Month: February 2019

February 23 – Creston Branch …

Today, my iPad.
As a kid, my World Wide Web?
Creston Library!

When I say the the Creston Branch Library, I mean the one in the old OLD KENT BANK building.

The REAL Creston Branch Library

Were more books ever crammed into a small place? It’s aisle’s went back and around and sideways and at angles. I LOVED this place. I think I carried my first Temporary card (which allowed me, as a six year old, to check out 2 books) in my wallet for 40 years.

Everything and anything you needed to know was in their somewhere and the librarians knew how to find it.

I got to work for the Grand Rapids Public Library in the early ’90s and being paid to answer bizarre questions about local history and anything else was the most satisfying job I have ever had.

Haiku for You – February 22 – Gloomy Day

On a gloomy day,
a good feeling from the radio –
The Lark Ascending

On a day when I should be saluting George Washington this is an honest reflection of the moment.

On a very gray and foggy morning in Atlanta when I have lost all motivation, I was writing a note to a friend and thanking them for at least giving me a good feeling on a gloomy day and after I wrote that I noticed my online radio station, Classic FM, from London, was playing Edward Elgar’s Lark Ascending and I had to stop and listen until it was done

2.21.2019 – My Song? Black Coffee …

My Song? Black Coffee …
Sarah Vaughn, the Divine One,
all I do, is pour …

Sarah Vaughn, the Divine One. So said Ella Fitzgerald and I am not prepared to argue. Here is a link to a digital recording of an old 78 record from 1949. For me, the hiss of the needle on the record just adds to the appeal.

Lyrics

I’m feeling mighty lonesome
Haven’t slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch the door
And in between I drink
Black coffee

Love’s a hand-me-down brew
I’ll never know a Sunday
In this weekday room

I’m talking to the shadows
One o’clock to four
And Lord, how slow the moments go
When all I do is pour
Black coffee

Since the blues caught my eye
I’m hanging out on Monday
My Sunday dream’s too dry

Now, a man is born to go a-loving
A woman’s born to weep and fret
And stay at home and tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes

I’m moody all the morning
Mourning all the night
And in between, it’s nicotine
And not much hard to fight
Coffee

Feeling low as the ground
It’s driving me crazy
This waiting for my baby
To maybe come around
Mmh, mmh, mmh

Songwriters: Francis Joseph Burke / Paul Francis Webster