This Is Me--2024 A to Z Theme

My A to Z Themes in the past have covered a range of topics and for 2025 the theme is a random assemblage of things that are on my mind--or that just pop into my mind. Whatever! Let's just say I'll be "Tossing It Out" for your entertainment or however it is you perceive these things.
Showing posts with label childhood memories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label childhood memories. Show all posts

Friday, June 15, 2018

Cowboy Dreams (#BOTB)


        John Wayne would probably not make it in today's entertainment world.  Like so many other screen legends, Wayne has become a relic of the past.  Too bad.  We could use more heroic heroes.  

This was part of my late step-father's John Wayne memorabilia collection.
 Maybe I should have kept that collection, but selling it all on eBay
wasn't a terrible idea either.
Childhood Fantasies

         We'd play lots of made up fantasy games when I was a kid.  Cowboys and Indians was a favorite.  I don't know that many kids pretend to be cowboys and Indians these days.  It might be considered culturally insensitive, too violent,  or something like that.  If kids do play fantasy role games now, maybe they pretend to be activists or lawyers.   Hopefully kids still have fun and stretch their imaginations, but I'm happy that I grew up in the time I did.  You could literally be anyone you wanted to be in your dreams and not be shamed for doing so.  But it was also a time of better morality in many ways.

         For me, the concept of cowboys takes me back to those childhood fantasies.   Today's Battle of the Bands song uses cowboy imagery in a metaphorical way:  A man in love seeing himself as a sort of romantic cowboy hero.   America and the world still has a certain fanciful image of cowboy life so I think that makes the romantic cowboy metaphor work.  See what you think...


Battle of the Bands

     Battle of the Bands is the blogging event started by Far Away Series and now hosted by StMcC Presents Battle of the Bands.   This event happens each month on the 15th and on some blogs there is also a Battle on the 1st of the month.  My blog is one of those with a second Battle on the 1st of the month.   The premise is simple:  Listen to the songs presented below and then in the comments vote for your favorite and tell us why you liked it.  Then visit the links listed near the bottom of this post for more Battle action.


Cowboy Dreams

         This song was written by Prefab Sprout's Paddy  McAloon for the 1994 BBC television series Crocodile Shoes.    Prefab Sprout has been one of my favorite pop/rock groups since I first discovered them back in the eighties.  In my opinion Paddy McAloon is one of the best of modern era songwriters.   Please don't vote on the original, but if you want to hear how Prefab Sprout does the song then you can click this link.  They released their version in 2001.  This is a lovely version with a nice video--please don't vote for it as much as you might be tempted to do.

       The current Battle looks at two other version of the song.   See which you enjoy the most...

Jimmy Nail   "Cowboy Dreams"  (1994)

          Jimmy Nail was the star of the BBC series Crocodile Shoes.  Here is his version from that show. 
       




Nigel Livingstone  "Cowboy Dreams"  (2016)

       In my brief search I didn't find much about this artist.   He appears to be from Ireland and mostly plays in pubs and such, though he does have several YouTube videos.  Nigel kicks up the tempo on his version..





Time to Vote!

        
Okay pardner, time to saddle up and vote for your favorite version of the two that I've presented here.  Which song version do you like best? You don't have to know about music to have an opinion since it all comes down to your own personal taste.

         Please vote on your favorite by letting us know your choice in the comment section and tell us why you prefer the version you chose. Then after you've finished here, please visit the other blogs listed below who may or may not be participating this time around. And if you've put up your own BOTB contest let us know that as well so we can vote on yours.



Here are some other places where you might find BOTB posts:

 StMcC Presents Battle of the Bands

  'MIKE'S RAMBLINGS'

'Curious as a Cathy'

Sound of One Hand Typing

Angel's Bark  


Debbie Doglady's Den

Jingle, Jangle, Jungle 


Cherdo on the Flipside 



Winner of this Battle Announced on Friday June 22nd

        I'll be visiting family in Florida about this time so I hope I can get these results up in a timely manner.  Then I'll be in Jersey for several days so I'll likely have limited internet time during my trip.  Please bear with me.  I'll try to make some blog rounds, but I can't guarantee much.

         Hope you have a great summer!

          Did you play cowboys and Indians when you were a kid?     Do kids today still play cowboys and Indians?  Do you think playing this fantasy game is culturally insensitive or politically incorrect or something like that?












Monday, June 27, 2016

How Good Were "the Good Old Days"?





         Oh for the good old days when life was simpler and more fun and the world was a better place than it is now.  Looking back it seems kind of nice to be a kid and let my parents worry about the bills and all of the logistics of keeping things going.  All I had to do was just play and enjoy my life.  Life was so much easier back then.  Or so I've heard people say.  But in reality was the past really all that good compared to now?

           I guess a lot of young people roll their eyes when older folk reminisce about how much better things were in the past.  When I was a kid I enjoyed hearing the stories of the youths of my parents and grandparents, but those older times didn't sound all that much better.  What would have been so great about walking three miles to school in the snow?  I doubt that my parents actually had to do that, but it's one of those cliched stories many of us might have heard at one time or another.

           When I was a kid our family wasn't necessarily wealthy, but I didn't ever go hungry and we always had a decent place to live.  Christmases were abundant times and summers were easygoing and gay.  And back then "gay" meant carefree and happy.  There were things to worry about when I was in elementary school, but nothing especially major as far as things in my immediate world.

           The years of junior high and high school brought with it a few concerns, but not much that couldn't be kept in check without too much effort.   I may have been tottering on the cusp of adulthood and yet I could still be stupid and get away with it without too much rigmarole.  Essentially I was a good kid and most everyone else I knew back then was okay too.  A few were outstanding, while some of us had our shining moments that stood out among the typical mundanity of everyday life.  Glory days for some and boring days for others and for the many of us they were just the days to get through in order to get where we were going in life wherever that was.
        
           Were "the good old days" really all that great?   I remember worrying about getting drafted to fight in Viet Nam.  A lot of guys my age went and thanks to a draft number near 300 getting drafted was unlikely in my case.   I stayed home and muddled my way through some college. Fighting a war was not something I wanted to do and thank goodness I didn't have to go, but still it was something I worried about to some degree.

           Then before I knew it the whole being a kid, a teenager, and a confused youth was over and I was an adult.  Somehow being grown up didn't seem all that different in a lot of ways.   Now I had that privilege of being able to look back upon my own good old days.  The older I got, the older those days got until the past became dreamlike in many ways and often a unreliable source of history because it was the past of which I was a part of in some manner of speaking.  Since leaving those good old days I often have to relate to them through things I read or see on television.   I'll watch an old movie that takes place when I was younger and often think to myself, "I don't remember it quite like that."

          The past seems like an interesting place to visit, but I'm not sure that I'd want to live there.  It's not that my memories are bad.  Far from that, my memories are good for the most part.  But those memories are skewed because they are my memories.   If I could go back in time to see what the past was like, there are many points of history I'd want to see.  However the places, people, and times of my past are of special interest to me.  Were they really like I thought they were or was there a lot that I missed that would be important pieces of my personal puzzle that would be of great significance to know?  In many ways I think the actuality of it all would be that my life was even better than I remember.   It's been a good life.  Maybe the days of the world weren't always the best, but my old days were just fine.

          Do you remember the past as "good old days"?     What was particularly good or bad about your own past in comparison to the state of the world and culture at that same time?     Is there another time in which you'd prefer to live over the present?

           This post relates to the theme of my upcoming Battle of the Bands on Friday July 1st.  I'll be presenting two different songs--one which is named in this post--by two different artists who worked together at times and had somewhat parallel careers.  One reached megastardom while the other was known to a number of music fans only having a modest success until his passing in 2015.  Give a guess if you like, but be here on Friday for the answer.


Photo credit:  http://jokideo.com/i-remember-the-good-old-days/









Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Looking to Be a Starr!





                                                                                                                                                                 
     Some of you might be wondering why the heck I still am sporting these badges on my post today.  Well, anyone who's been around my site long enough knows that I can run something to the limit once I get started on it.  If I like an idea I'll get somewhat obsessed and keep on posting about it.  After all I started that A to Z thing and that can be a bit obsessive too.

      So anyhow if you missed either of the above posts I hope you go visit the Battle of the Bands post and vote on your favorite song version (voting ends tomorrow).  Then check out my entry for the Blood, Boobs, & Carnage Blogfest.   Once you've read these posts you might see some logical progression that leads to my post today.

The Song

      My biggest takeaway from seeing the film Circus of Horrors was the catchy pop tune "Look for a Star".  The only place I ever recall hearing that song was in that movie where it was played so many times and was so memorable that the song stuck in my head for months after I heard it.

       By 1964 I had started acquiring my own record collection.  I started out with the 45's that only had a hit song on one side and a lesser known "B" side.  Soon I discovered that I often liked the "B" sides as much or more than the hits.  At about a dollar a pop, the 45's didn't seem like such a bargain compared to an album with ten or so songs for a couple bucks more.  My interests became more directed toward the long play albums--more songs and you didn't have to change the records so often.

       But in the summer of 1965 when I found 45's at a clearance sale for the amazing price of 20 for one dollar, I couldn't resist.  I was living in Crown Point, Indiana at the time.  A friend and I had taken the bus to a shopping center on the outskirts of the city of Gary and it was at the Sears Department Store where I found the irresistible record sale.

        With only a few bucks in my pocket I was still able to buy sixty 45's.   Most of the songs and artists I had never heard of, but musical adventurist that I was, the obscurity of the music made no difference to me.  I had a musical listening adventure ahead of me.  I also had a copy of the song that been haunting me, "Look for a Star" by Garry Mills.   That find alone was almost worth the three dollars that I had paid for 60 records.

The Inspiration

        For anyone who is not familiar with my history, my family had a juggling act that we performed when my father wasn't working his regular job.  When we lived in San Diego from 1959 to 1963 our bookings were few since there wasn't much show biz activity in that area, but through constant practice we honed our act into a top notch club passing act.  After we moved to the Chicagoland area in late 1963 we signed on with one of the top Chicago agents and soon we were working regularly on weekends.

        During the summer and on a few rare occasions during other times of the year my father would take work vacations so we could work brief stints on the fair and shrine circus circuit.  I grew to love the lifestyle and the thrill of performing.   In my fanciful thinking I wished that we could live on the road working the show business life all the time.  My parents dreamed the same thing, but the practical side of my father told him to keep his good job with a guaranteed income--not as much fun, but it made far more sense.

         Still, a desire for the call of the road and the roar of the crowds was luring me to some future in the world of show business.

The Dream

          While I was still in junior high school I began to dream about the act that I would create for myself.  At first I came up with an idea of a chair that I would balance on the two rear legs and then have a ladder which I would climb up while it was balanced upon the balanced chair.  It would all be a prop with a mechanical gimmick that I had meticulously planned in my mind.  No actual balancing would be involved regarding the chair or the ladder and the greatest danger would be falling off.  Perched atop the ladder I would perform various stunts like handstands, prop balancing, and juggling.

         This all seemed like a pretty good idea, but then I decided to make it all more flashy by using a large five pointed star prop instead of the chair.  I would mount the star and balance it on one point while using the top points for attaching the ladder and other gimmicks.  As I envisioned it, I could decorate the star or even install lighting within it.  There were all sorts of possibilities that began to enter my mind.

          As I considered the tricks that I could perform and the routine that would incorporate those tricks, I also imagined the music I would use in my act.  The song choice was immediately obvious.  I would use the song "Look for a Star"--it would be perfect.    Picturing myself performing atop a ladder balanced on top of a giant balancing star as the song "Look for a Star" played, my stage name jumped out at me.  Ricky Starr!   

          Maybe the name came to me as a mash-up between Ringo Starr and Ricky Nelson, but I thought it rocked and was very appropriate to my dream image of the act that I would one day perform at fairs and circuses across the country and maybe even around the world.

          Ricky Starr.   I liked the sound of it.

The Reality

         That balancing act dream never came to anything other than passing time in my junior high classes looking out the window and fantasizing.  Even occasionally in high school I would sometimes daydream about it.  I drew up the plans for the prop that I would one day have built for me.  But it never happened.

          However it wasn't a totally impossible dream.   I did go into show business and toured for many years as a juggler, performer, and show manager.  The road, the roar of the crowds, and show biz life all became a reality for me. 

          In my dreams I was looking for Ricky Starr, but in the real world I found myself.  

          What dreams about your future did you have when you were young?   How many of your childhood and adolescent dreams have you achieved?    Does any part of travelling with a circus or carnival appeal to you?


For more memoir visit my other blog Wrote By Rote

Friday, August 3, 2012

Vacation Adventures with Guest Hijacker Jarm Del Boccio

           It's vacation season for many of us.   I'm just returning from an 2 1/2 week road trip to Houston, Texas and Orlando, Florida and back to my home in Los Angeles.  Perhaps I'll relate some of that journey in weeks to come, but for today we have a vacation memory from my guest Jarm Del Boccio who can be found at her blog Making the Write Connections.  In this season appropriate post, Jarm retells a story that she first presented during the A to Z Challenge.

Road-Tripping Vacation Memories 1950s Style


Debonair Mom!
        Every summer, since both my Mother and I followed the school holiday schedule (she was a school social worker), we would take off  in one of the cardinal directions to visit family and friends.  I remember a red Ford station wagon in the 50's,  a blue Rambler wagon in the 60's, and later, a white Rambler Marlin with red interior that Mom let me choose from the used car lot!  Heading out west we would camp along the way.  Any other trip we would stay a night in a motel.
Me next to our red Ford
StationWagon

          One such accommodation reminded me of the Bates Motel in Psycho (which I watched as a child with my best friend one night).  I timidly checked behind the shower curtain, and was relieved to find it clean and empty.   Even so, I was a bit uneasy during our stay. We left without incident, and headed towards our destination.  

          We would stop often to take a break, and ended up many times at Stuckey's (we never did figure out if the u was short or long).  There we enjoyed all things pecan; my favorite being pecan pie.   I remember a shop with all sorts of souvenirs; ash trays, toothpick holders, diaries...all stamped with the state we were traveling through.  Then there were the pecan goodies...pies, tarts, brittle, and candies.

          Our trip from Chicago to Alaska one summer was memorable, not just because of the distance, but because of the fact that my Mom, in her late 50's now, took a friend along to help with the driving.  Nothing unusual about that, except her friend Alvina, had a broken leg. Thankfully, it was her left, so, we were okay, but Mom did most of the driving.
Mom and Me with Uncle Sam
in Alaska

           Well, for awhile anyway, until the return trip. We headed down the AlCan Highway, which just happened to be under construction that summer.  I don't know if she wasn't paying attention to the road, or lost control, but Alvina drove our red Ford station
wagon over the boulders heaped up in the median strip, ripping out the entire underside of the vehicle.  Somehow, out of nowhere, a semi came into view, and ended up rescuing us.  What an adventure it was for me to sit in the upper bunk of the 18 wheeler as we drove to our lodgings for the night!  A missionary family, the Crabbs, whom my mother had contacted in our plight, took us in for the night. We ended up staying with them while our car was being repaired.



         
        In my early childhood, we had an ugly Army green Hudson that crawled up the curb and hit a light post with myself and my cousins from NY crammed inside.  It seemed that Mom was distracted with something, and didn't notice that one of us was sitting on the shift, and it had launched the car into the drive position.  No injuries, just a bit shaken that's all!

        Mom loved to be on the go...she drove on the interstate, down country roads, and through fog up in the Rocky Mountains at night.  One summer we drove through Yellowstone National Park, and as a large black bear approached the car, I screamed, "Shut the window, shut the window"!   She calmly passed it by and moved on...Mom was
invincible!

Mom, Me (on left) and NY
family

        Mom traveled to Europe in her early teens with her own mother, and then later, with me in my early teens.  It seemed like a right of passage.  I didn't want to go to Europe.  I wanted to stay at home with my friends.  But, what an experience and education I
had...I wouldn't trade it for anything!

        We visited family in Bratislava during the summer of 1968.  I remember feeling the tension in Czechoslovakia, something in the air. I was afraid for some reason that we would be stuck in the country, and my worst fears were realized.   At the border, on our way out, we were detained by the Communist guards because we did not have the correct papers.  I sat down and cried, "I told you so!", as Mom deftly but firmly negotiated with them.  She had no fear and no foes...only the desire to turn wrongs to right.

        Thankfully, her Slovak cousin, John, a communist sympathizer (only to keep his job), vouched for us, so they let us go.  A week later, sitting in Wimpy's burger restaurant  somewhere in London, Mom opened the newspaper, only to discover that the Russians had invaded Czechoslovakia.  We escaped none too soon!

       Every four years, we would take a trip to the World's Fair... first Seattle, then, New York, Montreal and finally, New Orleans, which were spread throughout my childhood summers.  Mom took reel after reel of Super 8 movies, but, unfortunately, she moved the camera so fast, that we became car sick reviewing it.  Add to that her penchant for
cutting heads off in the process and you get the picture...not much quality footage, but an awful lot to laugh about! 
Mom and I in the
90's...she lived almost to 100!

        One year we took the Santa Fe railroad from Chicago to California, where we had visited neighbors who had moved west a few years before.  I vaguely remembered our trip, but did enjoy the challenge of walking from train to train, across the gap between the cars.  Here, too, Mom filmed the rolling countryside with her movie camera, scanning the scene instead of holding the camera steady.  What resulted was enough to make one cross-eyed!

       What adventures we had!  Now I continue the tradition with my family.  This blog post is a tribute to the wonderful trips we have taken together.

What family vacations are memorable to you?  Do you have a "dream vacation" yet to plan?

       
           Be sure to visit Jarm Del Boccio at her blog Making the Write Connection.

          For those of you who enjoy reading and writing memoir, be sure to visit my blog Wrote By Rote.  On that space I share some of my own memories as well as those of my many guests.   There is also much helpful advice about writing memoir and getting published.   I welcome and strongly encourage guest posts on that site and I hope to hear from you.
     



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Friday, July 8, 2011

Tell Us A Story

          "Tell us a story!" my sister and I would plead with my mother on those certain evenings that seemed to exist for story-telling.

           We would eagerly sit close to her leaning forward in anticipation and so as not to miss a single word.  She must have learned much of her tale-spinning technique from her mother.   My grandmother would tell a story with such gravity and intensity that she held you captive with her every word, and then her voice would quiver and our eyes would widen as prickles of fear and tension crawled up our spines, raising the hairs on the backs of our necks.  In retrospect, I think the quiver in her voice came mostly from her about to break out into laughter as she played with our imaginations, but at the time it seemed like a shiver of impending terror.

          When my mother told us a story she would make it more playful, but she still kept some of the frightfulness that Grandmother was so effective at injecting into a story.  We would ask for the same favorites over and over again.  They were simple stories about her childhood.

          There was the story about the long-bearded man who accused my grandfather of stealing his pants and the next-door neighbor lady who they were convinced was a witch.  The stories of when her family's house burned down, when she got hit in the head with a chunk of coal, or when she went to New York City with her dance class were stories we heard repeatedly and savored them every time we heard them.

          My dad could tell a joke which would always make us laugh, but my mother had a special magic of telling a good story.  That's probably what has been the biggest influence in my desire to tell stories.  I want to have that skill of transporting others to another place-- to cast a spell that will enchant, entertain, and amuse.

         Years later, when I had children of my own, it always brought me such a feeling of happiness to hear my kids say, "Daddy, tell us a story."

         



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