storytelling for truth lovers

  • hello, gorgeous – the memories, the music, the magic of Streisand


    When Ellen DeGeneres introduced Barbra Streisand on her show a week before Christmas, I was a member of her mesmerized TV viewing audience… but felt something was slightly off kilter from the moment Barbra made her entrance. What was wrong, I thought, as Barbra walked over from my right to greet Ellen in the center of the screen with the typical hug, smile and air kiss. Then Barbra sat down in Ellen’s chair while Ellen sat down across from her. I was gobsmacked – never in all my 15 years of watching Ellen’s show had anyone dared to sit in Ellen’s chair.

    I mean, this was like a cosmic shift. I felt my universe begin to rotate counterclockwise.

    But the interview confirmed Barbra has a preferred side to be filmed and unfortunately, it was the same side Ellen liked for herself. However, in the interest of fair play (and obtaining the exclusive interview), Ellen gave up her chair for the Streisand visit – and who wouldn’t? Good move, I agreed.

    The rare television appearance on the Ellen show was to promote Barbra’s new Netflix concert; and sisters and brothers, I was happy to answer her altar call for the holy church of Streisand music during the holiday season.

    Pretty made the mistake of sleeping in later on Christmas morning when I got up to see if Santa Claus had left me anything under the tree and lo and behold, he had. I started a fire in the den fireplace and turned on Netflix to find some Christmas music. The first image I saw was Barbra’s concert she had been talking about on the Ellen show, and I knew I must have been a very good girl to get this surprise from Santa.

    who needs chestnuts roasting on an open fire

    Pretty got up in time to see Jamie Foxx and Barbra sing Climb Every Mountain together after the intermission, and she was hooked, too. They made some majestic music together.

    I have to admit I’ve skipped quite a few football bowl games this year that I normally would never miss – in favor of listening several times to the Streisand concert on Netflix. But when a concert begins with The Way We Were, hang on to your misty water-colored memories and settle in for the musical magic that the incomparable Barbra Streisand has brought to us for six decades…that would be 60 years, but who’s counting.

    Thanks, Santa.

    Stay warm – and stay tuned.

     

     

  • in life, it’s not where you go, it’s who you travel with


    in life, it’s not where you go, it’s who you travel with

    (Hallmark Shoebox greeting card – courtesy Lisa Martin)

    I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions any more since I’ve realized I’ll never keep them. If you’re a person who makes promises to yourself and others and is somehow successful in making them a part of your life every year, my cyberspace hat is tipping toward you right this minute. I envy and admire your fortitude. My spirit is willing, but my flesh is definitely weak.

    What I lack in fortitude I make up in gratitude, and this new year I am grateful for the people I’ve been lucky enough to travel with during the past seven decades of my life. I hope you know who you are…and that you appreciate the journey with me as much as I appreciate the journey with you. Your friendships are the “memory makers” for me, as Granny Selma used to say when she was in her right mind, and I carry you with me wherever I roam.

    For my cyberspace followers, although our travels are in separate places in different parts of the globe, I feel we travel together and I am grateful for everything we share. I am amazed at the close relationships formed through our virtual reality. You guys rock.

    Our holiday season was a happy one at Casa de Cardinal, but we are a little worse for the wear. Pretty has had a bad case of the epizootie but is working on taking down the holiday decorations and putting them away for next year. As for Charly and Spike, my everyday traveling companions, this is how they feel about their new toys and life in general.

    stick a fork in us, we’re done

    Stay tuned in 2018. Onward.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • who knew the 17th. Christmas was the charm?


    The image I’ve used as the header for my blog during December this year is a picture that Number One Son took of his mother and me in our very first home at our very first Christmas together in December, 2001.

    What I remember about that picture, besides how easy it was to get up after it was taken, was the giddy feeling of happiness I felt in sharing that holiday season with Pretty who clearly had a quintessential Christmas spirit that bubbled through every gift bought, wrapped carefully and placed under the tree she had picked out and decorated.

    It was the first year we blended our families, of course, and I remember being nervous about having my mother visiting from Texas to meet Pretty’s family who would be driving down from the upstate. My mom, Granny Selma, was always a wild card under the best of circumstances so the only question mark was whether she would be on her I’m a lady with a lot of dignity so I must be on my best behavior or whether she would deliver one of her Jesus is the reason for the season monologues. Luckily, we had three dogs (Sassy, Annie and Red) that distracted her so she was limited to a long prayer at the dinner table.

    Sixteen Christmases have come and gone since that first Christmas together in 2001, and Pretty has plowed her way through them like an ocean liner crossing the Atlantic. Full steam ahead – refusing to be deterred by lesser Bah Humbug mortals like me who whine about why we can’t cut a corner or two one year…or the heartbreaking absence of family members at her Christmas dinner table during a few of those years. Pretty kept on believing in the miracles of the season.

    Pretty and her tree this year

    Christmas night – Santa’s elves

    The Grinch

    now where did I put Papa’s gift?

    everyone, please listen to me…our order of opening gifts

    will be to go from  the youngest to the oldest

    Pretty Too, Number One Son and Papa

    Pretty with her helper Charly – Jim and Sis paying attention

    Gifts that made us smile…

    I just love it when a plan comes together 

    more gifts

    mallow cups – Pretty’s favorite candy – hooray!

     the miracle of laughter

    “practical” gifts from Pretty for Papa who doesn’t believe in “luxury” gifts

    Papa always made sure we had a box of “practical” gifts every Christmas

    I just love my red apron

     even the Grinch is getting in the spirit

     love – the greatest miracle of all

    more laughter… which is right up there behind love

    presents, presents, everywhere – and not a cookie to be found

    and more gifts, more laughter

    how many more gifts can there be?

    Papa’s shutterfly book: The Barns of Madison County

    (the cover photo is the home in Appalachia where he was born)

    and still more laughter

    Lawdy, Lawdy – the Grinch actually bought me a present this year!

    Merry Christmas to me

    Yes, Merry Christmas to you, Pretty – I do believe this 17th. family Christmas of ours has been the best ever, and I thank you for keeping faith in the miracles of love, laughter and family not only during the holiday seasons but in every season of the year. We love you…

     

     

  • missing baby Jesus update – the Red Man’s Christmas traditions


    On Christmas Eve my thoughts return to the thrilling days of yesteryear when The Red Man ranted and raved his way through cyberspace for seven years from 2010 – 2016. Red was a rescued Welsh terrier that became my alter ego who introduced me to the blogosphere. No subject was too sacred for that little dog to discuss – politics, religion, sports, the dearly beloved, the dearly departed, his favorite TV shows, his crushes on Hottie Docs – really he had an exaggerated opinion of himself and his literary abilities. How I miss him and his mischief.

    But what Red really loved was a healthy dose of gossip about someone or something he could make fun of, and there was a particular story about a missing baby Jesus in an outdoor church nativity scene in Navasota, Texas that entertained him every Christmas.

    Apparently the old woman Slow, Red’a name for me, had a cousin who was the Church Organist at a little church in Navasota that had a decoration committee which was responsible for erecting and maintaining an outdoor nativity scene every year with the requisite Wise Men, little shepherd boy, sheep, Mary, Joseph, the whole manger “scene.” The focal point of the presentation was a tiny cradle holding the baby Jesus. Just your regular old run-of-the-mill outdoor church nativity scene.

    The only distinguishing difference with this particular pastoral scene was discovered by the Church Organist’s older brother one evening in December, 2010 when he was strolling the grounds rolling his cigarettes while waiting for the Church Organist to finish choir practice. When he walked past the nativity scene, he saw that the cradle was empty, as in no baby Jesus at all…anywhere… which kind of ruined the whole effect of the scene. So this Bearded Brother informed the Church Organist who told the Pastor.

    High drama ensued at the little church during the business meeting the following Wednesday night in which the church Pastor admitted there had been a cover-up by the decoration committee which was aware the baby Jesus had actually been stolen the previous year but the committee members were hoping no one would get close enough to the nativity scene to notice since no one had noticed last year. None of the members had considered the possibility that the Church Organist’s brother would be rolling cigarettes next to the nativity scene.

    Through the years the mystery of the baby Jesus theft was never solved for any number of reasons including but not limited to the year one of the members of the church decoration committee ran off with another member’s husband which completely halted the search that year. Another year one of the Wise Men’s legs broke off, and still another year found the little shepherd boy had grown a mustache of snow…who had time to think about an empty cradle during more obvious emergencies.

    Gradually through the years the manger itself began to  slowly disintegrate in the harsh Texas winters until this year according to the same Church Organist cousin, the outdoor nativity scene was abandoned and the cradle in the manger moved inside the church to a place of reverence under the Christmas tree in the sanctuary.

    The Bearded One had this to say:

    Who could dare put the empty Jesus crib by the tree,

    still empty! Maybe the decoration committee is trying

    to make the thief come forward, and reveal his shame, 

    just horrible, anyone who would steal the Baby Jesus

    will surely burn in Hell.

    I know for sure The Red Man would have laughed to himself once again over the true meaning of the Christmas spirit revealed in the never-ending saga of the missing baby Jesus.

    From Pretty, Charly, Spike and the old woman Slow, (none of whom can believe it’s really Christmas of 2017)

    Merry Christmas to all, and keep a close watch over your mangers.

     

     

     

     

  • Merry Christmas to me – BOOKS ARE IN!!!


    books in the warehouse – being shipped to customers today

    Thanks so much to all of you have pre-ordered – if you haven’t ordered your copies, please do soon!

    P.S. There will be several opportunities in January and February to have your copies signed by me, Harlan Greene and the other contributors (Jim Blanton, Candace Chellew-Hodge, Matt Chisling, Michael Haigler, Harriet Hancock, Deborah Hawkins, Dick Hubbard, Linda Ketner, Ed Madden and Bert Easter, Alvin McEwen, Pat Patterson, Jim and Warren Redman-Gress, Nekki Shutt, Tony Snell, Tom Summers, Matt Tischler, Teresa Williams) at various functions including the Guild on Thursday, January 11th.

    If you want me to sign copies you’ve bought before Christmas for gifts, please send me an email at smortex@aol.com to arrange a time to bring them by my home for me to sign. I will be here throughout the holidays.