down because oil had seeped under the foundation and the garage and there was no way to remove it without demolishing those structures.  Mom was in a bit of a panic over it but hey, they’ll get a new house built after the soil is removed and remediated.  It will probably be a year before everything is all done and the new house built. The cost of the remediation has been estimated to be around one million dollars.  Who knew?

     So, the past month has been busy with all kinds of meetings and salvaging belongings from the old home.  Eventually it was determined that all furniture and mattresses would have to be replaced because oil fumes cannot be cleaned from these items.  Also, their refrigerator and freezer were written off because the oil fumes get into the coils and can be released again when these items are relocated to a new house.  I’m still working on itemizing all of these things so we can get proper compensation.  We’re also dealing with a panicked neighbor because the oil has also migrated to her yard.  I’ve been assured by the insurance company that the cost of remediation to her yard will be covered by my parents’ policy.  I’d cross my fingers but then it would be hard to type. 

     Well, that’s been my life.  Add to it that I suffered a serious computer hard-drive failure and had to work hard with several programs and a new hard-drive to restore my computer.  I’ve always preached the importance of backing up data but I had been behind in my back ups.  That won’t happen again.  I think I was running on fumes myself up until this week but I managed to get through it all.  Now you know why there hasn’t been a blahg for a while. 

     My parents’ old house has finally been emptied by some helpful contractors paid for by the insurance company.  Last week, I went through the house and took some video.  It’s sad to see what’s left but I’m going to post that video here. 

     You will probably notice that this blahg is not filled with images and music like my previous blahgs.  I had intended to just do a blahg about my mother’s health and include a great song by Deb Talan.  I think I will still include that song but it probably won’t have the same meaning with most of this blahg being primarily about what happened to the house.  The songs is called “My Mother Now” and is taken from a CD entitled “Deb Talan Live at Finney Chapel, May 3, 2003.”  I think it’s a great song and certainly sums up what we should all feel about our mothers.

AYE AYE ITUNES, THIS CUSTOMER IS ALWAYS RIGHT

Thursday, January 23rd, 2014

      Well, it’s been a month since my last blahg and we’re on our way Scott Henderson still thinks he's cool!in 2014. It’s been a long cold month since Christmas here in Canada with lots of snow and ice and today I have a frozen water pipe that I’m trying to deal with.  I have hot water but the cold water is not running.  The hot water is probably the reserve in the hot water tank and I have to use that sparingly or that will run out too.  Have you ever tried taking a shower with just hot water?  I’m talking scalding hot water so you do your business very quickly.  Still, that’s better than the ice cold shower I had last month when my hot water pipe froze.

      Despite what you might think, this blahg is not about water hot or cold.  Today, the topic is back to good music and an experience that drives home the message “the customer is always right.”  I should really qualify that because sometimes the customer is not always right.  I used to work customer support for Road Runner high-speed internet and then for Hewlett Packard printers.  I would occasionally get angry calls from customers who were furious with our product(s) and were sure a law suit was in order.  Usually they were wrong and it was something that they were doing wrong.  Other times they were right and the product had failed and I would give my apologies, listen to them rant, and then send a replacement or set it up for a house call if needed.  So, in some cases, the customer is always right but when it’s me, and you know this from my experience with Toshiba, I’m always right.  My wife might tell you otherwise but she’s not writing this blahg (Honey, if you’re reading this blahg, I apologize for everything).  

     The current story started about two weeks ago when I found a couple of vinyl treasures at a local thrift store.  I’ve talked about my tastes in music and the fact that I still collect records because there are things on LP that you can’t find on CD or other formats.  The two records I found were “The Dixie Rebels Volume 2” & “Marge Dodson – In The Still of The Night.”  I only paid two dollars each for these great records and they were in very nice shape.  I’ll talk about “The Dixie Rebels” first and will leave “Marge Dodson” for the latter part of this blahg. 

     In my previous blahg, ZOEY, FRANK, JUNE & ALL THAT JAZZ, I talked about enjoying Dixieland Jazz and wrote about “The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band”, “Borgy’s Banjo Reunion“, and “Salt City Five/Six“.  The Dixie Rebels Volume 2 Front CoverSo, I’m always on the look out for new Dixieland Jazz albums that I might enjoy.  I was quite surprised and pleased to find “The Dixie Rebels Volume 2” because it was a band I did not know.  Even reading the notes on the inside of the jacket, being a gate-fold cover, and the notes on the back, the band was still a mystery. 

     There are some clues to this mystery band contained in the liner notes but I didn’t understand them until I researched the band online.  Dixie Rebels Volume 2 back coverThe leader of this band presents himself as “Big Jeb Dooley” and in the liner notes it states “Big Jeb Dooley has included in this collection ‘Creole Rag’.  This delightful tune was written by the great Dixieland trumpeter, Pee Wee Erwin…Big Jeb, whose admiration for Erwin extends beyond mere professional appreciation.”  In fact, Pee Wee Erwin is Big Jeb Dooley.  I understand he was under contract to another label and had to use this alias to appear with the Dixie Rebels.  Here’s a couple of samples.  First up is “Creole Rag” that Pee Wee Erwin composed with Bobby Efros:


Here’s their version of that old chestnut “Back Home Again In Indiana”:


I really like the sound of this band.  The composition of trumpet, trombone, clarinet, drums, piano, and bass is exactly the same composition that “The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band” used as well.  The difference here is that The Dixie Rebels came out with their music in the late 50s early 60s and The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz band were performing around 1967.  

The Dixe Rebels Strike Back Cover 1 The record that I purchased of The Dixie Rebels was Volume 2 and I started to look around to find out what I could about their first record.  The Dixie Rebels Strike Back Cover 2It was also on the Command Records label and was entitled “The Dixie Rebels Strike Back.”  It apparently had two different covers but I suspect the image on the right is a reissue.  I’m not entirely sure about that but you can click on each of the covers for a larger view. 

     I don’t have their first LP but I was surprised to learn that it was available for purchase on Itunes.  In fact, there were two versions available for purchase with one being $7.99 and the other being $5.99.  Being frugal, I opted for the $5.99 version and purchased and downloaded the tracks.  Now, here’s where my story and issue with Itunes really begins. This is how Itunes (store) lists the tracks:

1       When the Saints Go Marching In

2       Basin Street Blues

3       St. James Infirmary

4       That’s A-Plenty

5       Dixieland Band

6       Clarinet Marmalade

7       Tin Roof Blues

8       Royal Garden Blues

9       Hindustan

10      Panama

11      Fidgety Feet

12      South Rampart Street Parade

 

In fact, when you play them, the order of the songs is actually:

1       Hindustan

2       St. James Infirmary

3       Basin Street Blues

4       Royal Garden Blues

5       Panama

6       South Rampart Street Parade

7       Fidgety Feet

8       That’s A-Plenty

9       When The Saints Go Marching In

10      Dixieland Band

11      Tin Roof Blues

12      Clarinet Marmalade

 

      To say that I was a little unhappy with my purchase is putting it mildly.  I had to rename all of the files and edit all of the track tags.  I felt that this wasn’t something I should have to do when I paid money for these songs to be right in the first place.  I quickly emailed Itunes and told them I believed a refund was in order because I had to do all that work on what was clearly their error.  Here’s the response I received: 

Hello Scott,

Thank you for contacting iTunes/Mac App Store Support. My name is Ady, your iTunes Store Advisor today.

I understand that your recently purchased album is mislabeled and you would like to get your money refunded. I’m sorry to hear for what happened. I fully understand how you feel about this situation and I appreciate the chance to assist you.

Scott, I have submitted this item for investigation. Apple takes the quality of the items offered on the iTunes Store seriously and will investigate the issue with this item, but I can’t say when or if the issue will be resolved. Please try again in a few weeks.

That being said, we will look into the possibility of refunding the charge. Unfortunately, the order containing this item is currently processing. Your request is flagged for follow-up, and I will contact you once I have more information about your order. Please note that processing can take up to five business days from the date of purchase. Thank you for your patience in this matter.

In the meantime, if you have any other questions or concerns, please respond directly to this email and I will be happy to help you in the best the way possible.

     I wasn’t going to hold my breath that I would get a refund but I was pretty sure I was in the right and making the request for a refund was appropriate.  I mentioned this to my son, Noah,  but he thought I was making a big deal out of nothing but my eldest daughter, Emily, thought I was right to expect that the songs would be in the correct order.  Four days after my first email response from Itunes, I received a quick resolution: 

Hi Scott,

I hope all is well for you today. This is Ady again with iTunes Store Support. I appreciate your patience in waiting to hear from me.

I’m pleased to inform you that I have reversed the charge for “Strike Back With True Dixieland Sound”. Within 10 business days, a credit of 5.99 CAD should be posted to the credit card that appears on the receipt for that purchase.
 
I trust that you’ll be able to view your refund within the following days, Scott. Please take note that it can take up to ten business days for a refund to process (this does not include weekends).

Note: If you haven’t receive the refund after the said timeframe, please contact your bank regarding on when it will be posted as refund posting also varies per financial institution.

If you have any other questions or concerns, please respond directly to this email and I will be happy to help you in the best the way possible.

     I was happy to receive the refund and to hear back from the same agent, “Ady”, who had responded to my initial email.  That’s good service and both Ady and Apple should be commended for their customer service.  They have yet to update these tracks correctly in the Itunes stores on the $5.99 version but if you want to pay for the $7.99 version, the audio preview of these tracks suggests they are in the correct order on that more expensive option.  Maybe I should have previewed all of the tracks first on the $5.99 version and I would have found them out of order and mislabeled and would have saved myself some extra work.  I just thought that what was advertised would be correct.  The very first song is “When The Saints Go Marching In” but when I played it, after payment and download, it was “Hindustan.”  Give a listen to their version of “When The Saints Go Marching In” after I correctly renamed the file: 

Below is another great version of the song but sung by Fred Flintstone.

     I won’t continue to ramble on about this.  Itunes handled the case to my satisfaction and this customer can maintain he was correct.  Here’s another great track from The Dixie Rebels Strike back.  This time it’s “Clarinet Marmalade”: 


Now, onto Marge Dodson.  Marge Dodson - In The Still of The Night Front CoverI have to be honest but I had never heard of Marge Dodson before picking up this record.  She has a great sound and gives out with some great standards.  Marge Dodson, In The Still of the Night - Back CoverThat’s the thing about finding a new artist or one you never heard before.  Sometimes you get lucky and the album is full of little treats and you get to sample something completely different and this case, beautiful sounding.  Click on the images for front and back cover to read a little bit more.  While you’re reading, give a listen “These Foolish Things” from this great LP: 


Marge Dodson put out three records altogether from what I have learned.  

Marge Dodson - New Voice In TownHer second album “New Voice In Town” has been issued on a double CD with “In The Still Of The Night”.  Marge Dodson - A Lovely Way To LiveHer last album was entitled “A Lovely Way To Live” but I think it was only issued on LP and has yet to see a CD release.  I am going to try and track down these two records because she has a marvelous voice and does a great selection of standards.  Here’s a sample from her second LP, “New Voice in Town”.  This time it’s “This Can’t Be Love”:


There are two other vinyl releases of Marge Dodson that I have discovered and need to track down.  

Marge Dodson 45rpmThe first is a single 45rpm record of “Somehow It Got To Be Tomorrow (Today)” backed with “Feeling Good”.  The second is another 45 of “Be My Baby” backed with “The World Is A Toy Shop”.  Marge Dodson 45 #2These might be a little harder to find but if I do, you’ll know I’ll post them here in an update.  One last note, all three of Marge Dodson’s records are available as downloads through Itunes.  Of course, preview if you must and buyer beware!


Update: 

I found one of the missing tracks on YouTube:

“Somehow It Got To Be Tomorrow (Today)”

A 2013 CHRISTMAS MISH MASH EXPERIENCE

Sunday, December 22nd, 2013

      Wow, it’s almost Christmas and I’m going to try to sneak in this blahg.Santa Scott It’s been a long five weeks since my last post. Today is not going to be a new full blahg.  I’ve been really busy this past couple of months and I’ve been trying to spend as much time with my family as I can.  I’ve also started to write fiction again and I’ll share some of that a little later on in this blahg.  Right now, I have 30 minutes before I have to be out the door to a meeting so I’m going to try and get a good start on all of this. 

     First, let me show you my Christmas yard display for this year.  I’ve taken several night photos of the display from right to left or left to right (depending on how you look at it) as well as photos of the front and side of my house.  We have lots of snow right now so they look very nice. 

      Now, before I move on to other things, I want to share a quick update on my cat Frank and a very cute photo of Frank & Zoey.  I mentioned in a previous blahg that Frank had been sick with a blood parasite and his blood counts were very low and he had lost weight.  Frank & ZoeyA subsequent visit showed that he was responding to his medicine and his levels were getting better and he had gained weight again.  Last week, however, Frank began to be very listless and we were worried about his health again.  It turned out he was fine and just needed another dose of his medicine that had run out.  Our kitten Zoey must have sensed that as she curled up with Frank on this cat couch a friend had given us.  It’s a very cute picture and could easily be the front of a Christmas card.  Click the picture (or any of the pictures in this blahg) to view a bigger picture.

      This blahg is not going to be very lengthy but will have lots of photos, a couple of videos, and some music.  First, it’s a prime viewing time for Christmas movies and specials and I had originally thought of doing a blahg about my favorite Christmas cartoons but then the videos I tried to upload to Youtube were too long or too large or something technical.  I did find some links to my two favorites so I’m going to post those below. 

     First up is, “The Wish That Changed Christmas” from 1991.  It’s based on a book I used to read to my daughter, Abbie, called “The Story of Holly & Ivy” by Rumer Godden.  It tells the story of a little orphan girl named Ivy that wants a grandmother for Christmas and how a beautiful Christmas doll named Holly helps her wish come true.  Check it out below:

     Next up is, “The Bear Who Slept Through Christmas” from 1973. I know there is a book of this by John Barrett but I’m not sure if the book or the cartoon came first.  It features the voices of Tommy Smothers, Barabara Feldon, and Arte Johnson.  It’s the story of a real bear who wants to find out what this thing called Christmas is and he sets out to find it.  It’s a great story.  Hopefully the link below is still active because it’s not easy to find.


     I also like to listen to a wide variety of Christmas songs by a variety of different artists.  I thought I would share a couple of songs you probably never heard before.  The first is “Dasher with the light upon his tail.”  This is by Kitty Wells and I heard it years ago on a Campbellford, Ontario radio station and have never heard it since.  If you thought Rudolph was the only reindeer immortalized in song then you’d be wrong.  Give it a listen: 

 

Kitty Wells – Dasher With The Light Upon His Tail
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

     Now get ready to Boogie with Pattie Page.  I originally had the song “Boogie Woogie Santa Claus” on an old 78rpm record but have since downloaded a digital copy.  It sounds better and it’s a fun song that I like to hear every year. 

 

Patti Page – Boogie Woogie Santa Claus
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

     This is the end of my video and audio offerings but not the end of my written output for you in this Christmas 2013 blahg.  I thought I would close with the first ever publication of my new Christmas short story.  I haven’t written a piece of fiction in over six years and I had this idea bouncing around in my head and I thought it would be a great short story.  Not much of a ‘short’ story though because it runs more than 24 pages in Microsoft Word and more than 11,000 words.  Still, I’m fairly happy with it and want to share it here for the first time.  Hopefully it won’t max out this blahg and will be readable here.  Hopefully you find some enjoyment in it and that your Holiday season in 2013 and 2014 is enjoyable.  A couple of years ago, I closed my year end blahg with a quote from Frank Sinatra and it’s still just as relevant.  After wishing everyone health and hugging and kissing, Sinatra would always close with “In the next year may we find peace in the world and peace among ourselves.” 

THE FLASH MOB CHRISTMAS EXPERIENCE

by Scott Henderson

            It started with a chord.  No, that’s not exactly right.  It actually started with a boy named Chord and even that isn’t entirely correct.  This particular boy wasn’t even a boy and he didn’t spell his name CHORD.  This boy was really a teenager aged 17 and he spelled his name CORD.  Of course that wasn’t how it was spelled on any official document but he preferred it that way.

            Now if you look up the meaning of the name Cord, which was the way he preferred to spell it, you will get a pretty good description of this teenaged Cord.  People with this name have a deep inner desire for a stable, loving family or community, and a need to work with others and to be appreciated.  People with this name tend to be a powerful force to all whose lives they touch. They are capable, charismatic leaders who often undertake large endeavors with great success.  All this was true of the teenaged Cord who started it all.

            Saying that it started with Cord, still is not entirely accurate.  There were others involved.  There was also his sister Melody.  Melody was 13 and had just started at the same high-school as Cord.  Most often she was known as Cord’s sister.  It was tough living in his shadow.  She hadn’t found out really who she was supposed to be.  She knew she was more than just Cord’s sister and given the chance, and the knowledge of what she really wanted to do with herself, she would show everyone she was her own person.        If you can a see a theme in Cord and Melody’s names here then you have to include their parents.  It probably really started with them.  Mom was a music teacher and the biggest influence for the naming of the children.  She also instilled a sense of the value of music.  She played piano beautifully and gave piano lessons.  Unfortunately, neither of her children played the piano.  That was their mother’s scene and Cord preferred the guitar and Melody took up the flute.  Mom always played the piano at home, when she wasn’t giving lessons, and her tastes varied from the classics she taught to some of the more contemporary songs.  Unfortunately Mom’s contemporary songs seemed to stop somewhere in late 1980s.

            Dad should not be left out of all of this.  He was musically inclined as well.  He played the trumpet.  In College he even started a Dixieland jazz band called The Pick-Up Six.  The name of the band was a parody on the old pick-up sticks game and a pick-up band.  The definition of a pick-up band is one that is hired to play for a limited time period—ranging from a single concert or recording to several weeks of shows—before disbanding.  That was pretty much The Pick-Up Six.  Besides Dad on the trumpet, there was a trombone, a clarinet, drums, a piano, and a string bass.  Those last three instruments made it much harder for the band to be a pick-up band because the drums, the piano, and the string bass were not easily portable.  The name of the band also took on another significance because one of the band members had access to a pick-up truck.  Their engagements were limited to venues with a piano and their transportation limited to that old truck with three members piled in the front cab and the remaining three piled in the back with the instruments.  The Pick-Up Six played a few shows around the college and in neighbouring towns and after a few months, like the pick-up band definition, they disbanded.  The break-up was more to the loss of the pick-up track when it became no longer road worthy.  Still, you could hear dad, on the odd night, in the garage, playing a trumpet solo on “The Saints Go Marching In” or “Down by the Riverside”.  Glory days gone but not the music.

            Getting back to Cord, with whom this mostly all started, he was an involved teenager.   Again, definitions can be a good thing because an involved person is a complicated person or a person who belong and is connected by participation or association.  That last definition was Cord.

            Cord belonged.  That’s the short description you could give to Cord.  He belonged.  He belonged to everyone.  Everyone liked Cord.  He also belonged to various school groups.  He was in the drama club.  He was in the school band.  He participated in the school plays and musicals and was part of the theater group at the school that oversaw production, lighting, sound, and just about anything that went on in front or behind the curtain.  Cord belonged.

            If it happened at school, Cord was part of it.  He was also plugged in.  He communicated through social media websites like Facebook and Twitter.  He sent texts to friends.  That was just a small part of his life.  These were just platforms for him to let others know what was happening or what he was thinking.  He never used these mediums to attack or insult anyone.  That wasn’t Cord.  He only talked about what was important and he didn’t rant or ramble.  Often he was a man of few words and more often a man of his word.  If Cord said something, most often, others listened.

            It started with Cord…and Christmas.

            Cord came into the house Saturday afternoon, flopped down on the couch, and grunted.  His only other act was to have kicked off his shoes inside the back door.  He didn’t both to take off his coat and his hood was pulled up to hide his face…and his disgust.

            “I’ll bite,” said his mother, coming in from the dining room which also housed the piano where she gave lessons, “what’s up?”

            Cord just spread out on the couch with his face buried in a cushion and grunted again.

            “Is that so?” Mom said.  It really wasn’t a question.  “Can you provide a few more details or am I to guess everything from that great little clue?”

            Cord lifted his head slightly, whipped back his hood, and glared.

            “Well that helps narrow it down,” Mom said.  “Either it’s the end of the world or you ate something that didn’t agree with you.  Seeing as you just came from the Mall, it could have been that cardboard pizza they serve at Pizza Joe’s.  You know, I don’t even know why they call it Pizza Joe’s.  You don’t really associate Pizza with such a domestic name like Joe.  Besides, I don’t’ even think there is a Joe.  I’ve never seen anyone but teenaged girls working there.”  Cord could never be accused of rambling but the same couldn’t be said of Mom.

            “Yeah, it was the pizza and the whole stinking Mall and the whole wide world.”  Cord was being his man of few words.

            “I thought we’d bring the world into this,” Mom replied.  “If it’s not the end of the world then what has the world done now?

            “And it’s Christmas, too,” Cord went on without answering Mom’s question.

            “Oh, and now it’s Christmas’s fault as well,” retorted Mom.  “I don’t suppose you had any part to play in this?”

            “Me?” Cord snapped.  He sat up and started to struggle out of his coat.  “Of course it’s about me.  Isn’t it always about me?”

            “Yes, but…”, Mom began before being quickly interrupted.

            “It’s about me because I make it about me. What’s wrong with that?  I’m not asking for much, maybe a simple ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’ or a nod even.  Merry Christmas?  Now, that’s out of the question.”  Cord broke his rule of few words.  It was obvious he was worked up about something,

            Mom didn’t even try to inquire further.  She knew that once Cord got going, which wasn’t often, he’d eventually tell all.

            “Here it is the beginning of December,” Cord continued, “and that Mall and the people in it haven’t got any Christmas spirit.  Sure there are all the decorations and they’ve got Santa there for the little kids but what about the rest of us?”

            “What about the rest of us?” Mom asked.  “You and I are a little big for Santa’s lap.”

            “I know that,” Cord snapped back.  “It’s the commercialism of everything.  Every store has a sale and that’s all they really want you at the Mall for anyway.  Buy this.  Shop there.  Where’s the Christmas experience?”

            “What experience are you expecting?  Do you want a live Nativity?  There’s only so much you can do in that Mall and I don’t think they’ll allow some sheep and a donkey into the Food Court.  And where would you get a camel?”  Mom didn’t realize she wasn’t helping much.

            “Anything would be something!  I just don’t want to be another shopper or someone sipping their high price specialty coffees and comparing their purchases.  There’s not even piped in music!”  Cord flopped back down on the couch again and buried his head in the nearest cushion.

            “Oh”, Mom replied with a start.  “That reminds me, I’m giving a lesson in 15 minutes so I better get ready.  Maybe I’ll work a few Christmas carols into the lesson.  Do you want to stick around and join us on your guitar?  We could all sing along.  It might lift your spirits.”

            Cord lifted his head again.  “No thanks, that’s the last thing I need.  Singing Christmas songs with my Mom and one of her students isn’t my idea of…”  Cord trailed off and jumped quickly to his feet.  Grabbing up his coat, Cord rummaged through the pockets until he found his phone.

            “Singing Christmas songs with my Mom and one of her students isn’t my idea of a good time, I was about to say,” Cord continued, “but it’s a good idea.  Well, maybe half a good idea.”

            Cord grinned back at his mother and his thumbs began flying over his phone.  And that’s how it all started with Cord.

            It all started with a text to Cord’s friend Leo.  From there it went out to his friend Flora and then to other friends.  Soon the message was repeated in other texts and in Tweets and on Facebook.  By Monday morning at school more students knew about Cord’s idea than he had originally intended.

            More and more people came up to Cord at school and asked for more details.

            By Wednesday, rumors flooded the halls and the cafeteria.  Those who hadn’t received the texts or read it online soon learned by word of mouth.

            By Thursday, every student knew.

            By Friday, everything that could be finalized was finalized.  Truth be told,

there wasn’t much to finalize and you couldn’t plan spontaneity.

            The idea was simple.  They would be at the Mall on Saturday and at one o’clock everyone would sing “We Wish You A Merry Christmas”.  It would be a flash mob and none of the other shoppers would expect it.

            There were only a few simple details to work out.  Cord and Leo would smuggle in their guitars.  Everyone would spread themselves through the Food Court and when Cord and Leo started to strum, then all voices would join in.

            By Saturday, the scene was set.

            The Mall was one of those double decker establishments.  It had stores on both levels and the Food Court was laid out by the escalators on the first floor.  There was a railing on the second level that overlooked the Food Court and Cord hoped the sound would reach up to people passing above.

            There was an arena next to the Mall and there was always some kind of hockey practice on Saturday.  Cord and Leo didn’t play hockey but they managed to borrow a couple of equipment bags off some friends.  In the bags, they stowed their guitars with a hockey stick hooked along the length of both bags through the handles.  No one would look twice at someone with a hockey bag.  Players were always coming over after practice to sit and eat pizza or grab a burger.

            The idea was to make everything look as inconspicuous as possible until Cord and Leo took out their guitars and began to play.  Then everyone would stand up and begin to sing.  Messages had been sent regarding the time and place and that everyone was to rise to their feet and join in when the singing began.

            Cord, Leo, Flora, and Melody all arrived at the Mall around noon and took up separate tables.  Melody needed some encouragement to participate.  When Cord had first told her about the flash mob idea she wanted no part of it.  She was only a Junior at the high-school and preferred to keep her head down and not draw too much attention to herself.  She didn’t have a reputation yet other than being Cord’s sister.  She wanted to be her own person and shine for who she was; once she figured out who that was.  Eventually she warmed to Cord’s big idea but insisted she be allowed to accompany the boys on her flute.  Cord didn’t go for that because he wanted all of the voices that could be gathered.  Everyone was to sing and Cord and Leo would also play along on their guitars.  Both of them had gathered at Leo’s to rehearse a couple of times.  Melody’s protest for the flute was denied and she reluctantly agreed to join the group on Saturday.

            Munching on a slice from Pizza Joe’s, Cord scanned the Food Court.  He recognized some other students but thought there should have been more.  Perhaps they were milling elsewhere in the Mall and would show up shortly before one o’clock.

            The time came.  Cord signaled Leo and the two of them reached into their borrowed equipment bags and pulled out their guitars.  On another signal, Leo, Flora, and Melody rose in union with Cord.

            Shoppers and people just enjoying their lunch turned with a start when the music from the guitars began.  Suddenly there were voices raised in song.

            Cameras and cell phones began snapping pictures or taking video.  Who would have believed it?  Here at the Mall, was an impromptu display of Christmas spirit.  Two guitars and four voices caroling out “We Wish You A Merry Christmas.”

            Yes, only four voices.  For all of the followers and those who received texts or read posts, only the four voices of Cord, Leo, Melody, and Flora rose above everything at the Mall.

            Cord glanced around while he was singing to try and see who else was there.  Across the Food Court was Leo, on his feet, strumming and singing.  At two other separate tables were Flora and Melody standing and singing.  That was it.  There was no one else.  This was hardly a mob.

            When the song was over, there was a smattering of applause.  Cord and Leo put away their guitars and without a word, gathered together with Melody and Flora, who were just as stunned, and all four left the Mall by the nearest exit.

            Cord was disappointed.  He needn’t have been.  His little flash mob was more of a success than he had imagined.

            What Cord hadn’t seen were all of the other students who hadn’t joined in the singing but were there nonetheless.  Some stood just within store entrances or hung back from the Food Court.  Many more were on the second level and leaning over the railing to get a better view.  Cell phones recorded everything and amateur videos were posted online.

            The afternoon news carried a story of the little flash mob scene at the Mall.  Several people had sent videos to the local television station and it quickly became a feel good story sandwiched between the weather and sports highlights.  Cord, Leo, Melody and Flora were not named but close-ups of each of them were spliced together from the various videos.

            “We don’t know who these young people are,” said the anchorperson, “but it’s clear they have the Christmas spirit.”  The story was repeated on the eleven o’clock news and by then, almost everyone knew what had happened at the Mall that day.

            By Monday, there were many apology texts sent to Cord.  The four singers were stopped in the hall and mobbed at the cafeteria.  No one had wanted to embarrass themselves at the Mall but when it became the talk of the town, everyone was sorry they hadn’t been part of it.  Everyone wanted to know when it was going to happen again.  Everyone wanted in.

            Through Cord’s disappointment he hadn’t thought about a repeat performance.  He and Leo were determined to let it lie after the poor turnout.  After the news story and reaction at school, Cord had to give it more thought.  He didn’t dwell on it long.  As much as everyone was getting caught up in the thing, Cord was feeling just a little more pleased with himself.

            During lunch on Tuesday, a large group gathered in the school cafeteria and hung on Cord’s every word.

            “We have to go bigger,” Cord said to the crowd.

            “Go big or go home,” chimed in Leo.

            “No guitars this time.  Everyone will be expecting it.  They’ll be looking for the instruments and anyone carrying any kind of large bag will give it away.”  Cord was thinking this all through out loud.  He wanted everyone to know he was in charge.

            “How about a piano?” someone asked.

            “A piano?” Leo and Cord responded in unison.  “I don’t suppose you’ve got a piano you can conceal in a book bag?”  Cord asked, jokingly.

            “A keyboard, then,” responded the person who had suggested the piano.

            Cord thought about it for a second and then dismissed it.  “You’d still need a big bag or something to hide it.  Besides, we wouldn’t have a power source.”

            “Think small instruments,” Leo offered up.  “They’ve got to be portable.”

            “Like a flute?” Flora asked.

            Cord turned toward Flora.  For half a moment, he thought it had been Melody who had pitched the flute idea.  Being a Junior, however, Melody had a different lunch period.  Cord would have dismissed the flute idea just as he had the piano and keyboard notion but he didn’t have a good reason.  Maybe if Melody had suggested the flute then he might have shot that idea down but she had been a good sport and was one of the original four who had actually participated last Saturday.

            “Maybe we could use a flute but there’s not many of us who can play a flute,” said Cord.  “Hands up, those of you who can play a flute.”

            No other hands went up.  Either the flute players were shy or they weren’t part of this crowd.

            “I’ll talk to Mel about it later.  Any other suggestions?”  Cord looked around the crowd.  It was a good sized group and if most of them showed up next time then it truly would be a flash mob.

            Leo snatched up a piece of pizza from one of the boxes in the middle of the table.  A few of them had tossed some money together and had gone out and brought back pizza from Pizza Jack’s around the corner from the school.  Why was it that all of the pizza joints were named after a mysterious man that no one ever saw?

            “Anyone else want a slice?” Leo asked, waving his about in the air.

            “Yeah, shoot me a triangle,” someone shouted.  It was the same voice who had suggested the piano.

            Cord looked down the table.  “Shoot me a triangle?  Who says shoot me a triangle?  Are you back in primary school or something?”

            “It’s a triangle isn’t it?” shot back the piano man.

            Cord looked at him again but then snapped his fingers and pointed straight at him.  “You may be crazy but I think you just hit on something.”

            Everyone looked at the student at the end of the table and then back at Cord.

            “The triangle, people,” Cord began.  “Who doesn’t remember playing the triangle back in primary school?”

            “I always got stuck with the stupid recorded,” barked Leo.

            Cord ignored his best friend and continued on.  “It doesn’t take skill to play the triangle and it’s easily concealed in a pocket or a small bag.  Besides, it’s just for accompaniment.  It’s about the singing.”

            “Where are we going to get that many triangles?” someone thought to ask.

            “Leave that to me,” replied Cord.  “Just meet back up here tomorrow and I’ll give you more of the plan.  The truth was that Cord had an idea where he was going to get the triangles but not what song they were going to sing.  He had to think on it some more.

            After school, with a plan beginning to form in his head, Cord lay part of the plan on his mother.

            “I need some triangles, Mom, as many as you can lay your hands on,” Cord told her.  “You, know the musical instrument kind?”

            Mom didn’t bat an eye.  Ever since Cord’s flash mob at the Mall, she knew her son was up to something.  Since that last Saturday afternoon, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing and every one of her students who had lessons with her that week couldn’t stop talking about it.  Some had been at the Mall, others had heard from others who had been there, and still others were prompted to a video online or saw the highlights on the news.  Mom was at first surprised by Cord’s initiative but gradually became very proud of her son and daughter and their two brave friends.

            “I’ll pull in some favors from some other teachers at the other schools but I don’t see a problem.”  Mom was on board.  “Have you given any thought to what song you’ll perform next?”

            “Well,” Cord began hesitantly, “that leads me to request number two.  Do you have any thought to what song we should perform next?  Keep in mind, we’re aiming for Saturday and we only have a few days to pull this together and it has to be something easily played on the triangle.”

            “What about the flute?”

            Cord turned to see Melody coming in from the kitchen with a couple of Mom’s recently baked Christmas cookies in her hand.

            “I hear you’re going to talk to me about the flute?”  Melody asked.  “Word gets around brother.”

            “About that,” Cord started, “we’re going with triangles now.”

            “I heard all about that but what about my flute solo?” Melody was obviously going to assert herself on the flute issue.

            “Flute solo?  Who said you were getting a flute solo?”  Cord was going to assert himself, too.  This was, after all, his idea.

            “If the flute’s out, then I’m out,” Melody replied.

            “Listen to you two,” said Mom.  “I thought this was all about the spirit of Christmas and giving a little something to others?”  Mothers always went to that handy excuse of giving to others.  Still, the meaning wasn’t lost on her children.

            “Okay, you can have a flute solo,” conceded Cord, “but we need a song for you to solo on.”

            “How about ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing’?” Mom asked.  “That’s one of my favorites.

            “Mother!” both Cord and Melody responded.  They could both agree on some things when they tried.

            “I like ‘Do You Hear What I Hear’,” Melody suggested.  “I think there’d be a great spot in there for a solo.”

            “That’s easy enough to sing and you could ring in on the triangle twice after every line,” Mom chimed in.

            Cord liked the idea but he didn’t want to let on too quickly.

            “I’ll think on it.”  And he did.

            By the next morning, Cord had thought long and hard on Melody’s idea.  Of course, he had to give it his own spin and add some further complicated parts to it.  On the way to school, he had filled Melody in on his twist on her idea.  Melody liked it and added a few suggestions.  By the time they had reached the school, they had the idea all fleshed out.  Now they just needed to work out the logistics.

            “We’ll need a harness,” Cord explained to the group gathered again in the Cafeteria.

            This did not come as a surprise to the group because it figured into Cord’s plan.  He had told them about the song choice and the flute solo and how they would work in the triangles.  He also explained how it was his idea to do a mash-up of both ‘Do You Hear What I Hear’ and ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.’  He conveniently forgot to give Mom and Melody credit for their song suggestions.  The change over to the second song would be accomplished by having Melody lowered from the second level of the Mall by a cable suspended over the railing.  She would then be lowered to the Food Court while she played her flute solo and the group below would switch over to ‘Hark, the Herald Angels Sing.’

            The whole idea was met with enthusiasm.

            .  “We have a harness in the stage equipment from the time the school put on that production of Peter Pan,” someone from the Stage Crew piped in.  “How much cable do you think we’ll need?”

            “It’s probably twenty feet from that railing to the floor of the Food Court,” Leo explained.

            “Got it,” the member of the Stage Crew replied.

            “My mom’s working on the triangles,” Cord said.  “I should have them all to bring to school on Friday.”

            “Are you sure Melody’s okay with being lowered down on a rope?” Flora asked.

            “Cable, not a rope,” corrected the Stage Crew member.

            “Cable then,” continued Flora.  “Are you sure she’s okay with all of this.”

            “It was her idea,” Cord replied.

            Indeed, it had been her idea.  Melody was finding her way among Cord’s creative experience.  If she was ever going to be anyone but Cord’s sister then she’d have to shine out with her own light.  How better to do that that than to have everyone look up to find where the flute music was coming from and find her being lowered like an angel on high.

            “I want that harness by the end of school today.  I need to check it for size on Melody.  Anyone who doesn’t know the words to the two songs then go home and learn them.  We’ll run them through tomorrow and we’ll work on the triangles on Friday.”  Cord was in his element.  Everyone was looking up to him…at least until Saturday when they’d all be looking up at Melody.

            Mom made good on her promise on the triangles.  On Friday, everyone was given a triangle and a metal beater.  The group met in the cafeteria at lunch and after school and worked out the timing of the two songs.  The night before, Leo and Cord had attached small strings of fishing line in a loop on one corner of each triangle.  Mom had given Cord quick instructions on how to hold and properly strike the triangle.  He quickly instructed the others.  It was surprising how much Cord had forgotten about playing the triangle from the few times he’d played one in primary school pageants.

            Mom even went one better than just supplying the triangles.  She managed to whip together a quick angel costume for Melody complete with detachable wings and halo.

            Melody, for her part, rehearsed her flute solo and steeled her nerves against being lowered by cable from the second level of the Mall.  Dangling from a cable could not be rehearsed but the harness was adjusted for her and they had tested the cable by suspending her a few feet about the stage in the auditorium.  Still, twenty feet would be a long way down while trying to play the flute and keep the beat with the singers below.

            The time had been set for noon on Saturday.  Cord didn’t want to go with one o’clock again because he didn’t want anyone to suspect that there would be a repeat performance.  More than thirty triangles had been given out and Cord expected a good turn out this time.

            Everyone was instructed to be in the Food Court no later than 11:3o so they could all get seats.  By noon the tables and chairs were full.  It was the height of the lunch hour.  Cord had factored this in, too.  He was hoping more people would be below and not on the second level to observe the preparations up there.

            Six members of the Stage Crew gathered with Melody around the railing and looked at the crowd gathered below.  Both the harness and cable had been concealed in book bags.  Melody had worn her angel costume from home and had worn a long coat to conceal most of it.  She also had full white leggings on under her costume because she didn’t want everyone below to see up her dress and be shocked by anything.  Melody was proud that it was she and not Cord who had thought of that.

            Four of the Stage Crew blocked the view of passers-by while the other two helped Melody off with her coat and into the harness.  The cable was attached to the harness and each of the six took hold of the cable so they could all bear Melody’s weight when she descended.  Melody quickly hooked on the wings and attached the halo to the top of her head.

            It was almost noon.

            Melody climbed over the railing and stood on a small ledge and held the railing with one hand, nervously fingered her flute with the other, and waited.

            Suddenly, a rustling of people getting to their feet, was heard from below.  Every person who had received a triangle had shown up.

            Each triangle chimed out three times in unison and then the singing began.  The sounds of the triangles and the singing rang out loud and clear throughout the Mall.  There were very good acoustics there.

            Some shoppers had suspected something when they noticed all of the teenagers in the Food Court but dismissed it when nothing happened earlier.  Now, with the sound of the triangles and the singing, heads turned again and cameras and cell phones appeared from everywhere.

            More than thirty voices rang out loud and clear.

            “Said the night wind to the little lamb,” sang out the voices followed by two chimes on each triangle.

            “Do you see what I see.”  Ding Ding.

            “Way up in the sky little lamb.”  Ding Ding.
“Do you see what I see.”  Ding Ding.
“A star, a star, Dancing in the night, With a tail as big as a kite, With a tail as big as a kite.”  Ding Ding.

            By the time the second verse began, a number of the diners and shoppers had joined in.

            “Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy.”  Ding Ding.
“Do you hear what I hear.”  Ding Ding.
“Ringing through the sky shepherd boy.”  Ding Ding.
“Do you hear what I hear.”  Ding Ding.
“A song, a song, High above the tree, With a voice as big as the sea, With a voice as big as the sea.”  Ding Ding.

            This was Melody’s cue.  Just before the triangles sounded out their final two chimes on that second verse, she had let go of the railing, brought the flute to her lips, and stepped off the ledge half expecting to plummet to the Food Court below.

            She needn’t have worried.  The Stage Crew members were ready for this and had braced themselves.  There was no slack and Melody hung for a moment suspended and slowly began to descend.

            No one had been looking up while the singing was coming from the Food Court.  Now, the flash mob of singers below turned their gaze to the second level as Melody began her flute solo.

            There were gasps from some of the senior citizens grouped together over coffee.

            Some small fingers pointed skyward.

            Meanwhile, Melody played on and finished the first chorus before finishing her descent.

            Leo had underestimated the height from the railing even though the Stage Crew members had allowed for extra cable footage that they needed to hold onto.  The effect was that Melody remained suspended three feet above the ground.  She could go no further.

            Bravely, she started in on the second verse on her flute as the voices of her brother and the other singers raised their voices once again to join her.

            After the last note and the last word of the final verse was sung, everyone else was on their feet applauding the group and the dangling angel.

            Cord and Leo quickly ran over to Melody and unsnapped the cable from the harness and lowered her to the ground.  She had to sit down; her legs were shaking so badly.

             Cord and Leo turned and applauded Melody where she sat.  Soon it seemed like the whole of the food court, shoppers, diners, singers and all were standing over Melody and applauding.

            She was no longer just Cord’s sister.

            The reception for the flash mob Christmas experience that Saturday wasn’t all positive.  No one had sought permission from the Mall management to suspend someone by a cable from the second level.  In fact, Cord and the others deliberately avoided seeking permission because they didn’t want to be denied permission and they also didn’t want to tip their hand that they were planning another flash mob at the Mall for that day.

            Again, the local television station ran a news story on the flash mob with amateur video.  The report went even further to include an interview with someone from Mall management who applauded the spirit of those involved but also chastised the group for their recklessness.  Management made it clear, in the interview, that they welcomed displays of Christmas spirit but would not allow anything that would endanger the life of the participants or possibly other Mall patrons.

            A very similar reaction was received in Cord’s home after his parents saw the news segment.  He had told his parents that there would be a flash mob scene that Saturday and provided all of the details except those involving suspending Melody over the Food Court.  His Mother was the most disappointed because she had supplied the angel costume but had assumed Melody would be standing on a chair or table and not risking her life in order to entertain a bunch of shoppers.

            Cord’s parents did not dole out any punishment to their children because they were proud of their initiative but they also made it clear that they too, like Mall management, would not support further daredevil escapades.  They recommended their children just stick to singing.

            On Sunday, Cord, Melody, and Leo all met at Flora’s house.  There was still a bit of a chilled atmosphere in Cord’s home regarding the previous day’s scene at the Mall.  It was clear that Cord was given most of the blame because he was older and should have known better than to endanger his Sister’s life; even if descending by the cable had been her idea.

            “I guess that’s that,” Leo started after they all gathered in Flora’s room.  She too was avoiding her parents because adults all seemed to agree on anything that concerned other parents.  It might not have been their daughter that had been suspended high in the air but she was part of it and accepted responsibility by association.

            “Yeah, no one’s going to let us perform in the Mall now,” Melody responded.

            “That’s not what they said,” Flora corrected.  “That person from Mall management said they welcome displays of Christmas spirit but they didn’t want anyone getting hurt doing it.”

            All four were silent for a moment.  There were still two Saturdays before Christmas and each had imagined a bigger and better flash mob experience in the upcoming weeks.

            “The Mall’s out,” Cord began after the silence started to annoy him.  “Even if we had a free hand to do what we wanted, everyone would be expecting something.  Saturdays at the Mall would be a crowded house with not only last minute Christmas shoppers but those waiting around to see what we might do next.”

            “So?  It’s not like our last show wasn’t extravagant enough,” Melody said.  She was quite content to end things the way they were.  She really couldn’t imagine anything to top it and she quite enjoyed being the star of that show.  It was a good note to go out on.

            Throughout the rest of that Saturday and still on Sunday, Melody had received numerous texts from her friends congratulating and complimenting her on her performance.  The videos posted online were being viewed thousands of times from not only people she knew but from everyone across the country.  The comments that were posted were more than complimentary and total strangers had posted about her talent and ingenuity.  It was great having the spotlight shining on her for a change.

            “That’s all well and good for you,” replied Flora, “but the rest of us still want to do something.”  It might be said of Flora that she was a little jealous of the attention being focused on Melody but she also wanted to please Cord because she wouldn’t mind a little more attention from him.

            Flora, Cord, and Theo had all grown up together.  They lived within a few blocks of each other and had gone up through primary school and now into high-school.  There had never been any sort of romantic relationship between any of the boys and Flora but it couldn’t be denied that there was an attraction there.  Leo liked Flora but he knew that Flora really liked Cord.  She never said anything to him about it and certainly didn’t show any outward signs of affection but it wouldn’t take much encouragement from Cord for her to show him how she felt.  Cord, himself, was confused.  He was Flora’s friend but at times he wanted there to be more but Flora never seemed to show that she wanted anything more.  So everyone stayed on friendly terms.  Being a teenager could be a confusing time.

            “Flora’s right,” Cord said, “we need to do something more.  We can’t quit now.”  Cord also wanted a little more attention; even if he wasn’t going to get it from Flora.

            “We don’t have much time left.  It’s only a couple of weeks now until Christmas,” piped up Leo.  “If we’re not in the Mall, no one’s going to see us.  Where else can we find such a large crowd in one place?”

            “And the Saturday before Christmas wouldn’t do either,” added Melody, “because that’s the day of the Parade.  Everyone will be in the streets watching that.”

            This time it was Flora who had an exciting idea.  “Why not the parade?” she asked.  “We could have a float or something.”

            “It wouldn’t be a flash mob if we were on a float,” corrected Leo.

            “It would, if we weren’t on the float,” said Cord.

            The other three looked at him in confusion.  Both Leo and Cord were right but at least Leo’s explanation was a little clearer.

            “What if there were a float but we weren’t on it?” Cord tried to explain.

            The blank stares from his sister and his friends suggested that Cord was still not making sense.

            “Look,” Cord began, in another attempt to clarify his thoughts, “if there was a float, it could act as a distraction to everyone watching the parade but then the flash mob appears and we surround the float and do our bit.”

            The others began to listen carefully as their faces beamed with understanding.  Leo jumped up from the floor, where he had been sitting, and chimed in with a thought of his own.

            “I have a great idea for maximum exposure, too,” he excitedly blurted.

            “Hold that thought,” Cord responded.  “Before we talk about what the flash mob is going to do, we need to sort out the float part.”

            “What about a band?” Flora asked.  “Maybe, we could use the school band.  Melody, you’re in the band, what do you think?”

            “There’s at least fifty in the concert band.  That’s too many for a float.  It would be good if they were a marching band but they’re not.”  Melody was a little disappointed because she could see herself up there with the band.  It would be more exposure for her.

            “I like the band idea,” Cord said.  If he had been looking directly at Flora he might have noticed her blush a little in reaction to Cord’s recognition.

            Leo had been silent for a little bit.  He had felt a little rebuked by Cord not letting him explain right away about his maximum exposure idea.  Now, he had another idea that he was sure Cord couldn’t ignore.

            “The Pick-Up Six.”  That’s all Leo said and then he was quiet again.

            “What?” Melody and Cord exclaimed in unison.

            “The Pick-Up Six,” Leo said again.  “You told me once about your Dad’s old band.  Didn’t you say he still plays the trumpet?”

            Cord and Melody looked at Leo with a look that suggested they thought he was either crazy or a genius.  It was a good idea.

            “That’s a good idea,” Cord said with approval.  “Maybe we better hear your maximum exposure idea now.”

            Leo started in on his brilliant idea regarding maximum exposure and that’s how the final scene of the flash mob Christmas experience began to be set.

            Everything came together rather easily despite initial stumbling blocks.  The first of these was of course The Pick-Up Six.  The band hadn’t performed together in over twenty years.  Cord’s Father had kept up with his old band mates and couple of them still lived in the area but the band was only part of the glorious past of Dad’s youth.  Never underestimate, however, the longings of the middle-aged man.

            Cord had explained to his Father about the new idea for the flash mob Christmas and how everything centered on the need for a band…a good band.  This downplayed the real truth that everything actually centered on the flash mob and the band was just going to be the distraction.  Naturally, Cord didn’t tell his Father the truth of things.

            It didn’t get Dad too long to get hooked on the idea.  He once, like Melody of late, had had a taste of the limelight and was slightly jealous of the attention his children and their friends had been receiving.  The idea of reuniting the band for this Christmas experience was very tempting and it wasn’t like he was out of practice.  There were those nights when he’d set off on a lonely solo in the garage on his trumpet.  In the end, it didn’t take much to convince Dad.

            The Pick-Up Six had consisted of five other guys besides Cord’s Father.  Two of the other members lived in the area and communicated with Dad, however infrequently, via emails.  The other members also kept in touch electronically.  They had been good friends in College and the band experience had cemented a lasting relationship despite being separated by years and miles.

            Dad reached out to the other members of The Pick-Up Six and tempted them with the reunion idea.  The two locals agreed immediately and it wasn’t hard to convince the two other band members to agree to come to town for a Christmas gig.  All of the band members were aware of the flash mob Christmas experience through news stories that had been picked up and broadcast across the country or through the online videos that had started to go viral.  They too dreamt of the notoriety that their participation might bring and an ego isn’t a hard thing to stroke when the person is willing.

            The one problem was Chet.  Chet had been the piano player with The Pick-Up Six.  He had studied engineering in College and now he was off in South America working on a new project.  The Pick-Up Six was now The Pick-Up Five.

            Mom came to the rescue again.  First, she had been the initial influence to Cord’s idea for the flash mob.  Then she came through with the triangles and the angel costume.  Dad didn’t have to look too far to find a replacement.  Mom had the talent and she had a piano.  The Pick-Up Six would play again with only a slight change in personnel.

            Dad found some Dixieland Band arrangements on the Internet for a dozen Christmas songs and the traditional arrangement for the special song the flash mob would perform.  All of these, he forwarded on to the other band members.  They wouldn’t have any time to run these down together so it was agreed they meet early the morning of the Parade so there’d be at least one rehearsal.  Mom and Dad practiced a few times before that day and it was interesting to hear the duet of piano and trumpet that echoed from Cord’s home on the occasional evening.  The reunion of The Pick-Up Six was coming together.

            Cord and his friends took care of the other details.

            First they needed to make sure that The Pick-Up Six would be able to perform in the band.  Flora took care of that.  She arranged for their last minute entry and filled out the entry form with all of the details.

            Melody came up with a trailer for the float.  Her new found fame made her very popular in her own right at the school and she arranged for a favor with one of her friends who were bussed.  The friend lived on a farm and arranged for her father to donate the use of his hay wagon for a platform for the band and his services as a driver in his own pick-up truck to pull the float.  The addition of the pick-up truck was very appropriate given the name of the band that would be using his donated equipment.

            Cord, Leo, and members of the Stage Crew came up with sound equipment and amplifiers to make sure everyone could hear The Pick-Up Six.  They also came up with some old time striped straw hats to give the band more of that Dixieland flavor.  The hats had been left over from a production of The Music Man and, like the sound equipment and amplifiers, were liberated from the stock room with permission.

            The handy Stage Crew members, who had helped make Melody float in the area, also became roadies for the band.  On the morning of the parade they helped set up the sound equipment and the band instruments on the wagon.  The wagon had showed up around noon at Cord’s home to begin the preparations for the Parade.  Loading the piano was no easy feat but there were plenty of volunteers with the Stage Crew and The Pick-Up Six and they managed to get the piano out of Cord’s house, across the porch, and onto the wagon that was backed up to the front of the house.  Further touches were added through donations of an artificial Christmas tree with decorations, a generator to run the sound equipment, and some make-shift banners placed along the back and sides of the wagon advertising The Pick-Up Six and wishes for a Merry Christmas.

            The assembly of the flash mob was the easy part.  Word was spread again throughout the group that had been at the last experience at the Mall and through texts and social media.  They were all informed about the song choice and details regarding time and particular location for the performance.

            The timing and the location had been Leo’s master stroke.  He had indeed considered the route of the Parade and the one place where they would receive maximum exposure.

            Every year, the local television station taped and broadcast the Parade, from a temporary platform erected near City Hall.  This was near the end of the Parade route but the area swelled with on-lookers as many Parade goers hoped to be able to have themselves seen on television by friends and family.  The area was usually overcrowded by hundreds of parents and children and the temporary bleachers that were erected in that location were always full.

            Leo knew that a flash mob experience at this precise location would get a maximum viewing by the hundreds not only in the crowd but the thousands more who would see the Parade on television.  It was sure to be better than anything the Mall could offer up.

            The local television station had already done two news stories of the flash mob and conveniently sent a news crew to the Mall on the Saturday before the Parade.  Unfortunately there was no news story there because the flash mob had skipped the Mall as all preparations were being made for the ultimate performance during the Parade.     There had also been a good sized crowd at the Mall that day who had anticipated another flash mob but when nothing happened, the crowd continued with their shopping and left the Mall a little disappointed.  By the day of the Parade, most people in the City had given up on there ever being another flash mob Christmas experience.

            The day of the Parade was cold and gray.  By noon, a light snowfall had begun.  By the start of the parade at two o’clock, the ground had a nice white covering that added to everyone’s enjoyment of the Parade.

            There were numerous floats from different merchants, Churches, Schools, charitable groups, and Insurance companies.  There always seemed to be more representation from Insurance companies than any other establishment.  These always wished everyone a festive yuletide season but also wanted everyone to know they were there with full coverage option for everyone’s insurance needs.

            Spaced between all of the floats were the requisite number of marching bands, baton twirlers, horses, dogs, and clowns.  Candies were thrown to every direction from the floats and the walkers.  Other volunteers waved and marched as they carried shovels or pails to clean up after all of the animal acts.

            The Pick-Up Six was near the end of the parade about eight floats ahead of Santa Claus.  They were the last of the musical floats because the Parade organizers wanted to ensure that the strains of any loud music had died out before Santa came into view.  Nothing was to upstage Santa or drown out his cries of “Ho, Ho, Ho,” or “Merry Christmas.”

            There had been one added touch added to The Pick-Up Six float.  Hay bales had been added and some of the flash mob had been invited to ride on the float and make it look like a little audience for the Dixieland band.  Flora and Melody were among the dozen or so students who waved merrily from the float and pretended like nothing else was going to happen.

            The Pick-Up Six performed fairly well for a band that had only been recently reunited.  The sound coming from the amplifiers was loud and clear and there were only a few clinkers on the songs that had been quickly rehearsed.  Throughout the Parade the band had exhausted their dozen Christmas arrangements and began to repeat the songs for those watching during the latter half of the route.

            When the float bearing The Pick-Up Six reached the point where the television cameras were focused on them, Dad leaned into his microphone and announced a new song selection.

            “Now, we’d like to play for you, something we know you’re going to enjoy, ‘We Need A Little Christmas’.”

            The selection of this song had been a joint effort between Cord and his Father.  Cord wanted a song that was upbeat and that would add to the flash mob Christmas experience.  Dad wanted to make sure it was something The Pick-Up Six could perform.  The song also had a short instrumental introduction before the verse began.

            When the musical introduction began, the pick-up truck pulling the float came to a stop and Flora, Melody, and some others on the float went into action.  Strings were pulled above the make-shift banners that had advertised The Pick-Up Six, and new banners unfurled to reveal a new message.  From both sides and the rear, large print now bore the words FLASH MOB CHRISTMAS.

            When the banners straightened out and the words could be read, a loud cheer went up from the crowd gathered in the streets and in the bleachers.  A swarm of people, the flash mob members, came out of everywhere and surrounded the float.  The singing began on cue as the musical introduction concluded.

            The flash mob membership had grown.  Where there had been more than thirty triangle playing teenagers during the last Mall experience, there were now more than one hundred.

            The Pick-Up Six played like they had never played before.  They knew that most of the cheering and applause was for the flash mob but they were caught up in it all.

            The cheering and the applause could not drown out the voices of the flash mob or the music of The Pick-Up Six.  It was the most fantastic Christmas experience anyone had ever experienced.  Poor Santa, waiting eight floats back, would pale by comparison.  Santa would have to settle for the faces of the little children; which for any Santa, should have been enough.

            The song and the flash mob experience seemed to go on forever despite it really being only a few minutes in length.  After the song was over, the applause and the cheers was so loud that people who were further behind or ahead on the Parade route were wondering what it was they had missed or what was in  store for them when the Parade moved on to their location.

            The volunteer driver of the pick-up truck pulling the float waited patiently until the song ended, the cheering and applause subsided, and the members of the flash mob, who were not already on the float, disappeared into the crowds of people along the street.  He then put the truck in gear and slowly began to pull the float forward.

            After the flash mob had dispersed, some of the members of the mob still on the float from before, began to jump down and follow their friends.  Flora had been one of these and she prepared to get off the float just as the volunteer driver started up again and the float started forwarded with a jerk.

            Flora lost her footing and awkwardly tumbled off the back of the float and fell to the pavement below.  She had tried to balance herself but she hit the ground hard and her head struck against the snow covered street, rendering her unconscious.

            The aftermath of the flash mob appearance during the parade was hectic.  The initial excitement of the musical experience quickly turned to shock and concern upon Flora’s accident.

            Melody was the first at Flora’s side.  Melody had just descended from the wagon prior to Flora’s tumble and had turned in time to see the girl strike hard against the pavement.  She was to have joined Flora in following the other flash mob members who had just left the scene where they would meet up at an appointed location.

            Mom was next to respond when she heard cries from her daughter and other onlookers.    Mom, being a teacher, had training in first-aid and knew just what to do.  She had yelled for the volunteer driver in the pick-up truck to stop and then jumped down to administer to Flora.  Blankets that had been covering some of the hay bales were handed down and were laid over the girl and around her.  Mom knew that with a head injury, Flora should not be moved until an ambulance arrived.

            Melody called 911 and let them know about the accident.  Dad, sensing a changing mood in the crowd, urged the other members of The Pick-Up Six to play on and try to keep the crowd calm.

            Within thirty minutes of Flora’s accident, the scene was cleared, the girl transported to the hospital, and the Parade continued on.  Mom and Melody rode in the ambulance with Flora.

            The Pick-Up Six minus one continued on with the remainder of the Parade.  Those watching the Parade behind and forward on the route wondered about the delay but rumors had carried along the route that someone had been injured.  Nonetheless, Santa made his appearance and the children rejoiced; most unaware of the accident that followed the flash mob Christmas experience.

            Meanwhile, Cord, Leo, and most of the other flash mob were also unaware that Flora had been injured.  The arrangement was that they were to quickly leave the scene and meet up at Pizza Pizzazz; one of the few pizza establishments in the city that wasn’t named after some mysterious male owner.

            Pizza Pizzazz wasn’t very far from the scene of the Parade flash mob and most were there in no time.  Cord and Leo were so excited about their recent experience that neither paid much attention to the fact that neither Melody nor Flora was among the crowd at the pizza parlor.  When Cord finally clued in to the absence of his sister and his friend, his phone rang with an explanation.  It was Melody calling from the Hospital and detailing what happened.

            Cord had to tell Leo and the others about Flora’s accident.  They all agreed that a celebration at Pizza Pizzazz would be inappropriate given the circumstances and most joined Cord and Leo as they left to attend with the others at the Hospital.

            Flora’s parents had been watching the Parade on television.  Their daughter had hinted that something would happen during the Parade and that they should watch.  Like the Parade goers, they were quite surprised by the flash mob performance.  They also watched in horror as they saw someone fall from the back of the float.  They could not tell from the broadcast who had fallen nor could they see what had happened at the rear of the float as a crowd surged around the fallen girl.  It wasn’t until Cord and Melody’s Mother called them en route to the Hospital that they learned that the injured girl was their daughter.

            The scene at the hospital was chaotic.  The waiting room overflowed with many members of the flash mob including Cord, Leo, and Melody.  Mom was there as well and spoke briefly to Flora’s parents when they arrived and before they were whisked off by a nurse to be with their daughter.  Dad had not yet arrived as he had to finish the Parade route and meet up with the Stage Crew members who had arranged to help unload the wagon and return the piano to its rightful place in the dining room of Cord’s home.  The other members of The Pick-Up Six left with little word but asked to be kept informed about Flora.  Dad then piled into his car with the members of the Stage Crew and then sped off to the hospital to be with the rest of his family and the large crowd already in attendance.

            Eventually, after waiting a couple of hours, the group at the hospital thinned out with encouragement from hospital staff and the news that Flora would be alright.  She had awoken within an hour of arriving at the hospital.  She had a large goose-egg on her right temple and one doozy of a headache.  The attending Doctor was concerned about a possible concussion and she was kept for two days for observation.  Her parents took turns remaining at her side and a few visitors were allowed to see her during her stay in the hospital.  She was released the day before Christmas with orders to rest.

            Leo and Melody both visited with Flora a couple of times in the Hospital.  Cord did not.  Although he had initially attended at the Hospital immediately following her accident, he could not bring himself to see her lying in a bed there.  He blamed himself for what happened to her.  The flash mob Christmas experience had started with him and it had gone too far.  It was fine when it was just the four of them standing and singing at the Mall but then he had pushed for a bigger experience.  He had put his Sister at risk during the second performance and hadn’t accepted responsibility for it and now Flora had been hurt.  It was now coming to bear that he was responsible for all of this.

            Cord had slipped out of the Hospital early with some of the other flash mob members.  He didn’t talk to anyone.  He did not return any of their texts.

            Melody and Leo tried to talk to Cord over those two days while Flora remained in the hospital.  There was no consoling him.  Even Mom and Dad could find nothing to say to raise his spirits.

            Of course, no one blamed Cord for what happened.  It was an unforeseen accident and even the performance of the flash mob during the Parade received great reviews.  The videos online and postings all over the Internet spoke about the performance and applauded the flash mob for their ingenuity.  Cord, however, could not accept any credit for this.  He was so consumed by what had happened to Flora.

            There had been great television coverage of the Parade but the lead story that night had been Flora’s accident.  There had been an update later in the news that Flora was fine and resting comfortably at the Hospital.  There had also been a brief segment devoted to the flash mob performance and the reporter also praised this holiday happening.

            Cord kept to himself.  He wasn’t sure what to do.  He knew that Flora had been hurt but he also realized that not seeing her was also hurting her.  Some of the messages of his family had started to get through to him.

            Late in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, he convinced himself to go see Flora at her house.  It was one of the few times he left his room over the past few days.

            While Cord had been brooding in isolation, however, other events had been transpiring. Mom and Dad were concerned about Cord and knew something needed to be done.  So they set into play something to help their son.

            By the time Cord had set his mind to finally going to see Flora at her house on Christmas Eve, everything was ready.

            “Where are you going, son?” Dad questioned Cord when he emerged from his room with his coat in his hand.

            “I’m going to go see Flora,” Cord responded.  “I’ve given it a lot of thought and it’s what I have to do.  I just hope I know what to say to her.”

            “Look Cord, stop kicking yourself.  We’ve all told you that this wasn’t your fault.  You started to do a good thing and you have.  You brought a great Christmas experience to many people.”

            “Yeah, but Flora got hurt!” Cord snapped.

            “Yes, and Flora got hurt,” Dad repeated back softly to him.  “No one blames you for that.  Even Flora has said she doesn’t blame you.  You’re the only one pointing the finger at yourself.”

            Cord put his head down.  His Dad was right but it didn’t make him feel better about anything.  These past two days, he’d thought long and hard and his feelings for Flora were foremost in his mind.  How would she feel now after all of this?  He felt responsible for her injury and he had made it worse by not going to see her before this.

            “Look, I’ll give you a ride over to Flora’s,” Dad said.

            “No, Dad, I’d rather walk,” Cord replied.

            “It’s starting to snow out there,” Dad observed.  “Besides, I need you to give me a hand with something.  I have to pick up a last minute Christmas present at the Mall and I’ll need your help.”

            Cord had forgotten about Christmas.  Despite setting out to bring a great Christmas experience to everyone else, he wasn’t much in the mood for Christmas himself.

            “It won’t take long,” Dad quickly added.  He knew he was starting to lose his son’s attention.  “And, I really need you on this one.”

            “Okay,” Cord reluctantly agreed.

            Cord and Dad climbed into the car with no words passing between them.  Cord was still trying to figure out what he was going to say to Flora.

            When they approached the Mall, Cord could see that the parking lot was jammed with cars.  Everyone had obviously gone back to their commercialism and was doing their last minute Christmas shopping.  Maybe the flash mob Christmas experience hadn’t accomplished anything, Cord thought.

            As Dad turned the car into the parking lot, Cord spotted a huge crowd gathered in one location.  Dad was steering the car in that direction.

            “What’s going on?” Cord asked.

            “I don’t know, Dad replied innocently.  “Let’s go check it out.”

            Saying that he didn’t know what was happening was a huge understatement for Dad; if not an outright lie.  Dad, with Mom and Melody’s help had arranged all of this.  Concerned with Cord’s state of mind, the three had devised their own Christmas experience.

            Mom had contacted Flora’s parents and made the initial plans.  They were a key part of what was planned.

            Melody had spread the word through Leo and insisted everything be kept from Cord.  They needn’t have worried about Cord finding out because he hadn’t been talking to anyone.  He had even pocketed his cell phone and stopped checking his texts.

            Dad had reached out to the television station and had arranged for a special message to go out over the noon news the day before Christmas.  A reporter was even dispatched to the Mall that afternoon to cover the event.

            All of this had happened in the days and hours before Dad and Cord arrived at the Mall.  By the time of their arrival, there were hundreds in attendance.

            As Dad and Cord approached the gathered crowd, the assembled people parted to allow the Father and Son to enter further in.

            When the throng parted in two, Cord spotted his Mother and Melody beside the wagon that had been used in the Parade.  There were no hay bales but it had been decked out with a Christmas tree again and numerous decorations.  Seated on the edge of the wagon was Flora.  She smiled at seeing Cord and tears formed on her cheeks.

            Suddenly there was music.  At first, it began with a clarinet and trombone.  It was the two other local members of The Pick-Up Six.  A flute and trumpet soon chimed in as Dad and Melody retrieved their instruments that had lay upon the wagon where they had been stashed ahead of time.  Singing also followed as the entire mob began to sing ‘Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas’.  It was another flash mob Christmas experience.

            Flora was lowered from the wagon and she embraced Cord as he approached.  Neither of them needed to say a word to each other.  Everything was explained in the embrace.

            The singing continued and more songs were sung.  Leo retrieved two guitars from hiding and handed Cord’s to him.  Both began on ‘We Wish You A Merry Christmas’.  This was how it all started.

            The news coverage of the event carried an abbreviated version of this Christmas experience.

            “And if you think this is all a little too thick in sentiment,” the reporter started to sum up, “or syrupy or corny then you’d be right.  But isn’t that what a good Christmas Special is supposed to be all about?  And this has been one special Christmas,” the reporter concluded.

            Indeed, it was thick, and syrupy and corny and everything the reporter said it was.  It was also the best Christmas experience anyone gathered had ever had.

            And that’s how it started and ended with a boy named Cord.

 

 


ZOEY, FRANK, JUNE & ALL THAT JAZZ

Thursday, November 21st, 2013

      Okay, only 12 days since the last blahg.  That must be some kind of Scott Henderson still thinks he's cool!record.  I’m going to provide a little update here on my cats and then branch out into something different.  That’s the short intro to this blahg but let’s hope it’s a little longer on content.

      I mentioned in my last blahg that our previous kitten, Willow, died on Father’s Day. We had learned that she had feline infectious peritonitis which was the same disease that killed our other kitten, Stella.  The veterinarian told us we did nothing wrong and that the odds were astronomical that two kittens from two different cities brought into the same house would die of the same disease.  That didn’t make us feel better and we were at the point where we swore off getting another kitten and settled down to enjoying our adult cats Frank and June. 

     Let me jump ahead to Labour Day weekend.  We had some guests coming over for the end of summer dinner and we were serving roast beef and trimmings.  I wanted to also serve corn on the cob and so I went looking for a nearby store or roadside vendor.  After a couple of stops, I realized it was the end of the summer and the corn was in short supply.  I finally remembered a vegetable market outside of Deseronto, Ontario, not far from where we live in Demorestville.  They were open on the Sunday and they advertised corn!  They also advertised free abandoned kittens! 

     I knew I should have purchased the corn and not inquired about the kittens but curiosity had gotten the best of me.  I asked about the kittens and the young woman in the market explained the kittens had been abandoned at the market and they were free to any takers.  Yes, they were abandoned and free.  The sign didn’t lie.  I think the young woman thought I was odd because she didn’t go into any other details.  In her mind, the sign spoke for itself.  She went outside and gathered up two kittens and brought them into the store.  The first, an all black kitten, freed itself from her grasp and took off running.  It wanted to remain free.  That kitten’s understanding of the “free” on the sign was about liberty to roam.  I didn’t challenge the kitten’s interpretation and turned my attention to the grey and white tabby that remained. 

     Luckily, the kitten that remained in the young woman’s arms was very gentle and a female to boot. 

Zoey

Frank’s the only male cat in this house and we wanted to keep it that way.  I was interested in taking the kitten home but hesitant because we had not fared well with the last two kittens.  Also, I thought I should talk it over with my wife Jeanette and our 14 year old daughter Abbie who was still at home.  Abbie took the death of Willow very had and I didn’t want to set her up for more grief.  So, I took the corn home and we had a great dinner with our friends and I informed Jeanette and Abbie about the kitten. 

     We talked over the option of the new kitten the next day and none of us were sure we wanted to make the commitment.  In the end, we decided to drive out and see the kitten and then make our decision.  We found the kitten lying outside under one of the vegetable stands.  At first, I thought it was dead.  It was so still.  I was afraid to let Abbie get any closer.  I gently nudged the kitten and she awoke and stretched.  I picked her up and passed her between Jeanette and Abbie.  Neither of them were sure what to do.  Abbie was in tears.  The memory of Stella and Willow made her very hesitant about thinking about taking on a new kitten.  I made the decision and said we should take her home because we had lots of room and lots of love to give.  I know now, that was the right decision. 

     Abbie eventually called her Zoey.  We had a little bit of a scare after she was with us for two weeks because she got sick and became very lethargic.  She was running a fever when we took her to the vet but some antibiotics brought her back to full health.  Now she is very active and has two speeds:  Asleep & Very Fast.  Below, is a short video taken a couple days after Zoey came into our home.  She settled in right away and did not make strange.  You can see her in the video, playing nicely with Abbie. 

    

Frank lounges on his new cat couch.

     I have mentioned our only male cat, Frank, before.  He was our Christmas cat that showed up about 5 years ago.  He’s an indoor/outdoor cat but lately he’d become more indoors.  We estimate that he is around 8 years old and we get his shots annually.  This year, we didn’t get his shots and two weeks ago we noticed he wasn’t eating properly and his mouth appeared to be sore.  He was eating on one side with some difficulty.  I took him to the vet thinking it was probably just some bad teeth because we had gone through that with June a couple years ago.  Unfortunately, what I learned from the vet was a far sight worse than a few bad teeth.  Frank had lost a lot of weight since his check up last year. 

     I agreed to have some blood work done up on Frank and I learned later that day that both his white blood cell and red blood cell counts were very low.  They were going to let me know the next morning what it might possibly be.  None of the possibilities were good and I was expecting the worst.  The next morning the call came from the vet that it wasn’t a number of things which I won’t go into here but they wanted another blood sample so they could test for feline leukemia.  I had been told that the leukemia and feline aids were possibilities as well as the presence of a blood parasite.  I was promised the results by noon of that day.  I asked plainly what Frank’s chances were if it was leukemia and I was told he would probably live no longer than a month.  I was devastated.  Meanwhile, I had updated Jeanette and Abbie about all of this and Abbie was an emotional wreck.  She went to school that morning not knowing if Frank had leukemia or not. 

     The call came around noon as promised and I was relieved to hear it was not leukemia.  Unfortunately, I was told Frank tested positive for the feline aids and negative for the blood parasite.  I was also told that this might be a false positive and the blood parasite presence might be more likely.  The vet was going to send Frank’s blood sample off to be tested for the blood parasite but it would be three days before we knew the result.  In the meantime, we began an antibiotic and steroid treatment for the blood parasite because this is the treatment for it.  Two days later, relieving us of having to wait another day, we found out that Frank did indeed have the blood parasite.  As I said, this is treatable and we give Frank pills twice daily and squirt a liquid antibiotic into his mouth also twice daily.  He’s perked right up but if anyone ever tells you it’s easy to give cat’s medicine then they’ve never done it before.  The prognosis for Frank is good and we’ll give off with a sigh of relief and a few prayers.

June looking serene.

     June is fine.  She plays with Zoey and ignores Frank.  She likes to eat and she loves to sit on my lap even if I say no.  I think that’s all I need to say about June. 

     And now for something completely different…JAZZ!  I think I might have mentioned here before that I’m a fan of jazz.  To be more precise, I like Dixieland and Frisco Jazz.  If I haven’t spoken about Bob Scobey and his Frisco Jazz Band before then let me say, I’m going to dedicate a whole blahg to Bob Scobey and Clancy Hayes in the near future.  And I’ve already dedicated part blahgs to Margaret Ann & The Ja-da Quartet.  I love vinyl records as well and when I find an unknown treasure then I have to let others know.  This happened to me recently. 

     As I said, I love vinyl records and jazz.  Last week my love of the two was combined in a new discovery.  At a local thrift store, I came across a record by The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band.  I had never heard of this group before and if you research them on the Internet you probably won’t find much.  It appears that this self-titled record is the only one they made.  What a pity!  All I can find out about them is what is written on the back cover of the record.  Click on the image below to read more about them. 

     So, what do we know about The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band?  They were formed in 1967 in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan here in Canada.  In fact, they were formed for Canada’s Centennial in 1967.  I didn’t know that Saskatoon was nick-named Bridge City.  After that, we don’t know more than what we read on the back cover.  The only other thing I do know is they play good Dixieland.  Here’s a couple of samples: 

 

The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band – INDIANA
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG


 

The Bridge City Dixieland Jazz Band – DOWN BY THE RIVERSIDE
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

     It’s a shame that this album will never be released on CD so that the world can hear it.  If you can’t find the LP then you’ll never know how great this band is.  That’s why I’ve decided to post the whole record here as a download.  I transferred all of the tracks to my computer and created MP3 versions.  The file is zipped so you’ll have to have a program to unzip it.  The file also contains the back and front cover art.  Here’s the link: 

http://www.mediafire.com/download/vo67ll71mbi5bxi/Bridge_City_Dixieland_Jazz_Band.rar

     Now, speaking of other jazz albums.  Not that long ago I also picked up another jazz record at another thrift store.  This time it was an LP called “Radio” by Borgy’s Banjo Reunion.  Again, another Canadian band but this time out of Toronto.  You can click on the front and back cover images to see more.  They did put out a couple more records, which I don’t have, entitled “There’s Been Some Changes Made” & “Banjo Favorites By Borgy Borgerson.”  If I ever track those down then I’ll post some samples here.  Below are a couple of tracks from the LP “Radio”: 

 

Borgy’s Banjo Reunion. – ALABAMA JUBILEE
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG


 

Borgy’s Banjo Reunion. – WOOJA BOOJEE WOOJA
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

     Again, I want to share this great music with the world and am offering up the whole record through the following download link: 

http://www.mediafire.com/download/jrs1cp4lm8u3sez/Borgy’s%20Banjo%20Reunion%20-%20Radio.rar

If I ever find the other two LPs I’ll offer them up as well. 

     One last jazz sample comes from something that I don’t have in my collection.  I went looking for obscure jazz bands and came across a reference to the Salt City Six.  What I learned about them is that they were originally the Salt City Five and hailed from Syracuse, New York.  I didn’t know that Syracuse had old Salt mines that gave the city the nickname Salt City.  You learn something new every day. 

     The Salt City Five/Six put out a few albums and did some extensive touring throughout the 1950s and 1960s.  I wish I owned some of their records but I have discovered the next best thing.  There is a website devoted to this great band and under the “music” section you can download all of their records and some rare radio material and live concerts.  You can find it all at:  http://www.saltcity56.com/.  This is a band that I’m enjoying very much and I hope to find their LPs.  Give a listen to a couple of their tracks below.  The first is “It’s a Long Way From Tipperary” from the LP “The Salt City Six – Plays Dixieland from Memphis to Tipperary” 

 

THE SALT CITY SIX. – IT’S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

Next up is “Fidgety Feet” from the Salt City Five LP “Salt City Five” on the Jubilee label. 

 

THE SALT CITY FIVE. – FIDGETY FEET
THE FALSEDUCKS BLAHG

     I’ll close on that note…that musical note that is.

 

I AM STILL HERE

Saturday, November 9th, 2013

      Alright, it’s November 8th and there hasn’t been a new blahg here since June Scott Henderson still thinks he's cool!8th.  That’s a long five months. Today is not going to be a new full blahg.  I just wanted to let you know I am still here.  You might have gotten a virus notification about this website but I’ve fixed that and I’ll thank those of you who ignored the warning and continued on to read this blahg.  All warnings will eventually disappear.

     Some bad things have happened over the past few months.  Our kitten, Willow, died on Father’s Day.  Technically she had a stroke and we had to have her put down.  It was a bad weekend because we had learned on the Friday that she had the same disease that killed our last kitten, Stella. 

Little Willow (aka Super Faster Hair)

     We were told the odds of that happening to two kittens in the same house within a one year period were astronomical.  Still didn’t make us feel better about it.  We were all devastated.  Instead of showing a more recent picture of Willow, the one on the left was taken by the staff at the Peterborough Humane Society before we adopted her.  They graciously emailed me the photo.  We have a new kitten but I won’t talk about her yet. 

Roni Summer Wickens

     The other sad news was that my friend and colleague Roni Summers Wickens passed away earlier this summer.  She fought a brave fight with cancer but sadly lost the battle.  I used to be her boss and then she was my boss.  Long story, but throughout it, no matter who was the boss, we were friends.  We lost sight of that over the last few years but I did get to see her last year when she was in better health and there was still some camaraderie between us.  The photo here is not one of my own but it reminds me well of Roni in better times.  She is missed. 

     That’s all I will post here for today.  Sad news upon sad news is bad enough.  I will close this short blahg with a song from Jimmy Durante.  He really is a great singer of ballads and I really like this song from the movie, “Lili”.  He did not sing the song in the movie but it’s a very moving version.  Very emotional but the essence is that after all, you are still here.  I am still here.

MORE POETRY FROM THE MIND OF SCOTT HENDERSON

Saturday, June 8th, 2013

     Yesterday, June 6th, marked one month since my last blahgScott Henderson still thinks he's cool!.  Frankly, I’ve been struggling to think what I should write about.  Many things have been happening in my life and in the world but they just weren’t blahg worthy.  Sure, I’ve been angry about many things and in the past I’ve written here about the things that make me angry.  I don’t want this blahg to be like that.  I don’t want people to think I’m unhappy all of the time.  I’m not.  Well, maybe I am a lot more lately but I’m trying to get past that. 

     One of my favorite blahgs this year was IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU’RE TOO CLOSE.  You can check it out here:  http://falseducks.com/theblahg/?p=121.  In that blahg I shared some of my poetry and even managed to write something new.  I’ve been think a great deal about my poetry lately and how proud I used to be of the poems I wrote.  I even spent a five year period between 1987 and 1992 sending out submissions and trying to get published.  I was only successful a couple of times.  Nonetheless, I thought I would share some of my favorite poems here and go one better by posting videos of me reading those poems. 

     The following poem was not one of the poems that I had published.  It is one of my favorites however because it talks about this limit between youth and manhood and what separates us from the stupid things we did as boys compared to the stupid things we do as men.  It’s called “Drivin’ over the limit” and was written July 13, 1986:

                 Drivin’ over the limit

hangin’ onto girls
we knew years ago,
Steve and I take this dark drive home
from Kingston
and admit to each other
that no boy’s different
from the the man he’s gonna be and
that we all rush toward those guys of us
who’ll have it all
and’ll have who they want
from the whole crop and
yet gettin’ to those guys
means wasting yer youth
on moments that yer maturity
will kick you for passing by.

and those girls of our yesteryears
was ones we wracked our loins over
cause sex was what
the opposite sex was all about
and if you wasn’t tuned in
to the guy the other guys
said you was to be
then you gave up too easily
on the girls that you wanted, and
on the girls the other guys
said any red-blooded devil wanted,
and compromised yer self
by wanting girls
that was beyond yer limit

but now drivin’ home
we toss across names of girls,
who though women now,
will always be girls by names,
and confess those death secrets
that we expected to keep for life
and yet seem so unimportant now
when stacked against the women
whose girlish lives
we never knew as boys
but came to need as men
whose boyhoods become
a painful means to
getting us over out limit
so we might get home
that much quicker to our wives.

 

      This next poem was also written in 1986, on April 27th.  I’ve always had a fascination with Superman and what it would be like to be him.  I guess this answers those questions:

               if you’d be a superman

He works long hours
and he don’t ever get paid
or remuneration or thanks sometimes
but that’s all part of his job
being a protector of the good

If you wanta be Superman
you gots to be more than human
not necessarily superhuman
but better than most folks
who are always trying to do good
and put you out of a job

In the center of that man’s faith
is himself
and he’s pretty sure
they’ll all worship him always
for being a hero and not a villain
because Superman is where it’s at

Yeah Superman’s this guy
who flies you know
but when he walks
he walks among us
and is one of us
like he wants to be
and drinks a little
and he tells dirty stories
but he’s perfect on duty

Superman’s got no hang-ups
maybe hang-outs maybe
like getting in free at the drive-in
but then who’d really ask him to own up?

If you’d be a Superman
you’d be just a guy in tights
because you gotta hate the job
like it was the only thing evil
and you couldn’t defeat it

If you’d live a Superman
you’d be out of work
because there’s only room for one
and we’d all be Supermans if we could

Yeah Superman’s’ this guy
who flies you know
because they draw him that way
and he can’t object
like you would
if you’d be a Superman

Yeah Superman’s this guy
who fights crime and evil
and is always looking to be put out of business
but not everyone wants to be a Superman
and he cries at night
when he’s flying
but you think it’s rain
and he’s still up there
and he wonders what it would be like
if Superman’d be a you

 

      Now for some of my published poetry.  The next two poems were published in the April/May 1988 issue of the North York Arts Council Arts News.  Other than a University newspaper at Trent, these were the first two poems I had published.

                 A love poem:  and I probably am

it’s silly,
I know, but…
Ya know
I don’t know
how I got this way–
–extended into
yer hemisphere;
blockin’ out the light–
–but…aha!
yer hemisphere
YER hemisphere

yer HEMISPHERE

left and right
frontal lobe,
cerebral cortex,

and the time
I thought the stuff
was in my heart.

well I’ll be Damned!!!

 

     This is the second poem I had published in the April/May 1988 issue of the North York Arts Council Arts News.  It was originally titled “The Wooden Train” but they erred and printed the title as “The Wooden Trail”.  Frankly, I like their title better.

                 THE WOODEN TRAIL

Run into an old buddy tonight–
–same name
not the same person–
remember him when he was boy;
when we was all boys.
Lots of rumbling stomachs
mumbling talk
passed between us ago
but no call for this dark
half day.

Learned more thing
since him
but couldn’t find any–
–not anything that you can say–
and so we just moved;
too scared to stand still
and catch up on ourselves.
He’s been working six years
same place
but I’ve been working
on me for my whole life
and I’m still without a job.
Invited me over
but I opted for onward
and lost him somewheres.
All reunions–
–mine–
should be short like that–
–like my memory–
or I’ll start asking
what we’re here for
and be scared by
an answer…

     

     The next time I would be published would be in December of 1988. It was in the old Poetry Toronto magazine.  I had submitted to them before but they rejected my work and told me to study Canadian Poetry from the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s and not just the modern poetry of the 1980s.  I wrote back and told them I was a Poetry scholar and had read, studied, and collected poetry of Canadians Poets of all of those decades.  This time they chose to publish 4 of my poems.  There was no note from them but the magazine showed up one day with a letter saying that this would be the last published edition of Poetry Toronto.  No thank you for my submissions.  I guess they blamed me for putting the magazine out of business.

                         DA MUSTARDMOON

dis moment,
separated from my wife
by job and mile

dis moment
barely
one month after we’ve married

I’d like to find
comfort
in her navel
risin’
slowly in her sleep
and know dat
does tiny fluctuations
is her guilt
fer lyin’ on my side of da bed

    

     Here’s the second poem from that Poetry Toronto magazine.  A little embarrassing perhaps to my wife and I but I’ll print it here regardless.

DA HONEYMOON

i’ve discovered
i’m no bluebird
’cause i wedded
and flew away to Manitoulin
where we made love
four times

but no
she corrects me
and says it was only twice

but yes
i contradict
and point out da four orgasms

but no

but yes

but no

but wait…she’s right
and fer the first time
i have to admit that to her

which after da first time
i discover is
a mistake to do so

 

      Here’s poem # 3 from that Poetry Toronto magazine. I was working midnights at a Texaco and it was taking a long time for them to get another employee to work those hours so I worked a long time without a night off and it inspired this poem.

                         A SHORT COLD POEM

the british tabloids
carry banner lines
THE QUEEN-MOTHER
ADMITTED TO HOSPITAL
and all the
commonwealth nations
draw in breaths

but a week later
surprise
JUST A COLD
DOCTORS SAY
and the air
is let back out

meanwhile
it’s whispered
in canada
“henderson’s sick.
I hope he won’t ask
for time off.
We’re already
short staffed.”

but I work anyhow
eight nights in a row
waitin’ fer
the trainee
to screw up
enough courage
to work alone
or to re-assure
himself
“henderson’s not
contagious.”

 

     Here’s the final poem of the 4 published in that Poetry Toronto magazine. It was a poem that described a conversation I was having with my wife over what to do one night when we were really bored and there was nothing but reruns on Television.  Alas, Kmart is now gone.  So’s Zellers for that matter.  Hmmmm, maybe this is the poem that put Poetry Toronto and Kmart out of business in Canada. 

 

                         DRY

it’s 8 pm
rerun
mass masses boredom

let’s jump inta da car
and drive somewhere dark and secluded
hop into da back seat

no response

but pressed she says…

nevermind

it’s 8:15
let’s jaunt to da beach
half-hour and skinny-dip

what beach?

nevermind

8:30 waltz around da Kmart

okay

OKAY?
MASS MASSES BOREDOM
LET’S ALL GO WALTZ AROUND DA KMART

at 8:45 I grab da key
boot to da water
and hope dere’s a drownin’

 

     I hope you enjoyed these poems and this blahg.  It’s too bad the poet now needs glasses to read his own work.  By the way, the Poet is available for recitals, parties, Bar Mitzvahs, funerals, shut-ins, or wherever there’s a captive audience that can’t shut off the computer or close the YouTube video.

THE PUBLIC & PRIVATE LIFE OF DEANNA DURBIN

Monday, May 6th, 2013

      The first thing you are going to notice is that the photo to the right is not a picture of me. BEAUTIFUL DEANNA DURBINIndeed, it is not me but rather a nice colour photo of the late actress Deanna Durbin.  She is the topic of this blahg.  I have been a fan of hers for many years and with her recent passing, I thought maybe I would speak of her here and share some of the things that I think are so special about Deanna Durbin.

     Just last Thursday, May 2nd, I learned that Deanna Durbin had died.  In fact, my friend Bryan and I had been speaking about her earlier in the day.  We were discussing the films of Gene Kelly, of “An American In Paris” and “Singing In The Rain” and other great films, when our discussion turned to the film he made with Deanna Durbin, “Christmas Holiday”.  I’ll speak more about that film in a bit.  Later in the day, Bryan and I were in line at one of the McDonald’s in Belleville when we noticed that the television that was available for patrons scrolled across a quick line at the bottom of the screen that Deanna Durbin had died at the age of 91.  Both of us were shocked.  We had just been speaking about her and now we learn she had passed away.

     The internet is a good source for news when you live in a rural area like mine.  I get 4 our 5 channels by antenna and there is no 24 hour news channel among them.  So, I searched online news sources for details about Deanna’s death.  I was quite surprised to learn that, according to some sources, she had actually died around April 20th but we were just learning about this now.  She had always valued her privacy and her family honored those wishes even unto her death.  Still, twelve days after her passing, we learn of her death?  There’s no mystery involved here and if you read on in this blahg, you will learn why this should not come as a surprise. 

     One of the affinities I have with Deanna is that she was actually born in Winnipeg, Manitoba here in Canada.  That doesn’t mean we lay any claim to her but we all know some of the great actors and actresses in Hollywood were born in Canada.  America’s early silent screen sweetheart Mary Pickford was born in Toronto.  I won’t mention all the others but that bond of being born in Canada ties us all together.  I also won’t go into details about Deanna’s life.  There are numerous online sources that will fill in those details and some are correct and some are not.  Deanna liked her privacy and the stories about her were hard to verify.  Now that she’s gone we only have those stories to go by.  I don’t think she left notes for an unfinished autobiography and any unauthorized biography that might be published would probably be full of inaccuracies. 

     Deanna grew up on the screen.  That’s how I remember her.  TV Ontario’s iconic Saturday Night At The Movies program often aired Deanna Durbin movies when I was growing up.  I think the late Elwy Yost, who hosted during those early years, was a big Deanna Durbin fan.  I remember him always presenting her films with a big smile on his face and he always spoke fondly of her films and film image.  And that’s it really, it was her film image that captivated everyone.  It made her a mega-star and and made Universal solvent in the process.  But her film career didn’t start at Universal.  She was first signed by MGM and paired in the 1936 short “Every Sunday” with Judy Garland.  Here it is, for your viewing enjoyment: 

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     There was something special about Deanna and I guess the studio couldn’t see it in this short.  Legend has it that Louis B. Mayer saw the short and said “Drop the fat one.”  He meant Judy Garland but for some reason, MGM kept Judy and Deanna would eventually end up at Universal.  Research Deanna Durbin and you read more about that.  Again, everything is rumors, stories, or conjecture but it makes for a fun legend nonetheless. 

     Deanna Durbin made 21 films from 1936 to 1948 and was, as the stories goes, the highest paid actress at one point in her career.  Here’s a list of her films:

 

1936    Three Smart Girls

1937    One Hundred Men and a Girl

1938    Mad About Music

1938     That Certain Age

1939    Three Smart Girls Grow Up

1939    First Love

1940    It’s a Date

1940    Spring Parade

1941    Nice Girl?

1941    It Started with Eve

1943    The Amazing Mrs. Holliday

1943    Hers to Hold

1943    His Butler’s Sister

1944    Christmas Holiday

1944    Can’t Help Singing

1945    Lady on a Train

1946    Because of Him

1947    I’ll Be Yours

1947    Something in the Wind

1948    Up in Central Park

1948    For the Love of Mary

 

     What is unfortunate about this list is that only 13 of these 21 films have been released on DVD. The Deanna Durbin Sweetheart Pack Previously, 18 of these films had been issued on VHS with only Christmas Holiday, Hers to Hold, and Spring Parade not seeing VHS releases.  Spring Parade has never had any official release of any kind.  Back in 2004 Universal finally got around to issuing some of her films on DVD.  With the release of the “Deanna Durbin Sweetheart Pack”  we were treated to the release of Three Smart Girls / Something In the Wind / First Love / It Started with Eve / Can’t Help Singing / Lady on a Train.  Deanna Durbin: The Music and Romance CollectionIn 2010 we finally saw another DVD box set from Universal/TCM with the release of “Deanna Durbin: The Music and Romance Collection” containing Mad About Music / That Certain Age / Three Smart Girls Grow Up / Because of Him / For The Love of Mary.  In 2012 there were a couple of single releases through the Universal Vault collection which are manufacture on demand discs.  These were “The Amazing Mrs. Holliday” and  “Up in Central Park.”  Last month, we saw one more Universal vault release or should I say re-release of “It Started with Eve”.  “It Started with Eve” is one of my personal favorites with Deanna, Robert Cummings (with whom she would co-star in “Spring Parade” & “Three Smart Girls Grow Up”) and Charles Laughton (who would also co-star with Deanna in “Because of Him”).  It’s a great comedy and Deanna and Laughton are fun together.  If you’re counting all of these releases, this adds up to 13 of Deanna’s films available on DVD here in North America. Even the short “Every Sunday” that she made at MGM in 1936 has been released as an extra on the DVD of the 1942 film “For Me and My Gal” starring Judy Garland and Gene Kelly.

     Earlier I mentioned the film “Christmas Holiday”.  Elwy Yost once showed that, too, on Saturday Night At The Movies but it’s been an elusive film to own.  It has never had a release here in North America on DVD or VHS.  Deanna Durbin: The Ultimate CollectionIn Europe and Australia, however, Deanna seems to be a little more respected.  19 of her 21 films have been released on DVD with only “Spring Parade” and “It’s A Date” still yet to be released.  There have been two Ultimate Collection releases with all 19 films in one set as well as individual releases of these films.  In Australia, there was a release of these 19 films in a round “hat box” collection which is sadly now out of print.  Portuguese release of It's A DateYou can still find the individual releases from the UK and if you have a region free DVD player, like I do, this is the way to go.  There’s even a Portuguese release of “It’s A Date” along with the Jeanette MacDonald film “The Lottery Bride”.  I don’t know the quality of the Portuguese release but if you can find the officially released VHS, and I’m not getting rid of mine any time soon, then that will suffice.  There are even some bootleg prints of Spring Parade floating around and the last I checked, the full film was posted on YouTube. 

     After finishing her last film with Universal, Deanna married film producer-director Charles Henri David in 1950 and relocated to France.  There she remained and there she died.  There is very little known about her life after she left Hollywood.  She was disillusioned with the star factory treatment and the poor quality of the scripts coming her way.  She had a daughter by a previous marriage and she just wanted to raise her child in anonymity.  She would have a son by Charles David and she devoted the rest of her life to being a mother and wife far from the maddening crowd.  The last interview she gave was in 1983.  You can read it here:  http://javabeanrush.blogspot.ca/2010/11/DeannaDurbinInterview.html.  She was apparently very happy and never regretted her decision to leave Hollywood and the movies.  She fared better than most juvenile stars of her time and our time. 

     Her private life is nothing I can speak of here.  I respect her decision to do what she did and what came later was all her own.  I can only speak of the public image.  I don’t know if she realized what her movies and songs meant to us all.  They are not inspirational…they are entertainment.  There’s something moving and happy in every one of her films and they are indeed classics that can be watched over and over again.  “Christmas Holiday” is not a Christmas movie.  It is a film noir dark piece that shows Deanna’s dramatic acting ability.  It also produced two great songs:  “Always” and “Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year”.  Give a listen to the two of them below: 

“Always”:

“Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year”:

 

I will miss Deanna.  I always had a secret dream of meeting her.  I’ve had an address to which to write her but I never got around to doing it.  I guess my sensibility and that respect for her privacy always prevented me from writing that letter.  I know what I would have said.  I would have said THANK YOU.  All my thanks for what she did give us and the legacy she left on screen and in her recordings.  Go gently into that good night Deanna.  I’ll remember you ALWAYS.

THE BETTER PERSON

Thursday, April 25th, 2013

     What a week we’ve had!  Scott Henderson still thinks he's cool!When I say we, I mean the global we.  Boston Bombings, explosions in West, Texas, thwarted terrorist plot to derail trains here in Canada, and that massive fight with my brother.   Oh, you didn’t hear about that last one?  Well, why would I want to rehash that here?  Because I can.  This is my blahg and I’ll comment on whatever I please.  Don’t worry, this won’t be all self-serving.  There will be a connection to larger things. 

     Let me start with that fight with my brother Tim.  The fight was so nasty and made me so angry that it inspired me for this blahg and put world events into perspective.  THE HENDERSON FAMILY SIBLINGSThe photo below is the last picture taken of all 6 of my parents’ children. The occasion was the wedding of my brother Chris and his wife Valerie.  I don’t remember the date but I think it was 7 or 8 years ago.  In the back row, from left to right, are Todd (2nd oldest), Chris (the youngest and the groom), Wanda (4th oldest), and Tim (the oldest).  In the front row, again from left to right, are Dan (5th oldest) and yours truly, Scott (3rd oldest).  Dan was married for the second time to wonderful Deb about five years ago.  There was a photo taken at Dan’s wedding but Tim was in Afghanistan (I’ll explain about that later) so the family photo was short one brother; making the one at Chris’ wedding the last complete Henderson sibling picture. 

     Forgive me the side trip about the family photo.  As mentioned, Tim was in Afghanistan during Dan’s wedding so that requires a brief explanation.  Tim is skilled at boiler and furnace mechanics so he was employed by a private company to oversee the boiler systems on the Canadian base over there.  I am probably selling him short in this description because I don’t know exactly what he did there but Tim is very skilled and qualified.  At one point Dan, who is in the Canadian military was serving in Afghanistan at the same base as Tim.  They had the opportunity to spend some time together there.  Tim was still on a contract in Afghanistan at the time of Dan’s wedding.  Recently, Tim had a similar contract working in Northern Canada up at Canadian Forces Station Alert in Nunavut.  Maybe it wasn’t there and Tim will fault me for not knowing it but it was somewhere North and remote and he was there for two or three months. 

     While Tim was away, he parked his truck in my parents’ driveway facing toward the road.  My father’s truck was parked facing Tim’s truck.  The driveway is narrow and there is a large gazebo to the right of the driveway and a long hedge to left.  There is no way to get another vehicle along side of vehicles parked in the driveway.  Now, as I’ve mentioned, I’m really the only sibling who is in charge of checking in on my parents on a regular basis.  Dan lives an hour away, Chris lives in Cincinnati about 9 hours away, and Tim normally lives in Ottawa when he’s not off working somewhere in the world.  If you’re doing the math, that leaves two other siblings.  To be fair, both Todd and Wanda work but they certainly don’t do as much as I do even when they are not working.  No digs there.  So, to get back to the current story, my mother called me a couple of weeks ago to tell me that my father’s vehicle wouldn’t start.  I had my suspicions that it was a dead battery so when I went there, I found it was indeed a dead battery.  Sometimes when my parents go shopping they load groceries into the back of their Ford Escape and they don’t always close the hatch completely when they unload the groceries.  This was the case and the dome light stayed on and killed the battery. 

     As I mentioned, there is no way to get another vehicle along side of vehicles parked in the driveway.  This limited my options of boosting my father’s vehicle battery.  I had booster cables but couldn’t get my car near the front of his car.  The cables were not twenty feet long so the only option I had was to move Tim’s vehicle forward about five feet and to boost my father’s vehicle.  I’ve boosted a few vehicles in my time so I knew what I was doing.  The short version of this story is that I moved Tim’s truck five feet forward and boosted dad’s battery without incident.  End of story number one regarding Tim’s truck. 

     Now comes last week.  We had some high winds and a tree limb went down and landed at the rear of Tim’s truck.  My father asked me to bring in my chainsaw and cut up the limb before Tim flew home on Thursday.  So, I went in on Wednesday and found that a lot of tree debris had fallen into the bed of Tim’s truck.  I cut everything up and stacked the burnable size pieces off to one side.  That left a lot of the smaller debris and the stuff that was in Tim’s truck.  I decided the best thing to do would be to take it down to the yard waste depot around the corner from my parents’ house.  It is less than half a kilometer away so I took Tim’s truck and emptied it and swept it out.  I thought I was doing Tim and my father a favour.  All in all, with going to the yard waste depot and back and moving Tim’s truck five feet to boost my father’s vehicle, I put maybe one kilometer of mileage on Tim’s truck.  I should also add that when I boosted my father’s vehicle, Tim’s gas gauge was flashing empty.  That means it was empty when Tim parked it before leaving for up north.  That is significant to this story. 

     I stopped by my parents’ house again on Friday to check on them and asked if Tim had got in safely.  Madder Than A Wet HenMy father informed me that Tim was back and he was madder than a wet hen because someone had used his truck.  I really didn’t understand at that point what the big deal was.  I was soon to learn.  Tim and his girlfriend, Becky, stopped in about 15 minutes later with submarine sandwiches in hand.  (Nothing for anyone else I might add.  That’s an aside that I will touch on later.)  I told Tim that if he was angry that someone had used his truck that he should take it up with me because I was the one who had used the truck on both occasions.  I wasn’t trying to pick a fight but I might as well have put that forward as my intention.  Tim let forth a string of threats and insults that were unwarranted.  I tried to explain to him why I had used his vehicle but that only made him angrier.  Becky tried to restrain him but Tim was, in my opinion, out of control.  He threatened to hit me and other acts of violence.  I told him that if he laid one finger on me I would call the police.  I wasn’t going to play his game or feed into this violence.  To this, he called me “a girl” simply because I wouldn’t defend myself.  Craziness! 

     There were other points of Tim’s anger that did not make sense.  An Empty Gas GuageI was accused of putting untold mileage on his truck and emptying it of gas.  I tried to explain about the gas gauge already being on empty and driving his truck less than a kilometer but Tim was not prepared to listen to anything I had to say.  I even apologized for using his truck but even that was not good enough.  He called me stupid and talked about how intelligent he was and how much his truck was worth more than anything I owned or was likely to ever own.  Rebuttal was useless.  I also tried to explain that it was me here taking care of mom and dad that made it possible for him to be away for long stretches of time.  It isn’t him that is taking care of business on the local front!  Finally, I just had to leave.  I had promised my friend Bryan, who lives with my parents, a ride to work.  Bryan witnessed all of this and when we got outside he asked me what that was all about.  I told him I honestly didn’t know.  All I knew was Tim was angry and I was even angrier at the way I was treated. 

     I had to stop off about an hour later at my parents’ house because I had to drop off something my mother had asked me to pick up at the pharmacy.  By that time, Tim was gone and the house was quiet.  My mother told me that Tim said to say he was sorry for earlier.  I was still angry about the whole affair and all I could think to say was a variation of the speech Aunt Em gives to Miss Gulch near the beginning of the Wizard of Oz:Aunt Em Tells Off Miss Gulch 

For twenty-three years I’ve been dying to tell you what I thought of you, and now, well, being a Christian woman, I can’t say it.”  Of course it would have meant more if Tim had been there and I could have said it to his face.  He probably just would have laughed at me.  By the way, Abbie and I went to see The Wizard of Oz in the movie theater about two weeks ago and it still holds up after all these years.  But that’s another story and another blahg.

     The final piece of this is that Tim called me up at home three hours later.  I was a little curt with him because I was still angry.  I asked him what he wanted and he said he had called up to apologize.  I told him I wasn’t going to take this from him any longer and he could rub salt.  I then hung up on him.  I wasn’t specific about where he should rub the salt nor do I know what really is the meaning of that phrase.  That was five days ago and I haven’t heard from Tim since nor do know if he actually rubbed salt on something.  I don’t really care.  I just want to have my say and this blahg is the only forum I have to to speak without being interrupted. 

     The problem with having siblings is that you fight too much or you follow your brother down a path that only ends in tears.  Case in point is the two brothers who were allegedly behind the Boston bombings.  One is dead and the other will be in jail for the rest of his life if convicted.  What did they have to be angry about?  Why were they angry at the world?  I don’t know.  I can only talk about the conflict between my brother and I.  Tim might be smarter than me.  He certainly is stronger than me.  He’s probably in better shape than I am.  He might even be richer than I am when you are tallying up fortunes.  But that’s not important to me.  What is important is to be the better person and I think that’s what this blahg is really about. 

     Someone can try and tear you down and hurt you but you have to rise above that and not go down that same path.  I think I’m the better person.  I do many things for my parents and my personal life is affected by it.  I can’t have a regular job because I have to run errands for my parents and take them to medical appointments.  They could probably go by themselves but, as I have learned, they don’t always hear or understand what the Doctor tells them.   Bone of ContentionThat’s another bone of contention by the way.  I hate when one of my siblings tries to diagnose my mother or father.  They have never been to any of my parents’ medical appointments and cannot comment on what they do not know.  I’ve been there and I’ve heard the diagnosies and recommendations.  I’m no Doctor and have had no medical training so even I won’t comment on anyone’s medical health unless I hear it directly from the source. 

     It’s important for me to be the better person.  I won’t get anything for it.  There’s no trophy or reward but I suspect some of my siblings think that I’ll be the first to line up with my hand out when my parents’ will is read.  I don’t care about that.  I want my mom and dad to be around for a while.  That’s what is important.  That’s why I do the things I do.  I also don’t show up at my parents’ house with food or coffee in hand without bringing them something or phoning ahead to see if they want or need something.  My sister is notorious for that.  So was Tim with his submarine sandwich.  I guess I just get it quicker than my siblings.  Let them take what they want when my parents are gone.  I’ll take away the satisfaction that I was the better child and the better person and was there for them when they were alive. 

     I want to close this piece by drawing it all together to world events.  The bombings in Boston were a terrible thing committed by terrible people.  There were, however, great acts of heroism and compassion performed by total strangers toward the victims.  Let’s not forget about that.  The world is not full of all angry people wanting to tear us down.  There are better people out there.  Let’s celebrate that.  Let’s all try to be the better person. 

     I’ll close with a poem I wrote back on June 24th, 1985.  Forgive the strange alignment of sentences and that fact that I don’t know what the inspiration was for this poem but the words in it have never been more fitting:

                                                                       ADVICE TO US KILLERS

 

Instead of slicing

                     others  open

          when you get mad

                    – just put a small hole

                                       into yourself

                              and let the steam out –

-boil some heavy water

                                      over your open wound –

                   – make a potent cup of tea-

              – chew dandelions like dogs do –

                  – then throw down

                 your silly ideas

                                     of self-help

 

IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU’RE TOO CLOSE.

Tuesday, February 26th, 2013

     Recently, I caught my wife reading some of my blahgs.Scott Henderson still thinks he's cool!  There isn’t anything wrong with that so don’t read anything into my action of catching her doing something that is perfectly normal.  I was just taken aback is all.  In some sullen moments when I find my wife and I at distances, I think about the fact that she doesn’t even ready my blahg!  I guess I can’t use that argument anymore.  I guess I should also watch what I write here. 

     I haven’t anything to hide.  There is nothing in any of my blahgs that I am ashamed for having written.  I try to tell the truth here or offer my opinion on what’s happening or what interests me.  One fact:  I like The Weepies!  I’ve said that before and I’m listening to them now as I write this blahg.  Here they are live at the Brit Festival in Southern Orgeon on August 23, 2011: 

     The title of this blahg comes from that old bumper sticker you used to see on many cars.  IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU’RE TOO CLOSE.  The perception is that if you could read the bumper sticker then you were tailgating or following too close behind the vehicle in front of you and that could be a dangerous thing.  But I think there is another interpretation.  In the case of my blahg, if you can read this, you’re too close…to me.  That doesn’t mean you’re standing too close to me but rather the other definition of being close to me through relation or friendship.  You know who I am and what I’m all about.  That’s as close as you can really get to anyone. 

     I don’t have a problem with anyone who is close to me reading anything I write.  I guess I really have a problem with myself because I don’t write enough for people to read.  These blahgs have too much time passing between the reading of each.  I haven’t written any fiction in a long time.  I barely write my signature any more, for that matter.  My output has dwindled to reminder notes or shopping lists or appointment dates on the calendar.  The last thing I wrote of any meaning was a short verse in the Valentine’s Day card I gave to my wife.  That’s sad.  The verse wasn’t sad but the fact that I’m not writing any more is a low point.     

My collection of Christmas themed material, Proof For Believing

     I always believed I was a good writer and thought I had promise.  I have even self-published a volume of my Christmas themed material, “Proof For Believing”. Before that, I wrote a novel called “False Ducks” that sadly sits unpublished.  Everything stops after that.  Only these blahgs continue.  These blahgs were meant to be an outlet for my creativity and to be a forum for my previously written material.  But I’ve failed even at that.  I’ve barely posted here, anything of my own.  Certainly nothing new other than the blahg of the week or month. 

     I want to rectify some of that.  An Excerpt From My First Nothing BookI want to share some of my earlier writing.  When Jeanette and I first started as friends in 1984, she gave me a “Nothing Book”.  It’s basically a blank journal that I wrote poems in for two years.  Not all of them were winners but I wrote steadily.  I really like the second poem from this volume, “Almost Day 8,124”.  The title comes from the fact that this poem was written on the 8,124th day since I was born.  I was 22 and the “Almost” refers to the fact that I think it was the 8,124th day since my birth but the math could be wrong.  Click on the image to see a larger version of this handwritten ode.  Here it is in typed format:

                ALMOST DAY 8,124
 
Look where we have paced across
               the floor
and left a life-line that still shows through!
               September
was here and now it’s a cold and dry
               December
that blows away old nightmares.
The
   rest
       of
         the
            world could never
                             know
                          the
                 placidity
that exists in darkened rooms; left by
                 friends
vacationing in an austere moment of commercial
                 spirit.
The music plays sweeet and low,
            while the inhabited flats
                 burn down.
Who will sing for those who have passed
                 before us
                    or
for those, on returning from their holidays,
              who will
               discover,
         that while they loved strangers,
              their friends
              had been cremated?
 

      Yes, I know, the formatting is weird.  What’s with the indentation of some lines and not others?  Frankly, I don’t remember.  I think I was trying to prove to myself I could write modern poetry and thought that odd formatting was the key.  It’s not.  The words are the key.  Here’s another poem from the last page of that first Nothing Book.  This is “to write a last poem” that was written on March 3rd, 1987: 

                    to write a last poem
 
it’s all cracked
puffed up
read
 
by myself
over and over and
over
through
 
and done
to a crisp
precise
outline
of my mind
 
and the poems
in there
steady ready
to bust
 
like milkweed
to editor á editor
de editor á editor
again–but…
 
I think that’s clear
and about as sane
or poetic
as I want to be
 
’cause the volume
of work
I’ve worked on
is gone
  to death
done
  to death
by the absence
of a rhyming dictionary
                            in this limbo
                            of bein’ unpublished
 
 

     At least the formatting has settled down; except the last two lines.  Again, don’t ask for meaning.  I won’t bore you with poems from the beginning of the second Nothing Book because they follow shortly after the one above.  Here’s one from the middle of that second volume, “LTD.” written August 16th, 1989, two years after Jeanette and I had married:

                            LTD.
 
da flesh is only perfect twice:
 
birth and death
 
au natural and paste up
 
and all between
scarred by
 
razor burn or fisticuffs
mosquito bites or forward pass
 
minor surgery
 
bad deeds
bad poems
 
da realization
dat how ya should’ve lived
is all too clear
after yer face’s been molded
 

      The second Nothing Book is not full.  I ran out of steam or creativity or time or something I have to dredge up to be an excuse.  The last poem was written on March 10th, 2005.  Before that poem, I had last written a poem to my youngest daughter “a poem for abigail” on August 9th, 1999.  It had occurred to me that I had also written a poem about our eldest daughter “em” on October 7th, 1990 (the date of her birth) but I had never written anything about Noah.  So on March 10th, 2005, I wrote my last poem in the second Nothing Book.  Here it is:

                  noah
 
yer own voyage
will be longer
 
span great walls
 
take in ancient histories
 
write new ones
 
cast a different shadow
 
outside of mine
 

      That’s the last of the output.  I don’t believe I have written a poem since.  I wrote a few new short stories back in 2007 to include in “Proof For Believing” but no new poems.  I don’t know how to begin.  It takes all my efforts to write a blahg and the creativity of a poem doesn’t come to me.  Maybe I’m to close to the subject and I can’t write it anymore.  I did say that IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU’RE TOO CLOSE.  Maybe the opposite is true:  IF YOU CAN WRITE THIS, YOU’RE FAR ENOUGH AWAY.  I need to step back and look at my poetic career.  I was published a few times but that was in the late 1980s when I was trying hard.  I guess I just need to try harder. 

     I stepped away from this blahg and tried harder.  Here’s what I came up with, February 25th, 2013:

 
              if you can read this, you’re too close
 
 
step back
step up
have we got a show for you
the caged animal,
wild man of borneo,
writer with nothing to write
 
10 cents!
cheap at half the price
unless you’re paying by the word
then double that and add 30
like metric conversion
 
a drought’s a drought
water or words
I don’t know what’s better to drown in
 
I’ve looked too close
at the man behind the curtain,
the one in the mirror,
old dog with few tricks
still can beg
your pardon
excuses for not writing
dropping a line
drawing a conclusion
 
there’s truth in words
some say
truth in the words between us
on our own bumper stickers
tattooed on our auras
flashing the warning
beware the freak
calling for your attention
to a miserable creature
 
step up
one of a kind
 
if you’re too far away
you’ll miss the show
if you’re too close
there’s nothing to see
I’ll do a walk on
but my walk off is the show-stopper
into the horizon
dark like ink
where the new words are
…or the other wild things

    

     How’s that for a closer?

THE FALSE DUCKS VIDEO BLAHG #1: MY TWO CENTS WORTH

Wednesday, February 13th, 2013

   I’m trying something new this week and I’m still working out the kinks but below is my first ever Video Blahg:

 

Below, are the lyrics to the “Brotherhood” PSA:

Give some time to a cause.

Feed a child.

Take a hand.

Say a kind word

Or a blessing

Or a prayer of your own.

 

Write a speech.

Read a book.

Cast a vote.

Sing a song.

Help a lady carry shopping.

Call your Mom.

Plant a tree.

 

Do some good for the people

Who need your help.

Be a buddy

To a neighbour.

Make a sad face smile. (Haw haw!)

Give a seat up on the bus.

Coach some kids on the ice.

It’s nice to do some good.

It’s nice to be nice.

 

Help old Ralph delver pizza.

Pat a dog.

Give a buck.

Thank a cop.

Send your love.

Do a favour.

Love thy neighbour.

 

Do good,

Do good,

It’s Brotherhood.

It feels so good to say, “I did good.”