Sitting At The Kitchen Table

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 26 Nov 06 - 10:54 AM

I've been dreaming about houses and complicated conversations that, even in the dream, I have trouble keeping apart.

You know how one wakes up with a song running through one's head? This morning it was the Everly Brothers 'Dream'. Haven't thought of that song in years but today it keeps unwinding in my mind. May have to resort to 'Yankee Doodle'- they say that is the one tune that does not become an ear worm.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 26 Nov 06 - 07:22 AM

Hey, Tootler:

Just goes to show the power of suggestion. While I've written a couple of tunes in my life that I never added words to, it is not my gift. First of all, I am a very primitive reader of music, and can't "write it." I can tell when notes are supposed to go up and down and can usually figure out the sharps and flats, but I don't even consciously think of the names of notes when I work out an arrangement. For years, when I played banjo, I had to stop and think for a minute to remember what key I was playing in, because I never played with other musicians.

But last night, I had an even more unsual dream. I was at a college somewhere and there was an informal band playing in a cafeteria (much like at folk festivals.) The leader of the band came over and asked me to play with them, but I didn't have my guitar with me. Just as well. But, when I looked down on the table in front of me, there was a carved, wooden plaque with a map on it that looked like a simplified version of a Tolkein map. As the band was playing, I noticed that if I followed the flow of the river on the map, I could see the melody and harmonies they were playing. It was "Sheet" music in the form of a river. The melody was unfamiliar to me, but I started to hear the harmony, and was singing along in harmony to the melody. Very, very strange that I would be sitting at this table, looking at a carved map, singing harmony to a melody that doesn't exist.

And Ebbie: I really liked the lyrics you posted, expressing sorrow over the pain you/I have caused others. Growing often hurts... not just ourselves, but those around us. That's why forgiveness was invented.

And Patrish: I thought that your description of your Father was wonderful. Like you, I had to piece together my Father out of memories of others, as much as my own. I think that it's a great gift that in writing my and my family's memoirs, I am coming to know my Father better, even though he passed away 9 years ago. I'm just thankful that I saved letters and short notes about conversations we'd had over the years. They are pieces of the puzzle who was my Father. In the process, I've grown in love for him.

And keep at it, Rap: Those first two lines left any number of potential story lines for a song. I haven't gone any further, as much as anything because we've had a wonderful Thanksgiving week, which still isn't over. My wife and I are driving down to Brooklyn (an hour and forty five minute drive) this morning to the ordination of our sister-in-law on Ruth's side's ordination as a Deaconess. She and my brother-in-law are always supportive of my music, and the Gospel Messengers and come up here for anniversaries and concerts, so we want to show our loving support, in kind. Like most of us, my time here on the computer has been limited, and I've continued to keep writing on the memoirs. I don't want to lose momentum on that, so other things get set aside. I've passed 100 pages now, and still have a good head of steam. The revelations are totally unexpected. Many years ago, I wrote a song about a ne'r-do-well dog named Roscoe, who was the "black sheep" of the family. If a dog can be a sheep. You'd always "find him hanging 'round the railroad yard, or keeping bad company." Rosco would go on midnight prowls, and if your bitch heard him howl, they'd be off and running for a rendezvous. Typing the lyrics to the song, I realized that the song was as much about my Father as a dog I made up. I could just substitute my Father's name, Elmer, and the song would fit him just fine. But then, I wouldn't want to offend our friend Mr. Fudd.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 25 Nov 06 - 09:55 PM

I admit that I don't know a lot. I don't even know where to find out, and for a librarian to admit THAT is probably unique. But I do learn something every day, even if it's not to test an electrical outlet with a screwdriver or not to smoke around gunpowder (I've never done the first and I gave up my pipes better'n twenty years ago).

Jerry, I got the basic idea for a song but I'm havin' some trouble puttin' the concept into words. Hang on for a bit, 'cause it's coming.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 25 Nov 06 - 01:35 PM

Patrish, thanks for your story. The one thing that stays remarkably consistent in ALL 'dreams' of that sort that I have EVER heard is the report of the comparative youth and blooming health of the visitor.

I have experienced it several times myself. There is a lot I don't understand but I can and do accept that there is life and love beyond.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,Patrish
Date: 25 Nov 06 - 07:01 AM

I'd like a nice cup of tea with two sugars please. I've brought some lemon drizzle cake and a few words about my Dad to share.
My Dad was never comfortable telling us about the family history, his childhood or anything. But he would open up to friends I brought home over the years and thats how I found out about his memories of being brought up in Glasgow and holidays with family in Ireland.
I have no idea why he didn't share these things with me without a go-between. I'm not mad about it, just curious.

This time last year my Dad said his last words to me and my sisters.(This took place in intensive care)
He said " I've had enough of all this pain and I want to die. No more nurses I just want you. I love you all and I'm sorry to let you down, remember to keep smiling"

We assured him that it was ok and we were not let down. We told him how much we loved him.
The nurses came in and took Dad off the medication that was keeping his blood pressure up and put him on more pain relief. Dad slept.
About 48 hours later we were all round his bed, when the machines that measured the life in him began to fall. The oxygen in his blood his heart rate and pressure. It was as if he was slowly switching off.
We spoke quietly to him telling him again we loved him and that everthing would be fine. I held his hand which was feeling very cold. I tried to warm him and hugged and kissed him. The machines stopped doing anything and Dad crossed over.
I was left feeling glad that all his pain had gone, glad that he would be reunited with Mum, but I also felt that my heart was broken. I loved my Dad so much and I still do.

A couple of months later my daughter had an unusual dream. She was talking to my Dad, who was telling her that he was with my Mum and they were sorting out the old house so that we could all be together again and to tell me not to worry as there would be a room there for me. My daughter said he looked much younger and very well and happy.

Yes, it might be just a dream, but it has given me so much comfort.
Forgive me for this indulgance at my first sitting at this welcoming table, I'm sure you'll understand.

More lemon drizzle anyone?

Pat xxxx

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 25 Nov 06 - 02:58 AM

So many people I've hurt in my life
So many tears I've caused to fall
Promises broken and so many lies
I scarcely can bear it at all.

    Lord I don't want justice, I can't afford justice
    As payback for my whole life long
    Lord I want mercy, oh, Lord, I need mercy
    And forgiveness for all I've done wrong...

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 24 Nov 06 - 09:47 PM

Hey, Ebbie:

I wrote a line in a song that was about my friendship with Art Thieme:

"For all the burdens that we've shared, let us lift our voice in praise."

I thought of that, reading your comments. Looking back over my life, I see how everything that has happened to me has shaped me into who I am, and prepared me for what needs to be done. I can see where some of the most painful, destructive things that have happened to me have given me the right to say, "I've been there, and you will get through this." I sure wish that I didn't have to learn some things in such a hard way, and that I hadn't hurt so many others in the process. The only positive way forward that I see is to use those painful experiences to bring comfort and assurance to others who are going through them.

In a friendship, it's natural to remember the good times you've shared and be thankful for them. But here's to the hard times, too!

"I know there were times when nothing went right
Sometimes we stayed up most all of the night
You had your troubles, God knows I had mine
But still we had us one Hell of a time"

                                     from Winter To Spring

Going through Hell together sure beats going it alone.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Tootler
Date: 24 Nov 06 - 06:39 PM

Jerry,

Your dream reminded me of one I had some months ago. In my dream I saw a fragment of a tune written out on a stave and woke up with the tune in my head. It was a most eerie sensation.

Fortunately I was able to capture the tune fragment, though I have it stored away with other fragments of music waiting for me to work on them and make something of them.

I have never written a song though. Somehow I have never had the urge, but I do enjoy writing tunes.

Geoff

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 24 Nov 06 - 09:28 AM

Jerry, you'll have to do the music. I can't write music to save my soul, so that'll probably the test St. Pete gives me to get into heaven.

"Okay, dude, you're in if you can write some music to go with these lyrics The Boss (and I don't mean Springsteen) wrote. And be sure to include bass clef chords!"

Lemme see what I can do.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 12:51 PM

Good morning! Just poking my head in to say how much I appreciate this home.

It occurred to me yesterday that everything that I enjoy I can be thankful for. And I suppose that many times the things I have NOT enjoyed are valuable- and I must be thankful for that. Durn.

Have a happy day.

Eb

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 10:13 AM

And by thwe way, Rap:

Go ahead and write a song with those first two lines. It would be fun to see where they carry you. Gordon Bok has been a friend of mine for over 30 years, and we greatly enjoy each other's music. Bok, Tirckett and Muir recorcded two of my songs :Living On The REiver and Old Blue Suit, which is humorous, as my subject matter is hardly maritime. I always thought it would be fun to give Gordon two lines and let each of us write a song, based on those two lines.

Stephen King works on stories the way I write songs, starting out with a couple of characters and a setting, and then letting them carry the story.

I started a song once with just two lines, with no idea where it was going to go:

"It was a nice night; at least I thought it was nice
It was the right time; at least I thought it was right"

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 09:56 AM

Hey, Rap:

In keeping with the feel of the dream, this would be one of those odd old-time songs with a call and response like the one that goes:

"What's the matter with the mill?
The mill broke down"

The other songs in the dream were old songs that I used to sing back in the early 60's.

Working on laundry, and fooling around while I'm doing it (being careful to separate the whites from the colored (sounds like a segregationist song, right there) I got:

   Jesse didn't show up for work today
   And the boss is fit to be tied
   He'll probably say that he was sick in bed
   But you know that that's a lie

And somewhere in there, there has to be the lines:

"We couldn't do the installation
'Cause Jesse didn't show up for work"

"We got to move these 'frigerators
We got to install these color tvs"

All music comes from one well

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 09:28 AM

I think there's a song in there trying to get out, Jerry. You can write it from those two lines...heck, I could write something from those two lines, and it's YOUR dream. I'd write a pretty sad song, though.

I kinda suspect that this comes from your mom's passing away. See what you can write.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 08:56 AM

Last night I had the strangest dream. I mean, I've had some unlikely dreams in my life, but this one was unique.

I was walking down the street in Boston, when an old beat-up car with three guys in it came driving slowly by. They had the windows rolled down, and Spanish Merchant's Daughter was playing. That's a song that I learned, along with most of the toher songs, on the Anthology of American Folk Music. I used to sing it with an old friend of mine, Luke Faust. It's a pretty obscure song, so I was floored when I heard it coming out of a car stereo. I ran alongside the car and called to the guys in it, and as it turned out, they were pulling over anyway, to park the car. When I talked to them, they invited me to come inside, which I did. I was lying on the couch, and someone handed me a large acoustic "guitar" unlike any I'd ever seen before. It only had four strings, and the two middle strings were tuned to the same note. The Bass and top string were an octave apart, and the whole instrument was tuned low: like a bass guitar. I started picking around on it and ended up laying Trouble Don't Last Always.. another obscure recording that I have on tape, identified only as "Jamaican Trio." I did the song, all the way through, slipping in verses of other songs, like Oh, Death, that fit, and the tuning worked just fine.

By the time that I finished, three or four more guys had arrived, and they all gathered around in a circle, and started playing. They played a song Jesse Didn't show up for work this morning (which doesn't exist,) and the sang in great, four-part harmony, with different guys taking leads on different lines, sometime singing in two-part harmony. It was an old-time string band sound, and I heard all the parts... mandolin, and fiddle included. It was a terrific song. Apparently, they couldn't do the installation (as the song says) because Jesse didn't show up for work that morning.

And then I woke up.

I've had dreams with songs that don't exist, on many occasions. I've sometimes remembered enough to complete the songs, but I could only remember two lines of this one. It was just plain weird that I heard all the harmony lines, and the instruments. Usually, it's just the melody and words of a song. I've never heard a six man old-time string band do a song, with all the harmonies and instrumental lines worked out.

Like many other songwriters, I keep a pad and pen by my bed (or now, I come downstairs and type the words into my computer more commonly.)
I've had songs come in dreams with as many as three verses intact, when I wake up. Some, I just remember one line. I built a whole song around one verse from a dream, because I found it so fascinating:

"And somewhere inside her, there's still that young girl
   With a tortoise-shell comb in her hair"

I doubt that I ever could have written such a wonderful, evocative line while I was awake..

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: billybob
Date: 23 Nov 06 - 07:24 AM

Happy Thanksgiving from England.
Its a working day for us but I think I will take Billy out for dinner this evening if I can find Turkey on the menu?
We will phone his 4 sisters in New Jersey later, they will all be gathering round a big table with the children and grand children, wish we could be there.Hey ho, coffee please and anyone like to share a chocolate? One of my clients brought in a huge box this morning, must not eat them all!( but I do love coffee creams)
Wendy

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 22 Nov 06 - 10:33 PM

I'm with you, Patty, although our friends across the pond won't be celebrating. Not that you need a government holiday to give thanks.
Ruth and I are going down to Da Bronx for Thanksgiving dinner at one of our son's and his wife's place. All of my side of our family are a thousand miles away-hay, so we'll touch base by phone. This year will be a season of firsts: this will be our first Thanksgiving without Mom. My family will feel it more immediately because she was always there for Thanksgiving. I haven't had a Thanksgiving with my family in Wisconsin since the early 60's, so the difference won't be that noticeable.

And yes, let's even be thankful for the left-overs. Considering the family members I've lost, I guess I qualify as a left-over, myself. And mighty thankful to be left-over. I just don't want to be left behind. Or left out. Or out in left field. Or, almost anything that has the word "left" in it.

Have a great day tomorrow, all: whether it's an official day of Thanksgiving, or not.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: pattyClink
Date: 22 Nov 06 - 09:26 PM

Well, everyone is drifting off, traveling to other tables for the big deal tomorrow. Let's all be kind to our relatives however annoying, they are the only ones we get. Let's remember those gone with sweet sentiment, but remember they could be just as annoying as the ones still living. Let's give thanks for the kitchen table among many other things.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Rapparee
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 10:18 PM

I have copies of letters written by my father to my mother which cover a period from about 1935 to 1945. Romantic? You betcha. Steamy, in fact, when you really read 'em. I'll just say that I got a sneaking suspicion that sex was discovered long before I was born. Just a hunch, mind you.

Also, it looks like I'm going to need hearing aids. I've been done in by an ototoxic drug called "quinine." Seems to have killed off the hair cells in my inner ears. Well, it DID stop the nighttime leg cramps I was having.... I'll know in early December when I go to be re-evaluated at the University's audiology department. If I do need 'em, I'm going to get the best I can. No need to cut corners with music, is there?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 08:38 PM

Thank you, Patty & Dean:

What wonderful stories. I too have some tapes of my Father (and Mother) as well as some music sung at a Christmas gathering one year, including one of my sisters playing autoharp. I never even knew she had one, and never heard her play it again, so the tape is wonderful. I have tapes of my kids singing when they were very little, too. I am transferring every slowly to CD, and making many copies.

Patty: As I write these family memoirs, I am sending copies to both of my sisters and a couple of other friends who don't have computers.
I'm also e-mailing them to a long list of interested friends, including some Catters here at the kitchen table, who might be interested. Many of the memoirs relate directly to songs that I've written and are just an expansion on introductions I've honed over the years when I was performing them regularly.

Dean: One of the hardest things to imagine is our parents being young and romantic. Especially our fathers. My father was of the school when challenged by my Mother, "You never say you love me!" by answering. "I don't have to day I love you, I take out the garbage, don't I?" Piecing together the old stories a picture of my Father emerges that bears faint resemblance to the unexpressive, private man I knew as my Father. Every fragment of the past is a precious jewel, in my mind.

And sorry you're going through all that STUFF, Ron. I know how upsetting it is to see a pet suffer. I hope the new vet can correct the problems with your cat.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 07:44 PM

What Jerry said about getting to know one's father, posthumously, took me back 27 years. It was the first time I made it back to my mothers' place in Minnesota, after the emergency trip there to his deathbed. She had turned in before me, and I happened to open the old bookcase-desk. I found a small bundle of letters I had never seen. My father had written them to her, in the late 1920's, when he was working out of state for a few months. I don't know if they were officially engaged yet, but it was apparent from the letters that they might as well have been. My father was not a humorless man, but he very, very seldom expressed his feelings. I sat down with the letters, and met a young man freely expressing romantic longing, and throwing in a kind of silly humor I had never heard from him. It took a bit for the tears to subside.
                         Dean

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 03:21 PM

Some years back I started a family newsletter replete with anecdotes, recipes, letters, a 'Closeup' of a family member, memories, and whatever else I can think of from one issue to the next.

The two most popular features of the 'newsletter' are the memories (usually a footer titled I REMEMBER... and signed by that person, and the Closeups. The closeups are either in a Q & A format Usually by phone) or sometimes utilize a form that the featured person fills out line by line. The questins range widely, from 'What is your earliest memory?' to 'They say that each child lives in a different family- what kind of family did you live in?' and back again.

My whole rationale for 'Homespun' was helping us get to know others in the extended family and to let ourselves be known .

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,pattyClink
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 02:37 PM

Jerry, my Dad in his retirement years (and even a little before) got in the habit of dragging a cheap little tape recorder along on visits to his fellow old-timers. Apparently it started when he was being debriefed on the history of the spot where he grew up, and it dawned on him that a lot of stuff was getting lost.

So he would visit people in his travels and say he was working on the family geneaology (which he didn't really do in a formal way) and got them talking. He also grabbed some tape from visits on a trip to the old country, and some relatives singing some old songs, and just some family gatherings.

They were an undocumented mess, but as a result of this fairly odd habit, we now have a record of HIS voice as well as all these other people (he would often have to tell 2 stories to get his subject to give up 1), and of course that and the snippet's of Mom's voice are now priceless. Ironically, for his last several years his voice was gone due to laryngectomy, so it was doubly blessed that he did this gift before he lost the chance.

Years ago, I took the 30+ cassettes, plus some stuff of Granddad & other relatives singing old songs, and spliced together coherent samples so the family could have 90 minutes of assorted voices, songs and stories. I listened to it the other day for the first time in a long time. Time to migrate that stuff to digital before the tapes get creaky, and to take his little suitcase of raw material and see how much of it will transfer (I shudder to think of the stick-shed syndrome that has probably taken over some of them).

Anyway, I'm so glad you are doing this for your family Jerry, and make sure a junior family member knows how to get into your stash and make sense of it (or just save priceless letters from the garage sale) whenever you pass on. Actually, for anybody else who is thinking about this: one good methodology to make sure it's not this big growing heap of stuff that never sees the light of day: pick an annual project (scrapbook, collected letters, family tree, autobio, photo CD, audio CD, whatever) and try to finish it in time to give copies to relatives in lieu of clutter-gifts. It gives you a deadline and impetus to finish one chunk at a time. Then start on the next chunk.

Which reminds me, this years project was supposed to be a disc with an audio and a transcript of a distant relative telling us bloodcurdling tales of early family history.   Don't think I can make the deadline, but I better see if I can try. Time to shut my mouth and do it!!!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ron Davies
Date: 21 Nov 06 - 06:18 AM

Hi Jerry et al.

No, I haven't been writing songs or collecting stories recently.   I was trying to adhere to the Mr. Ed school--"Mr Ed will never speak unless he has something to say."

And I've been too caught up in stuff at home--primarily dealing with a very sick cat. I have no idea if anybody would be interested in the rather graphic problems Fern has. She's been diagnosed as having severe anemia--even needed a blood transfusion. Her blood count is still way below normal. We're afraid she may have leukemia--and are both depressed and absolutely livid at the idea--since all our cats have been kept up to date on their shots--obviously including feline leukemia. We have left our old vet--who did the shots--and charged us $200 for taking one blood test and just telling us we needed to go to a pet emergency hospital--which then came up with a totally different blood count 2 hours later.

The old vet evidently has no emergency care available. Jan is really annoyed about that--she says that in her little town in England, the vet had emergency care available on-site--and seems to think this is standard in England. I have no idea. Any UK posters have info on that question?



We had to have the old vet do blood tests regularly--and they attempted to charge different amounts for the same test several times until I put my foot down--and told them that behavior would lose them customers---which I said very loudly in the waiting room so other customers could hear.

They also gave us appointments which they evidently never had any intention of honoring--we had to wait 2 hours recently for just doing one blood test.

If Fern does have leukemia, we may well sue the old vet.

Which is a real problem, since it's our local vet--and the daughter of one of our neighbors is one of the vets.

And Jan says the old vet's facilities seem to not have been cleaned for years---she doesn't want to go back just on that basis.

What a mess.

But we have a new vet--competent, friendly, informative, with clean facilities and reasonable charges.

So we'll see what happens.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 20 Nov 06 - 08:35 PM

Been doing some detective work these days. Me and Jessica Fletcher. Occasionally, I do something right. Over the years, I've asked my parents to talk about their lives; either on tape or in letters. I also hada wonderful correspondence for a while with my Father's younger brother, who had a rich memory and was more than happy to share it. Now, they're all gone. But my letters and notes aren't, and I've been gathering them together. Some of the remembrances that I've kept filed away are revelations to me now.
My Father was of the old school of "don't talk and they won't catch you." Actually, that school is still in session, with new people matriculating every day. It took writing to my Uncle, and talking to the next door neighbor of my Father when he was growing up to piece together at least some of who my Father was.

What I'm wondering is, have any of you collected family memories? Is everyone gone? If not, it's never too late. My Mother told me something very close to her last day which wasn't kept as an intentional secret, but explained a lot to me about my father. Sometimes, the most important things are those that are left unsaid.

I continue to write... reaching 100 pages now. It's a fascinating process, and one I'd encourage others to try at some point. Much to my surprise, I am coming to know my Father and Mother better, even though they've passed away. The memories have a life of their own.
And, I'm learning more about myself, which is probably the most valuable benefit of writing.

So,any of you people keeping memories? Or collecting them?

Back in 1975, I wrote a song for my father. I'd almost forgotten it, because it's a song I never sing. I wrote it at a time when my father and I didn't quite know what to do with each other. We'd been at loggerheads for most of our lives up until that point, and we had reached a state of peace, if not understanding.

One of the verses is a bit of good advice that I gave to myself, and took:

"So many times, I know you tried to tell him
And even though you never found the way
Someday you'll find that there are no more tomorrows
So don't let your chances slip away"

                                           from Long, Lonely Nights

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Sandra in Sydney
Date: 17 Nov 06 - 09:37 PM

A couple of years back a woman at a festival asked if I was Pam's sister, Sandra.

Naturally I stared at her blankly but I remembered her name when she introduced herself. She was my younger sister's best friend for all of primary school & high school, and her sister was in my class which is why I remembered their Dutch surname. She lost contact with my sister sometime after Pam moved to Perth in 1976 & I would not have seen her since I left school in 1969.

Later I found an old primary school pic of my class & located her sister. I looked equally blankly at all my old classmates & wondered how many have passed me in a crowded street in the intervening years!

I got a call in 1988 about a planned 20 year reunion. I wasn't really interested as I didn't keep up folks from school after I left, but chatted a bit. He was having trouble locating females cos most unlike me, had changed their names. Fortunately I hadn'y. I asked the bloke (who I didn't remember!) how he found my number.

He laughed & said Tax file numbers! I didn't say anything tho I knew it was a crime for Tax Office employees to look at records.

I never heard anything more about that reunion, I assumed at the time someone did report him, & he lost his job & probably went to jail.

Earlier this year I came home to a very strange message on my machine. A very loud female voice slowly gives her phone no, including area code, not normally given for calls in the same state. Then she launched into a convoluted story about everyone wanting to know how I was. At one stage she mentioned the name of the High School & said some of them they had had lunch today & kept trying to remember the names of "everyone" who was asking after me. She also confessed that she must be drunk, 'twas a bit obvious. I just deleted the message.

She called again a few hours later, again did not identify herelf & this time remembered the name of "everyone", who were several unknown women & my best friend from primary school. I said I'd love to hear from her, but disappointed her by repeating several time that I did not want to join their email list to come to reunions. I also asked how she got my number & found out someone's dad knows mine.

I wasn't really surprised that I never heard from Crystal.

sandra

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 16 Nov 06 - 09:43 PM

I'm a big mug

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 16 Nov 06 - 07:56 PM

You betcha Jerry. I've got that wascally wabbit in my sights, and this time it's curtains for sure. I can just feeeeel it in these creaky old bones.

Mugs. I like a big mug. Sturdy and substantial so that I don't feel like I'm going to break it, and big so that I don't have to get up for a second cup too soon. I have some soup mugs that do the job nicely. Right now there's one filled with decaf coffee (getting on in the day, y'know), 1% milk (getting on in my life, y'know), and a smidgeon of chocolate thrown in (gotta have a little fun in spite of everything, yknow).

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 16 Nov 06 - 07:20 PM

Had an interesting encounter today.

When I was out in Wisconsin for my mother's memorial, I was taken aback when a man came out to me and said that it was good to see me. I had the feeling that it was probably good to see him too, but I wasn't sure who he was. When he introduced himself, my suspicions turned out to be correct. He was Kenny Sperry, who lived in the house kitty-corner from ours when I was a kid. I had only seen him twice since high school, and each time it was very fleeting. The last time had been close to twenty years ago, so I guess it was forgiveable that I didn't immediately recognize him. We talked very briefly, because he had just dropped by to pay his respects and couldn't stay for the memorial. I asked him if he had an e-mail address and when he answered "yes," I asked him to write it down for me.

Today, I finished writing a section of the memoirs I'm working on that I thought he'd relate to, and dug up his e-mail address. When I couldn't read it, I went on the internet, found his phone number and gave him a call. A woman answered the phone, and I introduced myself. The woman was very friendly, and told me that Kenny had just gone up north for the weekend. I hesitated to say, "Is this you, Janice?", because I haven't spoken to her since we were in the same home room together in high school. I knew that Kenny married Janice and always thought he was a lucky dog. But, marriages being as fragile as they tend to be, I thought it wise not to ask that question. She might answer, "NO, this is Brenda, not that BITCH!, He dumped her a long time ago!" You never know. But, she said, very warmly, "This is Janice." And I breathed a sigh of relief. It's good to know that marriages occasionally can last. They've been married over 50 years, from my best calculations.

The problem is, talking with Janice, I could only invision here as the 17 year girl in my home room. We could pass on the street and not recognize each other. There is something strange about attaching a 54 year old memory onto someone's voice. I wonder if I still am the skinny, gawky, uncertain kid she kenw when I was 17?

Anyone have that kind of experience?

And, only 35 more posts, and jimmyt will stop in again.

Get your blundebuss ready, Elmer!

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 14 Nov 06 - 01:03 PM

I'm with you on tea, Wendy. Especially Earl Grey. I don't think that tea tastes as good in a mug.

Back in my Greenwich Village days when a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was a lavish meal, we used to go down to Chinatown when we were feeling flush and get a full meal for a dollar at the Ban Hung Inn... a little walk down basement restaurant ignored by all the tourists. I always had the feeling that I could end up tied in a gunny sack and thrown on a slow freighter to Singapore. You could have all the tea you wanted. If you knew where to get it, and got it yourself. The tea was in the kitchen, and not served with your meal. You had to go out into the kitchen and get a heavy, chipped, half inch thick glass, worn milky on the edges and get your tea out of a big urn with a spigot. Not classy, exactly but for a dollar a meal, it tasted mighty good. I would have drunk it out of my shoe.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: billybob
Date: 14 Nov 06 - 11:54 AM

Bone china cup for me too Jerry, a must with tea too, tea does not taste the same in a mug, and I prefer Lady Grey myself!

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 07:48 PM

LOL Frogprince. If they take me on, they can kiss a capella goodbye. In honesty, I don't know why the would like to do that, because they are spendid, as is. Maybe they haven't thought it out clearly. Or more likely, they're not a capella by choice. My wife and I went to a doo wop concert last year, where they performed. It was a great evening with close to 4,000 people in attendence. The headliners were the Satins (for legal reasons, they can't be the 5 Satins anymore, although the original lead singer, Fred Paris still leads the group) Gene Pitt and the Jive Five (only four people in the Jive Five and six in the 5 Satins... math was never a strong suit in rhtyhm and blues) and the Chiffons. At least the Chiffons were smart enough not to be the 3 Chiffons. Although there were three of them. It would be a strange experience playing in front of 4,000 people. As a folk singer, I'm more accustomed to singing to a sell out crowd of 60.

And Gol, Elmer! Now you got me going to my dictionary. I know it's around here somewhere. Maybe under this pile of old magazines and empty bottles. Maybe it's just safer if I say Fatherly.

Always glad to have folks standing in the doorway, by the way. We'll pass a mug of coffee to you when you drop by.

My wife, being an elegant woman, likes to drink coffee out of a paper thin, white china cup. It tastes better to her that way. I prefer a large, heavy ceramic mug. If it's cold outside, I can wrap my hands around it and warm them, and the coffee tastes bolder. It's not a male/female thing, either. Maybe it's all dependent on poor hand circulation?

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: frogprince
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 06:40 PM

I've also spent some pleasant moments lately leaning by the door with Pattyclink, just listening to folks here. I tend to be that way in the "3-D" world too. And, just like in that other world, when I finally speak up, it's apt to be to say something stupid. So I just have to ask Jerry if I heard him right when he said,
"I've been asked if I'd like to play guitar for the a capella group, the Sentinels".
How many other players in their backup band?
                            Dean.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 06:16 PM

I believe the word you want is "paternal," Jerry, not "paternalistic." The former means "fatherly," and the latter has some negative connotations that definitely don't apply.

I've been sitting for hours, doing some very detailed work that requires a steady hand (no, not quite brain surgery) and listening to loud, raucous music in the form of Stevie Ray Vaughan. Don't know why, but lately I'm attracted to music that rocks the rafters when I do sit-down, detailed projects.

Am I reverting to a second teenager-hood (doing homework with music at full blast--the radio in my day--probably iPods today)? Does anyone else have such propensities?

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,pattyclink
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 03:36 PM

Thanks elmer and ebbie, I have done that but reading posts from bottom to top makes me crazy.    Well, it was just a thought. Carry on!
Jerry, glad you are busy and happy.
I have had the great luxury today of having a half-clean house and a day off work and have been digging through old song books for new songs to learn. I gotta do this more often.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 02:04 AM

Also, if you click on the small "d" after the number of posts, it starts with the most recent post and goes backwards through the posts. Very handy-dandy.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Ebbie
Date: 13 Nov 06 - 01:10 AM

Patty Clink, do you click on the small 'd' in the numbers column? That way it will only load 50 posts at a time, no matter how long the thread gets.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 12 Nov 06 - 10:33 PM

Thanks for the perspective, Patty. I'd start a new thread but I've enjoyed this one so much that I feel paternalistic about it. Hmmm.. is there such a word as paternalistic? If there isn't there is now.
While I'm at it, how about honoring Animal Wifery? Why should it always be Animal Husbandry?

Yeah, that's a great quote, Elmer. Funny, I was thinking I should stop in an put on a new pot of coffee, and I find you and Patty sitting at the table. What is that about great minds running in the same circles? I think I must have gotten that one wrong.

Peas Porridge cold may taste great when it's in the pot for nine days, but coffee doesn't.

Truth is, I've been having such a great time these days that I don't get in here as much as I want to. I just had a wonderful, wonderful phone call from my youngest son and am bubbling over.

Feeling Paternalistic!

Kids are worth it.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST,pattyClink
Date: 12 Nov 06 - 09:58 PM

Love this thread, I just stand at the door occasionally and hear what goes on.   The traffic has slowed so much....I just have to pipe up and say, this thread has got way too big to load and scroll, and I'm on fast broadband, saints help the slow connectors. Why not start Kitchen Table II, or Backyard Fence, or Shady Porch?

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 12 Nov 06 - 04:06 PM

Baby, baby, baby, where did our thread go?

Well, all that brilliance and erudition by Rev. Rasmussen is a hard act to follow. So I will do the only thing possible, taking a hint from the inimitible Professor Noveschevsky: PLAGIARIZE!

Nawwww, credit where credit is due: the underappreciated author of "Archie and Mehitabel," Don Marquis, wrote:

"AN IDEA IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE PEOPLE WHO BELIEVE IN IT."

Now, is that a cool quote or what???!!!!

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Nov 06 - 09:17 PM

And talk about way cool! I've been asked if I'd like to play guitar for the a capella group, the Sentinels, who shared to NOMAD workshop with the Messengers. They're a very well known group on the East Coast and travel all over the place, opening for major acts.

We could practice here at the house. We live on a corner, and there's a street light right outside of our house.

Dip, Dip, Dip, Dip, nume, nume, nume, nume..

Where is JimmyT when I need him?

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Tootler
Date: 09 Nov 06 - 07:06 PM

All I could hear was it muttering "Damn" under it's breath, as it flew away.

LOL. It must have had a penetrating voice then to carry 3000+ miles :-)

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Nov 06 - 09:00 AM

continued:

When all was quiet, Mom would cuatiously open the door, and we'd all burst into the living room. Or, at least I would burst. I'd be full of excitement, and start grilling dad about what he'd seen.

"Did you see him, Dad?"
"Oh yeah, I peeked around the corner of the davenport when he was putting the presents under the tree, " he'd answer.
Did you see his renideer?"
"Naw, I couldn't see them from behind the davenport, but I heard their bells when they took off."

That was enough for me. It never occurred to me to ask the really hard questions like: "If he had all that snow on his boots, how come he didn't track any into the house? Mom would have had a fit!" Or, "How come there aren't any tracks in the snow in our front yard?" By then, the only question I had was "Can we open the presents, now?"

When I got older and realized that Santa Clause was my Mom and Dad, and I had been lovingly duped: not just by Mom and Dad, but by my sisters, Christmas took on more meaning. One thing about Mom, though. She always made it clear that Christmas wasn't just about getting presents. The most important thing was that it was a time to celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus. Those first few years, Santa Clause and the baby Jesus got along real well together, and I loved them both. It wasn't until I was four or five that I realized that only Jesus was real."

(Just my belief, folks...)

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 09 Nov 06 - 08:44 AM

Still writing, and as we are approaching the season, I thought that I'd post this. I wouldn't be comfortable posting this in the wilds of Mudcat, because it might be offensvie to those who think that any expression of faith is a judgment of others. But, this is the kitchen table and hopefully we can all relax and just be who we are. That's the way it is at our house where we have Atheists, Agnostics, Catholics, Baptists and Muslims gathered around the table together for Christmas.

T'was The Night Before Christmas

"T'was the night before Christmas" and we'd already opened our presents. Forget the dancing sugar plums. If you ever wondered how Santa Clause could deliver presents to all the kids on earth in one night, he got a running start by bringing all the kids in the Midwest their presents early on Christmas Eve. In our house, Christmas Eve started the minute we finished wolfing down our supper. It was the one time of year when I was thankful that we had supper at 4 o'clock.

Before I was school age, Santa came to our house every Christmas Eve. He didn't come down the chimney. If he had, he'd end up in our coal furnace and it wouldn't just be his suit that was red. He boldly walked through our front door. Not that I'd ever really seen him come into the house. But my Dad did.

After supper, Dad would hide behind the living room davenport, and Mom would herd my sisters and I down onto the basement stairs and then close the door behind us. For some unknown reason, Dad always got to hide behind the davenport, so that he could see Santa Clause when he came in. As soon as the basement door was closed, Dad would quietly sidle out from behind the davenport and tiptoe across the room and into the bedroom where our presents were carefully hidden in our one closet. He'd quickly carry them into the living room and place them haphazardly under the Christmas tree. When the presents were all under the tree he would tiptoe across the living room floor and into the dining room and careflly open the front door. With a sigh of relief, he would softly stroll out to the front of the porch and pause for a moment. Coming back into the hourse, Dad was Santa Clause. No need for a suit or a cotton-ball beard. The only one who could see him was him. As he came striding across the front porch, he'd stompthe non-existent snow off of his non-=existent boots and when he opened the front door he'd call out a "Ho!,Ho!,Ho!" in his best Santa-voice. Once inside the house he'd make a lot of fuss in the living room, as if he was unloading presents from his sack. All the time, I was hunched breathlessly behind the basement door, visualizing every move. When the presents were in place, Santa didn't have to stop and eat a plate full of cookies and drink a glass of milk on the way out. We never left anything for him. We didn't want Santa to stick around, once he'd delivered our presents. Besides, he would preferred a cold Pabst Blue Ribbon, but that would have blown his cover. As Dad headed noisily out the front door he'd call over his shoulder, "Ho!, Ho!, Ho!, and a Merry Christmas t all! and stomp his way across the front porch only to once again pause there. Then, it was a matter of sneaking back into the house without our hearing him so that he could hide behind the davenport. Mom always gave him enough time by telling us that we couldn't come out until we were sure he was gone, or we'd scotch the whole deal."

Continued

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 10:09 PM

My most vivid memory of robins is of a flock who would annually appear to get plastered on the rotting pyracanthra (sp?) berries in front of my parents' house. They would fly around in wild swoops and dives, chirping madly, and occasionally they would take unsteady aim at the living room, only to loudly bonk their heads on the picture window that lay between them and their goal. The birds seemed to survive their head-on collisions with the window, and it was a hoot to watch them.

Happened every single year.

Elmer.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 07:46 PM

All I could hear was it muttering "Damn" under it's breath, as it flew away.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Tootler
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 07:30 PM

Elmer, you need to realise that cats do just exactly as they please. We have two and believe me, they just do exactly as they please.

Change of subject

I was driving up to Newcastle last Saturday when I saw a kestrel stoop for prey on the median strip of the road. You quite often see kestrels hovering above roads here, but it was the first time I had seen one actually dive. I don't think it was successful, but it was certainly quite exciting to see. Unfortunately at 70mph, you can't take your eyes off the road for too long so I couldn't follow it after it flew up again.

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Elmer Fudd
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 06:31 PM

It was 94 degrees here today! Three woodpeckers were outside the kitchen window--I love the chirrruping sound they make. However, the most unusual visitor from the animal kingdom was a cat with lovely big, black-and-white splotches. She appeared in the front yard and made a beeline for my feet. She proceeded to roll all over them, scent-marking my toes and ankles by head-butting them. It took a long time to walk back to the house. The cat made a dive for the door and inspected the entire house (not that there's much to inspect), meowing and escaping my grasp at every turn. She looked to be well cared-for and not a stray. I finally grabbed her and carried her, purring ferociously, to the door. As soon as I plunked her down she tore between my legs and back into the house. I finally left the front door open and let her have the run of the place until she satisfied her curiosity and left in her own good time and on her own four feet.

Elmer

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: GUEST
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 11:56 AM

Hi Jerry
we had the most beautiful woodpecker in the garden on Sunday morning , very pale green with a bright red head,he came up very close to the house till he was chased off by a squirrel, we have also had Jays in the oak tree.
Weather yesterday was foggy and today very grey and chilly, my pet hate is the dark evenings, it gets dark around 4 now we have put the clocks back, I hate going home from the salon in the dark and walking into a dark house, roll on summer and long evenings in the garden with a glass of chilled wine.Hot chocolate tonight with marshmallows!
Wendy

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Jerry Rasmussen
Date: 08 Nov 06 - 10:43 AM

So, what did the Junco say to the Robin? (this is for North America Catters.) "What you doin', still here!"

In the northern part of the U.S., the first Robin is considered a sign of Spring. (The American Robin isn't anything like the English robin, by the way.) The Robin has even been immortalized in song "When the red, red Robin comes bob bob bobbin' along." The Junco is a northern North America bird and migrates south as winter approaches. That's given the Junco the nickname,
"Snow Bird." Anne Murray had a hit song about a Snowbird (She's Canadian..)

Check out time for the Robins is about now, and they're gathering in flocks, here in Connecticut, preparing for their flight south. Yesterday, I saw some newly arrived Juncos feeding on the same lawn as a flock of Robins, and I wondered what their conversation would be like.

Next Spring, the Robins will be back... usually before the last snow fall. You'll see them shivering in the hedge rows, looking for an overlooked barberry. Robins eat worms, and there aren't many worms avaiable, with snow on the ground. The Juncos haven't left yet, so there is another conversation that goes on in the Spring.

When both birds are around, you can expect just about any kind of weather. We haven't had any snow yet, and probably won't for awhile. But, when I see snowbirds at the feeder, I know it's not far away.

How you people doing up there in Maine? You must have seen the snow birds weeks ago, as they work their way down from Canada.

Just remember, everywhere is south of something.

Except for the South pole.

Jerry

Subject: RE: BS: Sitting At The Kitchen Table
From: Carly
Date: 07 Nov 06 - 03:14 PM

Aaah, I'm finally home. The Getaway was lovely, I had a terrific time, but I'll be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight. Much as I enjoy the adventures in my life, it seems as though at heart I am a real homebody; it feels good to be home. Tea, anyone?