Long Live Patsy Cline

On this date in history (1963) Patsy Cline died in a plane crash at the age of 30. The picture here makes her look more like 50. Must be the hair. And dig those appliqued sixteenth notes.

If you were to ask me to name my least favorite music genre, the one I despised, absolutely detested with every fiber, I would say Country and Western, but there is something about that Patsy Cline. I can't help but love her and her voice than could glide over notes like honey. I have secretly loved her for years.

My other yankee sister and I visit our southern sisters and mother every Christmas, and a few years ago during one of those visits, we all went to a barbecue place (when visiting the south, you must visit an authentic barbecue place--not a chain, but a local joint with crud on the floor and misspelled signs on the walls). My yankee sister and I started singing a Patsy Cline number because it just seemed right. Our wonderful southern gentleman brother-in-law, loaded down with quarters, quietly sauntered over to the juke box and chose every single Patsy Cline record in the stack. We were in heaven with the melting music and the barbecue and the sweet tea.

Here is one of her best--Crazy. Enjoy. As for me, I will be singing it all day long.

Cindy Loo Who In October

What is it with people and Cindy Loo Who? Of my last one hundred blog hits, forty have been direct visits from regular readers, and fifteen have been as a result of people searching for "Cindy Loo Who," the little pixie from Seuss's How The Grinch Stole Christmas . A couple of years ago, I posted an image of the original Seuss illustration as compared to the TV cartoon image, and for some reason, that post is bringing in the crowds, relatively. Maybe it's the weather. It isn't even November yet, and already we've had frost and have had to dust off our winter coats. When it gets cold like this, I start to think about Christmasy things like listening to Nat King Cole and decorating the tree. It's ironic because I am offended when retailers start pushing holiday stuff early, but I don't mind my own private celebrations. When my sister and I were much younger and still living with our parents, we would pick a day in July, close the curtains to darken the ...

I'm In the Paper Today

Here is an article in today's Small Town Newspaper.

The Ultimate Storyteller—in Life AND in Death

I wrote about The Autobiography of Mark Twain in yesterday's edition of Small Town Newspaper. You can read it here , if you want. This is the photograph I had in mind while I read Clemens' dictations. He really was a masterful storyteller, even when rambling on about the poorly designed door knobs in Florence or in describing the Countess Massiglia, who he described as a "pestiferous character." About her, he said, “She is excitable, malicious, malignant, vengeful, unforgiving, selfish, stingy, avaricious, coarse, vulgar, profane, obscene, a furious blusterer on the outside and at heart a coward.” And I laughed out loud.

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