Who Is He
Who is he who has long white hair
Who is told it should be hanging down during a set?
Who is he who sometimes wears shades when singing
But, for the brand, never his readers? Oops he has them on!
Who is he who has a special redhead by his side
With the "merch" and calendar,
Who books his gigs, keeps him busy, and takes care of the social media footprint
And who I study to learn how to market my writing?
Who is he who travels the world
With a band waiting in every country
Or at least it seems that way from our usual front-row seats?
Well, tonight we're in the back, thankfully it's a small room.
Who is he who hit a bear in Alaska
Or according to the redhead, the bear hit them,
And I've heard open a set with a description of a
Thousand pounds on stage coming from southern Monroe County?
Who is he who can switch from the blues, to country,
To heartfelt originals in a flash,
And often travels with three pedal steels,
Plus two or more guitars that have names? One is Louise.
We can't put a date on when we met him
But we're sure glad we did,
Our music appreciation has expanded
And our group of music friends continues to grow.
We appreciate you Son Henry or
Karl Henry Mann, whatever your name is on any given day.
We love the boot stompin', chair dancin' singer man
We follow around town to old places new to us and new places to us all.
Thank you for the music that fills our souls.
Happy birthday our special friend.
We love celebrating with you and Carolina.
Eight year old Becky came home from school to see her mother had liver and onions ready to prepare for supper. She sought permission to go play with best friend Arlene and bolted out the door. Together the two girls hatched a plan then went to Arlene’s mother to ask if Becky could eat dinner with them. They were triumphant until they sat down to lima beans and fried Spam. Arlene’s mother, seeing Becky’s face said, “Beggars can’t be choosers. Eat up.”
Later, outside, Becky said, “Lima beans are yuckier than liver. Do you think they called each other?”
Written in response to Charli Mills April 11, 2019, prompt at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story using the phrase “beggars can’t be choosers.” You can play with the words, alter them or interpret them without using the phrase. Give it any slant you want — show what it means or add to its meaning. Go where the prompt leads!
The funeral home parking lot was full of cars which hid the numerous motorcycles stashed in the back corner, but their large American flags flapping in the wind gave them away. I had to go look; The Patriot Guard was in presence. To enter the building I had to pass between the colonnade of men, standing at attention, on duty protecting a fellow veteran, a fellow biker and a friend. The haunted look in their eyes wasn’t for the current grief, it was from a long ago senseless war. I know, they were my friends too. Damn Viet Nam.
In response to Charli Mills January 17, 2019, prompt at Carrot Ranch Literary: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that includes colonnades. It can be natural, architectural, or a metaphor. Take a stroll and go where the prompt leads.
When I was sixteen my Dad came home from deployment and announced he was going to retire at 20 and open a bar near the base. He wanted to convert an old house, keep the back yard and turn the front yard into parking. I remember Mom looking at him for a long moment before saying, “That’s a hard life and zoning could be a problem for that type of location. Will you ever be home in the evening?” For the next six months, once a week, we had a meal in a bar so he could check the competition.
I don’t remember if there were zoning problems when he found his old house. He had contractors gut the first floor and turn it into a homey, inviting space with long bar and commercial kitchen. The upstairs they opened up into a big family room, with dining area and even a double bed. They named the bar “Papa’s” which I thought was ridiculous. I didn’t know at the time my children would be the one’s eating in that family room and playing in the back yard if they wanted to see Papa when we came to visit.
Years later when my father died we got the following note in the mail:
To Papa’s family, The first time I entered Papa’s Papa introduced himself, asked my name and never forgot it. When I was homesick, that’s where I went, not to drink, but to chat with Papa about life and the military. He did the same for all who entered. He might not have been home with you, but he was there for us. I hope you know he served until the end. Thanks for sharing him.
My wife and I now run Papa’s. She knows everyone’s name.
Written in response to the prompt, papa’s bar, for Carrot Ranch Literary rodeo.
I saw a written question on Facebook last week that has had me thinking ever since. The question was; who inspired you in 2017? More than one name came immediately to mind. I must put my husband first because he regularly makes the comment, “If you want to do it and it will help you attain a goal, then spend the money (for a class or a service.)” His giving me the freedom to expand my horizons has opened so many new doors for me. Continue reading “Inspirations”
47 years ago on this date, my mother passed away at home with my father by her side. She had been sick so long we had started praying for what was best for her instead of asking for her to get better. I was in the upstairs bathroom and could hear my father through the open register to the kitchen below when he called the local funeral home director. It was about five in the morning. He said, “Gene, this is George, I hate to ruin your first day of deer season, but I need you to come pick up my wife.” Continue reading “Thinking of Mom”
Sue Spitulnik 