SHORT STORY: "Where are you, Gracie?"

Another attempt at a brilliant short story is coming soon.

Title: Where are you, Gracie Purvis?

Setting: Norwich, Ontario and Southend-on-Sea, England

Time: 1941 - 42

Characters: Dad, Mom, Gracie Purvis

Trouble: Oh yeah!

[Photo of old photo by G.Harrison]

***

Please click here for more details about the set-up photo

Are You a Rich Man?

Backgrounder: “This song was written about seven years ago but is definitely linked to experiences from the sixties. I read and wrote poetry then, listened to Bob Dylan, enjoyed single malt whisky (beer just wasn’t hip enough for me) and fell in love about every three days. After 39 years of marriage (Aug. 8 anniversary) the answer to the question is yes.” gaharrison

Are You a Rich Man?

1. We met at some party of an old friend of mine,
I was off in a corner just putting in time.
When the smell of perfume, the warm brush of skin,
Awakened my senses, I was glad she walked in.

Chorus:

She thought I was special, more than I was,
The first time we met she was feelin’ the buzz,
From a single malt whisky that I had supplied.
“Are you a rich man?” she asked.
“Yes I am,” I replied.


["Peace and love from the sixties": photo GAH]

2. We went to the kitchen, she was looking for ice.
She asked, “Would you like some?” I said, “You smell nice.”
She laughed at my answer, so I chuckled right back,
If she’d wanted refinement
I would have tried some of that.

3. We were soon tangled up on a warm pile of coats.
She asked, “Are you serious?” I was thinking wild oats.
But we made an excuse, took a cab to my place,
Though I felt my apartment
would be a disgrace.


["I like Dylan, do you?": photo GAH]

4. After seeing my bookcase she said, “You like poetry too.”
“Have you any good music? I like Dylan, do you?”
We spent the night on the couch with the stereo on.
Got married that summer
and the riches live on.

GAH

.

I Could Search the World Over

Backgrounder: "An older friend of mine almost didn't make it out of the hospital recently, so I wrote a song for "next time." I'm pretty sure there will be a next time for him and all my other friends. And when I search for them - they'll be somewhere else." gaharrison

I Could Search the World Over

1. I could search the world over but won’t find my friend.
I could search from the front door and right to the end.
I am sad to be told that he’s gone from the land.
I could search the world over but I won’t find my friend.

2. The thoughts of my friend fill up my head.
I wish in his place it was me who was dead.
I feel in my mind it was too quick an end.
I could search the world over but I won’t find my friend.


3. I will look to the heavens and call out his name.
And from a high hill he will answer the same.
He will show me the place where he lays down his head.
He will tell me we’re brothers and that he’s not dead.

4. We will sing as we did when we were both young.
We will dance to the music from dusk until dawn.


We will clap both our hands and raise up a cheer.
We never lose good friends and those we hold dear.

5. I could search the world over but I won’t find my friend.
I must look to the heavens where he lives to the end.
* We lose and we win in the wink of an eye.
We never lose good friends they wait but on high. (* repeat)

.

Prose: Childhood Memories - Thin times in a small town

Backgrounder: “I mention a few lessons, in my next column (May 6), that my mother tried to teach me when I was a young boy. I think, by looking back, I jogged a few other memories too. The following prose was written just a few minutes ago.” gaharrison

thin times in a small town

where did she find
the money, that young mother
of mine, for the brand new
red CCM bicycle for
my birthday?

my brother and three sisters
never thought or felt
our family was poor.
but we knew -
if we wanted something -
we had better be prepared
to work for it.

God, what a good lesson
to learn as a young boy.

My dad had me try
one or two used bikes.
Tim Body’s didn’t fit me well
and it was hard to pedal.
I would have worked hard
for something better.

But, on my birthday,
after opening a few presents,
my mother told me
I wasn’t done yet
and said I should look
behind a tall bookcase
that hid the front door
from where I stood.

I looked and,
quite unexpectedly,
fell in love with
my new red bike.

GAH

***


I lovingly tip my hat to the wee girl whose father died young, who never had her own new red bike.

.

Prose: You Thought it was Hallowe’en

Backgrounder: “While looking for an old wedding photo I found this piece of prose from my university days. It was published in The Gazette (University of Western Ontario) on Feb. 14, 1969, and bears some truth, though it isn’t a very fitting sentiment for Valentines Day. It contains my first reference to whisky, but not my last.” gaharrison


["My university days": March, 1969]

you thought it was Hallowe’en

you thought it was Hallowe’en
all last month.
ever since I first met you,
I thought you were all
dressed up for nothing.

the unmasking took place last
night, and you looked quite
pretty without your mask.

but you were not what
the game had called for.


[Artwork - Tom Rossiter: photo GAH]

(Hallowe’en was over and
the two went tripping home
with an empty bottle of scotch
under their arm,
and when all the ghosts
and night creatures began to play,
she melted into their midst.)

I have not heard from you,
or seen you, since.

GAH

.

Don’t Call Me Late for Supper, Mabelene

Backgrounder: “This song was inspired a few years ago by a simple Lyle Lovett tune, though I forget which one. My wife is partial to his tunes so I tried to put a song together she would like. I succeeded on two counts - we both like it.” gaharrison

1. We met at an old country store.
I packed her bags and held open the door.
Well, we started to chat,
I learned her name after that.
Oh, Mabelene was a dish and much more.

One day I walked her back to her house.
Her folks were gone, we held hands on the porch.
I got lost in her eyes,
and two slices of pie,
And the smell of perfume in her hair.


["Elderberry pie - the way to my heart.": photo link]
Chorus:

Don’t call me late for supper, Mabelene.
You are the sweetest girl I’ve ever seen.
You sure are good-looking
and I love what you’re cooking.
Don’t call me late for supper, Mabelene.

2. We got married when we were nineteen.
Her Mama said, “Boy, don’t you treat her mean.”
I said, “You count on me.”
That was 1963.
I can’t live without my Mabelene.

At home she’s in charge of the food.
If I cook it don’t taste half as good.
When Mabelene fills my plate,
a big smile fills my face.
She’s the best cook in our neighbourhood.

3. Mabelene bought a book from Par-ee.
Each day she tries a French recipe.
I eat all I’m able
then lean across the table.
For dessert I always kiss Mabelene.

At night I kiss both of her hands.
‘Cause they taste like her strawberry jam.
And she comes to no harm
when I nibble on her arm.
Mabelene’s the sweetest girl in the land.

GAH

***

Any other Lyle Lovett fans out there?

.

Prose: You will laugh and know

The wise words of Wendell Berry, American poet and farmer, were brought to my attention recently while reading Entries, a book of prose published in 1994. One phrase, “we belong to one story”, from the piece below struck a cord in me.



The Blue Robe 



How joyful to be together, alone
as when we first were joined
in our little house by the river
long ago, except that now we have

each other, as we did not then;

and now instead of two stories fumbling
to meet, we belong to one story

that the two, joining, made. And now

we touch each other with the tenderness

of mortals, who know themselves:

how joyful to feel the heart quake

at the sight of a grandmother,
old friend in the morning light,

beautiful in her blue robe!

by Wendell Berry

Backgrounder: “Mr. Berry’s poem reminded me that a grandmother walks quietly past my side of the bed every morning, in her own blue robe, trying not to wake me. She seldom succeeds. After 38 years together we now run by the same internal clock.” gaharrison


You will laugh and know

when I was a young man
I wrote long poems for you.
now that I am older
I write a song or two,
and hope the lines
though short on heat
won’t miss a beat
but catch you by surprise.
and you will laugh and know
our youth is in our eyes.

gah









.