With the passing of Sonny Rollins, I had an inkling he was someone Mr Pete had strong feelings about. Had no idea how far back those feelings reached. As Pistol Pete the basketball player was my motivation to dribble with dedicated determination, Mr Pete looked to this great tenor saxophonist for inspiration. Read on! —The Editor

In high school, I had a somewhat adventurous English teacher who liked to challenge his students with essay assignments which we had to read in front of the class.

One assignment was to write about the “People that Influenced YOU the Most.”

I eagerly jumped at the opportunity.

When it came to present our essays and after listening to several of my classmates I feared I had misunderstood the assignment.

Most of the other students mentioned their parents or other family members. There were relatives who served in the arm services and great-great grandparents that were immigrants.

I had someone I had never actually met in person: SONNY ROLLINS

My developing interest in JAZZ MUSIC was just starting, but it was Mr Rollins’ notion on DISCIPLINE that left an influential mark on my SOUL.

Nicknamed the “Saxophone Colossus” (also an album title) and “Newk,” Sonny was Born in New York City and grew up in central Harlem and Sugar Hill.

Note: Per BLUENOTE, Newk had become Sonny’s moniker, based on his so-called resemblance to the Brooklyn Dodgers baseball pitcher Don Newcombe—one of the heroes of the sport at the time who was the first black ace to win 20 games in a season (1955) and the first to win both the National League MVP and Cy Young awards in the same season (1956). So, Sonny wore the nickname as an honor.

He worked with Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, and John Coltrane.

• In 1956 he recorded “Tenor Madness“.
• In 1957 he sharpened his improvisational skills while practicing with Ornette Coleman on the West Coast.
• In 1958, back in NYC, Rollins appeared in Art Kanes’ “A Great Day in Harlem.”

A famous picture of a gathering of New York Jazz Musicians.

At the time of his death at 95, it has been stated that he was the last surviving musician of that gathering.

“That Bridge to Madness.
The Doorway to Perception/ Mission to the State of Euphoria”

• From Summer of 1959 to the Fall of 1961, Rollins sought a musical sabbatical. His quest was spiritual enlightenment through his performing skills.

His journey? Rollins would practice 15-16 hours a day on the Williamsburg Bridge.

No matter the season or weather, with only the accompaniment being the rhyme of the local trains from the nearby subway tracks… Rollins burned off notes with a studious nature of a samurai warrior finding a zen-like peacefulness with the discipline of a Buddhist monk.

Musical and Spiritual Retreat on Williamsburg Bridge

He will not record or perform in public for more than two years — a significant period for the jazzmen of the time.

One day I was on Delancey Street, and I walked up the steps to the Williamsburg Bridge and came to this big expanse. There was nobody up there. So I started walking across the bridge and said, “Wow. This is what I have been looking for. This is a private place. I can blow my horn as loud as I want.” Because the boats are coming under, and the subway is coming across, and cars, and I knew it was perfect, just serendipity.

Indeed… JUST SERENDIPITY…

Note: There was a campaign started in 2016 to rename that bridge in his honor. With his recent death there has been a renewed interest on the Internet in making this so.

Rolling Stones collab…

One of my favorite pieces of Sonny Rollins was his sideman work on the Rolling Stones “Waiting on a Friend (1981)”.

The beautiful solo gave the song a really NYC soulful sound…

That’s a Wrap !!

Asked Mr Pete what the reaction was to his presentation ( High school late 70s)… Well, let’s just say that as usual, Mr Pete was well ahead of us all — lapping us. Personally, I had no idea this happened. I also believe that without an option of playing Sonny Rollins’ music, it would be a tough sell to the teacher and audience.

That being said, I am grateful for the inspiration Mr Rollins provided Mr Pete.

Please click below for some examples of this peaceful, disciplined musician’s work.

Thanks for reading AND listening! – Mr Pete (and his Editor)

A Sampling…

About Mr Pete

A music aficionado, Mr. Pete’s mind and ears have no horizons. He has the uncanny ability to suss out the right song for the right time — a skill that is truly amazing. The Gang here at Jedemi enjoys his contributions.

—30—

Thanks for hanging with us! Oh… and if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

-The Gang & RC

Oh… And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

The post WowMe: The Discipline & Peacefulness of Sonny… appeared first on Jedemi.

Presents !! for You — A Serialization !!

The story continues. Please enjoy this is the next chapter  of  my life in the Middle of the Mob  ! —The Gang

As printed…

Note: This should be about an 16 to 20-minute read, though your mileage may vary…

As seen in Print Edition…

It’s baffling that my marriage lasted for as long as it did. I worshipped the ground Nicky walked on and was determined to make it work. For one thing, divorce is not allowed in the Catholic Church. But at the bottom of it all… I really believed I could change him.

My culture and childhood created a strong determination deep inside of me. The second daughter of three girls; born 9 years after my older sister, Eileen, and two-and-a-half years before my younger sister, Gina, I was “the middle” child, a southpaw and pretty smart, if I say so myself.

I grew up in a poor section of town in North Sable known as “Little Italy.” Anyway, mostly a happy childhood: you know, we felt secure, always had a roof over our heads, and plenty to eat.

My grandfathers immigrated to the U.S. from Italy, then mail-ordered their brides.

Italian on all sides; you can bet we had plenty to eat.

Italian on all sides; you can bet we had plenty to eat. Mama, a typical Italian wife, did it all: cleaning, laundry, ironing, and cooking for everybody and what a great cook.

Every Sunday morning, without fail, the smell of Mama’s homemade tomato sauce simmering on the stove drifted into our bedroom and woke us. We would cut a big piece of Italian bread and dunk it right in the saucepan. Makes my mouth water just thinking about it.

And on Sundays, we had a huge homemade pasta dinner around two or three in the afternoon: salad, homemade pasta, meatballs and sausage, garlic bread, and dessert.

My favorite was Mama’s chocolate cake, frosting to die for.

I remember Mama always called me “honey.” But then she called everybody “honey,” even a cop who pulled her over for speeding one time. She told him, “Oh honey, you don’t want to give me a ticket. Do you know who I am, honey? I’m Sean O’Shay’s mother-in-law, honey.”

Sean, a Sable detective, married my sister Eileen. Mama’s “honey” tickled the officer, who tried unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter then let her off the hook with just a warning. That policeman told that story to everyone at the station.

Detective O’Shay became Detective O’Honey for all who heard his tale.

Papa used to call me “peanut” or “toots.” He wasn’t outwardly affectionate but give him a few drinks and he would go to each of his daughters and point to his cheek for a kiss to be planted. But his drinking really bothered me.

On Sunday mornings, without fail, he would walk to our local Catholic church, go to Mass then directly to the bar just a half a block down the street from our house. He drank until Mom would get mad enough to send my little sis, Gina, and me into the bar to tell him dinner was ready, and he better get home.

He hated seeing his two little daughters walk in that bar and he would reprimand Mom for sending us.

A happy drunk, Papa would eat the entire meal while joking that he should “trade in his three daughters for one son or a good donkey.” Not the most positive reinforcement his daughters needed to hear but still it made us laugh.

After eating, he headed straight for his swing on the front porch, lay down and proceeded to vomit up the entire meal… including the chocolate cake. Oh, my mom would be so furious, saying how could he do this “every damn week.”

Terrified and crying, I would bury myself in the back of my closet, plug my ears with my fingers to blot out the sound of heaving. Don’t know why but I could never handle sickness of any kind, especially vomiting. Nothing’s changed. I’m the same today.

My dad, a “Sunday alcoholic,” was also an addicted gambler; gambled on everything: sports, dog races, horse races, bowling, and his favorite in Vegas… craps.

The only family vacations we ever took―when we could finally afford it―were to Las Vegas.

Not enough money to fly, we would pile all five of us: Papa, Mama, Eileen, Gina, and I, into the old family car (no air conditioning) for the two-day drive across the desert, sleeping in the car overnight.

Talk about misery! But when we got there, if he was winning, everything was first class. We stayed at the Desert Inn or the Sands Hotel.

Hard to believe both hotels are long gone, imploded…very sad.

Anyway, we even got to see dinner shows like Pearl Bailey, Dean Martin, or Sinatra. And we all got tipped. Mom got the most, and once, I saw him flip a five-dollar chip to a bellman just for opening the door.

More than once, Papa had to wire for money to get the family back home. But he worked hard all of his life, eventually owned his own optical business and did quite well financially with only a fifth-grade education.

> Basically, you know, a good guy with a few bad habits.

We lived in the finest house on the block in the poorest neighborhood in the city. Our house was very old but I loved it and so did everyone else on our street. It was “Grand Central Station,” that’s what Papa called it when he would get disgusted that too many neighbors were sitting on his favorite swing on the porch.

That old porch transformed into our theater during summer afternoon rains.

That old porch had a roll-up awning that became the curtain that hung between two white columns, and a red brick ledge that served as our stage. Two swings on the porch seated the audience, made up of every kid on the block: one white wooden swing that hung on chains from the ceiling and the other, a long-cushioned swing that doubled as Papa’s Sunday sickbed. Each kid took a turn to sing, or dance, tell jokes or stories.

We entertained each other for hours. Listen, I’m telling you, these damn video games today have destroyed half the fun and creativity of childhood.

On the weekends, our porch became a casino. All the Italian men in our neighborhood loved to gamble, but only small stakes on the front porch. The serious games with bigger players were held in the garage behind our house with lookouts watching for the cops.

Bar-booth, their favorite dice game, was played by throwing the dice against our front porch door. Seven or eight men, pennies, nickels and dimes spread out in front of them, hunched around a semi-circle, threw the dice, chanting things like, “Come on, seven!” or “Baby needs a new pair of shoes,” which echoed all the way down our street.

If I happened to be playing outside during the gambling, and I ignored my urge to pee for too long (I placed both hands on my crotch and wiggled around to keep from leaking), my Auntie Rose would open her window and call out to me, “Sami Ann, do you have to go to the toilet? You better get inside and go, young lady!”

Then and only then would I pull myself away from the game of tag or kick the can or hide-and-seek and run to the front porch only to be yelled at by the fathers, “Watch the money, don’t step on the dice for Christ sake.”

No kidding, I could hardly get through my own front door.

We had a swing set in the backyard. I loved to swing so high that I could touch the leaves of the cherry tree with my feet; jump off at the highest point onto the warm, soft dirt or climb the poles which offered forbidden pleasures.

And we had the cutest playhouse, built by the men who lived on our block. You see, Papa bought the lumber and lay it on the ground, that being the extent of his carpentry skills.

The neighbors all offered advice on how to construct it and eventually Papa just sat around smoking cigarettes and watched them build it.

Once our playhouse was completed, we needed money to stock and furnish it. I think that’s when my entrepreneurial skills began to show.

To raise money, I started a hobby club for the kids in the neighborhood; they would pay dues and I would give them a craft to work on, like painting rocks.

Definitely ahead of my time, huh?

Should have called them “pet rocks” and made a fortune, right? Every meeting we would have the minutes read, work on a craft and have refreshments always provided by the moms. In summertime, we had a lemonade or Kool-Aid stand and of course there was the annual summer show.

I’m telling you that show was the greatest!

Held in our backyard, we charged the neighbors ten cents per ticket. We made all the tickets and posters by hand, then delivered them to every house within a two-mile radius.

Naturally, the shows were standing room only.

Our mom would hang blankets from the clothes lines for stage curtains. I still hang my clothes outside to this day, which never fails to remind me of those shows.

All the neighborhood kids would provide the talent. Auntie Rose dressed up like a cigarette girl, short skirt, and somewhat sexy blouse, with a tray held in front of her by a ribbon wrapped around her neck.

Instead of chanting, “Cigars, cigarettes, cigars, cigarettes,” she would call out in her sexiest voice, “Old razor blades, old Easter eggs, old razor blades, old Easter eggs, get ’em before they’re gone.” And yes, on her tray there were old Easter eggs and razor blades.

Just for laughs, a lot of neighbors actually parted with cash for a used razor blade.

With the proceeds from that show, we set aside money for the playhouse supplies and a small closing night party for the cast. The rest of the money went to a mission to purchase a “Pagan Baby.”

Okay, okay, don’t ask me, I don’t know, that’s just what they called them back then, “Pagan Babies.” Every year, I made the executive decision to have my name on the adoption papers because, after all, I directed and produced the show.

I would do anything to make a buck. Hah, one time I even stole vegetables from grandpa’s garden and sold them to the neighbors, but there was an informant on the block and that venture got shut down real fast.

I went to Catholic school from kindergarten until my second year of high school, a pretty good student in spite of the fact that I didn’t make any effort at all. If I had applied myself, I would have made straight A’s, except in conduct. I always got a C or lower in that category.

The head of our parish, Father Pat, would come to every classroom and pass out report cards, then make anybody stand that got a C or lower in conduct.

The boys were lined up against the blackboard and slapped across the face one by one. Funny thing, a lot of those Italian boys who got slapped still turned out rotten. So much for corporal punishment.

Father Pat approached each girl separately, grabbed their hair and pulled their heads all the way down and bounced it on their desk. And yes, my head got bounced a few times. Can you imagine getting away with that today?

As Papa’s business grew, we moved on up the ladder from North Sable to the suburbs, to a brand-new home which seemed like a palace. The outdoor fireplace on the patio, so extravagant, definitely ahead of its time and two full bathrooms, a luxury after our entire lives thus far with just one.

Gina and I still shared a room but got new twin beds. We were so excited to sleep in them we went to bed two hours early.

Believe it or not, Uncle Max and Auntie Rose moved right along with us into their new home right next door and I switched to public school for my junior and senior years.

You know, rebellion is a natural by-product of the teen years, but I felt slighted by Mama because she seemed to give Eileen and Gina whatever they wanted and all I got were piano lessons.

I always had to beg for everything…

I wanted a horse and that was completely out of the question. Of course, now I understand why. At age fifteen, I wanted to take modeling lessons and I begged for a long time before she gave in to that. I just felt aced out of all the attention lavished on my sisters.

Resentful, I cut a lot of classes at school and brought friends home to party while Mom and Dad were at work, refilling Papa’s liquor bottles with water so he wouldn’t notice anything missing.

I started smoking and “borrowed” a lot of my older sister’s expensive clothes after she left for work and without asking (Eileen worked for The Sable Post and wore a different outfit to work every day). No surprise, I was voted “best dressed” at school.

I’ll never forget the night I borrowed Mom’s car to go “gashing”—that’s what we called it when you drove slowly down 26th Street, all windows down, no matter the temperature, while “Twilight Time” by The Platters blasted over the radio—all in order to meet guys.

I had two silk blouses of my sister’s in the backseat of the car which I intended to sneak back into her closet when I got home. Naturally, I wanted to look super cool so I lit up a cigarette for the boys to see.

What I didn’t see was, the ash of my cigarette that I thought I had flicked out the window had instead flown into the back seat and burned my sister’s two beautiful blouses with the added bonus of a big hole in my mom’s back seat.

What to do? What to do? Mom didn’t even know I smoked.

I made up a huge lie and told Mama that those boys on 26th Street flicked a cigarette into the open back window of her car and I didn’t notice until I saw the flames.

She bought my lie. I dumped my sister’s silk blouses into the nearest trash can before going home. Poor Eileen searched for those blouses for months and I never revealed their final resting place.

The Segue…

Segue continues…

-30-

That’s a Wrap…

Stay tuned to find out WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT..

[Targeting 7 June for next installment]

Thanks for hanging with us! Please to share AND if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to sign-up (see below) -The Gang

The post Carol’s Corner: Middle of the Mob Chapter 2 appeared first on Jedemi.

And so it was that one early morning on the WESTSIDE, RC the GREMLIN / STORYTELLER found himself wandering aimlessly through former Suit KATIE’S WESTSIDE HOUSE. Well… not exactly aimless. He had his trusty RAZR phone with him – and a huge smile on his face. Let’s listen in for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT…–The Gang.

We’ll begin at the beginning.

FADE IN:

INT. KATIE’S WESTSIDE HOUSE

At that hour of the day, RC’s target is either STILL SLEEPING or off on a early morning FISHING adventure.

RC THE GREMLIN
Huh… Not here. Don’t have his mobile or I would’ve TEXT MESSAGED him. Lots of activity early AM at BEER CAN… If SURF PERCH is what he’s after… With flies…? How DOES that work. I’m with Lady Katie. This is MUST SEE fishin’ !!

… This is MUST SEE fishin’ !!

Beer Can Beach. Surf Perch!!

So RC pockets his RAZR while glancing at KATIE’S OFFICE.

RC THE GREMLIN
Light’s on…

He’s referring to the L-shaped LED lamp that is illuminating her keyboard.

RC THE GREMLIN
But the computer’s NOT. That IS weird.

Something catches his eye. On a shelf directly across from Katie’s desk is… a soup bowl…

What the… ? Bowl on shelf…?!?

RC THE GREMLIN
That’s NOT like her… (A) she eats from those COMFORT BOWLS… it is GEAR GUY who favors those TWO-EARRED shallower bowls; and (B) like she never leaves dishes ANYWHERE… got that PUT IT AWAY thing… says it’s her OCD.

He picks up the bowl.

RC THE GREMLIN
Nice colour… Like GEAR GUY’s new WRANGLER pocket t-shirts… Deal at COSTCO… Now the question is… Is Lady Katie with her Gear Guy Husband, or… perhaps MUSING away in the kitchen like normal.

Curiosity gets the best of RC and he gently opens up one of the office cabinets to see– the PERSONAL NOTEBOOK (AKA JOURNAL) is still there.

Katie’s Journals…

RC THE GREMLIN
That settles it… Maybe they both already know the fish are biting at BEER CAN and our out on an adventure. Oh well… I can still indulge in some 4a coffee. That I smelled my nose. And also…

Before heading down to the kitchen, RC gives the shelf one more look and then decides…

RC THE GREMLIN
I’ll take this down and put it in the sink. She can thank me later…

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KATIE’S KITCHEN

Feeding Session…

RC arrives. The light is on. There’s a DIGITAL SCALE and a skinny SPATULA and a bag of BOB’S DARK RYE FLOUR, and a plastic deli container with whitish looking flour, AND… in the sink, as he’s depositing the TWO-EARRED blue bowl, he sees a very messy looking WIDE MOUTH BALL JAR (straight-sided used for canning).

RC THE GREMLIN
What the…?

His words of puzzlement are echoed by… Lady Katie as she enters the kitchen.

What the…? I know I just brought the STARTER JAR with me so…

KATIE
What the…? Where the heck did its catcher go? Couldn’t have grown legs and…

That’s when Katie sees her pal RC at the sink with the missing “catcher” bowl.

KATIE
Dude! What the… ? I’ve been…

Grabbing a towel, she holds out her hand and motions to RC.

KATIE
I’ll take that, THANK-YOU!

Pointing to the coffee pot, she quickly retreats.

RC THE GREMLIN
That’s odd. There’s got to be a story… I’ll hang back. Enjoy some of this fine brew and THEN find out what she’s got to say for herself…

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KATIE’S KITCHEN

A short while later, Katie returns with her PERSONAL JOURNAL and without any hesitation, begins writing with a sense of urgency. RC is observing….

RC THE GREMLIN
[To himself] Her OCD will kick in any minute as I can’t imagine she can relax when there are dishes to do.

And sure enough, she jumps up and races to the kitchen sink to work on cleaning all the “gunk” on the walls of the WIDE MOUTH BALL JAR. She is focused on the task at hand, so again RC takes a deep breath and waits…

When she finally steps away from the sink, he engages.

RC THE GREMLIN
Mornin’ Ms Katie! You spurring it or ready for a refill.

KATIE
Hey you… Spurring as I’m coffee’d out.

RC THE GREMLIN
Really ?? …Up earlier than normal, but… No shift, right?

Brain on over-drive PLUS a wide mouth to feed…

“Feed me!” says Sourdough Starter…

KATIE
Yup, no shift. Brain on over-drive PLUS a wide mouth to feed.

RC gives her a look. She points to the WIDE MOUTH BALL JAR.

Gifted a workshop…

KATIE
Gear Guy gifted me a SOURDOUGH BASICS WORKSHOP session @The Companion and they GIFTED me… STARTER !

RC THE GREMLIN
So… Branching out, are you?

He points to her nearby ZOJIRUSHI.

The Magical Bread Machine…

KATIE
He’s always been on me about making “REAL” bread — and the OATMEAL STOUT BEER BREAD I’ve been doing like clockwork every week is fine by me… Just need something to “power me” during my shifts where I only have a 15-minute break to refuel.

RC THE GREMLIN
I gotcha… So this?

KATIE
Will feed the curious mind AND gives me something to write about for sure… Actually, many things…

She pauses and then a huge smile crosses her face.

RC THE GREMLIN
What?

…forgot how much I enjoyed playing with dough…

KATIE
Hands on dough… I forgot how much I enjoyed playing with dough.

He nods. She shakes her head.

KATIE
During the workshop I so wanted to toss it.

RC laughs.

RC THE GREMLIN
Literally a throwback to your PIZZA making days, eh?

KATIE
Yeah… One of my Spidey life activities while still a Suit. Guess they call ‘em side hustles these days… but … yeah… Dough in hands… felt really REALLY good…

She pauses and scrunches her face.

KATIE
Shaping? That’ll take practice. Lots and lots of practice.

RC THE GREMLIN
You’ll take to it like a duck to water, I imagine.

She smiles and nods.

KATIE
Very kind of you… For sure, since we were crunched for time during the workshop, I did the best I could do and then shifted my focus to memorize my eyes the movements of the Master leading the workshop.

She pauses.

KATIE
He’s got this Zorro move too … Scoring the bread before baking…

Shakes head.

RC THE GREMLIN
You’ll get there. Help me understand. In a period of … what like two hours you made a round of sourdough bread AND got started with a STARTER?

KATIE
Went home with a ready-to-bake loaf which GEAR GUY was eager to test.

She points to the oven in the kitchen.

KATIE
The brick in there has been neglected as… we haven’t had the opportunity to do pizzas in a while…

RC THE GREMLIN
Forgot about the brick. Good call for … like that puppy needed over 400-degrees, right?

KATIE
Dude cranked it. Good thing we were having a 60s day so it was comfortable.

RC THE GREMLIN
So? How’d it turn out??

KATIE
This “speed round” tasted great. It’s rising process was not optimal as the entire process was accelerated. Tasted good though, so… there’s hope.

Motioning towards the freezer.

RC THE GREMLIN
You saved some? Cool we’ll give it a test drive.

KATIE
We’ll ??

RC THE GREMLIN
Me and MR SQUEEK… He’s such a mooch when he vagabonds… Gets treated to all kinds of goodies.

KATIE
I can imagine.

She motions to her FEEDING process.

RC THE GREMLIN
Want to talk me through what you got going?

KATIE
Another time. I need to focus and … this is like a 6-day prOcess, so…

RC THE GREMLIN
Gotcha… We’ll do the COVEY inside-out thing when you’re ready.

Katie pauses as she rolls her eyeballs back in her head to ponder.

KATIE
You’re right! Perfect… The Covey thing WILL be helpful…

RC THE GREMLIN
I’ll leave you to it. Can you…?

He points to the freezer.

KATIE
Yeah. Sure. I’ll get it thawing for you.

RC THE GREMLIN
Cool beans! And as Mr Squeek says, “KOKO !!”

FADE OUT.

That’s a Wrap…

Stay tuned for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT…

Thanks for hanging with us! -The Gang

Enchanted Jukebox Jams…

Enchanted Jukebox…

And if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

P.S. And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

The post DISH-PATCH (024): Raising Dough; A Starter Story… appeared first on Jedemi.

Presents !! for You — A Serialization !!

This is the next chapter  of  my life in the Middle of the Mob  for your enjoyment! —The Gang

As printed…

Note: This should be about an 12 to 14-minute read, though your mileage may vary…

As seen in Print Edition…

Sometimes you throw the dice and get a seven right off the bat. But when you’re a nineteen-year-old virgin, Italian, and Catholic, born in the World War II era, the odds of that happening might be stacked against you. Might?

The odds were stacked against me. Let’s face it, where, when, and to whom you are born is a complete crap shoot that affects the rest of your days. I was born the day after the bombing of Pearl Harbor and I’ve always wondered if the vibes from all that negativity had any influence over the battle that became my life.

My personal war started on my wedding day…

Perfect weather, not a cloud in the sky. Outside, spring had greened all the trees. The scent of lilacs that grew between my house and my uncle’s, next-door, came floating through my window on a warm breeze. The sweet smell coaxed me out of bed.

Butterflies in my stomach were flying in circles. God, I was so innocent. All I ever dreamed of as a kid, besides making lots of money, that is, was to be a wife and mother, keep a perfect house, and cook fabulous food for my family.

In three short hours that dream would begin. I would become Mrs. Nicky Salatto.

While I was soaking in a hot tub of water to calm my nerves, Papa’s words swirled through my head like a cold wind. He wasn’t much of a talker most of the time, just sat on his rocking chair going back and forth, smoking cigarettes one after another. So, it was unusual for him to lecture me about anything. But during the three months of my engagement to Nicky, when Papa and I drove to work together every morning, he never shut up. I can still hear his voice.

“Babe, you’re too young to get married. You have your whole life in front of you. You could do better.

” …Marry a doctor, a lawyer, who knows, even a plumber makes good money and you’d never have clogged pipes. I know this family.I know this family –the Salattos are not good people. Do you realize they have connections to the mob? And Nicky’s father is the biggest womanizer in town.”

When Papa’s pleading didn’t work, he threatened me.

“I won’t even walk you down the aisle if you marry this guy!”

But, in the end he did walk me down the aisle… paid for the big wedding too.

It took an hour to apply my make-up, tease my hair into a bouffant then glide the dark red lipstick on to my lips. Nicky would swoon when he saw me, at least that’s what I hoped.

Over my head went the three chiffon petticoats then the white silk gown with the beaded pearl neckline. It flared out two feet and made my waist look about three inches round. Finally, I carefully set the small pearl tiara on top of my head and attached the long white veil.

My three bridesmaids―Eileen, my older sister; Gina, my younger sister; and my cousin Lena―helped me by lifting all the layers of my gown to slide the blue garter around my leg. I still have a photo of that moment somewhere. God, I wonder what all that must have cost my parents.

St. Mary’s church bells chimed for the ten o’clock Mass and the altar looked beautiful with the sun streaming through the stained-glass windows, the smell of fresh carnations, lilies and incense filled the air, ironically the same smell you find at funerals. You couldn’t squeeze another Italian in that church… packed to the choir loft.

Father Pat said those sobering words, “Love, honor, obey… till death… You may now kiss the bride.” Nicky lifted my veil slowly, smiled as he looked into my eyes then kissed me so gently on my lips I felt faint. That man knew how to kiss a woman. I took his arm and floated down the aisle.

Rice flew from all directions and so did Jordan Almonds and pennies. Don’t know where that tradition came from…

Outside on the church steps, rice flew from all directions and so did Jordan Almonds and pennies. Don’t know where that tradition came from, but, back then, at all the Italian weddings, they threw Jordan Almonds and pennies with the rice.

As a kid, I loved it. Through a blurry moment of congratulation kisses, hugs, and handshakes, my eyes drifted to a small girl gleefully stuffing her pockets with Jordans and coins. Suddenly, a strong feeling came over me, perhaps an instinct that I didn’t want to acknowledge, and made me long to exchange places with that child.

The reception was at the Eagle Hall, where almost all Italians in North Sable celebrated their weddings. The place had a long bar at one end, a huge wooden dance floor in the middle, and at the far end, a small stage for the musicians.

We hired a popular local band, Nuncio and the Calzones. They played all the Italian favorites like “Volare” and the “Tarantella.”

Everyone danced: young people, old people, some barely able to walk and little girls on top of their daddy’s shoes giggling as the fathers attempted to waltz them away.

Two long tables full of food lined the side walls: sandwiches, salami, pickles, chips, and the three-layer cake with the little bride and groom on top.

But the most popular food on the table was definitely Mama’s homemade cookies. Maria, my mom, baked for weeks: biscotti, wine cookies, bow ties, snowballs, and pizzelles. I swear she was a machine.

…Nicky and I danced the traditional first dance as husband and wife to our favorite song, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.”

Nicky and I danced the traditional first dance as husband and wife to our favorite song, “Smoke Gets in Your Eyes.” I felt so proud to belong to him. Papa cut in and pinned a twenty- dollar bill on my dress, which signaled all the other men to dance with me in exchange for a few bucks.

My white wedding gown soon turned green, covered with ones, fives, and tens. In the meantime, Nicky was doing shots with his buddies and dancing with other girls, a little too closely I noticed. Then he disappeared. He wasn’t at the bar, or on the dance floor.

I figured he must be in the john, so I went down the hall and around the corner to the restrooms to look for him. We bumped into each other as Nicky came out of the men’s room laughing with one of the North Sable thugs, Johnny Borono, an old high school classmate of mine. Their red glazed eyes told the whole story: drugs.

Shocked, I asked, “What are you doing, Nicky?”

He motioned for Johnny to leave, then pushed me against the wall and grabbed my chin.

With a smirk on his face he said, “Cool it, Sami. No need to cross-examine me. Everything is okay, just having some laughs with a friend, that’s all. Here’s a little donation from Johnny,” and he stuffed a hundred-dollar bill in my bra. “Now get back out there and play the happy bride, okay?”

He shoved me toward the hall. Dazed, I tripped on my gown. He caught me and grabbed my arm hard, squeezing even more as he led me back to the main room. Under his breath, he uttered, “Are we a little clumsy?”

I felt queasy and frightened at what had just happened. As we got back into the crowd I managed to pull my arm free of his grip and accidentally elbowed Nicky’s older brother, Frankie, who was standing just behind.

“Woo,” Frankie said, doubling over jokingly. “You have quite a jab for a pretty little thing.”

Then, looking quickly from Nicky to me, and seeing the daggers in Nicky’s eyes, Frankie said, “Hey, brother, I haven’t had a chance to dance with your bride,” as he hauled me out onto the floor.

Frankie pulled me in tight, then whispered in my ear, “Hey, Sami, you know you’re playing with fire when you make Nicky mad like that. Not nice. You shouldn’t do that ’cause when my brother gets mad then I get mad and it doesn’t turn out so good.”

My whole body stiffened. I pulled far enough away from him to look into his blood-shot eyes. I mustered up the strength to address his bullying.

“Well, thanks for the warning, Frankie, but just how seriously should I take the advice of a junkie? You know your brother told me all about you. He’s says you’re nothing but an addict and a thief.”

“Oh, he did, did he? You got some balls, woman. Well he told me a few things about you, too. You wanna know the only reason Nicky married you? Because your dad has a few bucks; you’re just a meal ticket. Happy wedding night, Sami,” he said, and left me on the dance floor, stunned, dizzy with fear, amid the swirling guests.

The Segue…

THE LADIES – Phone Call, 8 a.m.

Before leaving Vegas, goals were set by both ladies and included a pinky shake on the following:

• We will write one hour a day and no less than one page a day.
• “We will get published” became our mantra.
• We will remain faithful to the truth.
• We will meet in Las Vegas to drink tequila as often as possible.
• We will continue to love one another and stay connected.

Lena: Hi Sami, did I phone too early? Is this a good time to talk? I can call back later or even tomorrow.

Sami: Oh no, Lena, this is fine. I’ve been meaning to email you; but I’ve just been so damn busy.

Lena: Did you get the document with the first chapter?

Sami: Yes, and I just loved it, honey!

Lena: You did? Oh, that makes me so happy. I was actually afraid to send it to you.

Sami: “Don’t be silly. We’re in this together. I didn’t see one thing I wanted to change. Except the tragedy of the truth of it. How did I get myself in that mess?

Lena: How do any of us get through what life dishes up? We just do. You did what you thought you had to do; you did your best. I think this project will give you some perspective and help you to not only come to some acceptance but forgiveness too, of yourself and maybe even Nicky.

Sami: Don’t count on it, sweetie, at least not Nicky. You know the old song “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole? Well, I used to love to sing that song when I went to karaoke, only I changed the lyrics to “Unforgivable, that’s what you are.” I’ll sing it for you sometime.

Lena: I’ll hold you to that.

Sami: I think you need to write about our childhood too, don’t you think?

Lena: Yeah, sure, Sami, whatever you want. But I think it is important to just keep the stories coming. They don’t have to be in order; just keep spitting them out. Okay? Talk to you soon.

Sami: Will do. Bye-bye.

-30-

That’s a Wrap…

Stay tuned to find out WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT..

[Targeting 31 May for next installment]

Thanks for hanging with us! Please to share AND if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to sign-up (see below) -The Gang

The post Carol’s Corner: Middle of the Mob Chapter 1 appeared first on Jedemi.

And so it was that Mr Pete excitedly shared a REELS with us… and WE had a deja vu moment.

What he discovered, we’d been “on about” (TWICE !!) here at Jedemi.

• Yosh ! 14: Perfect Days – Be Like Hirayama…
• EXTRA ! Having Fun Yet…?

Please enjoy his “WowMe” take on Wim Wenders’ “Perfect Days” —The Gang

Let us begin, shall we ??

ZEN and The Art of “Self” Maintenance…

My Soul, for a while, seemed to have been lost in a deep endless brain fog. It had been seeking a SENSE of Rapture but found itself drowning in a dirty soup of Anger & Disillusionment, while flirting with the Madness of the Maudlin**.

I didn’t need a Savior or a Sacrifice.
I needed a sense of Awareness,
A change of Attitude
A desire to make an Adjustment.

I often woke up in the morning and just thought “WTF” ??

Mr Pete…

To save my mind from the bitter rages of blistering madness I sought refuge in Music and Film Media —Works of Art that observe life in all its glory and sadness.

** According to AI: AI Overview
“Maudlin” describes tearfully, weakly, or foolishly emotional behavior, often tied to excessive sentimentality or drunkenness. It stems from historical portrayals of Mary Magdalene, which evolved from “sacred sorrow” into a term for mawkish, exaggerated emotional expression…

Indeed !!

Recently, during one of my late-night rendezvous in the META world of Facebook Reels I became across a trailer for film from one of my favorite directors, WIM WENDERS ( Paris Texas, Wings of Desire, Until the End of the World, and MORE!).

“Perfect Days” is a 2023 film which I was able to stream on HULU.

[PERFECT DAYS – Official Trailer]

Like the song in the Trailer, “Perfect Day” performed by Lou Reed:

Finding the Beauty in all things Seen and Unseen.
Peace of Mind brings Peace to the Heart…

Perfect Day – BBC promotion (With Artist’s names)
4-min clip

Shared Experiences of LIFE itself,
Brings A Special Peace to the Soul…

Moving meditation…

A Reminder…

“Appreciate Life as it Comes”
“Finding JOY and Total Satisfaction in the Present Moment”

And when you block yourself some “ponder-time” you might want to check this out:
Perfect Days: The Power of No Mind
16-min clip

That’s a Wrap !!

It’s a good “PENCILS DOWN” spot.
Please take your time with these LINKS & CLIPS. Watch the film. Circle back. Watch the film again (RINSE REPEAT).

P.S. This 5-min interview is fantastic!!

PERFECT DAYS Writer/Director/Producer Wim Wenders in Conversation
American Film Institute

About the Music…
Late in the AFI clip above is a section about the songs. You can jump to it here.

Wow! Right??

Now for your listening pleasure…

Spotify Edition…

About Mr Pete

A music aficionado, Mr. Pete’s mind and ears have no horizons. He has the uncanny ability to suss out the right song for the right time — a skill that is truly amazing. The Gang here at Jedemi enjoys his contributions.

—30—

Thanks for hanging with us! Oh… and if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

-The Gang & RC

Oh… And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

The post WowMe: Zen and the Art of “Self” Maintenance… appeared first on Jedemi.

And so it was that one day, a fluffy white & tan CAT appeared sauntering through the neighborhood with no real agenda, or so it seemed. Sometimes, what’s essential IS invisible to the eye, as that CAT was on a mission and needed some assistance… Let’s listen in for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT. –The Gang.

We’ll begin at the beginning.

FADE IN:

EXT. KATIE’S WESTSIDE HOUSE

Former Suit, KATIE noticed the cat and pointed it out to her husband, the GEAR GUY.

KATIE
That one… Seen ‘em before?

He strains his eyes.

GEAR GUY
The fence one… has Grey & White fur?? The… Looks like… Tan & White… First time for my eyes. (pause)
Interesting… Seems to be working the ‘hood.

KATIE
Even more interesting… It turned around when I said ‘Kee-Kee’ but then was like, ‘Meh’…

GEAR GUY
Well… I’ll add ‘em to the FERREL KAT watch list when I close out for the evenings.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. SWIFT STREET

It also just so happened that same day, RC the Gremlin / Storyteller was having a meetup with the WANDER / WONDER (WONDER / WANDER) Kat, MR SQUEEK that started in the alley behind NEW LEAF.

RC THE GREMLIN
Dude… You’re hard to catch-up with…

That surprises you??

MR SQUEEK
Yes, and… That surprises you?

RC gives him a look.

RC THE GREMLIN
Guess not… DoorKAT days… You were more stationary, and now… You’re a lean, wandering machine…

MR SQUEEK
Been working on that explosive energy thing… Comes in handy around here.

Plyometrics? Box jumping and darting?

RC THE GREMLIN
Plyometrics? Box jumping and darting?

MR SQUEEK
It’s coming back to me… but… man did I get soft…

A distracted RC tilts his head and squints his eyes. Mr Squeek follows RC’s eyes. In the distance, approaching them is a four-legged creature.

RC THE GREMLIN
Soft? You? Nah! But that one…

MR SQUEEK
FLUFFY KAT at 2’O Clock. Gotta be an INDOOR KAT…

RC THE GREMLIN
Heading our way…

MR SQUEEK
Guess we can get ‘is story…

The saunter turns into a wobble-dash with a dart behind a row of recycle bins.

RC THE GREMLIN
What the…?

MR SQUEEK
That was weird… Hiding from…?

They hear a voice. It’s coming from a WHITE RAV4 with a dog in the co-pilot seat…

MAC-TA-VISH… MAC-TA-VISH… !!

THE RAV VOICE
MAC-TA-VISH… MAC-TA-VISH…

The dog seems to be calling out as well.

RC THE GREMLIN
So FLUFFY KAT’s name is …

MR SQUEEK
MacTavish? What kinda name is that?

RC whips out his RAZR phone. Mr Squeek is shaking his head.

MR SQUEEK
I’d wander off too…

RC THE GREMLIN
Well… It’s Scottish and apparently a lead character in CALL OF DUTY.

MR SQUEEK
That’s most definitely NOT a bad ass video game Kee-Kee. I’ll go with throwback Scottish relative of RAV-LADY…

While they we debating, FLUFFY KAT, wobble-wandered over and in a very strange accent, he spoke.

FLUFFY KAT
Ya BAYS… from round here?

MR SQUEEK
And you are… ?

FLUFFY KAT
Presently on the run… that RAV4 Lady… Can’t take it any more…

Just then he bolts for the recycle bin as the RAV has started another pass through the alley.

Both RC and Squeek shake their heads and motion to the dog for them to move on. Then, RC jogs over to the “hidey” spot.

RC THE GREMLIN
Coast is clear FLUFFY KAT…

FLUFFY KAT
Dang… And that’s why I’m trying to get away… Gots to get my scruff on and she…

RC THE GREMLIN
It’s okay bro. Right, Squeekster?

How long were you in for…?

Fluffy shakes his head.

Too long. Outta shape… Don’t like it. Can you guys…?

MR SQUEEK
How long were you in for…?

Fluffy shakes his head.

FLUFFY KAT
Too long. Outta shape… Don’t like it. Can you guys…?

RC THE GREMLIN
Sure…

MR SQUEEK
We can try… But it might be too late, ya know…

RC THE GREMLIN
Put ‘em on your program, Squeek… Whatda think??

Training by day…

MR SQUEEK
Oh man… It’ll… Slow me…

FLUFFY KAT
Please… Boot camp me… Gotta get back to my INDY roots… SCRUFFY INDY roots… then I promise…

Mr Squeek gives him a long uncomfortable stare while RC is still playing around with his RAZR.

RAZR TUNES
Like a true nature’s child… We were born, born to be wild…

RC THE GREMLIN
We can climb so high I never wanna die…
Born to be wild…!!

MR SQUEEK
Born to be wild… !!

RC THE GREMLIN
We got you, bro…

FADE OUT.

That’s a Wrap…

We’ll close with an EPILOGUE.

What happens next is… Mirroring the Easy Rider YouTube, the three of them go out on an adventure that also includes training (working in with TOADY FITNESS).

Now upon listening to / observing this particular interaction, WE were reminded of this story which appeared in the indy film, “FINDING JOE” :

Think of MAC-TAV as the Tiger…

Anyway, he’s in good hands with “The BAYs”…

Bonus Video (s)…

Want to learn about this Plyo-Training??

This is an Intro to Plyometric Training

And now for your walk-off / closing tune…

Stay tuned for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT…

Thanks for hanging with us!

And if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

Until next time, KOKO!

-The Gang

P.S. And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

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Presents !! for You — A Serialization !!

And so it was… To honor a great Lady and FANTASTIC storyteller, we are offering glimpses of her first published book:

my life in the Middle of the Mob

As printed…

We begin at the beginning. Enjoy!! —The Gang

Note: This should be about an 8 to 12-minute read, though your mileage may vary…

My life in the
MIDDLE OF THE MOB

BY
C. J. Draper

******

OG Page 5

There is in every true woman’s heart
a spark of heavenly fire,
which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity;
but which kindles up, and beams and blazes
in the dark hour of adversity

–Washington Irving

******

THE LADIES – It Started in Vegas

The two cousins were born in the same year, in the same hospital, delivered by the same doctor, just eight days apart. For the first eighteen years of their lives they grew up in houses that sat side by side. Then, Lena left for college on the West Coast and Samantha married and remained in North Sable; birthday and holiday cards barely kept them connected. Oh, they heard snippets of each other’s lives through Lena’s father, Max, and Samantha’s mother, Maria, who were brother and sister and remained living next door to one another until their deaths.

When Lena’s father died at age one hundred, Sami phoned her cousin to offer her condolences. After fifty-six years since they’d last seen each other, with most of their existence behind them, the two women decided to reconnect in Las Vegas, the only vacation spot of their childhood.

The long corridor with gleaming floors running through the lobby of The Linq Hotel & Casino led patrons dangerously close to the various casinos and bars to the check-in desk. The two cousins spotted each other midway. Lena recognized Samantha first, from all the family photos that her father had passed along.

Sami always looked as though she had just stepped out of a magazine article on how to age gracefully: chic hair style with no hint of gray, nails and toes manicured in bright red with lips to match, and a hint of mascara. Lena, an older version of her in her former college hippie days: no make-up, practical shoes, and comfy attire in a flowing, ankle-length flowered dress with long gray hair pinned back from her aging face. For two seventy-four–year-olds, they both looked adorable.

“Sami, Sami,” Lena shouted and waved as she hobbled toward her cousin.

Samantha shouted back, “Lena, is that you? I hear you, honey, but I can’t see you.”

Lena left her four-wheel suitcase spinning as she threw her arms around her cousin’s neck; they hugged, cried, and laughed all at the same time.

“God, Sami, you’ve hardly changed at all,” Lena said, looking shocked. “What in the world do you do to look like this, plastic surgery?”

“Well, yes, just one face-lift and about ten gallons of Botox. “Let me look at you, sweet cousin,” she said pulling her glasses out of her purse. “I should wear them at all times because I can’t see my hand in front of my face without them, but glasses would make me look older,” she said, as she placed them on her nose.

She examined her cousin for a few disapproving seconds.

“You’re completely gray, I mean it’s a beautiful silvery gray. But so…well… you know, gray. Why did you go gray?” Sami asked.

“I went to a women’s retreat to boost my feminine power and a very nice lesbian told me to stop dyeing my hair because I needed to let my wisdom show,” Lena explained.

“I imagine Doctor Phil would ask, ‘How is that working for you?’”

“Well, I’m saving a hundred and twenty-five bucks every six weeks at the salon so I can afford to buy you an expensive drink. Come on, Sami,” Lena said, “let’s check these bags with the bellman and go over there,” she said, pointing to the nearby 3535 Bar.

The two ladies struggled up the five steps leading to the bar and sat on the very end, as far away as possible from the sound of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” blaring through the loud speakers.

“What is it with this town, is everybody deaf?” Sami commented.

“Well, if you’re not when you get here, you will be by the time you leave.”

“What can I get for you two lovely ladies?” the tall, tanned, dark-haired, twenty-something bartender asked.

“What did you say?” Sami asked, motioning for the bartender to come near as she leaned in close enough to touch noses.

“I said, what can I get for you?” he repeated, smiling, and moving back an inch.

“I don’t suppose you’re available, are you?” Sami teased.

Samantha attempted to brush her hair back, but her hand collided with the glasses that she had forgotten were on her nose. She snatched them off her face quickly and attempted to be coy.

“I haven’t seen my cousin for fif—.” She stopped the giveaway number from coming out of her mouth. “A few years,” she said, putting her arm around Lena, “and that calls for two double shots of the best tequila you have.”

“Are you kidding?” Lena protested. “I can’t possibly drink a double shot of tequila, Sami, you’ll be picking me up off the floor.”

The bartender reached for the Patrón Silver perched on the glass shelf, then bent over to retrieve the fresh limes.

“Isn’t he gorgeous?” Samantha asked Lena, as her eyes drifted from his handsome face to his perfect ass.

“Sami, he’s young enough to be your grandson for God’s sake.”

“Grandson? Thanks a lot. You really know how to hurt a person.”

Just then the bartender set down the two double shots with a salt shaker and two limes.

“Okay,” Sami said, as she lifted her glass, “come on, honey, we have to toast.” Lena lifted her glass obediently.

“Here’s to the seventy-four years we’ve had and whatever time we have left. Down the hatch.”

“Sami, are you crazy? I can’t swallow this whole thing.”

“Sure you can. Lick the back of your hand and pour a little salt on it like this,” Sami said, demonstrating, “hold your nose and drink until it’s gone, then suck on that lime.”

They finished the tequila simultaneously; then both started choking and laughing alternately. Lena sneezed four times in a row, causing Sami to double over with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Lena asked, “I don’t know why, but ever since I turned seventy, I sneeze after I choke. It drives me crazy,” she said, laughing.

When she had recovered from the giggles and the tequila had stopped burning her throat, Samantha looked deep into her cousin’s eyes.

“How in the world are you, my sweet cousin?” Sami asked.

“Okay, you asked, so let me get it out of the way and then we won’t talk about it anymore, agreed? I’ll start from the top of my body and work my way down. I’m getting cataracts and night driving is hazardous. I have constant sinus infections and the antibiotics caused a rotator cuff tear, and a tendon tore away from my shoulder, just one of my many surgeries. I’ve had five root canals in the last three years. I had a complete hysterectomy when I was forty-eight, due to a dermoid tumor that burst inside me; it was growing hair, teeth, and bones.”

Sami grimaced.

“I know, don’t ask. I have heart disease; my knees are shot; and the padding on my feet has worn so thin I need to wear orthotics in all my shoes. That’s it in a nutshell. How in the hell are you?” Lena asked.

“Well, not that bad, honey. But then, I try not to dwell on the negative. Right now, there isn’t a pain in my body; I can’t even feel my face,” Samantha said.

Lena touched her own cheeks and began laughing hysterically. “Me either.”

Sami ordered another round and this time they downed the shots without pinching their noses. They both agreed that the second round was amazingly much smoother than the first. The tequila left the two ladies giggling hysterically as they left the bar and headed for the Strip.

They roamed Las Vegas Boulevard until dark and ended up in front of the Bellagio fountains holding their half-empty liter Margarita glasses. Tears streamed down their faces as they watched the water dance to the voice of Luciano Pavarotti, one of the few memories they would have of that tequila-infused night. They took a taxi back to The Linq, retrieved their bags and checked into their room. The desk clerks were tittering as they watched the cousins swerving down the corridor toward the elevators and quickly sent a bellman to help keep them from hitting other patrons with their cases.

They slept soundly, well into the ten o’clock hour the following morning. When Lena’s eyes struggled to half slits to the blurry view of Sami lying in the adjacent queen bed, fully clothed, with shoes still on her feet, and wig askew, she sat up, forcing her eyes to open fully. As she glanced down at her own previous day’s attire and caught sight of her disheveled image in the mirror next to the bed, she gasped.

“Oh God!” Lena whined out loud. “How did I ever get this old?’

“We are not old, at least I’m not,” Sami said, as she struggled up in a stupor to her own reflection. “Yuck, you’re right; I guess we are a little old this morning. What do you expect after a wild night of gambling and drinking? Did we try to jump into the Bellagio fountain last night?”

“You did,” Lena replied. “But the nice police officer let us off with a warning. Now that was one time our age was a big advantage.” Lena lowered her head into her hands. “I feel like shit.”

“Nothing a day at the spa can’t cure,” Sami said, lifting the phone to make reservations. “They have some sort of salt room there that is supposed to cleanse your lungs of smoke, clear your sinuses, soften your skin, and raise your boobs a few inches. What say we get thee to the massage table?”

After the steam room, Jacuzzi, and an hour’s massage the two ladies helped themselves to the complimentary coffee and fruit and proceeded to the salt room. The yellow glow from a back-lit wall cast a golden hue on their skin, as their nude bodies went limp in the comfortable lounge chairs. The attendant turned on the salt mechanism and left them alone, saying she would be back in fifty minutes. Within seconds, they could taste the salt on their lips and see the light powdering of it on the dark floor.

“We do look younger already, don’t you think, Lena?” Sami asked, glancing first at her cousin’s body, then at her own.

“Oh yeah, right, at least twenty years have disappeared,” Lena said sarcastically. “Face it, Sami, it is all in the lighting. Three quarters of our lives are over and there isn’t a damn thing we can do about it.”

“Okay. I know, I know, but I don’t feel old,” Sami said. “There is still a lot more I want to do; but, I’m struggling to erase the black hole of my past, all the years of fear, insecurity, and abuse. The memories keep playing over and over in my head like a record stuck in a groove, you know? I need to get it out of my head before I go insane.”

They were silent; each in her own thoughts, then…

…You know, I have had a pretty crazy life, and I think it would make an interesting story. As a matter of fact, I talked to an author who is interested in writing a book about it. What do you think?

“You know, I have had a pretty crazy life, and I think it would make an interesting story. As a matter of fact, I talked to an author who is interested in writing a book about it. What do you think?” Sami asked.

“Well, that depends. What makes your story any different from others?” Lena asked.

“For one thing,” Sami responded in a lowered voice, “I got entangled with the mafia and I feel very lucky to have survived. I know people who didn’t.

Lena knew that her cousin had been dealt a tough hand but didn’t really know just how tough.

“Well, I think you should go for it then. Will this writer pay you for the story or do you pay her to write it?” Lena asked.

“I’m not sure; we didn’t discuss details. But I feel reluctant to open up to someone I don’t really know.”

Again, a long silence. Suddenly, Sami sat straight up and turned to her cousin.

“What about you, Lena?” Sami said, with excitement.

Oh no, my life has been pretty normal, nothing terribly interesting to write about,” Lena said.

“Not your life,” Sami continued. “Why don’t you write my story?”

“I’m not a writer, Sami. Even in college I never mastered a short story, let alone a book.”

“What are you talking about? I remember you won a writing contest when we were in high school. And weren’t you the editor of your college newspaper?” Sami reminded her.

“Yes,” Lena admitted. “That’s different from writing a book. If you have a published author interested in writing your life story―that’s amazing―you go with that.”

“But I don’t trust her. I would really trust you. Besides, it would be a way for us to stay connected.”

“Please?” Sami begged. “We could call each other on a specified night each week or email, text, and even meet up here in Vegas. It will be fun.”

Lena stared into the glowing, golden wall, then slowly started to nod her head yes; her eyes drifted up toward the ceiling, then darted left to right and back again.

“What do we have to lose?” Lena asked out loud, to no one in particular. “You tell me the stories and I’ll write them. When and how do we start?” she said, presenting her little finger for a pinky shake.

“Now, and from the beginning, right? No wait…the trouble started on the day I got married. My wedding introduced me to a world I would never have imagined.”

Sami leaned forward, put her elbows on her knees, and placed her chin on her folded hands as the record of memories began to play again.

-30-

That’s a Wrap…

Stay tuned to find out WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT..

Stay tuned…

[Targeting 24 May for next installment]

Thanks for hanging with us! Please to share AND if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to sign-up (see below) -The Gang

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And so it was that for a day off, former Suit KATIE had quite a bit on her plate. Shortly after pal RC the Gremlin / Storyteller left Katie’s house, she made her way out the door and off towards WEST CLIFF for a leisurely morning run. While out enjoying the sights and smells, she “hears her ears” the sound of a vehicle slowing down. That sound puts a smile on her face. Let’s listen in for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT. –The Gang.

FADE IN:

EXT. WEST CLIFF – SANTA CRUZ

Katie is running along WEST CLIFF DRIVE to an internal beat (no PODS or EAR-BUDS), so she’s fully engaged with the environment.

Turning her head, she speaks to THE SLOWING VEHICLE…

KATIE
Scanning for surf perch this day, my Guy?

Her husband, the GEAR GUY, was in his truck cruising down the street with the passenger window open.

GEAR GUY
You do that without looking…?

KATIE
Your truck… distinct sound…
What’s the GP? Surf casting?

GEAR GUY
Well… Gotta do a shake-out of new equipment before the next FISH-OUT event… so … heading to a sneaky squirrel spot I read about.

Katie nods and is still running. He keeps pace. Both are watching for dog walkers, joggers and surfers, so there’s a bit of zigging-and-zagging going on.

GEAR GUY
What’s on your agenda this day, my Lady?

KATIE
Catch-up stuff and… Oh yeah… TheSEA just opened up the Wharf for the season…

GEAR GUY
Been a while. Date night you’re thinking?

KATIE
Yes and… Apparently the end of the Wharf has been repaired. Just re-opened. We can do a walk-about…

Having arrived at Katie’s turn-around point, she motions her change of direction.

GEAR GUY
Gotcha. Text you later to set a meetup time at the house.

Katie gives him a thumbs up and picks up the pace as she bounds towards SWIFT street.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CAT & CLOUD

It is now just past the lunch rush hour where the C&C is experiencing a lull as its day winds down. Katie, having completed everything on her To-Do list, decides to swing by to get some reading and writing done.

Upon arrival, she looks about and a huge smile crosses her face.

KATIE
Woo Hoo! VIV TABLE is clear…

She settles in after obtaining her beverage and inquiring about Happy Barista / Uber Driver KIMBA.

KATIE INTERNAL
Huh… Apparently she was scheduled but did a trade… Wonder what she’s up to…?

Settling into her writing, she FLOWS away and then…

KATIE INTERNAL
Hmmm… I wonder if… Nah! That would be a coincidence, right? I mean… well…

Closing her eyes she sees the Kimba mobile Ubering VIPs … Her passengers, sporting dark shades, look like MR SQUEEK the WANDER/WONDER (Wonder/Wander) KAT and her RC.

Katie wonders…

KATIE INTERNAL
Right?

She laughs and sketches out the scenario she sees her eyes before pulling out a GREEN LAY-FLAT with POST-ITs from her SATCHEL-PAK.

KATIE INTERNAL
Too funny that this re-surfaced.

And [NOW] with earbuds in place, Katie enters her READING ZONE to reintroduce herself to a piece SHE WROTE years ago as the first episode of the JEDEMI CHRONICLES after the LAUNCH TRILOGY. She looks at the cover…

First episode after the Launch Trilogy

KATIE INTERNAL
Hope I don’t hate it…

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CAT & CLOUD

It is about 20-minutes later, and Katie has just paused to stretch, she sees Kimba pulling up outside.

Jumping up (and leaving her Green LAY-FLAT EURO ADVENTURE behind)), she bounds towards the door –opening it at the same time Kimba goes to pull.

KIMBA
Getting stronger I am…!

KATIE
Right? Greetings, Sister-Friend!!

KIMBA
Didn’t see your… Walk you did??

KATIE
Beautiful day, so yeah.

KIMBA
Cool beans… My “Spidey” sense said you’d be dropping by, so…

KATIE
Ah! Checking on me… And I… was just checking on you— a shift trade?? VIPs to ferry around??

Just then Kimba waves at the barista behind the counter.

KIMBA
Yeah… You could say that… Glad timing worked out…

KATIE
Sort of… Closing time… So we can’t hang here, yes?

Katie is pointing to her wrist…

KIMBA
That would be correct.

Kimba retrieves a STRING-CLOSURE INNER-OFFICE ENVELOPE from a shelf under the front counter and follows Katie back to the VIV table where she sees the LAY-FLAT.

KIMBA
Can I…? Which one is that…? And… GREEN??

There’s a pause…

KIMBA
Ah! You’re here to … finally work on… that CHEF story? Did-ja bring your SLABBY THING?

KATIE
Good memory… and very good guess… but NO. This is something ELSE I wrote…

Kimba is straining her eyes to see the TITLE.

Green?

Katie hands it over and Kimba flips the pages making a note of where the POST-ITs are…

KIMBA
Interesting… INSTINCTS, eh??

She looks at the cover finally and then…

KIMBA
I thought you stopped after the launch TRILOGY to… re-group or something like that… No??

KATIE
Just got a reminder… how far I went with the Chronicles though… I really don’t recall if it was officially released… Mention it a bit on the website.

KIMBA
Gotcha! Wow! Lots of reading material is available on JEDEMI…

KATIE
True… revisiting a particular THEME which bubbled up again…

…INSTINCTS? Your bubble up…?

KIMBA
INSTINCTS? Your bubble up…?

KATIE
Starting with the song… You know it??

Katie is about to load it on her MOBILE when the fill-in worker brushes by…

KIMBA
Let’s move on. She needs to close.

KATIE
Copy… Meeting GEAR GUY for date night, so I can’t venture too far away…

KIMBA
Okay… another time… pick this up, we shall…

[DING!]

DING! Happens…

KATIE
AH!! Up for some STOOP time??

KIMBA
Stoop??

KATIE
Hang at our house… stoop … until my Guy gets back… You cool with that?

KIMBA
Sure… I’ll UBER us there!

FADE OUT.

That’s a Wrap…

We’ll close with an EPILOGUE.

And with that, Kimba and Katie end up doing a brief hangout of their own…

What we see next is a page from KIMBA’s MORNING MUSINGS…

Astonished to say the least…

KIMBA’S MUSINGS
OMG! Entirely TOOMGAS!! This woman… a content producing machine!! TRILOGY + A EURO ADVENTURE +PLUS… What I’ve been handed… that TOLLHOUSE TALE…

Enjoy I will, but… I don’t know … The Guys really want me to … meet-up with Happy Puppy’s human… she’s in marketing and apparently, IN-transition… whatever that means… Will ponder though…

Stay tuned for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT…

Thanks for hanging with us!

And if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

Until next time, KOKO!

-The Gang

P.S. And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

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Presents !! for You — We Welcome the Works of Lady Carol…

And so it was that a year after the passing of a fantastic storyteller, we’ve gathered ourselves to create a section here at Jedemi, where others can enjoy her work: Carol’s Corner

We are referring to Carol Pollard as in the creator of the OG “Finny” story that RC told during his sessions @TheSEA.

Delightful!

[Note: You’ll find the entire series under the tab FinnFinnTale on our Menu.]

What folks may NOT know, is that Lady Carol published a book under at pen-name: c.j. draper

Here at Jedemi, she was known as “LADY” as in “OKAY LADY” from the Animaniacs (Mindy).

Lady Carol, indeed !!

READ. HER. WORK.

Our wish is that more AUDIO existed because, her voice… WOW !!

Stories told by her out loud were the best.

We can hear her voice in her writing, which is cool too.

Here in “THE CORNER” we’ll lead with her published book and then add pieces she shared with us over the years.

As printed…

Title Page…

There’s a throw down challenge from a writing class she took that’s pretty cool. That’ll be formatted and available soon.

Please to enjoy these fine PRESENTS!! —The Gang

As you may know, we like having a musical component to our posts, and for a Lady who “hearted” Stevie… Well, here ya go !

Enjoy!

-30-

Thanks for hanging with us! Please to share AND if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to sign-up (see below) -The Gang

The post Welcome to Carol’s Corner… appeared first on Jedemi.

And so it came to be that conversations with Happy Puppy KEE-RA and his human, Suit in Transition, MEREDITH and her pal RC the GREMLIN/STORYTELLER… AND… others got things percolating for former Suit, KATIE. She was on her morning run when a bunch of bubble-ups happened followed by a DING!! which triggered a REWIND to previous works and how her INSTINCTS awareness got its start. Let’s listen in for WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT. –The Gang.

FADE IN:

INT. KATIE’S WESTSIDE HOUSE

Katie has just returned from her run and even before doing her stretching routine, she has made a beeline to her downstairs computer lab where a stack of BLANK 11×14 pieces of paper await her along with a trusty blue ONPOINT pen.

Smiling, she scribbles away… Words essential to her but no doubt what the nuns called ILLEGIBLE.

She is being observed by her resident pal, RC the GREMLIN who is very used to Katie’s “chicken scratch”.

RC THE GREMLIN
When she goes upstairs, I’ll snap a photo. The Gang may benefit… Kee-Ra too.

Blue Scribble Snap…

BARRIER TO ENTRY–The Kits
End-to-End IBM WAY
****
Also: Follow Your Instincts… [Trust Your Instincts song]
Also: Key Learning –> BLISS –> Instincts

RC THE GREMLIN
What the… ? This’ll be interesting. Wonder if she has a shift today…? I imagine this is going to background task a bit, so I’ll watch closely.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KATIE’S KITCHEN

It is the next day as, indeed, Lady Katie DID have a shift so her thoughts… well… they had time to kick around while she swept and moved pallets and cycled the dead plants into the composter…

The following morning, there was nothing scheduled, so she had a lot more time to prOcess — enjoying an EXTENDED MORNING ROUTINE before heading out the door to her PITTER-PATTER.

All good too as, RC made a discovery of his own that just might…

[Listen in, shall we?]

KATIE’S MUSINGS
Alright, so… yesterday was interesting as I had time to incubate… but really, like work the GOOGLE AI search my brain on this INSTINCTS thing… The way-back machine… When did I have an awareness of… that whole TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS thing??

That U2 album she played all the time… still haven’t found what I’m looking for… Pamela was on her own quest and she was encouraging me to… LISTEN to that album end-to-end; over-and-over.

…Point being, she was on this INSTINCTS thing and I was like what is that? Well…

I’d say, no doubt that once I discovered the MUSINGS (AKA morning pages), this flow through helped… breakthrough to… a feeling… like … not impulsive… but persistent nudge… and with a play mate that’s all encouraging –you Go and what I now call FLO… Come to think of it, that entire JANE BOND experience was like a ginormous instinct-driven event.

And we had — a DREAM INN visit to Santa Cruz… and a discovery of… Art of Noise James Bond theme and… wow… Like Frankie (Capra) said… the fireworks popped… and we did this coherent mashup of ideas that JUST WORKED. And ALSO that death of the borrowed camera the day of the LINE DANCE shoot… Faulty tripod or… Operator Error (points finger at self)… Extra motivation as the winning sales conference video earned the Team a cash prize [offset replacement cost, yes?]. Anyway, that seems to be the Springtime into Summer where INSTINCTS bubbled up as something to…

Just then, Katie’s TRIGGER MUG appeared to be magically refilling itself with 4a brew.

Trigger Mug…

She looks over and smiles.

RC THE GREMLIN
Okay? I’ve got this too!

RC hands her a second TRIGGER MUG with hot water.

RC THE GREMLIN
I know you heart your SPURS water.

Katie gets up to stretch and eyes the clock.

KATIE
Whoa !!

…Right? Your FLO was fantastical… INSTINCTS, eh?

RC THE GREMLIN
Right? Your FLO was fantastical… INSTINCTS, eh?

KATIE
There’s a song… Trust your instincts song… Can’t quite…

RC whips out his RAZR phone.

RC THE GREMLIN
311… ALL MIXED UP…

He hits play and while Katie is watching and smiling, RC quietly puts a LAY-FLAT on the table near Katie’s MUSINGS journal. It has POST-ITs sticking out.
When the video concludes, she hits PAUSE and hands it back to him, while noticing the GREEN LAY-FLAT.

KATIE
Wha… ?

RC THE GREMLIN
You forgot all about this one, eh?

KATIE
The first of the SERIES after the LAUNCH TRILOGY… the series I abandoned…

RC THE GREMLIN
Don’t say it like that… The way I see it, merely set aside as LIFE you LIVED… needed to… Anyway, flipping through it I’d say… relevant today and then some.

While he’s talking, Katie is INDEED flipping through it noting the POST-ITs are on the pages dealing with INSTINCTS.

Green “Euro Adventure”…

Instincts everywhere…

KATIE
Whoa! A THEME or what?

RC THE GREMLIN
Seemed like… something that worked for you during that trip.

Katie flips some more and sits back down. With a quick bit of scribbling, she closes her MUSINGS with the familiar PENCILS DOWN [mic drop] sketch.

Stopping point…

Standing she looks at RC.

KATIE
Best to stop where you know WHERE you’ll pick it back up…

RC THE GREMLIN
Right… That Hemingway thing…

What He Said…

…The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day … you will never be stuck…

KATIE
Yup!

She packs up her things into her POUCH & SATCHEL PAK, including the EURO ADVENTURE LAY-FLAT, and moves towards the stairs…

RC THE GREMLIN
Pitter-Patter time?

KATIE
Yeah… Tempo hills day… It’ll be a good one…

RC THE GREMLIN
With a side of EAR WORM, eh?

KATIE
Already looping!

RC THE GREMLIN
Enjoy your workout…

RC heads towards the front door.

KATIE
And what are YOU up to this day?

RC THE GREMLIN
Tracking down the SQUEEKSTER… Got something to share.

Squeekster (AKA Mr Squeek)

KATIE
Say YO! to Mr Squeek for me… We’re overdue for a catch-up!

RC THE GREMLIN
Copy that… the pier is fixed now. And TheSEA’s wharf garden open too…

KATIE
Cool. See ya when I see ya-ss !

RC THE GREMLIN
Not if we see-ya first!

Katie laughs.

FADE OUT.

That’s a Wrap..

And so it was that Ms Katie got re-introduced to her own work. Makes you wonder… WHAT. HAPPENS. NEXT. right??

We welcome you to Stay tuned!

Jedemi Jukebox …

Please to enjoy some selections from our Enchanted Jukebox while you wait…

Enchanted Jukebox…

311 Lyric

Thanks for hanging with us!

And if you liked it, hit us up below [Speak Your Mind] and … please to share!

Until next time, KOKO!

-The Gang

P.S. And if you haven’t done so already, we invite you to join our waitlist.

–30–

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