Dancing with the Moon

IMG_3039.jpeg

The moon over Memphis, looks down at me.

She shines on a river that drifts out to sea.

I can tell by her glow, what she’s trying to say,

“Please have this first dance with me.”

and we go one, two, three, one, two, three…

moon dance.jpg

painting by me

The moon over Memphis is dancing with me,

We shine on a river that drifts out to see,

She can tell by my glow what I’m trying to say,

“Please have this last dance with me.”

And we go, one, two, three, one, two, three …

(A song I wrote a while back)

 

I’m ashamed, and shocked

Emmett_Till.jpg

… but I don’t take full responsible for my ignorance. As you, my blogger friends and followers know, I have very little patience for the intolerance in our world. My belief system stands firmly planted to the principles of social justice, civil rights and equality. So, why did I just recently learn about Emmett Till? I’m curious. Have you heard of him?

I am currently living in 1963. While working on my new manuscript, I am researching various aspects of life in the 1960’s. Presently titled Olvie and Chicken Coop, teenager Grace Cooper tries to befriend a “Negro” boy who’s visiting from Alabama, but can’t understand why he is so stand-offish. (Not the whole premise of the novel but I’ll tell you more about that another time.) But my particular story line was set when research introduced me to Emmett Till. (I must have missed Bob Dylan’s 1962 song, The Death of Emmett Till)

I know about the Woolworth sit-in, Rosa Parks and the bus, the Freedom Fighters, etc.  I didn’t realize, but now know, that many African American’s moved from the south to Chicago to distance themselves from the John Crow laws — Chicago where they could walk with their heads held high.

I was shocked to learn that this fourteen-year-old boy, who travelled from Chicago to Mississippi in 1955 to visit relatives, never made it back home and the mortifying reasons why.

This boisterous, self-assured young man, didn’t know the “rules” of the south at the time. In some disputed way, either by words or by wolf-whistling at a married white woman, Emmett Till was hunted down by the man’s wife and his half-brother for flirting with a white woman. After being terribly brutalized, Emmett’s body was discovered in the river. The murders were acquitted and set free.

God Bless You, Emmett Till, a kid with only candy in his pockets.

And, ironically, just over a month ago, Emmett Till’s accuser admits she lied. Time to clear her conscience?

For more about Emmett read here.

 

 

 

 

A “Repurpose” for a Peculiar Gem

I didn’t know about these gems until I took piano lessons a while back. After my teacher refurbished her piano, she gave me the piano guts she would never need again. But I needed these beautiful wooden treasures that made a piano work. I took an entire box then pondered what to do with them–the action/repetitions inside a piano.

To see them in a cool, animated action watch this.

Anyway, from them, I made “The Painter”

 

IMG_0439.jpg

Note: This is why I’m a packrat, damnit, and I’m sticking to it!! 🙂

Conventional Wisdom

Writers, DON’T GIVE UP!

After my first attempt at sending out my latest novel, the agent’s letter came back: Screen Shot 2017-01-13 at 2.13.52 PM.png

So, how many agents should I send my MS to? Am I  Capable of receiving more rejection letters?

Hell, yeah, I am.

Kathryn Stockett’s book, The Help, was rejected 60 times.

Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell was rejected 38 times before it was published.

Carrie by Stephen King was rejected 30 times before it was published.

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L’Engle was rejected 26 times before it was published.

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone was rejected 12 times and J. K. Rowling was told “not to quit her day job.”

Lord of the Flies by William Golding was rejected 20 times before it was published.

Not giving up, nope, not giving up.

‘Cause I got High Hopes (excerpt)

Next time your found, with your chin on the ground
There a lot to be learned, so look around
Just what makes that little old ant
Think he’ll move that rubber tree plant
Anyone knows an ant, can’t
Move a rubber tree plant
But he’s got high hopes, he’s got high hopes
He’s got high apple pie, in the sky hopes
So any time your gettin’ low
‘stead of lettin’ go
Just remember that ant
Oops there goes another rubber tree plant

-music by Jimmy Van Heusen and lyrics by Sammy Cahn.

 

 

 

 

Calm for the Soul

my-guitar-enhanced

Me in the 1970’s. I think I was 16. I still have this guitar!

Music ‘tis the calm for the soul

its lingering presence of tone

So sweet the sound, to which I’m bound

Doth keep me from being alone.

 

Refrain! I beg the timbered tone

Do not renounce these ears!

For with it not, the peace once sought

Is severed when once sincere. 

-CDW

“Short One Paddle for a Row”

I wrote this a while back as a blues song. If only I could hear Taj Mahal bring it to life! Check his “Ain’t nobody’s business but my own.”

I met him once, had my picture taken with him. Wish I could find it for you! But, you know. I’ll find it when I ain’t lookin’. 

I’m ain’t hungry ’cause I got my tunes

Ain’t thirsty, ’cause I’ve paid my dues

Hope you don’t mind me sayin’

But I sure like playin’ these blues, uh huh.

I sure like playing’ these blues.

I got the flow going, but my boat’s kinda slowin’

I’m just one paddle short of a row

You know

I’m just short one paddle for a row.

I ain’t weary ’cause I dreamed all day

Stayed up all night just to here myself play

I’m not sleep deprived

’cause I just arrived

I’m just little tired ’round the edges, but hey!

I got that sultry timing’, just ain’t so good at ryhmin’

I’m just two jiggers short of a lime

But I’m fine.

I’m just two nickels short of a dime.

So if you think you hear me comin’

hit the road and start a thumbin’

just float me down an oar a’fore you go

Cause I’m short one paddle for a row, you know.

I’m just short one paddle for a row.

But I sure like playin’ these blues, uh huh.

I sure like playing’ these blues.

 

A Falling-Out

After a falling-out with a friend I had visited in NYC, I originally wrote this as a song. But, of course, now I don’t remember the tune!

 

85th and Riverside

City of lights, its slice of the world

where friendships evolve and feeling unfurl

and you sit on the steps of a Brownstone reflecting

On words that were thrown without out you expecting

Your tone was so angry, your words were so cross

I felt myself drifting away

My heart, it was sinking, but the pain it would fade

I just hated to leave you that way.

(Chorus) Pick up the pieces you find, build something solid inside

When hearts collide

Time heals all wounds and friendships recover

the city of lights will go on

And though times get hard, there are others so easy

Just a small fall from grace from beyond

And times as it passes, still gets us back

the hearts are still beating inside

And you know where to find me (you know I won’t hide)

In that nest with my mouth open wide.