Bummer. I got here too late since I've been busy and haven't logged on in awhile.
The video's been removed by user. Double rainbows are magnificient.
Maybe this can take it's place?
LOL. We have now posted the same video. Lesson for me I should have looked at your posted video, before I went and found the same video.
No, not at all. You posted your video link well before mine. I didn't check my Email until today. And since I subscribed to this thread I found notice of your double rainbow video post well after it's producer removed it from You tube. I don't know who it was that made that video, since once it's removed there's no screen name to credit. I instead went to YouTube to find a video to take it's place, not knowing it was the same one you posted. Kismet. Gotta love that. Don't feel bad. We once again have a gorgeous double rainbow to marvel at on the board.
"Remember, Jesus would rather constantly shame gays than let orphans have a family." Stephen Colbert
If she's still alive, every day is Mother's day and you get only one.
It's so easy to repeat that lame mantra; "I'll do it later." When thinking about calling her or sending her a letter. Or even surprising her with a bouquet or a little something you see, when out and about and that reminds you of her.
But when she's passed away, you're the one left with that realization for the rest of your life. There is no more later because there's no more time to make it up to her.
I lost my mom to cancer 10 years ago. She died beside me as I sat with her on the bed she shared with my dad all my life, until he passed the year before from cancer too. She was in a home Hospice program and so it was a blessing to have her here where her friends could visit without worry of visiting hours and lack of privacy.
When I was young I couldn't wait to get out of the house and carve out my own dreams. And like many children who leave home, I thought there would always be time for them, when I wasn't busy living my life. I didn't call as often as I should have. I didn't write much, though I always remembered occasion cards.
When they took ill we moved back home so as to provide for them in a time of need and insure the family business was secure so that their income wasn't hampered by illness. And even then I felt myself drift away as if I couldn't bear to watch them wither and die.
If you've ever known someone suffering cancer you know how virulent that dread disease can be, whittling down someone you remember as strong and healthy into a puny vacant eyed sadness that appears in such a way as to make death and relief from that horror seem like a blessing. It wasn't the cancer that did this to her. It was the side effects of the treatments.
Mom passed away with her friends and family at her bedside. And while she tried to hold on until her sisters traveling from the south arrived to say goodbye, we told her if she was ready it was OK to go. And then we sang her to peace with her favorite hymns.
If your mother is alive today, call her. Send her a card out of the blue, or a heart felt letter letting her know that without her you know you would literally be nothing. Send flowers because their perfume beauty will bring a smile to her face. Because when flowers circle a casket the memory of what should have been if you had made the time for it, comes home with a crash.
(HUG) Your mommy. You are living proof she was pro-choice!
And once she's gone, it's forever. And then what you have to live with forever isn't her. It's the regret for what you didn't do when it was all you, that chose not to take the time.
God/Goddess Bless the Mother.
I still love you mom. And I will miss you tomorrow too.
(P.S. To the Mod. If this is too depressing for the theme of this thread, I completely respect and understand that and have no problem if you delete or move it. )
"Remember, Jesus would rather constantly shame gays than let orphans have a family." Stephen Colbert
I love the old songs that also serve as annotations on history. "White House Blues" concerns the 1901 assassination of President William McKinley by a frustrated job seeker who bore the wonderfully sinister name of Czolgosz, performed here by the great bluegrass banjoist and singer Charlie Poole and his North Carolina Ramblers. I don't know who the fiddler was, but he had a wonderful way with the final notes of many of the instrumental phrases. Not a blues strictly speaking, the song consists of rhymed couplets, each capped by one of several refrains.
McKinley was shot while shaking hands in a receiving line in Buffalo, NY. Czolgosz stood in the line with one hand wrapped in a bandage concealing the weapon. The assassination resulted in Vice-President Teddy Roosevelt assuming the highest office ("That damned cowboy" as one contemporary pundit called him), and the song also refers to Roosevelt's daughter Alice.
I've found that the best, most edifying way to listen to these old chestnuts is to open a second browser window, then call up the YouTube video and play it while reading the lyrics. You can either click the link and use the second window to re-access this site, or stay here and call up YouTube in the second window and key "White House Blues" into the search function. You'll want the first item on the results page.
McKinley hollered, McKinley squalled Doc said "McKinley, I can't find that ball." From Buffalo to Washington.
Roosevelt in the White House, he's doin' his best; McKinley in the graveyard, he's takin' his rest, He's gone, a long, long time.
Hush up little children, now don't you fret; You'll draw a pension at your papa's death, From Buffalo to Washington.
Roosevelt in the White House takin' Alice to her cup; McKinley in the graveyard, he'll never wake up; He's gone, long old time.
Ain't but one thing that grieves my mind, That is to die and leave my poor wife behind, I'm gone, a long old time.
Looky here little children, don't you fret; You'll draw a pension at your papa's death, From Buffalo to Washington.
Standing at the station, just lookin' at the time; See if I could run it by half past nine From Buffalo to Washington.
Then the train, she's just on time, She run about a mile's far 'tween eight o' clock and nine, From Buffalo to Washington.
Yonder come the train, she's comin down the line, Slowin' every station, Mr. McKinley's a-dyin', It's hard times, hard times.
Lookit here, you rascal, you see what you've done? You shot my husband with that Iver Johnson gun, Can't (unintelligible) to Washington
Doc told the horse, he tore down his mane, Said to that horse, "You got to outrun this train." From Buffalo to Washington.
Doc (unintelligible) his remedy, takes off his fix, Said, "Mr. McKinley, Better pass in your checks, You're bound to die, bound to die."
Sounds like the soundtrack that would accompany a media slide show of all the radical right wingers who gather at Tea Party rallies and those who have been caught carrying guns when attending an Obama public appearance. Like that half-wit Kostric, who carried a sign that read: "It is time to water the tree of Liberty". Alluding to the Jefferson quote, "The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."
Presidential Assassinations aren't music to anyone's ears!
Well it's not like whoever wrote that old song way back when, whoever it was, was celebrating the assassination. It was an event worthy of comment, and the writer did throw in a few wry witticisms, such as
Hush little children, don't you fret;
You'll draw a pension at your papa's death.
Lightning Hopkins once wrote a song called "Mean Old Twister," about a Texas tornado that nearly demolished "the shack where I was livin'." I don't think he was celebrating that event either, except maybe the fact that his house "reeled and rocked, but it never fell."
Disasters are as worthy of note as love affairs, and maybe more so.
I should probably also mention that I'm a political radical but mostly a musical reactionary, and usually much prefer the music I'm not old enough to remember (pre-WWII) to that which I do remember (postwar).
So, you're a blues fan, catboxer. As we say here, good on ya!
That McKinley song was wonderful! I loved those lyrics. They certainly don't write them like that anymore, sadly enough. But, then, I guess the golden age of American popular music ended fifty years ago with the coming of rock 'n' roll.
I've always been a slavishly devoted lover of old jazz, especially the early stuff, and its roots are in the blues. I'll bet you're a love of Big Bill Broonzy, too.
Ken Burns brought out some of that in his great series about jazz, which I've got and have watched numerous times.
Back to the McKinley assassionation -
The guy did the country a favour, because ol' Teddy proved to be one of your great presidents, pushing for the national parks, for one thing, and instituting other reforms. As I recall from reading about the assassination, if McKinley had been shot today, the doctors could have saved him.
I like old music as well. Big band, the Lawrence Welk re-runs. But don't tell anyone. (I also love ball room dancing) I even inherited old vinyl 12 inch records. I think they're 1940's style or so. I know about the old time theme's and putting news worthy events into song. That YT link in the OP reminded me of the Tea Party and how so many radicals are now subtly referencing taking BA out of office in ways other than 2012 election.
I didn't insinuate that you were calling for that, by the way.
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People change for two main reasons: either their minds have been opened or their hearts have been broken. ---Anonymous
The Marvelettes were the first big-time girl group to come out of Detroit. Actually, they came out of Inkster, from the high school in that Detroit suburb, where they finished fourth(!) in a school talent contest.
The school let them go to the big audition at new Motown Records studios anyway, even though only the first three finishers were supposed to go. The story becomes complex at that point, but the upshot is the girls were able to record "Please, Mr. Postman," released in the summer of '61 and subsequently at number one on all charts for seven weeks.
Even though this video is lip-synced, it's a rave. The song has few lyrics and no story -- it's not a narrative but a sweetheart's lament, delivered up-tempo and syncopated, like it was a celebration. Leadsinger Gladys Horton, at left in the photo, simply overpowers the vocal and wrestles it into submission, in a pound-'em-down-to-the-bricks performance.
For more on the complicated and chequered history of theMarvelettes, see the article at Wikipedia.
I've started a Parkinson's Disease support group for those of us who have it, and for people close to them -- spouses, relatives, friends, and other loved ones, and for anyone else who knows someone with the disease or simply wishes to discuss it and/or learn more about it.
I'll be putting up a first post later today. Here is the link to group.