A View of the Town: Episode 19 -- Bernice Hull

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in the small coastal town of misty Cove along the coast Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and another of his stories of the the sleepy seaport town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by carrots.  They're orange and healthy and delish too.  Slice them, dice them, bake them, put them in a stew. Carrots are good for all the ails you.  Carrots.

I've met many a stranger passing through Misty Cove.  Most looking to get away from the heat of the cities during the summer.  Some looking for fresh seafood.  I've met writers, artists, and professors.  Some have left their mark on my nostalgic mind.   And a few leave a deeper mark.  Like Bernice Hull.

One afternoon, I sat napping in my office, enjoying a quiet day which was often rare in Misty Cove, when I heard the door's bell tinkle.  Standing in my waiting room was the most most fairest young lady I ever saw.    Brunette, plain dressed, and shy.  Her name was Bernice Hull and she was visiting friends.  She asked if she could examine her throat and provide her with something to help sooth it.  The night sea air gave her a sore throat, according to her.  I was smitten.  And fortunately, she was unmarried.

With a bottle of gargle tonic, she was appreciative and I took my chances to ask her to lunch at Charlotte's Diner.  Fortunately, Charlotte was not there and we lunched in peace.  She told me she traveled up from New York City.  She told me of her difficult upbringing by an alcoholic abusive father after her mother had died.   

Her father worked but often spent the money on spirits.  She found solace at her local church where she helped with whatever they needed. She took in laundry and became well known for her baking skills on her neighborhood.  She was lucky she could give her earnings for the priest at the church to keep safe.  It was a rough life for a young girl.  Her older brother had run away as soon as he was able, keeping in touch with her.  He had settled in Misty Cove.  I knew him, Buster Hull, a local woodworker known for his excellent work.  And when she had turned 16, she ran away as well into New York City.

When I asked her how she was able to travel and feed herself, she simply replied "I entertain."  Now at first, I was a bit concerned about the form of entertainment.  Misty Cove had no such place or would be interested in such "entertainment."  With a puzzled look, I couldn't help but ask further.  She grinned.  And there it was.  I realized who I was looking at.  Her stage look included rouge, a blond wig, flashy dresses.  Everyone in town thought she was staying with her orchestra in the back of the theatre, but Bernice Hull would emerge after her performance as Babette Le Blond and walk about town and visiting her brother.  I kept her secret.  And she was grateful for it.

Babette Le Blond and her orchestra left Misty Cove after their second weekend performances.  I kept in touch with her for many years.  They ended up in Los Angeles after years of traveling across country, performing wherever they could.  We exchanged cards and letters.  I, of course, would ask Buster about his sister.   She retired after the orchestra broke up and married, settling in Los Angeles where she and her husband opened a small bakery.

Over the years, I have meet some many interesting people in Misty Cove.  The visit of Bernice Hull was always one of my favorites.  And sometime, I'll have to tell you about her return to Misty Cove many years later.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by carrots.  Bugs, Peter, and the Easter bunny could see the benefits of eating carrots and so should you.  They grow underground but don't taste like dirt. They're good for your eyes and easy on your thighs. Carrots.

CSM

WWED?

This is another one of those diary posts that I wrote about last month, or was it earlier this month?  Doesn't really matter.  I decided to title them WWED?  It stands for "What would Erma do?"  Erma Bombeck. Boy, do we need her!

Anyway, I remember Erma talking about couple trying to have a baby.  She wrote about how couples couldn't wait to have a baby.  Nowadays, that has changed but the lesson Erma taught about babies being made is unforgettable.  Babies are conceived when they want to be. They know when you just bought a house with a massive mortgage.  Or you want to save up for a big trip to Paris.  Or you buy a brand new car.

I can apply the same to my situation.  I remember over the past few years thinking about how life was just flying by. One moment, you are driving through a foot of snow to work, the next dealing with 95 degree weather, then putting up the Christmas tree.  All in the matter of what felt like a couple of weeks.  At 55, it just seemed to be flying and soon I would be 56.  Then 57.  Then 58.

But let me tell, the moment I decided to pay off my mortgage as quick as possible, time came to a screeching halt.  It slammed on the brakes.  Now it creeps in this petty pace....  Ugh.  I made up my mind several months ago I wanted to pay off my house by the time I was 60 and I am now beginning to think 60 is 20 years away.

Erma was right.  The moment you want something it feels like it is lightyears away.  I refer to this as the time that tries men's souls.  And of course, there's the obstacles that will come flying at you from out of nowhere.  Also known as "just waiting for the other shoe to drop." 

But I am thankful for Erma.  She taught me this lesson just like a mother.  Well, she was a mother and just like my own mother.  I learned a lot from them both.

Many thanks Erma.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 18 -- Babette Le Blond

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in the small coastal town of misty Cove along the coast Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and another of his stories of the the sleepy seaport town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by bread.  You can earn it by working or slice it with a knife.  It will rise, but not fly.  It will never flower, but needs flour, and you can cover it with any sort of spread.  Bread.

Babette Le Blond.  What a woman!  I remember the day that she arrived on the 10:30 train, but actually 10:37 because it was always late, all the way from New York City.  It was the summer of 1928, June 19 to be exact, and she had come to Misty Cove to perform at the The Prince Theatre.  The theatre has been the center of entertainment since 1892, when the Gigglesminster Brothers built it.  And now it would be graced by the most beautiful singer that Misty Cove had seen, possibly ever.  

That June was unusually cool so she walked from the train station in her red silk dress and black silk coat with white fur collar.  Her blue cloche tight against her head, with her blond bobbed hair peaking out from underneath it.  Men could have set their clocks to her rhythm as she walked.  Her bright red lips were puckered.  Her rouged cheeks smooth. Her white shoes were like none others seen in town.  Needless to say, she stopped traffic of all kinds.  Men with wagons.  Boys on bicycles.  The church circle reading group who just came out the church gasped as she turned to corner on East Street. Even Freddie, the local town tom cat, stared at her as she passed.

Her all-girl orchestra arrived with her, but they looked far more plain and lagged behind her.  In hindsight, Ms. Le Blond knew how to make an entrance and it almost didn't work.  They stayed in the rooms in the back part of the theatre and could be seen in the back alley smoking and occasionally with a drink in hand.  Now, Ms. Le Blond and her all-girl orchestra naturally caused a stir among the women in town, and it was enough to make their opening night almost a failure.  However, Mr. Gigglesminster Jr. assured his potential audience, when asked, that they were a well-known hit in the major east coast cities. 

I had to see for myself so I was there their first night.  Of course, the audience was thin, only part of the house was filled, with plenty of  seats open. And almost without saying, the crowd whispered and speculated about what they were about to see.  Even, Reverend Albepious was there, prepared to cast a hell-fire eye.  Mr. Gigglesminster Jr. came out first to introduce and welcome "Ms. Babette Le Blond and her orchestra" and to "sit back and enjoy." And as I had mentioned, Ms. Le Blond knew how to attract attention, for when she stepped out on stage, I knew the stunning dress she wore had to be Paris-made.   And when she started singing...  A hush and awe fell over the audience.

For the next hour and a half, Ms. Le Blond and her orchestra took us on mellow ride of opera, hymns, jazz, and patriotic tunes that we had all listened to during the Great War.  At one point, she brought the audience to tears with her version of Amazing Grace then Swing High Swing Low Sweet Chariot.  By the way, the Reverend Albepious even shed a tear or two.  I had never been moved by a musical performance and I was reminded of George Eliot's line in The Mill on the Floss... "But it seems that one mustn't judge by the outside."

The following nights, the house was packed with standing room only.  Neighboring towns had heard about the performance and they came to Misty Cove by the droves.  And Mr. Gigglesminster amde the best revenue, so much so that he added a sound system a few years later after the talkies became all the rage.  Ms. Le Blond and her orchestra stayed to themselves while in town, only walking about a couple of times to see our town.  I've seen many a show on my travels and in Misty Cove, but none like that of Ms. Le Blond and her orchestra.  To this day, they still speak of their two weeks in town.

She and her orchestra eventually settled in California. She changed her name, performed in smaller venues, and married, leaving behind her singing career.  I know that because I was the only one who got to know her and we wrote to each other for years to follow.  The morning after that first performance, she came to my office. I did not recognize her at first.  She wore a plain cotton dress, no lipstick or rouge, and a simple straw hat.  Her complaint -- a slight sore throat from hitting a high note. She was soft spoken and very polite. I showed her about town afterwards and we became friends.  To say that I was smitten with her... But they left to travel onto many other cities to surprise others with her gift.

There's more this story, so stayed tuned.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by bread.  You can eat it fresh. You can eat it toasted.  As a sandwich or as a side.  Sourdough to wheat to rye to sweet.  Nothing be better than sliced bread.

CSM

WWED?

(What Would Erma Do?)

When I started this blog way back when, I wanted to use it for two purposes -- a sort of a diary during struggles and a scratch pad for creativity.  At times, my blog has been my open diary for the world to read. Where I lay it out. Let the feelings roll.  And rant and rave.

At times, it has been my creative outlet or a form of scratch pad for practice.  The second is especially true with the various writing projects over the years, testing the waters to see how different aspects of my writing have worked out.  Those projects have let me try out character creation, plot outlining, and writing descriptions.

This entry is an open diary entry.  I find these useful for letting off steam, being passive aggressive, and being truthful.  And today I feel like I need to skate as near the truth as possible.

About 5 to 6 years ago, I began to feel "the change."   Some refer to it as "mid-life crisis."  I prefer to think of it as "Holy Sh*t!  I've still got a lot that I want to do."   What this led to was an overhaul and evaluation of everything up to that point and weeding out what didn't make me happy.  The operative word in that sentence is "me."  Helen Reddy recorded a song that I often listen to -- "Would you take better care of yourself? Would you be kinder to yourself? Would you be more forgiving of your human imperfections if you realized your best friend was yourself?"   I've slowly became one of those people who had to be their own best friend in order to survive and ever more important a very high-level of independence.  

Several times, it feels like some people in my life have not been able to handle that level of independence I have soared to. Mainly because I think that they themselves may not know how to be independence.  They may need emotional crutches, a constant place to blow up, and/or a sympathetic ear.  And to be honest, I have grown tired of those people! and in turn, I have basically walked away.  Why?  I'm tired. Just like I just wrote!

While wading through intrusive thoughts, reliving painful memories, and bursts of extreme anger, I worked myself to a place where I kept asking the same question over and over and not really getting an answer.  Until one day the answer just slapped me in the face.   

The question (said in a strong and power burst): "For how long?  For how long do I need to be an emotional crutch?  For how long do I need to listen to people complain over and over about stuff they have no control over?  For how long do I have to deal with other people and their decision that they made and didn't work out for them?   For how long?!"

The answer (said in a plain simple calm voice):  "You decide."

I decided that I was done.  My peace of mind became a priority.  My life is mine and nobody else's.  I get to choose.  And to those people I say "F*ck off.  You're breaking my peace."

But I also have had to accept the concept of hypocrisy.  Whew, hypocrisy!  Just seeing the word wears me out.  I just can't stand it anymore.  This is a whole other blog post just waiting to happen.

Well, anyway.   As I said this is one of posts that serves as a diary entry.  I also use them as writing practice just to get thoughts out and practice on the keyboard and learn not to write run-on sentences just like this one.

I have so many writing projects that I want to work on.  I think I will create a schedule, maybe that would help to organize them....  I know there are those who love "A View of the Town" -- tales from the sleepy Maine seaport of Misty Cove.   Lego stories!  Every year I get asked if Brickford Falls will be making an appearance.  By the way, Brickford Falls is partially set up in my basement.  I just need to get my a** down there and work on it.  Then there's two books ideas floating around -- one is a new Time Travelers' Club book.  The other is forming....  A new character, Mrs. Rowena Meredith.  She is fascinating...  well, at least to me she is.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 17 -- The Great Turkey Round-up of 1920

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in the small coastal town of misty Cove along the coast Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and another of his stories of the the sleepy seaport town.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by a pumpkin.  It's neither a pump nor a kin. But it has tough outer skin and a soft inside.  Just like that one cousin who was never a bride with skin like tanned leather. Pumpkins.

Roasted turkey, oysters on the half shell, baked squash, mashed potatoes, mincemeat pie, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, baked carrots, parsnip fitters, cheese, fruits...  This was Mrs. Hornbrook's Thanksgiving meal.  I hadn't eaten so well in a long time.  It was my first Thanksgiving in Misty Cove and everyone wanted me to spend the day with their families. Especially the ones with single daughters.  I personally wanted to spend the day in quiet solitude reading that stack of books that I had ordered from New York, but no such luck.

Although I remember the mean well, I also remember how I had spent three weeks before Thanksgiving. Attending to injuries sustained from, what we now call, "The Great Turkey Round-up of 1920."  Not to be confused with "The Great Turkey Debacle of 1921" which involved Richie Williams, or "The Mighty Thanksgiving Feather Storm of 1931."  The 1920 escapade involved a wagon from Portland loaded with over twenty turkeys, a stubborn and impatient horse named Cyril ridden by the young and attractive Ms. Latham visiting from Boston, and a wagon driven by Earnest Simpson, Misty Cove's know-it-all.

Twenty miles south of Misty Cove, a man by the name Big Jim Worth owned and operated a poultry farm with chickens and turkeys. He had been raising and suppling the area with poultry for the past thirty years.  And in early November he would offer Thanksgiving turkeys.  Ebenezer Forthright, a local meat merchant, would send his two sons, Barney and Harvey to Worth's farm to purchase twenty turkeys to sell in his shop.  It would be a family affair with all the Forthrights involved.  You could pick out your turkey, have it cleaned and dressed, and delivered.  Many took him up on this offer.

So, one early November day, Harvey and Barney, the two bachelor sons of Forthright set off for their turkey purchases.   All went well.  Big Jim even threw in two extra turkeys for free since Forthright was a in-good-standing customer.  And so the boys began their journey home.  It wasn't until they were two blocks away from their father's shop.  Now Mr. Forthright had a plot with a barn where he would pin up the turkeys in order to feed and take care of them.  It was not far from the shop, within walking distance.

On this particular day, Misty Cove was lucky to witness the arrival of the young and attractive Ms. Annabelle Latham, actress, singer, and cousin of Mrs. Mathilda Upthank.  Ms. Latham had arrived from New York City where she has just finished her role in a play named "Love is the Only Word."  A two-bit comedy that she took too seriously with it closing only after three weeks.  At least that is what the New York Times reported. (I have a subscription.)  Ms. Latham was greeted at the train station by Mr. Upthank with his horse Cyril and carriage.  With word that a famous actress visiting, a word that undoubtedly started Mrs. Upthank bragging, two young Misty Cove ladies with acting aspirations waited for her arrival on the three o'clock train.   Now to make this story a little shorter, let's just say that Ms. Latham, on a dare, was going to show off her horsemanship.  And Cyril was the horse on which she would do that.

Now to make this scenario complete, I have to bring in Earnest Simpson, the man about town who knew more that you do about just about anything. Even I got a lecture on "doctoring" and how to do it better.  But on this day, Simpson had been lecturing a couple of young men on the art of sailing, even though it wasn't sailing weather, from the seat of his wagon.  He had blustered on for some time.  Right in front the gate that led to the Forthright turkey barn.

As the Forthright brothers made there way towards the gate, little did they know that Ms. Latham who on a dare attempted to show off her horsemanship has accidently slapped the stubborn and impatient Cyril one too many times.  And Cyril became annoyed with his show-off of a rider and decided that she was no longer welcome and bolted.  Right towards the Forthright barn.

Now what happened next is still unclear but remains a topic of conversations at the local cafe.  But what we do know is that the horse hitched to the Forthright brothers' wagon was spooked by the fact that Cyril came racing by and skidded to a stop.  Ms. Latham, who was admired by the bachelor Forthrights for just a brief moment, was thrown up over Cyril's head, feet first, and landed straddling Simpson's shoulders.  Simpson in turn bent over so far and fast that Mr. Latham accidently kicked the two young men in the heads since they didn't have time to run after being trapped by Simpson and his so-called sailing advice. The Forthright's horse reared up causing the wagon to bounce up.  Barney and Harvey fell backward crashing into the crates of the turkeys.  The turkeys, who had been contently enjoying the wagon ride, became startled as their crates crashed to the ground.  They took flight in all directions with feathers flying.

Everyone knows that turkeys can't fly, but they flew.  I saw that part with my own eyes.  What I saw when I ran up to see what the commotion was was this.  Barney and Harvey Forthright laying among now busted empty crates.  The two young men who had the luck of being kicked were leaning against the wooden fence, rubbing their chins and heads and trying to stand.  Ms. Latham sprawled in a water trough along the other side of the fence after being thrown from Simpson's shoulders.  Simpson himself had been knocked silly by at least three flying turkey and was disoriented, arms flailing.  I watched as he knocked himself out when he ran right into a telephone pole.

After Forthright announced that the turkey you caught would be turkey you could buy and believe me the word spread quickly, many of the town residents ran amok attempting to catch the turkeys.  All the turkeys were of various size and this in turn led to a few fist-fights and arguments with the most famous fist-fight between Mrs. Peacock and Mrs. White.  Needless to say, I spent much of my time at the hoosegow and making house calls.

To be honest, I can't recall one Thanksgiving in Misty Cove that wasn't peaceful....  I'm not so sure that I am thankful for that.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by a pumpkin. Their round and orange and make delish pies.  Just like that one cousin who is also round and orange and makes delish pies. Pumpkins.

CSM

Thanksgiving Eve

Thanksgiving eve is one of my favorite days of the year.  It marks the start of my favorite time of year. It leads right into the Christmas season which for me will start tomorrow just a few minutes before that jolly bearded fat man comes riding into town...  Ray Thomas.  In his 1975 Pontiac, with a bottle of Old Turkey.  A bushy white beard.

Who is Ray Thomas you might ask?  Well, he doesn't exist.  I just wanted to throw you off guard.

It's really Santa Claus that comes riding into town.  Right there at the end of the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.  Up there in his sleigh.  Inviting you to mortgage your house and shop, shop, shop and rack up those credit cards!

None of that for me.  I buy three presents for three people and that's it.  Over the past couple of years, I've been downsizing.  Cleaning out from under the bed, in the closet, in the basement, in garage.  You name a space and I've probably got a box of knickknacks that I've not looked at in 20 years stashed there.  And the sad part is I'm don't know what's in the boxes.  Most of them now are stacked in the garage where I've been weeding out a 50 plus years of stuff.  Happily I can report that the stack has shrunk.

Why is that we keep as much as we do?  The people who have a twisted pile of twist ties from loaves of bread in the kitchen drawer are saving them for what?  The shipping boxes people who might use them for what?  The stacks of papers.  Old catalogs.  That shell you picked up from somewhere sometime some place you went 35 years ago.

I'm thankful for not being one of those people.  I've moved and become one of those that sings let it go.  And I sometimes just sing it to annoy people.  Ya gotta make your own fun!

Thanksgiving is a time for being thankful.  And I am not throwing that away.  I'm thankful for good health.  A sound mind.  Creativity.  Imagination.  An adopted family that looks out for me on a daily basis.  I'm also thankful that I've moved away from the past.  It was fun, but I've got a lot of living to do and really want the room for new memories.

So, let' toast to the holiday season and be thankful we lived another day.  There's no use in fretting.  No use pushing or being pushed.  Just float along and laugh at it all.  That is my plan.  I'm thankful for so much.  And no one, absolutely not one person is going to take that those thanks away.

Happy Thanksgiving Eve everyone!

CSM

2024, the 13th Year of Blogging!

Thirteen years ago, I sat down, created this blog, and began to write.  Over those 13 years, I posted short stories, my trilogy about The Time Travelers Club, and various writing exercises, such A View of the Town.  I wrote during some of the rough years, such as the death of my father, changes in life, and whatever else I wanted to vent about.  But I also wrote during the challenging years such as my new job and new home.  And then came the 2024 break.

Guess what, it has been just over a year since last I posted.  

Was it because I was lazy and just didn't want to?  Was it lack of interest?  Maybe writer's block?

No, not really.  

I was going through the change and decided that I need to just take a break.  A lot has happened over that year.  First, I turned 55.  For me, the magic number.  It was the one where I realized that the road ahead of me was shorter than the road behind me.  And with that realization came change.  I wanted to make the most of what time I have left in this life.  After all, it is MY time and MY life.  Not someone else's, but mine.  So, I have been focused, pushing outside forces and distractions to the side and deeply focused on one question...

"What do I want to spend my time on?"  

My time.  

How did I want to use it?  It may be 10 years, maybe 10 days, or maybe 30 to 40 more years. Who knows! But regardless, it is MY time.  It is time that was granted to me.

With that realization in mind, I sat down and wrote out a plan with goals.  It was easy to name what I didn't want to do... Not to listen to other's bullsh*t (to put it bluntly) because of something that got them all upset.  It certainly wasn't dealing with people who were unhappy with their lives and tried to blame it on others or even me. It is definitely not stuff that doesn't interest me... boring movies, long-winded descriptive books (sorry, but Jane Austin... ugh.), other people's whining, and their general blah blah blah.  I started pushing aside the "blubber" as I like to call it.

What emerged was a shiny bright list of what really mattered to me.

And in the number one spot....  Peace and quiet to focus on the time I have left.  I recently coined this saying...  "The road to peace is paved with people with big mouths."  And let me tell you, I've got a steam roller and a load of whatever that tar-looking stuff that they use to fill in pot holes and starting paving the road!  Some got warnings (or warned) and chose to ignore them.  Others realized that I meant business and kindly shut their mouths.  For for the most part, those who listened and understood are the ones that I love and cherish the most and survived the paving process.  They gave me the support that I longed for.

I have created a plan and a road that I am sure will be horribly bumpy, maybe be hit by a snowstorm or hurricane, and at times just right down dangerous.  But ya know what, I'm ready!  Bring it on!

And here I am.  Working on one of the items on the list.  Writing again.  A part of the plan.  Let it all out.  Hanging the grievances.  The anger.  The resentment.  I am carving out time for books that I want to read, movies I want to watch, and skipping into my imagination with fictional stories to tell. 

As I write this, I realize that I need to figure out parts of the plan, but I'm not worried.  It will come together.  I have faith.

And as I write this, I am listening to Bette Midler, who had her turn at bat as Mama Rose in Gypsy, belt out.... 

"Some people sit on their butts;

got the dream, yeah, but not the guts.

That's living for some people,

for some hum-drum people I suppose.

Well, they can stay and rot!

But not Rose!"

Well, Mama Rose, I hear your words.  But that's just part of it.  Following Bette was Joni Mitchell.  The song that she is singing is one that grew up listening to Judy Collins sing.  Judy made it sound all bouncy and bubbly.  However, Joni's version....  The first time I heard it was in the movie, Love Actually.  In a scene with Emma Thompson.  And I cried.  It was the same song, but different feeling.

"Oh, but now old friends, they're acting strange

And they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed

Well, something's lost, but something's gained

In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It's life's illusions I recall

I really don't know life at all"

I've changed.  And will continue to change whether anybody likes it or not. And that is what makes the new road look way better.  I've looked at life from both sides now and I really don't know life at all.  I look back and see the illusions.  And what illusions they were.  And I even as I write this, I tear up.  So much wasted time over other people's bullsh*t and even my own.  And it is there, where I start. Part of the plan is to write it out.  Write out the anger, the resentment, and whatever I feel that I need to say.  And after that I turn away from the road behind and face the road ahead.  How long will that take, you may or may not ask...  Well not long.  I'm only stopping at that station until the end of the year.

So, there you have it.  Let's wrap up 2024 with some purging and get to the good stuff.

Oh wait, I haven't posted in so ling that I haven't even mentioned Rowena Meredith.  She's so interesting...  She keeps visiting my dreams.  Something about her life and ghost hunting and being a liberated woman of the 1930s...  Now that's what I'm talking about.

CSM