Best Gifts Ever?
mr. emptywheel and I have been meaning to get a print for our bathroom for years now–since we refinished it. I had intended to get an early patent drawing of a toilet, but never found anything I really liked.
So, when xkcd announced they were making signed prints available this year, mr. ew decided he was going to get the most incisive observation of online discussion, evah, and frame it for me for Christmas.
The comic, perhaps appropriately, is named "Duty Calls."
For some reason mr. ew figured it was an appropriate gift for me. We don’t usually exchange Christmas gifts (preferring to buy gifts when we find them), but when he learned he was getting a beer-making set, he decided to reciprocate.
So what did Santa (or the gods of Festivus, Kwanzaa, or Hannakuh) bring you this year?
One of the best Chrismas gifts I ever gave was actually a stocking stuffer (well, sort of). I was about 14, and my father, who was always prone to big statements, decided he deserved a 3-foot Christmas stocking. I took it upon myself to respond appropriately.
I filled the bulk of the stocking with a dozen grapefruit, which filled it up nicely. Then, just before the rest of the family came down on Christmas morning (I always got up several hours before my family and just hung out by the tree with the lights on), I went to the fridge where we had hidden the secret last stocking stuffer, and put it on top of all the grapefruit.
There we were hanging out quietly before opening presents, drinking coffee, when the stocking started moving. My Dad went to figure out what was going on, stuck his hand in the stocking, and the flung the … live lobster clear across the room.
(Yes, the rubber bands were still on the claws).
I confess it was inhumane to the poor lobster (though I couldn’t have predicted the distance my Dad got on that lobster). By the end of the day we very humanely put it head first into boiling water and enjoyed the best stocking stuffer ever as an hors d’oeuvres.
(Someday, if the news ever gets boring, I’ll tell you what happened when I got my upstairs neighbor in college a live pig for his birthday.)
So what are the best gifts you’ve ever given?
Mr. siri got Hopi prayer feathers. yes, Eagle. and yes, legally obtained. by Hopi standards anyway.
that’s probably the top gift ever for anyone from me, since it didn’t involved money!
Can you say more? Like how you got them? I’m fascinated.
The best gift I ever gave was the year after my father had died. Going through things, I found a picture of he and his brothers and sisters standing behind their parents in birth order from the oldest on the right to the youngest (my father) on the left. His sister couldn’t remember exactly when the picture was taken but we figured it was when he was probably 20.
I had copies made and framed and gave one to my brother and sister and each of my first cousins that year for Christmas.
mr. posaune came up with three canaries this year!
All mates for our current ones: American Singer, Red Factor and Fife.
Let the breeding begin!
Love the print!
This isn’t exactly a Christmas present, but one year I talked everyone in the family into buying an item that would be given to no one. Rather, it’d be auctioned off at the family gathering, and then all the dough we raised was sent to an orphanage in Vietnam. Items sold for lots more than they were worth, of course. Example: My great-grandmother made popcorn balls and they sold for hundreds of dollars.
Wow, that’s a great idea!!
I had to wait until I was 70 years old to receive the most unbelievable gift of my life.
When I was a child of 9 there was always more work on the farm we rented than there were kids to get it done. We used horses then to work the land. On Sunday they were given a day of rest and had to be taken to a pasture about 2 miles from home. That journey included crossing a railroad and a highway. (maybe 3 trains a day and about the same number of cars; 1943).
One Saturday night my Dad told me I was to take the horses next morning to pasture. I never slept a wink that night, imagining all kinds of horrors that might befall me. Each horse had its own personality, from ancient and slow to stubborn balking. One was a former race horse whose foot had been cut in barb wire. We had all been given the dire warning about him, “stay clear of him, he’ll kill you!”.
Sunday morning came and my Dad came for me. He had strung all the horses on a lead rope with the ancient one at the very far end and the race horse snubbed about 2 inches from Ole Brownie’s bit ring. I was to ride Ole Brownie, a cow pony, the best friend I ever had.
That was the first time I ever stood up to my father, telling him, “I can’t do this, Daddy, I can’t control all these horses.” His cold response was something like, “Aye God, you can and you will!!” With that he hoisted me up on Brownie’s back, handed me the lead rope, slapped Brownie on the rump and waved him off.
I just knew that a freight train would end us all if the ancient one balked on the tracks, and nearly collapsed with fear when he stumbled on the rails.
Well, to shorten this tale somewhat, we made it to the pasture. After a mammoth struggle with the gate I finally got them into the pasture and off the lead rope. I was to ride Brownie back home. He was a small horse, about 15 hand high, but I was a small kid. I jumped and jumped endlessly but hadn’t the strength to make it onto his back. I finally grabbed handfuls of his mane and climbed up his leg, then lay over his neck, trembling like a mass of quivering jello.
And the gift? My only daughter, then in her 40’s, came one Christmas with a big package. To this day every time I look at the gift, tears flow.
It is a bronze sculpture of a horse with a girl child about that age laying down on his neck with arms hugging him.
The love and understanding my daughter gave me with that gift is inexpressible.
So now I am officially crying too. Where was your farm, acquarius74?
Mr dadl and I used to stuff each other’s stockings with hardware gadgetry — flashlights, corkscrews, kitchen tongs, extra batteries, etc (always a mandarin orange in the toe, though). That’s one of the few kinds of shopping I enjoy, and I always love getting the stuff. One year, not for Christmas but for my birthday, Mr dadl bought me a new ladder, which is in my living room right now, ready for the next bout of painting.
Both my parents were deeply marked by the Depression in the west and by the war, so when we were kids in the late forties, early fifties, they were torn between being frugal and suddenly being able to be expansive. Dad especially thought that presents should be — forgive me, EW — bright shiny objects, silly things, things you would never buy for yourself. I remember one year he took my sisters and me with our pennies through the local Woolworth’s, looking for stocking stuffers for family friends, and I decided that I had to get my godmother a rubber bowl scraper / spatula — I think those were about 25 cents back then. Dad laughed but he went along with that, and godmother laughed but looked genuinely pleased when I gave it to her. I just seem to have the hardware gene.
I can’t imagine why Mr EW thought of you when he saw that print, EW.
The farm was about 3 miles west of a rinky-dink town called Knox City, Texas.
Sounds a lot like a couple of farms I knew near Medicine Hat and Lacombe, Alberta. Knox City, eh? Interesting name. “Aye God, you can and you will” — I know that accent, whether it’s in Texas or Alberta or Scotland.
The name was about the only interesting thing about that town. Just about dead now.
That ‘accent’ – I think it and some attitudes with it came over from Scotland. My Dad’s ancient ancestor came over from Scotland about 1760, first land record 1773 in Amherst Co, VA. Then to GA, his son to Ark, and his son to TX by 1867.
Alberta, isn’t that cattle country, and wheat?
Plenty of oil too, particularly, in the Athabascan Tar Sands in the Northeastern corner of Alberta…!
Are you ‘from there’, CT? What took you to Hawaii?
My Dad’s untimely demise in a helicopter crash in the Northwest Territories… After we’d buried him back in Nova Scotia, my Mom took a vacation to Hawaii, getting a refund on the return ticket home…!
I’m so sorry about your Dad, CT. Your Mom sounds like a real strong woman who knew what she had found and grabbed it.
A few days ago someone here called you a ’stronomer’ – study the stars, do ya? Such a pursuit would create a man of great vision….
Heh, Astronomer is quite the stretch…! I’m at one of the lowest rungs of that ladder, I ‘Laser Spot’ for several Observatories on top Mauna Kea…!
Hand over hand and foot over foot, CT. Sometimes the higher rungs come at a great personal price. I’ll have to google Laser Spot and see what in the world that is. hehehe
How’s your wife’s foot, CT?
Thanks for asking, it’s healing nicely… She’s a stubborn cuss so it’s been hard to keep her chained down to allow it to heal…! I did let her peel and chop the carrots on her lap…
Maybe next time she could have a cutting board on her lap.
Tis a shame the ‘emoticons’ are dropped from comments here…!
Yup. And oil, as C Tuttle says, although the tar sands have suddenly become uneconomical is my understanding. Dick Cheney loves us, though.
You and I are probably long-lost cousins. My dad’s ancestors left Scotland for Nova Scotia a decade or so later than yours — there were a lot of Scots leaving after Culloden. And then my granddad moved his family west at the turn of the last century.
But now we have different passports, and different histories of some length, even though we can all still hear that same accent.
posaune @ 20, a grand story indeed. What a wonderful inheritance.
Here’s my roots… Another linky… They fled the States being on the wrong side of the Revolution…! *g*
Lots of families were divided during the Rev War. Lots of Tuttles in TX. I remember the name from my mothers stories of her youth in Seymour, TX. She was born 1895 in the Indian Territory of OK in Tishamingo. Her dad was the agent who ran the Trading Post there. Oddly, her family returned to TX in 1907, the year of the Big Run. Her dad shoulda been called ‘wrong way William’.
I was surprised at how common a surname ‘Tuttle’ is… Of the top 250K names in the US, it’s ranked in the top 5K…!
There was a Captain Tuttle at the 4077th.
skdadl, alert the Mounties! Stop Cheney at the border – he’ll bulldoze your mountain tops and pollute your rivers and kill the salmon — and he shoots people in the face at short range…
We just might be cousins a hundred times removed. My maiden name was Cogburn, changed from the old Scots clan name Cockburn. Lots of them did immigrate to Canada. I have studied their genealogy since I retired. If you haven’t done so, it’s a fabulous history.
acquarius, no way am I up for voluntary contact with the Mounties. Oh, sure, it’s all fun and musical rides and spiffy scarlet tunics for a while, but then somebody gets cute and talks to the FBI and you end up in prison in Damascus. (NB to RCMP, CSIS, FBI, etc: Just kidding, eh?)
I’m not a Cockburn (pronounce coe-burn), but here’s a Canadian who probably is one of your long-lost cousins:
Bruce Cockburn, “Tokyo” and “If I had a rocket launcher.”
Oh, please don’t tell me the good-guy Mounties have been infected by our rotten CIA/FBI. I know, you’re talking about the Canadian detainee; another shameful example of the insanity rampant in our spy agencies. I didn’t know he had been ratted out by the Mounties.
Yes, I knew of Bruce. There are quite a few Cockburns who have been quite famous in medicine, the arts, etc. Unfortunately many of them did not use their intelligence for good; there’s a mean streak in many of them. There was one in particular with whom I claim no kinship whatsoever. You ever heard of Admiral Sir George C of DC notoriety?
Och, I fear that the Dudley Do-Rights have been going off the rails for some time. See? The wiki has an entire article on their scandals. Mention “barn-burning” in Canada and everyone will start to snicker (that was a botched provocateur operation). They didn’t grasp that your folks were going to send Arar to be tortured in Syria until after he was gone, but yes, they were the first sources of (bad and wrong) intel that American police and spooks had, and they fumbled badly when they realized how deep the trouble had got. So did CSIS (sort of like your CIA) and Foreign Affairs.
No, I have not heard of Admiral Sir George. Tell me. I’m assuming that people called Coburn are also of your clan?
Yeah, it’s all the same old clan, first written record in Sct was 1061 (before Battle of Hastings 1066). Some tried to spell it differently so as not to be connected with the black sheep.
Well, Admiral Sir George C was mentored by Lord Nelson of Brit Navy fame. Sr Geo became famous during those naval battles – he captained the ship that took Napolean to Elba. Then..uh…he was in command (actually second but it was sort of a Cheney deal) and was primarily responsible for the burning of Wash DC 1814. There’s a book called ‘The Dawn’s Early Light’ mostly about him and that event. He looks and sounds like one arrogant SOB.
Oh, hey — that makes him one of our guys! *big wink*
Well, c’mon. Your guys burned down the York (Toronto) parliament first. No hard feelings, though, eh?
I really didn’t know we did that deed. Our history, such as it is, is kinda one-sided. he,he,he
(not funny, really, but pathetic = the ugly American, ya know.
You mischievous hosers!
skdadl, if you Google his name and choose the wiki, you’ll read about Sir George C and see a full length pic of him.
I think the earliest in Sct were mercenaries, then knights, then some were minor barons. They played the high roller game and most lost everything. (retaining the snobbery). Sir George’s line snuggled up to the English and went to Eng early.
My immigrant’s father was a merchant in Edinburgh, probably the Jacobite “Mr Cockburn” who was ratted out and probably died in the Tollgate Prison, Edinburgh in 1751 and is buried in Greyfriars Churchyard. There were/are too many Johns to be sure.
Acquarius74, I just love your story.
Thank you, JoyB. Christmas gets me to rememberin’.
Sure Marcy. A gentleman inherited them from his uncle who worked on Navajo Nation in the 1930’s giving driver’s license tests to the Natives. I met him, of all places, on Ebay. He was listing pottery (I always look at Native Pottery, it’s a passion of mine) and he had stated that his items were from “Window Rock Reservation”, which is an error. Window Rock is the “capital” of Navajo Nation, a small tiny reservation town. So I wrote to him and respectfully explained that to him and he wrote back and thanked me and we struck up a conversation. Over several weeks he sent me pics of his other items which were rare, old and beautiful and really didn’t belong on Ebay. I guided him to other auction sites specifically for such items and put him in touch with a reputable trader down here where I live in the 4 Corners area. I also helped him sort through some of the pieces, and taught him how to catalogue such things for posterity.. (I majored in anthropology in college and have worked in several museums since). As a thank you, he sent me the feathers. They are old and sacred and cannot be purchased. That’s it in a nutshell. It was a blessing and a gift and a Hand of Spirit thing, as Mr. siri didn’t get anything else for Christmas this year. We is po (lol).
But he was thrilled, and the dogs did get him a new pair of gloves which aren’t here yet, but they will be.
tmi?
and that pic of the print in this post is priceless.
say THAT 10 times in a row.
hehe
Well, it involves a hooker, chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Okay, this looks like kind of a G rated conversation here, so unless Freepatriot shows up, we’ll leave it at that.
Seriously though, are eagle feathers that hard to come by? I guess now that I think about it, they probably are. The reason I ask is, when I was a kid I went to summer camp outside of Prescott Arizona, Friendly Pines Camp (still there by the way). Anyhoo, at the end of each camp session (there were two each summer, early and late, some kids went to both) and they gave out awards at the last weekly campfire pow wow of the session. The two most prestigious were those given the eagle feather and the peacock feather. I got the eagle feather both summers I went. I was not overly fond of the horse programs (I had dirtbikes at home and figured a horse ought to be made by Yamaha and have a motor) and thus never got the vote of the lady counselor running the stables, and it had to be unanimous among the counselors to get the peacock. I still carry that scar! I might still have my eagle feathers somewhere, are they that rare??
they’re no rarer than the number of dead eagles anywhere.
but they ARE illegal.
US government has deemed possession of eagle feathers to be illegal. they have gone so far as to “raid” sacred ceremonies and confiscate the ceremonial fans that are used. the last time i read of that happening was in 2006.
DOW would come here and take them if they knew.
some tribes/Nations can possess them, but have to have a special permit.
so for that reason, unless you happen upon a dead eagle, which is rare cause they don’t just fly and drop in populated areas, eagle feathers are extremely hard to come by. or at least, they have been for me and I’m always on the lookout for them cause they are, well, rare but also very sacred to First Nation peoples.
We also had an “eagle” feather award at our camp, though later i found out that the “eagle” feather was actually a cleverly dyed Turkey plume. Which of course i still have, but it’s not quite the same…
I suppose mine were too; a pity, we felt so bad ass thinking we had eagle feathers.
and different nations have different laws, traditions for eagle feathers and other parts of the bird. all NA nations have some stipulations of some form cause they are sacred. It is “spirit medicine” in Native lore. but they cannot be traded or bought for anything else, and it is sacrilege to involve them in any way by and for money, which is “white man’s idea” anyway.
of course there are many who would attempt to sell or trade them, not all natives are traditional or honorable for that matter.
they can be gifts. which these were, and i didn’t keep them for myself, i gave them away. the sacred is not tainted, in other words.
and are you certain they are real eagle feathers? fake ones are made by selectively dying turkey feathers, and those are what are found on a lot of native art and craft bobbles. if they’re real, they were likely handed out illegally. Prescott is primarily Apache, I think and I know they are protected and honored in that nation. And Navajo. I’ve never heard of a Native American tribe/nation who didn’t honor and revere anything having to do with Eagle. I’m betting those you received were not real Eagle feathers.
Just a guess, but probably so……….
Interesting. This was 40 some odd years ago, so I trust it wasn’t illegal then. No idea if they were real, I would have assumed they were, but have no clue. There were not many given out each year, maybe 6-8 or so. But it was not within sovereign Indian land so they really would have had no jurisdiction whatsoever.
lol
it’s not the indians, bmaz
it’s THE friggin FEDZ!
THEY confiscate and charge with possession, and they don’t give a rats ass WHO’S land it is or isn’t on! i’m not sure what year eagle feathers went “rogue”, but it likely has to do with whatever year they were put on endangered lists.
i wish Marcy would come back, she likely knows something about this.
i’m sure it could be googled.
Heh heh, yeah I wasn’t overly concerned about tribal police coming to roll me up. As to the Feds, well I know one of the years (maybe both, but not sure) Goldwater was involved in the ceremony. I claim congressional immunity!!
Native americans can apply to the dept of the Interior (BIA) and get a permit to posses the feathers. However On the rez I have seen many but never a permit.
same here mike. but i’ve also heard and read of major busts where DOW officials come into ceremonies and take them away, the feathers. last i heard it happened in West or Southwest Texas in late 06.
fish and wildlife have a hardon for endangered species. indians don’t have a pac to make them back off. it’s all a matter of money.
Actually one of the guys that received a pardon in his previous rounds was convicted of killing Bald Eagles. Apparently he set out poison to kill coyotes that were killing his sheep. The Eagles ate some of the Coyote that died (Eagles are also scavengers). That killed the eagles.
In Sarawak the native people use Hornbill Feathers for regalia. But they have almost wiped them out. Siome younger people have started using Turkey Feathers instead and actually discouraging the killing of Hornbills. These are “omen birds” as well…and fewer birds mean fewer messages from the ancestors.
Best present I remember giving was one I ordered specially from the Breck’s of Boston catalogue: a gold nameplate for my dad’s brand-new Rambler American convertible. It said THIS CAR MANUFACTURED FOR: and my dad’s name. Went right on the glove compartment door where I could see it whenever I rode shotgun, which was always, since my mom didn’t like the top-down experience very much.
My dad & I have the same name, so it was pretty cool seeing that nameplate every time.
ok, I have to tell this story about my mother’s Christmas present in 1941.
She had just finished business college in Souix Falls and was back living on the farm in Worthing, SD. She hadn’t a penny.
At the beginning of Christmas week, her long awaited job application for the Feds was answered with and offer for a position in the War Dept in Washington, DC. Near the end of the world for a farm girl from SD. It was a 4-day bus trip and a $50 ticket. An unseemly amount.
On Christmas Eve, her father took her with him to the local stockyard and sold his only Angus for $50, and said, “Merry Christmas, my Morrie, I know you’ll go far.” And she did. She ended up working “on the side of the angels,” she said, for Robert Jackson on the War Crimes trials.
That is so good, but her father and your mother. What courage and generosity. Thanks
Sorry, meant to say “both” not but.
A grand story, posaune! Did your Mom accompany Robert Jackson to the Hague?
Do you have her letters back home to her parents during that period of her life?
yes, and did she keep a diary?
We could ask a kijillion questions, huh californiarealitycheck?
posuane’s Mom’s story sounds like the basis of a good book to me.
thanks, acquarius.
yes, to both. well, there’s a trunkload of postcards. and photo albums. That’s all I ever wanted her to leave me in the estate, and she did.
Write the book, posaune!! and be sure to alert us when it’s to be published.
Put lots of photos in.
Thanks for sharing this story. Love and justice.
I typically got my mom something thoughtful, accompanied by a variety of whimsical impulse buys. Naturally, the impulse gifts were usually the bigger hit. Last year, which as fate would have it turned out to be our last Christmas together, I bought her a “Wiggle Pig.”. A battery-operated stuffed pig wearing a Santa suit. When started up, it walked and oinked “Jingle Bells.” She loved it, it made her laugh every time she saw it.
Best gift..best gift. Well, ahem..I’m short and so are both of my daughters and we are all..mm..let’s say, well-fed, which meant that for the girls, getting dresses for their high school proms were occasions pretty well fraught with terror, tears, and horror. So I started making them gowns. I could always tell when I’d hit the mark because once it was done and they got them on, they’d immediately twirl in front of the mirror with huge smiles on their faces. If it didn’t work…well, they’d just stand there. So, my gift to them was a dress they were happy with; their gift back to me were those happy twirling smiles.
ew,
just curious. what was the beer kit? tell the mr that he has a friend.
Methinks the beer kit was not just for Mr. Wheel…..
Just a guess ya know.
I’m thinking someone stayed up all night making sure the kit worked. Naming no names however. *g*
i’ve always wanted ta do that. lookin fer a good referal.
Here’s something on the Eagle Feather Protection Acts which apparently does allow some exemptions for possession for Tribal Religious Ceremonies by racially identified Native Americans.
Thanks for the linky, cinnamonape. You always come thru!
Merry whatever you celebrate, sweetie!
I asked the same thing in my latest post and several people commented they got nothing. That’s a sad and telling commentary. I got a Jeff Herman’s Guide to Literary Agents, which, for an aspiring novelist, is one of the best presents you can get. So I guess I’m luckier than most.
Here’s hoping your holidays were at least safe and joyous, if not full of swag.
My one gift that I received today, I’m savoring right now, a Crown Royal gift pack with the tumblers…! *g* Cheers!
Tuttle!! I only have mere Jack Daniels, but am joining you right this second. Cheers my friend!
Prosit! I’m enjoying cooking the holiday meal and readying for some long time family friends to drop in and enjoy the feast I’m readying…! And enjoying your company…! A fine gathering of kindred souls…! *g*
Digg
Always gotta be a wise acre in the crowd, eh?
No offense intended.
Say goodight Richard.
Goodnight Richard.
Heh, No offense taken…! *g*
A beer kit for mr. ew…groovy! Can’t wait to hear about the first few batches of home-brewed stout.
I bought one for my spouse years ago; he loved the ale my dad used to make at home, figured he’d like to try it himself, No such luck, still sitting in the box. I may have to break it out and try it myself, could be a chance to cut down on beer expenses.
At least that’s what I tell myself…
Bush and Paulson say that you can keep the liquor consumed trying to complete the process hidden and off books…
Too funny. Just replied to you about the Cerberus-GMAC in the other thread.
But that was less fun, especially since there’s no beer involbed in that thread.
keep a look out for the revenoooers, bmaz.
Amen! But, They’ve been looking the other way for quite some time…!
Asleep at the wheel…? Great group, Btw…! *g*
Thanks for the links….the SEC: ‘cutback in personnel and resources’…you believe that? I say ‘on the take’ all the way from Wall Street to DC.
The music was great. You ever been caught in a Paul Jones?
I think the best gifts are the ones I gave my kids, like a small fire opal I gave my daughter when she was young, she just glowed like the stone.
That’s kewl, masaccio! Reminds me of a similar gift I gave my middle daughter…!
Four years ago, sick to death of hearing the same riffs over and over from daddybrain’s guitar, I gave him three months of weekly lessons with Billy Burke, who has played with Willie Nelson, among others.
He’s still going, every week. And now I often stop what I’m doing to sit and listen to his lovely playing.
The best gift I got, ever, was a beagle puppy when I was 8. The best recent gift was a police scanner. I’m an ambulance chaser in my heart, so I listen every day. So far I’ve only heard one cell conversation – between two guys, one of whom was trying to convince the other not to tell his wife he was having an affair.
Beaucoup people have mentioned that very role, bmaz! I told ‘em it’s ironic that he’s a Psychologist, something we’ve needed in the family…! My eldest is well on her way to getting her master’s in Psychology, and, eventually her Doctorate’s…!
Marcy,
I’m a bit behind. The Mrs. and I just escaped frozen IL and arrived in frozen WI tonight, and had Christmas Dinner with 90-year-old Mom, 2 brothers and their families, and sister.
Mrs. Bob in HI thinks your cartoon is a riot. “That’s you, sweetie!” she exclaimed.
Please enjoy your holidays to the max, despite our pestering questions. There is so much good stuff on FDL lately, and I have only been able to skim.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!
Bob in HI
Temporarily in frozen WI
I don’t give the gifts
I let others do my dirty work for me
so I AM kinda responsible for that inflatable doll my cousin received one year (who knew Mom an Grandma would turn out to be so encourageable …)
and one year I got my brother, the fireman, a fire hat with a built in light and siren (he didn’t think it was so funny)
but then I stopped celebrating Christmas and stated celebrating Saturnalia (ya get less presents but ya have more orgies)
I still make awesome suggestions for gifts for others (so if you’re in my family, and you got an inflatable doll for Christmas, you’re welcome …)
(wink)
I have been a street musician around the world for going on 17 years. On my birthday, which is the same as Bob Dylan’s, I was strolling down the Sunset Strip singing Don’t Think Twice I believe. A blond woman setting at a table drinking red wine and smoking an American Spirit smiled and showed an interest and softly sang with me for a second. I stopped at her table and played for her. Then for some reason I played Free Man In Paris, thinking she would dig it on account of her age and her cool style. When I finished playing she asked if I played any other Joni, I said not when I out because it made me to vunerable because of the impact those songs have on me from my childhood and I couldn’t risk being too emotional out on the streets of LA. She then said “Oh and the alternate tunings are also tough” The hairs rose on the back of my neck, how did this woman know Joni wrote so few songs in standard tuning, that’s stuff only manic guitar players usually know and I looked at her eyes…those blue deep soulful eyes…I asked her name and she said Fifi and I said “okay Fifi, I’m just a dumb hick from Iowa but I think I’m missing something…Fifi” And sure enough she said “I’m Joni Mitchell” We spoke for the next half hour, I was holding back tears through parts of the conversation. It was a magic moment and an unforgettable birthday.
What a wonderful meeting, igo2go, and for such good reasons.
I got a live saving gift this year,Two new lungs.I call it my Christmas and 50th birthday present all in one.
Gunner, your one-liner kinda knocks the wind out of a person; tips us off balance for a while. I do believe your gift takes top honors. Our wishes for you that all goes well.
Best gift at my house was my husband choosing abstinence from alcohol 3 years ago December 15th. I had learned to love him and take care of myself in the disease. However, I never expected that he would one day choose to stop the insanity in his life, one more time. I had thought he would have to get deathly ill, or kill someone before it would ever stop. However, it just happened without my fretting and with much peace and surrender in my heart. I owe that part to my own 12 step recovery! I stopped caring about his drinking and he stopped drinking.
We are still enjoying his abstinence from alcohol and his presence in our lives today.
You pay us all a compliment by sharing that with us, wavpeac. Thank you. I wish you and your family all happiness.
“humanely put it head first into boiling water…”
Sounds like my college era New Years Party….
Man, what great stories!
It’s my view that every person that has lived even a few years has great stories to tell; it’s just that because it’s their story they see it as insignificant.
So — come on, gunner, ante up.
mistake. Meant, “come on, randiego, ante up.