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