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

A View of the Town: Episode 16 -- Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Crisp and green.  Flat, roman, or curly. It’s best with a mix of mustard and honey. Lettuce.

I want to tell you the time that I attended Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons, the meanest woman in Misty Coves history.  Now Old Mrs. Simmons was on her death bed.  Just waiting for Death to knock on her door.  Probably to hand her off to whoever takes them down below.  Trust me, not one person in town will argue with me.

In order to understand her hatred of people, we would have to delve into her past.  And we just don’t know it.   She had moved to Misty Cove after her husband had died, because it was in his will.  He had to live in the house of his choice in order to receive money from his estate..  Apparently, he killed himself, possible to get away from his wife, but rumor has it he had embezzled money and law was about to catch up with him.  So, Old Mrs. Simmons had lived in Misty Cove for about ten years before I arrived, so about 1910.

Her main order of business was to complain about the orphanage home being too close to her house, the volunteer fire brigade “disgusting taste in uniform colors,” the smell from the wharf, the new color of the hotel, the old color of the hotel, the saw mill made too much dust, the grocery never had what she wanted, the baker's bread was too soft, sometimes too hard.… in fact there was nothing that she didn’t complain about.  Even when she first came to my office.

“How do I know that you are a qualified doctor?” she said. 

“Here are my degrees.  I trained under some great qualified doctors.”

“Those could be fake.  Maybe you bought them.”

I didn’t know what to say.  She sat across from me, frowning, holds folded on her lap, leaning forward a bit, and pursing her lips.  “I have a pain that I need to you determine its source.”

“And where it is?”

She pointed to her foot.  “I fear that it might be cancer.”  She slipped her shoe off and plopped her foot on my knee.

With just one glance, I could see that it was a callus.  A classic case.  She did not like that answer.

“I knew you were a quack.  Not a real doctor.  Any well-educated doctor would know that was cancer.”

Needless to say, Mrs. Abigail Symons Simmons did not return to my office and seven weeks later died at the age of 84.  From a slow painful death of cancer…. In her mouth.  Had she let me say “Open your mouth and say Ahhhh” I probably would have noted the sore.  But she probably wouldn’t have believed me.  

I’ll save some of my “fonder” memories of Mrs. Simmons for later, especially the one about being told to keep her window shades pulled all the way down.  My one of my other favorites being that of Mrs. Astor, one of our seamstresses in town.  Mrs. Astor once said "I just love to embroider her monogram.  It suits her so well."

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by lettuce.  Boston or head or bibb. Toss it with onions, tomatoes, and put it in the fridge.  Lettuce.

A View of the Town: Episode 15 -- Just a Couple of Tidbits

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup.  If you've the spots, we've got the syrup.  Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup is guaranteed to remove those ugly de-beautifying splotches.  Just 50 cents a bottle.

Misty Cove, Maine, was founded in 1849 as a small port town. Lumber, shipbuilding, fishing, and limestone were the major industries at one time. Later the tourist trade boomed for big city folk who would come for the summer to escape the city heat.  The main street is East Street that runs north and south.  It was named after General East.  To the north of town was a forest that the lumber trade would not touch.  It was rumored to be haunted by a powerful witch by the name of Amaryllis Stemm. 

One of our major trades is shipbuilding.  Elliott Maston, Elliott Porte, and Elliott Starr formed “Elliott, Elliott, and Elliott, Shipbuilders”, the most revered and prominent shipbuilder business in town.  The three cousins each had started out with their own business and found that unifying they could do better ship building and better business.  When they joined together, they had a very important decision to make -- what to name their business.  The easiest and simplest answer came quickly to decide was…  Flip a coin.  This led to the first fight.  The second easiest and simplest answer took a little more time… Draw straws.  This led to an even bigger fight.  It was Mrs. Porte, mother of the young Elliott Porte, who came up with the best solution.  Alphabetical.  But the feud that ensued only deepened.  Finally, it was Ms. Dewey, the librarian and no relation to the one who came up with the idea of that library system…  Just use their first names.  This idea was the best solution but only after they lost control of themselves in the public library and each grabbing a volume of the encyclopedia set… Volumes M, P, and the one with XYZ.  Heads were slapped.  Names were tossed about.  And finally, Ms. Dewey took her ferule to them.  Out the door they went, but only after promising to replace the destroyed encyclopedia volumes.  When each of them got elderly, they passed the business onto their sons, who changed the name of the business to "Matthew, Matthew, Matthew, and Herb, Shipbuilders."  It was rumored that Herb got paid more since he came last.

Our wonderful newspaper in Misty Cove was established in the early 1850s, some say 1851, while others argue 1852, then there's Abigail Appleton, granddaughter of the founder, who swears that it was 1850.  “The Daily Truth” was the name of our bi-weekly newspaper, except around holidays when it was published tri-weekly to run the sale advertisements.  Their motto – “You never know what we will print.”  It was founded  by Winslow Appleton, a middle of the roader.  Appleton was notorious for playing Devil’s Advocate.  The city relied on him more that any other citizen when it came to solving a town problem.  When it came time to choose the location of the town hall, it was Appleton who studied the town layout, chose a location, and suggested the type of building.  Often he would write our solutions of the town's or folk's problems in an editorial that appeared "every so often", which was the by-line of the column.  Only once did he get in trouble with his editorial -- the time when someone would have to inform Widow Simmons that she needs to keep her window shade in the bath room pulled completely down, especially after her baths.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup.  If you've the spots, we've got the syrup. Horace Pickle's Liver Spot Removal Syrup will remove those liver spots. Don't spill on your clothes if you don't want them spotted.  Just 50 cents a bottle.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 14 -- Widow Head

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  It goes down smooth, but what can you lose, as their motto says, "If doesn't kill you, you can rely on this booze."  Old Crown Whiskey

Last time, I told you about the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that disappeared during a mighty storm on October 12, 1885.  Well, let me tell you about the time that the Widow Head saw that ship sail into port on the same night it sank… only twenty-eight years later. 

Well, let me tell you about the Widow Head and her night at the dock a few Octobers ago.  The night that the Leonora Leticia sailed in, which as you may recall and sunk many years before. 

Widow Head’s husband, Mr. Clear Head, was the town’s prominent and successful insurance salesman for many years.  But he died in a very tragic way.  According to the local gossip, Mr. Head had traveled to Boston, visited a local house of ill-repute, and suffered a heart attack.  Even more it was rumored that he had in the arms of a madam named Sweet Honey.  But that’s another story.

Now, with the help of the insurance money from her husband’s demise, Widow Head lived the life of luxury.  A new house, best rose garden in town, finest furniture.  All the latest styles of fashion.  And since his death, she has been known to take a nip or two… or three… or even a dozen or more.  It was reported that Amos Blackburn, owner of a local tavern, had sold more bottles of old crow to her and kept her well stocked.

To move along, one night, Widow Head must have had one too many as they say and was seen staggering on the dock where the merchant ships moor.  It was about midnight on the 12th of October. Several men who were quietly talking in a small dive near the dock witnessed the whole scene from there.

The excitement broke out when Widow Head let out a blasting scream that woke everyone within a five-block radius.  She ran uncontrollably, still screaming, into the small dive near the dock.  She proceeded to topple tables, chairs, and busted any bottle she could get her hands on. She had to be subdued by a couple of the brawny sailors.  But after wild struggle she broke loose, ran out, and leapt off the dock into the icy waters.

Once retrieved, she was brought to my predecessor. She smelled of whiskey and a bottle of gin was found in a secret pocket in her petticoat.  As he tried to help her, she raved endlessly about seeing the Leonora Leticia, sailing into port with Captain Deck at the wheel.  She said it glowed and misty.  And swore that Captain Deck had yelled out to her.  “I’m comin’ home to you my dear Minerva.  I’m comin’ home.”  The boys never decided whether it was the whiskey or the ghost of a ship, but the story lives on.  And the one piece of important information that you need to know is that Widow Head’s name was Minerva.  Now's there's a mystery.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Old Crown Whiskey.  Take a few sips if you've got the gripe. Take a few for the flu. It will warm you all the way through.  Old Crown Whiskey.

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and its residents.

CSM

A View of the Town: Episode 13 -- The Leonora Leticia

Welcome to A View of the Town, the adventures of Dr. Willis Fletcher in a small coastal town in Maine. Offering tidbits of local color and the lay of the land, we now return to Dr. Fletcher and the sleepy seaport of Misty Cove.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry. Hairy Larry isn't scary but he also picks the bestest berries.  Larry lived in Misty Cove, Maine, but now he's totally insane. Larry.

I should tell you the story of the Leonora Leticia, a merchant ship that sailed between Misty Cove and several ports down south like Charleston and Savannah and even out to Bermuda and Jamaica.  The ship was commanded by a old salt named Captain Enormous Deck.  A hulk of a man with a beard so red that it look like an upside down flame on his face. Some of the boys in town claimed his beard had a family of crabs living in it.  He had been at sea for more than anyone knew.  Some claimed he was older that the hills while others said the dirt.

Now one moonless night, cloudy and dark, a horrid torrent blew in just as Captain Deck sailed towards Misty Cove, passing Pointless Point and up towards Widow's Pier.  But the ship never made it into port.  The lighthouse was dark.  The winds blew so hard that it blown out one of its panes of glass.  The wind was a force to strong for our lighthouse keeper, Nathan Stanhope, and his mate, Perky Parky Patchwork. They struggled to relight it.  Fearlessly fighting the gale. But it was too late. The Leonora Leticia had broken up on the rocks, not far out, but enough that between the tide and the wind, they took her further out, only to drag her to the bottom.

One life-hungry sailor managed to survive.  A young man named Barnabus Clark.   He told of what happened aboard the ship.  The ship was sinking from the water it was taking on.  Captain Deck had tied himself to the wheel, trying to steer the ship.  Clark was swept overboard.  The ship had staggered out toward open water when Clark was swept overboard.  The last he remembers of the ship was hearing a large crack and hearing the mast breaking.  He could see the  Leonora Leticia sinking.  No other survivors or wreckage appeared.  That was in October 12, 1885, near midnight. And here it is forty years later, every October 12, near midnight, and the Leonora Leticia has been seen sailing into port and then disappearing on that fateful night.

I'll have to tell you the rest of the tale.  About just how poor old Barnabus Clark left this world. 

Join us again next time, when Dr. Fletcher spins another tale about Mystic Cove, a small port in Maine, and it residents.

This episode of A View of the Town is brought to you by Larry.  He once said that blueberries are best, but that was before someone shot his wooden chest just to get his best vest that he wore to pick the bestest blueberries.  Larry.

CSM

Alford Tales -- Murder! Part 5

Mama told me that Pa was accidently shot when struggling with Mr. Gwinn.  

Pa met Mr. Gwinn who had several bottles of drink. They followed the North River down to the island.  There, Mama and Mrs. Gwinn hid on the island.  When Mr. Tanner drove by with his wagon, Mrs. Gwinn with the help of Mama got onto the wagon and headed south.  Mrs. Gwinn was leaving her husband.  A man of drink and Godless.  She could not longer live with him.  She left her children with her mama who would eventually travel as well to the south then west.  Mama saw her off, telling her not to worry and that all would be well.

Mama dressed in an old cloak with her face hidden. Her part was to play the witch of the island and make Mr. Gwinn think that she had spirited Mrs. Gwinn away. Carrying his musket, Pa soon came with Mr. Gwinn.  Along the way, Mrs. Gwinn left her shawl to be found.  And it was.  She left her bonnet to be found and it was.  And her basket.  Left to be found and it was.  All along the way to the island in North River.  Mr. Gwinn and Pa had found them all. 

When Pa and Mr. Gwinn, who staggered a lot and yelled for his wife, got to the island, Mama rose up and walked about so that they could see her.  Pa attempted to convince Mr. Gwinn that the witch had taken his wife away. 

But what really happened was that Mr. Gwinn grabbed Pa's musket away from him.  And when he did, he accidently butted Pa in the chin and knocked him out and accidently fired the shot into him.  He ran towards the island with Pa's musket.  Mama hid in the brush.  Mr. Gwinn, drunk, did not see her and ran as fast as he could. At one point, he threw Pa's musket down in the mud and ran off into the woods.  Not really seeming to know where he was going.  And Mama rose up.

What Mama and Mr. Gwinn didn't know was Robert found the musket in the mud.  And Henry seen Mama standing on the island and Mr. Gwinn running through the woods.  What they all didn't know until later was Pa had been knocked out and fell into a pool of water, face down, and drowned.  Mama would get home before Robert and Henry.  She didn't see Pa lying in the water.  And neither did Robert or Henry.  Or Mr. Gwinn.

But later, when Robert came home with the musket.  And when they founds Pa.  She realized what had happened.  That something had happened between Mr. Gwinn and Pa.  Had she noticed him she may have saved Pa.  Mama was never really the same after that.  And everyone assumed that Mrs. Gwinn had been spirited away.

Mr. Gwinn eventually left Rockingham County never to be seen again. All us children told stories of him being taken away by the witch.  Some said that he disappeared out west.  Mrs. Gwinn's mama left one day with her grandchildren, heading west.  After I married Mr. Alford and moved to Monroe County, I saw a woman once who looked like Mrs. Gwinn, but she went by a different name.

So there you have it.  My Pa died by accident, but I always believed he was murdered.  Mama told me the story before she died.  My Mama and Pa both told many stories.  That's where I got my storytelling from.

My grandchildren gather around the fire sometimes and listen to me tell a story or two. I know many and have heard many.  I tell them about the witch on the island and how she moved with us when we came to Monroe County and now she lived out in the woods.  Mr. Alford just sits and grins as they listen.

*******

Margaret Alford died sometime between 1847 and 1850.  She lived out her life in Monroe County, Virginia, being survived by her husband and children and grandchildren.