Tag Archives: Bing Crosby

Wedding countdown and more marriage-wrecking advice

Today's selected photo has nothing to do with today's post. I simply love randomness - and penguins.

Today’s selected photo has nothing to do with today’s post. I simply love randomness – and penguins.

Hear ye, hear ye: Nuptials in nine days. Natasha Jackson weds Kory Myrick on Sept. 7. Next week will be a whirlwind, and although I have a number of tasks leading up to the big day, my only duties on wedding day will be:

1 – Walk bride down aisle; give her away.
2 – Bring wedding gifts to our house after wedding. (Bride and groom will retrieve in a few days).
3 – Return tuxes/attire to Men’s Wearhouse.

Even I can handle that.

I made that list as a precursor to today’s installment of “How to Wreck a Marriage.”

Wrecking ball No. 7: Make a list and keep it going – a list of wrongs, offenses and those times your spouse was just having a bad day and you wanted her to be having a good day because, well, you can’t both have bad days at once.

The list accomplishes a number of purposes, of which two are primary:

1 – It shows that you’re keeping a list, so your spouse had better be aware, and just might not want another entry. You are a force to be reckoned with.

2 – It’s ammunition. You write the list with permanent marker and use a neon orange highlighter to showcase the worst offenses, and maybe add a sticky note strip for quick retrieval and reference.

And like any well-prepared battler, you keep the ammo close for future use. Some of the ammo represents the “nuclear option,” which is That One Thing (or things) that your spouse has no defense for, no redeeming explanation for and no comeback for. Even though your spouse has apologized, pleaded for forgiveness and relived that offense over and over again (good for you!), you keep that one handy if you need a nuke. That moment might come when you’re in a corner and instead of relenting and admitting and owning your part in the real or imagined disagreement at hand, you launch an ICBM, equipped with a war-head that splatters your spouse’s worst moments all over the place. Again.

Justifying your own actions or words by pointing out That One Thing or even a lesser offense – which is not as bad as yours, of course, so keep pointing that out – is an ideal way to use this wrecking ball.

And what makes this method extra fun is that both spouses can load up the missile war-heads with nukes.

“I remember that time that you …”

“Well if you hadn’t done that thing …”

“You mean that thing you told me was off the table because you forgave me?”

“Oh, but you weren’t really sorry, or you wouldn’t be acting like THIS!”

The list of wrongs and offenses is indeed a heavy wrecking ball, capable of smashing a marriage in no time at all. (The antithesis is grace, love and forgiveness). So, if you want to wreck your marriage, keep the list in a mental file, have a hard copy that you carry in your wallet or purse, and make sure to make digital back-ups. A bonus back-up and great addition for the wrecking ball is to share your list with friends, your parents and the in-laws.

Woo-hoo! Now you’ve got some power. By now you’ve got the hang of it and are seeing that those lists can wreck all kinds of relationships with siblings, daughters, sons, moms and dads.

You’ll show ‘em! Keep enough lists and, by golly, you’ll be all alone in no time, no longer bothered by the past sins and offenses of others.

Playlist

I’ve given you Southern Gospel, Classic Rock, contemporary Christian and whatever genre “Afternoon Delight” falls under. Recently I’ve fallen in love with the sound of the Big Band/World War II era, and this just might be my new all-time favorite tune, recorded by the great Crooner himself, Bing Crosby (1944).

“I’ll Be Seeing You.”

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Filed under Family, Inspiration, Wedding countdown, World War II

NaNoWriMo Day #15: Half-way to the finish line

Reporting my National Novel Writing Month total at the halfway mark of this 30-day exercise of writing abandon: I’m at 37,901 words, ahead of the 25,000 word pace. Knock on wood that the dreaded writer’s block will continue to stay cooped up.

Dixieland could be even longer at this point except for my habit of writing dialogue without attribution, movement or other scene-building verbiage. I make up for that, I believe, with my ALL CAPS THINKING AS I WRITE, I NEED A REFERENCE HERE TO FORESHADOW A CHARACTER’S APPEARANCE IN THE NEXT SCENE.

That’s how I write when I’m on a roll. I know what I want to say, but I don’t want to get hung up on a detail that might derail that roll. I’m not sure how many ALL CAPS BURSTS OF INDECISION I will have come Nov. 30, but those SHOUTS are my cue to reach into my mental queue for something more meaningful.

Meanwhile, I’m offering another conversation between my main male protagonist, Alvie Ferguson, and little 11-year-old racist Ladd Miller. Remember, it’s during World War II, just before Alvie goes off to join a flight crew for bombing runs over Germany. His young bride, Edna Mae — the main character in Dixieland — eventually joins them.

There’s no attribution for some of the dialogue. Alvie speaks first, followed by Ladd …

“You boys savin’ the foil from your gum wrappers?”

“Ain’t got no gum, Mr. Alvie.”

“Well, let’s say you erase ‘ain’t’ from the dictionary in your head and I’ll give you a few sticks.”

“That’d be swell, but I don’t see how sayin’ ‘ain’t’ is so bad. Everybody knows what it means.”

“True. But your talkin’ could mean the difference between working the shipyard or bein’ one of the slick lawyers on Lawyers Row.” REMEMBER: EDNA MAE IS A STENOGRAPHER FOR ONE OF THE SLICK LAWYERS, AND HE’LL LET HER GO WHEN HE DISCOVERS THE FERGUSONS ALLOWED DIXIE AND LEWIS KING TO MOVE IN WITH THEM, AFTER ALVIE GETS HIS ORDERS TO DEPLOY.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, when you go to look for work, they might say, ‘This chap sounds like a shipyard scrub,’ and you’ll get your job there.”

“Well, I kinda like that idea. Them fellers are some tough crackers.”

“Oh, yeah, and nice, nice guys. Not saying anything about their character. But their education has ‘em working in the shipyard today, which is where they’ll be workin’ the day they retire. You wanna work that hard for that long?”

“But I ain’t – well, I don’t gots much up here.” Ladd pointed to his noggin. “I might just be shipyard material.”

“Well, Mr. Crosby says if you don’t work hard in school and get your lessons and graduate, you may grow up to be a mule. Or a pig.”

 Edna Mae spoke as she gently shut the screen door behind her. “Or a fish.”

ANOTHER REFERENCE TO MUSIC OF THE ERA. ‘SWINGIN’ ON A STAR’ WAS A BING CROSBY HIT, AND ITS MESSAGE WAS “STAY IN SCHOOL.” BE SURE TO INCLUDE OCCASIONAL REFERENCES TO THE RADIO SHOWS, MOVIES AND MUSIC, JUST ENOUGH TO KEEP THAT MID-40’S, WW2-ERA AURA.

Alvie gave her a peck on the cheek.

“Eww! Yuck!” the little imp Ladd retorted. Edna Mae ignored the boy’s reaction and swept a lock of her husband’s white hair off his forehead.

“Alvie, I declare you will have your own little army of boys to do all of your bidding. Maybe you should own a shipyard. You’ll have reliable, loyal hands.”

“Reliable?” He pointed toward Ladd.

“Have you conducted all your business with Mr. Ferguson here?” she asked the boy.

Ladd crossed his arms, cocked his head and cleared his throat.

 “My daddy says he heard you got a colored livin’ with you. In the same house.”

 “I am not aware of any reason why my living arrangements are any of your business, young man.”

Ladd looked away and kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“Well, if’n that’s true, I just know you got more sense than to let them coloreds use your indoor commode, the same one y’all use.” He shook his head and turned to face the other direction, never making eye contact. “That’s just plain nasty.”

Alvie waved the boy away. “You run along, Ladd. We treat people like people, no matter who they are or where they’re from.”

Ladd Miller walked away. “Everybody’s gots their place is all.”

Alvie wrapped an arm around his bride’s delicate waist and shot back. “And from the sound of it, your place should be in school.”

Let me hear (read) what you think. C’mon, now. Just a brief comment will make my day.

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Filed under "Dixieland", Inspiration, National Novel Writing Month 2012, WIPs

Dixieland: Ready for NaNoWriMo launch

Monday afternoon on my way home from work at the Columbia Daily Tribune I stopped at the nearest grocer to pick up a few items. I hadn’t planned on buying a card. It was one of those “Pages of Time” booklets; the ones that have nostalgic news from the year you were born. In the last few days I’ve poured over reference books at My Favorite Non-Home/Non-Church/Non-Work Place in  Columbia — the Columbia Public Library — and checked out some books and DVDs simply to get “in touch” with daily life in 1944-45 in the U.S.A., and more specifically Natchez, Miss.

But when I stumbled onto the display rack of greeting cards and “Pages of Time” booklets, there it was: “Your Special Year: 1945.”

I think I might have squealed like a little school girl.

Ahem.

When I checked out, the checker scanned the  little booklet and asked — oh, you knew she’d ask, didn’t you? — “Are you getting this for someone special?” Instead of simply saying, “Yes,” and hoping she wouldn’t ask, “Who?,” I answered, “No. It’s for me.”

Awkward silence.

Then I added: “Long story. At least I hope it will be.” She just looked at me and blinked, unaware that the phrase “at least I hope it will be” was a clue — foreshadowing, if you will — of what the purchase would help produce: “Dixieland,” my project for National Novel Writing Month 2012.

Here’s a sampling of some other resource material that I’ve consulted or continue to consult: “Natchez,” by Harnett T. Kane; “Since You Went Away: World War II letters from American women on the home front”; “Coming of Age in Mississippi,” by Anne Moody; “The Girls That Went Away,” by Ann Fessler (you might recall that one of the “Dixieland” characters is named Doris Fessler); and correspondence with an elderly woman who was “incarcerated” — her words — at the King’s Daughters Maternity Home in Natchez, and with someone from the historical society down there in Dixie; and a couple of DVDs on the war that give insight into life on the home front.

And for my listening pleasure, to put me in the moment of the era, I checked out the CD “Your Hit Parade: 1944.” Any of these names ring a bell? Judy Garland, Bing Crosby, The Andrews Sisters, Jimmy Dorsey and His Orchestra. Duke Ellington, Guy Lombardo and His Royal Canadians. Dick Haymes and Helen Forrest, “It Had To Be You.”

And I’m going to give away a secret that extends from “Dixieland” into “Chasing The  Devil,” the second part of this trilogy that doesn’t occur until 1990. The reason that Edna Mae Ferguson celebrates Christmas in July … well, you’ll have to wait to read “Dixieland.” Her husband, Alvie, is a POW and Edna Mae has fled to Kentucky when Christmas 1944 rolls around. And speaking of Christmas, Bing Crosby’s “I’ll Be Home For Christmas” was recorded in 1943; “White Christmas” was recorded in 1942.

Imagine my characters hearing those songs on Dec. 24, 1944 — Alvie in a POW camp, Edna Mae away from home in the hills of central Kentucky. Oh, yes, the theme music for the creation of “Dixieland” is most appropriate.

So here’s a final reminder to myself and all other aspiring WriMos. As we plot, scheme, write and flow from scene to scene, these three things are essential — absolutely vital — to making sure that what we write is something that will connect with readers:

– Conflict. My outline and character sketches have the word CONFLICT somewhat randomly inserted, in ALL CAPS, as a constant reminder that without conflict, rising tension and a story arc that incorporates lots of conflict and tension, I might as well be writing a grocery list.

– Hopes, dreams, wants and fears. What do my characters want? What are their dreams? Ooh: What do they FEAR the most? (Being alone? Not measuring up to a demanding parent/teacher/friend?) What makes them hold out hope for … Racial equality? A lover’s reunion? Forgiveness?

– Breadcrumbs. As a reader, I want to feel like I’m part of a character’s voyage of discovery, and I can follow breadcrumbs that will lead me to AHA!, I saw that coming, and other breadcrumbs that … sort of … trail off — but not to the extent that I feel insulted by the writer, especially when I see the main source of the seemingly irrelevant crumbs in the climactic scene. As the writer, I need to deliberately drop breadcrumbs without making it look deliberate.

Big sigh.

Twenty-four hours from the big start. Thirty-one days from saying, “I did it.”

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Filed under "Dixieland", Inspiration, National Novel Writing Month 2012, Old Time Religion, WIPs