Sunday, January 7, 2018

Just learned about great guitarist Tommy Emmanuel - My Friend Frankie just published in Literary Yard - Ruth Roth and blowing out the bday candles

Let's see. It's 9:25 pm. Not late, right?

It was pizza night at Scott's. After the great pizza, we went upstairs to watch TV. We fell instantly to sleep to Skull Island, a King Kong movie, an update from the original King Kong.

We were each gone after five minutes. The film was terrible.

I woke up and walked home in the beautiful darkness, staring up at the sky. Such a pain that I'm so uncomfortable walking in the cold.

Raise your hand if you've heard of the Australian guitar player Tommy Emmanuel? He's 62 now and is touring the country.

Image result for guitar tommy emmanuel plays      Tommy, lemme shake your hand. You is one fine geetar player. What's more you will be coming to our local Keswick Theater in Glenside on Feb. 3. Lemme check my calendar - I keep it under this laptop - to see what day of the week that is.

Saturday night. No way am I gonna drive. Thing is, should I make an effort to go? My friend Neal is an Uber driver. Will give it a think.

Image result for frank kelso wolfe   Self-portrait of Frank Kelso Wolfe.

Read my story MY FRIEND FRANKIE which appeared in today's Literary Yard. Thanks for publishing it, Onkar Sharma. Click here.

I sent it to loads of people, including Tony Salvatore of MCES, who said it was a powerful story but very sad.

What really got me about Frank's death is that I think it was caused by kronic pain. Nuff said.


Ruth Roth, the smartest girl
I knew at Shaker, had a face
like a frisky palomino,
blue eyes and blond hair
and a smile as wide as
the moon, wanted only
one thing. To know how
to dance.

She was shy and couldn't
make herself jitterbug at
the dances in the crepe-paper
decorated gym.

Dance lessons were mandatory
with my parents. Calvin, my
father's chauffeur, drove me
to Carlos and Kaye. I stared
at the brace on his leg
as he drove.

Was there anything worse than
dance lessons? As a grown-up
now, I can think of
a million bad things, over-
shadowed by one great thing.

I look out my upstairs window.
There's my car with its
powerful radio. It looks like
a rhino who took a bath
in the mud.

I always wondered how cars
got so dirty with the ice
and the snow. I've joined
the fleet and hope it don't
drive over the edge when
I watch Lynn Levin's documentary
on the Galapagos later today at the library.


B/c of the freezing cold weather, only three people attended Lynn Levin's LIFE ON THE NAPO RIVER:  Life on the Napo River, A Glimpse of the Ecuadorean Amazon, its People, and Their Traditions.

Lynn went on two trips. First to the Galapagos - maybe a dozen folks were there -  and then to the Amazon, where half a dozen were there.

She went all by herself. Lots of walking. She tried going to her gym more frequently to get into shape. Lynn is short and slender.

Image result for lynn levin

I was late to the program bc I couldn't remember how to get to the Huntingdon Valley Library. I started off and headed toward Olive Garden, knew I was wrong, said Do not panic, I'll get there, panicked and said I'll never find it, came home via Davisville Road, pounded on Scott's door which was locked, uncharacteristically, then looked it up on my laptop.

The key was Terwood Road. Was very nervous driving, plus listening to my audio book, but got there fine.

The front parking lot was empty. I allus back in.

Gonna send the Upper Moreland Historical Assocation a note asking if they want Lynn to give a presentation. Look, she did all that hard work and it must be seen!

And so it goes.

(Dyou like this as a closer?)


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