things from the past

 

Under a You Tube video about "Murder, She Wrote" I found these Comments from viewers:

^^  I also love watching the passage of time through fashion and decor in this show.  The veering off into the early 90s, where the hair gets smaller but the colours get louder is great.

^^  Honestly watching murder she wrote makes me want lamps, typewriters and all these things from the past.  Just a certain charm to it.

^^  I getchu!  My roommate and I have both come to the decision that we want typewriters.

^^  Big mood.  I don't know if it's a midlife "stress and adulting are awful, I miss the carelessness of childhood and want to surround myself with its trappings," 

or 

just a disgust with how valueless and disposable everything is these days . . . maybe both.  

        But I too want robust lamps, and china cabinets full of "the good dishes," and solid appliances that you knew would last for decades, and when they did finally wear out, you could just fix the part and it'd be good as new again.  

        Grandfather clocks and quiet Sunday afternoons and those wooden things with three gauges in them (thermometer, hygrometer barometer) that you hang on the wall.  Yes pls.

^^  I ordered an old Ethan Allen furniture catalog from Amazon.  It's from the early 80s.  I sometimes just stare at the rooms.

^^  How about adding a giant floor globe to your list?

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Jackie-O hair

 A You Tuber talking about Bewitched said you can tell this situation comedy was made in the early 1960s because of Samantha's "Jackie-O hair."

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that kind of joy

 

------------------- [excerpt from Chris Matthews' biography of Robert Kennedy (not the current one, but his father)] ------------------------

        The problem for Bobby as he was taking his place in the U.S. Senate was that the challenge of these new responsibilities and duties wasn't enough to displace what James Stevenson, the New Yorker writer, observed to be his "resident, melancholy bleakness."  

        The black necktie he hadn't yet stopped wearing could be seen as a symbol of the unlifting darkness he felt in a city filled with such sharply etched memories.

        Adam Walinsky, his young legislative assistant, could sense the conviction Bobby seemed unable to dispel, that no matter what he did heading forward - "whether he got to be president or not . . . it had been the most fun before, when John Kennedy had been president, and that he would never be that young again that he would never have that kind of joy again."

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who - dunnit?

 

I watched Murder, She Wrote from when it first came on in 1984, I think.  After watching many episodes, I started to guess, or theorize, who did the crime.

A lot of times I was right.

I used to think to myself, 'I'm not doing this right, because I'm not going by clues and solid happenings in the story that lead me to say, OK, I believe that character did it.'...

        I just had a feeling, or a vibe, from some character, and I would think to myself, "That person did it."

I thought I shouldn't be going by just - Guessing.

But it seemed to - work!

Today I watched an episode of that show - or maybe it was one of the "Murder, She Wrote" TV movies that came out after the show was done - and when Jessica and a character played by Richard Crenna (the husband of Kathleen Turner's character in Body Heat) were talking, I kind of knew he was the one.  

And then - he was!

        I don't know.

        What can I say?

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a perplexing space

 

        On the way to work yesterday, passed a spot I've noticed many times before and sometimes wondered about. 

Lazy river on one side of the road, on the other side, a little hill with trees and underbrush - when you look at the hill, there's a lot of "stuff" up there.  Some of it, I don't know what it is - pieces of machinery, etc.  There's a sort of "wall," or part of a wall, which might be a piece of a building's foundation, it's a few feet high....

        I have gone past there many times over the years, and I never know what all that stuff is, or why it's there.  Yesterday I paid extra attention and noticed there's even a semi back there! - A truck and trailer, just parked.

I also took note of a tall building - might be three stories high, old-looking.  Is it abandoned?  Or might it be used for storage?

        At the top of the uphill part of the road, there are several businesses off to the right, and, thinking about that mysterious spot on the hill, in the trees, I realized that area is behind one of those businesses and maybe it's part of their property and that's their stuff back there.

I never thought that all the way through, before.

I would just notice the items on the hill, many of them unidentifiable, and briefly wonder. ...

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cats make the most of a moment

 Some people might remember the Nordic-Track, from the '90s.

An exercise machine.

Now there's one for cats:  the Nordic Beast.

It's a big wheel that your cat can run in - like a hamster wheel.

        I don't know if most cats want to run-in-place on something that moves.

        Looked on You Tube to see what people (and cats) thought of this product.

        People were saying, in the Comments,

"My cat likes it, now."

"My cat won't have anything to do with it."

"One of my cats uses it."

"I think my cat will like it."

        One guy had typed in, "I'm sure my cat would love . . . the box it comes in."

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his cellular phone

 Some other aspects to appreciate and enjoy when watching "Murder, She Wrote" include -

the styles of the era (1984 - 1996)...

interiors

hair and make-up

clothes

accessories (besides the scarves) - there's some big chunky jewelry that's kind of unforgettable

____________________________________

        And a moment that can be savored now, is when Jessica reports that someone is "going to call him on his cellular phone."

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Jessica's researching her new book

 

Two more aspects of Murder, She Wrote to appreciate --

^^   the tone 

^^   the homages.

The overall show (12 seasons) has a tone, and within its parameters, each episode has a tone.  

puzzling

spooky

(a little) shocking

rough-and-tumble

cozy, small-town

sentimental

problem-solving....

-------------------------------  And the homages - there were a few, over the years, in various episodes.  There's one that's clearly a "nod" to The Postman Always Rings Twice, 

and one of the episodes in Boston with private eye Harry McGraw uses a voice-over with extravagant, "hard-boiled" language which I thought must be an homage to the writing of Dashiell Hammett or maybe that of Raymond Chandler, and I finally settled on the theory that it's an homage to both.

        Oh, and did we mention that wardrobe accessory which needs no homage and commands its own tone - the - scarves??!

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how are things in Cabot Cove

 

things to love about "Murder, She Wrote":

^^   the lush cinematography

^^   the sly humor

^^   the scarves!!

^^   the language - for example, a lady invites Jessica to a dinner party and finishes with the words, "eight o'clock, elegant-casual!"

^^   the guest stars

^^   in the early seasons when there's a little summary, at the beginning of the episode, giving the audience an idea of what the story is going to be:  Angela Lansbury's voice:  "To-night.  On.  Murder-She-Wrote!"

^^   the manual typewriter

^^   the theme song

^^   the "ye olde" font on the theme song (show's title and the star's name) at the beginning, and in the opening-scene credits for that particular episode

^^   the atmosphere

________________________________

        Atmosphere is one of the most important aspects, to me, in any story....

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remain outwardly stoic

 

Recently in this blog, I wrote about this other lobbyist who used to tease me whenever he saw me at the state capitol.

        But he didn't tease me all the time, he also helped me.

In the first year when I did this work, there was a bill that the members of the association I worked for hoped would be voted down, and some of them came to the legislature when the bill was to be heard in committee, and they testified against it.

        The committee "eighty-sixed" the bill (killed it) and when the gavel came down (wham!) the people in the audience applauded.

Out in the hall afterwards, the man who "turned my world into a living heck" spoke to me quietly in the midst of a bunch of people, but no one could hear him except me, and he said, Tell your members don't clap in the committee room - it's like court, you're supposed to show no emotion.  

        You don't clap if the vote goes your way, and if the vote does not go your way, you don't "boo"!  (Right?)  It - isn't a ballgame.

         I did not know that until he told me, so that was helpful.

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irrational exuberance

 

Wall Street

I don't know if Spring came early this year, or if we're going to have more Winter. ...

Some really beautiful, nice weather has descended, where I live.  What a treat!

I notice, every year, in the first day or two of nice weather, especially if it's on a weekend day,  vehicles going by on the road, outside the window, engage in what I call "exuberant driving."

        Some cars and trucks, of course, just drive regular, but some want to zoom, and rev their engines, or get rid of their mufflers, or whatever it is they do to cause their vehicles to express themselves more loudly.

Motorcycles vibrate past, joyously.

Exuberantly.

        And when I think of the word "exuberant," I remember the economist Alan Greenspan saying the phrase "irrational exuberance," in 1996.

He warned, then, that too many investors were stampeding to buy "dot-com" stock, and that the "bubble" was bound to burst.

A stock on the stock market looks good, and a bunch of people buy it, then more people join them because they want to profit, too, & then having so many people buy the stock all at once causes the price to go up, and then the stock can become what they call "over-valued."

In 1996 I worked from a home office, and the TV would be on in the living room sometimes, and I would generally tune it to CNBC to learn about money and investing.

        After Mr. Greenspan gave his opinion using that phrase, "irrational exuberance," the news-readers and announcers on CNBC all seemed to adopt those words and use them as often as possible:  irrational exuberance; irrational exuberance.

It was funny - they just loved having a new thing to say. ...

Alan Greenspan

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oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

 

Remembering things led me to add up and consider how many years ago - how long ago some of these experiences occurred, and it doesn't seem possible that so much time has passed.

It reminded me of a Fleetwood Mac song written by Stevie Nicks, called "Landslide."

-----------------------------------------------------

I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

'Til the landslide brought me down

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changin' ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons - of my life?

Mmm, mmh

Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm gettin' older, too

Well, I've been 'fraid of changin'

'Cause I've built my life around you

But time makes you bolder

Even children get older

And I'm gettin' older, too

I'm gettin' older, too

Ah, take my love, take it down

Oh, climb a mountain and turn around

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Well, the landslide will bring it down

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Well, the landslide will bring it down

Oh, the landslide will bring it down

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if my Friends could see me now

 The song I played on the piano at Shakey's Pizza was

"If My Friends Could See Me Now."

You can hear it - (not my playing, but someone else playing it on piano) -

on You Tube.

type in:

If My Friends Could See Me Now, piano

uploader / channel:  Mazzikaty

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the end of stage fright

 When I was in first or second grade I started piano lessons, at my parents' insistence.  I was driven to the home of the piano teacher - a Mrs. Pfeiffer - and after I had been taking lessons for a while, I learned to play a song which I was to play at a recital.

Recital.

I remember that word.

It hung over my head with a menacing air.

        I was scared to play the piano in front of people.

        Then we moved away from Mineral City, Ohio, to our new home in Rootstown, Ohio, where my dad would be pastor of the First Congregational United Church Of Christ.  (It was within walking distance of the parsonage, where we lived.)

Moving away did not excuse me from having to play in the piano recital.

(You can run, but you can't hide.)

On the night of the recital, dressed as if for church, I was driven back to either Dover or New Philadelphia, where the event was held, and I played my song when it was my turn.  It went well.

But I didn't want to play the piano in front of an audience ever again.

It made me too nervous.

Recently I remembered that when I worked as a summer girl and was really bored with living in "the suburbs," the family I worked for went to Shakey's Pizza Parlor for supper one evening.

There was a piano there.  

No one was playing it. 

And I got up, went over to that piano, and played a song I knew by heart.

My teenage boredom had overcome my "stage fright"! 

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to pick up, or not to pick up: that is the question

 Sunday on the phone, Mrs. Wolfson said to me, "I usually don't answer calls from a number I don't know."  She didn't even know why she answered my call that day, but was glad she did.

She should have her own business - Being Nice On The Phone.

        There is so much that I want to do.

        Snow fell this morning.

        I will - "keep writing".

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I called to share a memory...

 

a house in Minnetonka, Minnesota

I remembered some things from the summer when I was a "summer girl" (baby-sitter and mother's helper) in Minnetonka, Minnesota, and I thought of the family that lived across the street from the family I lived with and worked for.

The people across the street had a room called a den, with books.  And they had a grand piano. 

One day we (I, and the little girls I watched over) were there at their house, both parents were gone, and their summer girl helped to watch the children, and I wanted to play that grand piano because there was no music in the house where I was staying, except from the radio.

I took all the decorative items on the grand piano's lid - off, and set them on the carpeted floor, and lifted the lid, so we could get the sound.  And I played.  

        The mom came home - came in the front door, and - gasped.  Because her stuff was on the floor.  I hurried to tell her, No, nothing is broken, everything is fine, I just took the things off the piano so I could open the lid.  It's all right.

I found her name and phone number on the Internet, and I called her today, and we had a nice conversation.  She asked how I remembered these things, and I told her I write in my free time and when you write, you remember things you might not have thought of, otherwise.

She totally "got it," right away.  She understood.

I shared a couple of memories, and she said, "This is nice.  So - keep writing."

She said her two sons tell her not to answer phone calls from a number she doesn't know.  And I said, "Now you're going to tell them you answered a call from a number you don't know, and you had a really nice conversation - and they're going to smack their foreheads and say, "Oh my God!"

lol.

She was very nice.

It was a good conversation.  I think it made her happy.

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before caucus

 

        I was remembering this one state senator who got elected in the early or mid-90s.  He came from "the rezz," as they say.  He had long hair, tied back in a ponytail.

He was calm, and articulate.

He spoke without deviousness or cliche.

        One day there was a band playing in the state capitol rotunda - students from a school, I think.  Someone commented on the music, and somebody else said something funny - I forget what it was, I cannot remember the specific story, now.  But it was amusing, and I told a couple of people, and we laughed and enjoyed it.

I saw the senator from the reservation, on the third floor looking down at the musicians.  I went over and told him the comments and convo - he listened to me carefully and then said, with a serious facial expression and deadpan tone, "That's funny."

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